Chapter 1

 

 

Kathryn Janeway bolted upright in bed, her throat closed on a half-sob. The dream had been so vivid; she could still feel her heart racing. She closed her eyes and dropped her face into her hands, trying to dispel the images from her mind. But wakefulness was no improvement. Once the memories came crashing back, she realized that the dream was nothing compared to her reality.

She’s gone.

Another sob crawled up her throat, this time escaping past her clenched jaw. How long had it been since Lynne had left her forever? She turned toward her chronometer out of habit, then stopped. The chronometer wasn’t where it should be. And this wasn’t her bed.

Her mind shook off the last vestiges of sleep, and with it her confusion. Turning her head, she gazed in wonder at the woman lying beside her. Lynne was on her side, facing away from Janeway. Her brown and silver hair was fanned out across the pillow, and as usual she’d pushed the bedclothes off her shoulders. Lynne always complained about being too hot in bed, while Janeway liked to cocoon herself in the blankets. The disparity didn’t bother Janeway at all, since the consequence of their difference in body temperature was that Lynne often bared a lot of skin. This morning was no exception, and as Janeway took in the naked shoulders and upper back, a smile lit her features.

She’s here. It’s really over.

She reached out and traced the long, thin scar on Lynne’s left shoulder, remembering the night when Lynne had told her the story behind it. It had been early in their relationship, during that exciting time when bodies were still being discovered and mysteries unraveled. They had lain entwined in the darkness as she’d listened to Lynne’s low voice, explaining the scar’s origins. Lynne had been bringing up the rear of a group of teenage climbers as they ascended a steep pitch on a rock climb. The kids were there to learn team-building and discipline—it was their last chance to straighten out before they ended up incarcerated.

“So I’d explained to the kids that they each had to get over the lip before the next one could come up, since it’s dangerous to climb directly below another climber. They were supposed to sit up there and wait quietly for me before we started the next pitch. But I hadn’t gotten five feet up the rope before one of the kids was horsing around, showing off. He dislodged a chunk of rock that dropped straight down and smashed me in the shoulder. Almost knocked me off the rope and stung like a son-of-a-bitch. I climbed the rest of the way up and gave those kids holy hell. Bob, the other group leader, took a look at my shoulder and told me he’d have to stitch it. I said no way, he wasn’t stitching it. The kid who knocked the rock off would do it, with Bob supervising. So Bob injected me with a numbing agent and had the kid practice a few stitches on a piece of cloth while we waited for the injection to work. Then we made the kid stitch up that messy, bleeding gash in my shoulder. He did it, but he threw up afterwards.” Lynne had laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think he was afraid of catching shit from the other kids in the group for showing weakness, but they were quiet as church mice for the rest of the trip. It wasn’t my preferred method of teaching discipline, but boy was it effective.”

“What happened to that kid?” Janeway had asked. “Did you ever find out?”

“Well, he didn’t become a doctor! But he did straighten out after that. Yeah, we kept in touch. He went to college and eventually became a high school teacher. He told me years later that having to stitch up my shoulder was the first time he’d ever really understood that his actions had human consequences. He wanted to help other kids learn that, too. I’ve always been kind of proud of this scar, because it reminds me that at least once I made a real difference.”

Janeway continued stroking Lynne’s shoulders and back, feeling the solid muscles beneath the smooth skin. “You’ve made a real difference here, too,” she whispered.

The muscles shifted under her touch, and she lifted her hand as Lynne rolled over onto her back. Drowsy green eyes blinked up at her.

“Good morning, love,” said Lynne, her voice raspy with sleep.

Janeway smiled down at her partner. “Yes, it is.”

They watched each other silently, neither seeming eager to bring up last night’s events. Gently pushing Lynne’s hair off her face, Janeway asked, “Why is it that we’ve been together for five months, yet you’ve never called me ‘love’ until now?”

Lynne shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve never been much for endearments,” she said. “They always seemed kind of forced to me. But now, with you, it just feels right. I can’t explain it.” Neither of them mentioned the fact that this was actually the second time Lynne had used the term; the first had been the previous night, when Janeway was sure her world had crumbled to dust around her.

“Hmm. I guess that means I’ll have to come up with something for you now.” Janeway thought for a moment as she continued to run her fingers through the silky hair. Lynne closed her eyes in rapture. “How about ‘my little heartbreaker’?”

“Ew,” said Lynne. “Way too corny, and too many syllables. Besides, I’m not little.”

“No, you’re not,” agreed Janeway. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “Neither was the heartbreak.”

Lynne’s eyes opened and she gazed at Janeway with a look of sad understanding. When she held out her arms, Janeway lost no time accepting the invitation. Sliding her body on top of her partner’s, she rested her cheek on Lynne’s upper chest and basked in the full-body contact. The strong heartbeat beneath her ear provided a physical affirmation that eased the ragged edges of her still-fragile soul, and she had no intention of moving, maybe ever. Lynne seemed to know what she needed, wrapping her arms around Janeway and squeezing her so tightly that it almost hurt. They lay like that for long minutes, until Lynne finally relaxed her grip somewhat and dropped a kiss on the top of Janeway’s head.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Janeway reluctantly pulled away from the reassuring heartbeat and looked up. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said. “Q did, and I hurt myself by not viewing your message. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Lynne. “It still happened because of me.”

“Don’t take that responsibility,” said Janeway. “Or if you do, then you also have to take responsibility for the fact that I’m happy and whole right now. Because of you.”

Serious green eyes met blue, and after several moments Lynne nodded. “Okay. Can we take responsibility for breakfast now?”

Janeway laughed, grateful for the topic change. Squeezing her partner one last time, she pushed herself up and scooted off the bed. “Absolutely, especially if you personally take responsibility for that 50-pound bag of coffee out there.”

 

 

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The coffee turned out to be something of a challenge. The beans needed to be ground, but since fresh coffee beans were hardly the norm on a spaceship, the replicator contained no patterns for a grinder. The one grinder on board was in Neelix’ kitchen, and Janeway refused to let Lynne out of her sight yet, nor did she want to leave the quarters. “Here, give them to me,” she said, holding out her hand.

Lynne looked at her oddly, but then dumped the little scoop of beans into her hands. Janeway walked over to the replicator and poured the beans directly onto its smooth base. “How big are the granules once they’ve been ground?” she asked.

Lynne thought for a moment. “About two millimeters in diameter, I guess. I don’t know, coffee isn’t really my drink.”

“Computer,” said Janeway, “alter physical form to units two millimeters in diameter.” The replicator glowed for a moment, and the small pile of beans was reduced to a smaller pile of granules. Janeway swept them off into her hand and turned a triumphant smile on Lynne. “Mission accomplished,” she said. “Now what?”

Lynne pulled a cone-shaped contraption and a box out of a bag by the beans. Opening the box, she extracted a bit of paper, opened it into a cone, and fit it into the contraption. She placed the unit atop a mug and held it out to Janeway. “In the filter,” she said.

Janeway dumped the granules into the filter and dusted off her hands, watching as Lynne walked back to the replicator.

“Computer,” said Lynne, “one cup of water, 98 degrees Celsius.” At Janeway’s quizzical expression, she explained, “Tea is best when made with water just below boiling. I don’t know anything about coffee, but it stands to reason that it would be similar. Of course, I could be totally wrong.”

Pulling the hot water from the replicator, she carefully poured it into the filter. Immediately the quarters were filled with the most mouth-watering aroma Janeway had ever smelled. She sniffed the air appreciatively. “If that tastes half as good as it smells, I’ll be your slave for life.”

Lynne grinned at her. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Janeway waited impatiently for what seemed like hours until the last of the water had dripped through the filter. Lynne pulled the paper filter out of the cone and tossed it into the replicator. “Computer, recycle,” she said. Then she turned and, with a flourish, presented the steaming mug of coffee to her partner. “Prepare to be my slave for life.”

The first sip nearly sent Janeway to her knees. She closed her eyes and moaned. “Oh my god. Oh my god. That is the best thing I have ever tasted. You are my hero and I will love you forever.”

“I thought you already loved me.”

“I love you more now. Oh my god.”

“Curious,” mused Lynne. “Fresh coffee seems to reduce your vocabulary.” She smiled at her partner’s continued moaning. “Kathryn, haven’t you ever had real coffee before?”

Janeway reluctantly ceased her coffee worship long enough to answer. “Only at expensive restaurants. It’s not very common now, not when most people use replicators.”

Lynne clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Not everything can be replicated, you know.”

There was no answer, only a small slurping sound as more of the precious liquid found its way into an extremely appreciative captain. Lynne rolled her eyes. “Well, I can see you’re going to be non-verbal for awhile. I’ll just go take care of breakfast now.”

“Mm-hmm,” was her answer, accompanied by another sip.

 

 

-----

 

 

The rest of the day was spent simply being together in Lynne’s quarters, eating fresh bread and, on Janeway’s side, drinking far more coffee than was good for her. It was a quiet, unexciting day, and that normalcy went a long way toward knitting their hearts back together. Lynne had brought a disc player back from Earth along with her collection of discs, and Janeway happily set her engineering mind to the puzzle it presented. First she had to figure out a way of modifying it to accept a modern energy source. Once that was accomplished, she fiddled with it until she’d created a means of transferring the data at high speed from the player directly into the ship’s computers. The whole task took only a few hours, after which Lynne set about copying her new library of music into the computer and cataloguing it. Janeway used that time to read some of her favorite poetry. Reading always soothed her mind, but lately she hadn’t felt much like doing it. Now, as the words wrapped their magic around her, she felt as if she were back in the arms of an old friend. Every now and then she looked over the top of her PADD and smiled at the sight of Lynne busily organizing her library. Both women were supremely content.

Once Lynne had the music catalogued, she sat against the arm of her sofa and pulled Janeway back against her chest, wrapping her arms around her lover’s waist and bracketing her with her legs. “Okay,” she said. “You just go right on reading, but I’ve got some great background music for you.”

Janeway rested her head on her warm pillow. “I’m ready.”

“Computer, play Miles Davis, Kind of Blue.”

The room filled with a quiet jazz, which soon grew into something commanding much more attention. “Background music, my ass,” said Janeway, admiring the consummate trumpet and saxophone artistry.

Lynne laughed. “You, my dear, have picked up too many of my idioms.”

“I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but that one made it to my century.”

Lynne’s arms tightened. “‘Sweetheart’?”

“Well, I had to come up with something, and you seemed to object to anything with too many syllables.”

“I don’t object to this.”

Conversation ceased then, as the women listened to the four-hundred-year-old sounds of Miles Davis and his band. After awhile Janeway picked up her PADD again, and a pleasant hour passed away. By the time the album had ended, Janeway had given up on her reading and was just listening, eyes shut, comfortably snuggled against her partner’s chest. When the last strains of music died away, she said, “Thank you, Lynne. That was some of the best jazz I’ve ever heard. What a tragedy that it was lost for so long.”

“Good thing I brought it back then, isn’t it?” Janeway could hear the smile in Lynne’s voice. “I knew you’d love it. That album is a Who’s Who of the best jazz artists on the planet at that time. In my opinion, that is.”

“I’ll respect your opinion in this case.”

“Hmm. Nice qualifier there.”

Janeway put her arms around the legs holding her in place and squeezed. She felt whole again, and so content that the unfinished issues of the previous night no longer seemed too big to handle. It was time to ask some questions. Lynne had taken care of her the previous night, but she knew her lover was hurting too. After a day of recovery, she finally felt strong enough to help.

“Lynne,” she said quietly. “I know it must have been hard for you to leave your family.” She felt arms tighten around her, but when nothing was said, she continued. “I want you to know that though I may never understand exactly how hard that was, I do understand what a gift you gave me. And I’ll do my very best to deserve it. I don’t ever want you to second guess your decision.”

She felt a kiss dropped onto the top of her head, then Lynne rested her chin there. “Thank you, Kathryn. I’m not sure you have the power to keep me from second guessing, but don’t ever think you’re the cause of it. I think…I think that no matter which way I chose, I would have had regrets. Each choice carried both joy and pain.”

Janeway placed her hands over Lynne’s and nodded. After a comfortable silence, she asked, “How did you say goodbye to your family?”

The warm body beneath hers stiffened. Then Lynne said, a little too carefully, “I recorded a message for them on a PADD and left it with a lawyer. It will be shipped to them the day I disappear. I mean the day I disappeared. Hell, I can’t keep track of my tenses.”

Lynne’s reaction set off alarm bells in Janeway’s head. She pushed herself up and turned around, examining her partner carefully. Lynne met her gaze steadily, but Janeway could see unease in her eyes.

“What did it say?”

There was a slight pause before the answer came. “I explained what happened to me, and about you, and told them not to worry because I was happy.”

Janeway was silent, watching Lynne’s body language. “That’s not all, is it?” When Lynne didn’t answer, her concern increased. “Lynne, please tell me you didn’t violate the Temporal Prime Directive.”

“Do we have to discuss this now?”

“That would be a yes, then,” said Janeway, her heart sinking. “What did you do?”

Lynne’s eyes flashed at the slightly accusatory tone. “I didn’t do anything except make sure my parents were provided for, okay? I was very careful.”

It was her captain’s instinct, Janeway thought later. It just took over sometimes, and not always at the most opportune moments. In a heartbeat she went from comforting her partner to grilling her.

“This is serious, Lynne, and I think you know it. You need to tell me exactly what happened.”

Lynne pushed off the couch and stalked a few steps away. “God, I didn’t want to get into this,” she muttered. She shoved an impatient hand through her hair and turned to face Janeway. “All I did was give them some money and tell them how to invest it. And I made sure the PADD would self-destruct, too. I didn’t do anything to alter the timeline.”

Janeway stood up as well. “You don’t think telling your parents how to invest will alter the timeline? Lynne, you essentially told them the future! If that isn’t a violation of the Temporal Prime Directive, I don’t know what is!” A flood of emotion enveloped her, shaking her with its intensity. She was angry with Lynne, and disappointed. The disappointment hurt far worse. “What happened, Lynne? You did the one thing I asked you not to do, and you knew how important it was! What were you thinking?”

Lynne stared at her, clenching her fists at her sides. When she spoke, her voice trembled.

“You want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking that I owed them, Kathryn. I had a choice, and whichever way I chose I was going to lose something. Choose them and lose you, or choose you and lose them. I chose you. Do you understand what that means? It means I abandoned them! It means I’m not going to be there when they need me, if they ever get hurt, or sick—” Her voice faltered, and she shook her head. “I’m their only child, and I left them. They had the right to expect that I would take care of them when they got older. They had the right to expect me to be there. But I won’t be. So I had to take care of them the best I could.”

Janeway watched, horrified, as Lynne began to cry.

“Kathryn, do you know how hard it was not to tell them what I wanted to? I didn’t tell them about World War Three, or give them any clues as to how to save themselves. Believe me, I kept your damn Directive in mind. For all I know they’re going to die in a few years. But I gave them the best chance I could, by making sure they had money. It buys a lot of protection, and it was the only way that I could be there for them.” She put one hand over her eyes as her shoulders shook.

Janeway’s body moved of its own accord, and she had her arms wrapped around Lynne before she was even aware of it. Lynne raised her head and fixed Janeway with a determined look that was no less effective for the tears streaking her face.

“I know you have to be the captain here,” she said, striking a blow straight to Janeway’s heart. “But I had a responsibility too, and I will not apologize for upholding it. I did the best I could.” She sniffed. “Do you understand?”

Janeway wiped Lynne’s tears with a careful hand, cursing herself that she’d made such a hash out of things. How could her comfort have turned so quickly to anger and pain?

“Yes, sweetheart, I understand,” she said. “As your captain I can’t condone your actions, but as your lover I know why you did it. And I’m not sure I would have done any different in your position.” She sighed, once again struck by the disparity between what the two sides of her persona required. Well, she really wasn’t the captain right now; Chakotay was technically in charge at the moment. So she’d take care of Lynne as her partner, comfort her as she’d intended, and worry about the rest later.

“What’s done is done,” she said. “I know you did your best, and I’m sorry you had to pay such a high price for your choice.”

Lynne looked even more determined, if that was possible. “That’s the other reason I didn’t want to get into this,” she said. “I don’t want you to take on any responsibility for my decision to stay. Don’t you dare feel guilty about it. It was my choice, and I made it with full knowledge of the consequences. It is not your fault.”

Janeway, who had been feeling quite guilty at that very moment, now felt even more guilty at being caught. She looked up into those expressive eyes, which at the moment appeared to see right through her. “You know me far too well,” she said.

“Not well enough yet,” said Lynne, “but I’m working on it. Kathryn, I love you, and I never want you to be disappointed in me. But I’m sure you will every now and again. I know we’re not always going to agree, but please know that whatever I do, it will be what I thought was best at the time.”

“I know that,” said Janeway, pushing down the knowledge that she’d conveniently forgotten that very thing not five minutes ago. “And I know you’re not afraid to pay the consequences for your decisions. You have very strong ethics, Lynne, and I’ve always been proud of you for them. It’s just that sometimes your personal ethics don’t match my professional ones. And that’s not something I can change.”

“I know,” sighed Lynne. “It sucks great big donkey balls.”

Janeway let out a startled snort of laughter, in spite of their situation. “That’s a new one.”

Lynne chuckled, too. “No, actually it’s a very old one. But apropos, don’t you think?”

“Yes. But let’s make sure I don’t pick up that particular idiom. I can’t imagine what Chakotay would think if I popped that one out.”

Lynne waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I can, and I think he’d be wide awake for hours afterward.”

 

 

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Early the next morning, Janeway strode through the doors of her ready room. She wrinkled her nose at the mess. Though she really had very little memory of the hours she’d spent here, trying to hide from reality, the proof was before her. PADDs were scattered over every surface, and a glass on her coffee table held a telltale whiff of whiskey to remind her that she’d fallen to a brand new low of drinking while still technically on duty. She quickly disposed of the glass, not wanting to think about that, and straightened up the PADDs. Then she sat behind her terminal, determined to find out what she could about Lynne’s violation of the Temporal Prime Directive. Not that she could do anything about it at this point, but she had to know. Besides, she wanted a second chance at dealing with Lynne’s revelation of the night before—the guilt she felt for her knee-jerk reaction was weighing on her too heavily. A little distance from the event had given her enough objectivity to realize that both of them had been through an emotional wringer, and their feelings were still just under the surface. Any emotional reaction was likely to be out of proportion. Still, knowing the source of her reaction didn’t make her feel any better. She just hoped she could make up for it.

Her first searches, for any permutation, abbreviation or initials of the names John and Elizabeth Hamilton, came up empty. She drummed her fingers on the desk, thinking. All right, so Lynne’s parents hadn’t made it into the history files. That didn’t mean Lynne hadn’t altered the timeline, just that if she had, it wasn’t apparent in that manner.

After a few more minutes of thought she entered a new search parameter. Her screen immediately filled with data.

As she read, her eyes widened.

 

 

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The shift had seemed longer than usual, particularly given the congratulations Janeway had to suffer from the crew regarding Lynne’s reappearance. Though she’d long given up any hope of discretion, it still bothered her somewhat that her crew should know so much about her personal life. She was embarrassed by their knowledge of her earlier despair, and wanted nothing more than to just sweep the whole episode under the deck plating.

As the beta shift filed in, she wasted no time leaving the bridge. Arriving in her quarters, she found another whiskey glass that needed to be disposed of. Wincing, she dumped the glass in the replicator and punched up a light meal, including a delay on the timer. Then she poured two glasses of red wine and left them to breathe while she changed clothes.

She didn’t have long to wait. By the time she’d returned to her living area and selected the appropriate music, her door chimed.

“Come,” she called, and smiled as Lynne walked in. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said, handing Lynne a glass and kissing her at the same time.

“Hello yourself,” said Lynne. “You look wonderful.” Her gaze held a slightly questioning look, and Janeway knew it was due to the summons she’d sent Lynne that morning. But it wasn’t time yet.

“Thank you,” she said, gesturing for Lynne to sit at the table. “I feel wonderful. You’re here and not four hundred years away. Ready to eat?”

“Always,” said Lynne, cocking her head to one side. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Janeway ignored the opening, bringing the food to the table instead. Lynne allowed the obvious avoidance, and they enjoyed a quiet meal together. Once the dishes had been cleared and the wine glasses refilled, however, Lynne could stand it no longer.

“All right, what’s going on?”

Janeway almost laughed—she would have put good money on Lynne’s inability to give her one second longer than the end of the meal.

“I’ve been doing some research on possible timeline alterations due to your message,” she said. When Lynne immediately stiffened, she held up her hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not angry and we’re not going to get into another discussion on situational ethics. But I did find something.”

“What?” Despite Janeway’s words, Lynne was obviously worried.

“Before I tell you that, I need you to tell me exactly what you said in that message.”

It took a few minutes while Lynne thought about it, but eventually she laid the whole message out for Janeway, who nodded encouragingly. When she was done, Janeway stood and held out her hand. “Come with me,” she said.

Looking utterly confused, Lynne took her hand, stood and followed Janeway to her desk. On the way over Janeway snagged a chair from the kitchen table, which she offered to her partner. Pulling up her own chair, she called up her search results from earlier in the day.

“I honestly can’t tell you if you altered the timeline or not, because even if you did, I’d think that what I’m about to show you has always been here.” She shook her head slightly at the mental morass that temporal situations always caused. “But at this point, I think the whole question is moot as far as negative consequences are concerned. If this is really a result of your message, it has only had a positive effect as far as I can see. In fact, your message to your parents may have been part of this timeline all along.”

“You’ve totally lost me,” said Lynne.

“Sorry,” said Janeway. “I’ll try to explain. After the Third World War, the Earth governments were crippled, and funding for such luxuries as space exploration just wasn’t there. They were concentrating too much on rebuilding. Fortunately, a few private foundations picked up the slack, providing funding so that research could continue. By far the largest of these foundations, and one that was apparently unaffected by the war, was this one.” She zeroed in on a logo, and Lynne gasped.

The logo showed a name in block letters:  THE HAMILTON FOUNDATION. Atop the letters were simple, stylized line drawings of a man and a woman, gazing upward at a field of stars.

“But…but that’s not…I mean they wouldn’t…”

Janeway squeezed Lynne’s hand. “What did you tell your parents to do when they wanted to see you again?” She knew the answer, having heard it from Lynne minutes before, but she wanted Lynne to make the connection.

A stifled sob showed that her partner had, indeed, put it together. She looked at Janeway in wonder. “I told them to go outside at night and look up, because I’d be in the stars.”

“And they did,” said Janeway.

“But this doesn’t prove anything,” Lynne protested. “There must be a zillion Hamiltons in the Federation. What makes you so sure this has anything to do with my parents? The logo could be a coincidence.”

“This is what makes me sure,” said Janeway, clicking on another screen. “The logo doesn’t show the Foundation’s full name, but all of their official documents do.” She indicated a press release in text form, which bore a slightly different header:  The Lynne D. Hamilton Foundation. Hearing a sharp intake of breath behind her, she turned and looked into Lynne’s shocked face. “What’s your middle name, Lynne?” she asked. When she had first found this information, she’d been astonished to realize that she didn’t know. She wasn’t proud of that.

“Delilah,” said Lynne, still looking stunned. “It was my grandmother’s name. But I hated it; it was so old-fashioned, so I always just used my initial. But…Kathryn, are you sure this is me? Does it list my parents as founders?”

“No, but a lot of records were lost in the Third World War, not to mention the wars that came after. But the name and the logo, among other things, are very convincing. There’s more, Lynne.”

“More?” Lynne sounded lost.

“Yes. The Hamilton Foundation had one focus:  to fund any promising research that might advance humankind’s march toward space. Their funding corpus was enormous, and they always hired the absolute best investment advisors. I think they might have had some good input there.” Janeway glanced sideways at Lynne, who flushed but refused to take her eyes off the screen. “Over the years,” continued Janeway, “the corpus grew to unbelievable proportions, and the Foundation was able to fund research that the government couldn’t dream of supporting. The Foundation has long outlived your parents, Lynne. And it’s the reason we’re in space now.”

Lynne turned bewildered eyes toward Janeway. “I don’t understand.”

Janeway switched the screen from the logo to a list of names. “Here’s a list of the research programs and individual researchers that the Foundation funded. Take a look.” She pointed at one name partway down the list.

“Zefram Cochrane?” said Lynne. “The man who invented the warp drive?”

“That’s the one. Zefram conducted his research at a time shortly after the war, when the government couldn’t even guarantee postal delivery. You don’t think Zefram himself could have afforded the equipment he used, did you? Or guaranteed its delivery? No, he had the brains but not the money. He was working from a Hamilton Foundation grant. Lynne, your parents’ foundation made the first warp drive possible.”

Lynne was speechless. And Janeway wasn’t done yet.

“Do you know where the Federation’s greatest theoretical minds are right now? The ones working on space propulsion technology?”

Lynne simply shook her head. Janeway called up another screen. “It’s called the Theoretical Propulsion Group, or TPG for short. It’s a civilian think tank closely associated with Starfleet. The TPG has been responsible for nearly all of the major advances in warp technology over the last hundred years. And guess who funds them?” She pointed at the screen, which showed a breakdown of TPG funding sources. The Hamilton Foundation was the first on the list, giving the TPG more than sixty percent of its funding.

Lynne looked at the screen and then at Janeway, and the lost expression on her face almost melted the captain. Janeway took Lynne’s hands in her own and squeezed.

“The Hamilton Foundation still exists, Lynne. Your parents’ legacy—for three hundred and seventy-five years. They took the advice you gave them and used it to create a means of funding space exploration research in perpetuity. They’re indirectly the reason that Voyager exists. They’re indirectly responsible for my career, and my father’s…” she trailed off, thinking about the expanding spiderweb of links that went on farther than she could see. If the Klingons had found Earth before humans had discovered warp technology, would they now be a Klingon colony? What about the Romulans, or any other Federation enemies? Were the Hamiltons partially responsible for the fact that Earth was not only still independent, but the center of a powerful alliance of worlds? With a shake of her head, she brought herself back to the germane point.

“You said you couldn’t be there for your parents, so you did the best you could. Well, your parents knew they couldn’t be there for you, but they did everything they could to make sure that somebody else was. They’re not the reason that Voyager was in the right place at the right time, but they are the reason that we had the technology to be out there. They were looking out for you, Lynne. And I think that logo is a message to you.”

She called the logo back on the screen. Lynne stared at it, then hunched over the desk and put her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Just as Janeway touched her back, a keening cry broke from her throat, and Lynne began to weep in earnest. Janeway comforted her as best she could, knowing that her partner was utterly overwhelmed. She waited out the storm, rubbing Lynne’s back and whispering encouragement. Briefly she wondered if she should wait before telling Lynne her last bit of news, but decided that there really was no good time. Might as well get it all over with at once.

At last Lynne straightened up, wiping tears off her face and turning watery eyes toward Janeway. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to say anything.” Janeway cupped her cheek. “But I do have one more thing to tell you.”

“Oh, god! I don’t know if I can take any more.” Lynne leaned back in her chair and took in a shuddering breath. “But go ahead.”

Carefully, Janeway took both of Lynne’s hands in her own and looked into green eyes shimmering with tears. “The Hamilton Foundation is one of the five largest in the Federation. It’s a private foundation, and as the direct descendant of John and Elizabeth Hamilton—not to mention the woman for whom the Foundation is named—you’ll be in control of it if we return to the Alpha Quadrant. You should simply by virtue of your lineage, but I’d be very surprised if your parents haven’t installed some means of guaranteeing your acceptance by the Foundation Board.” She paused and took a breath.

“I’d also be very surprised if your parents didn’t set up a private trust for you, which would probably reflect the same investment strategies as the Foundation itself. So unless I’m very wrong, Lynne, you’re one of the richest and most powerful women in the Federation.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 2

 

 

Seven of Nine saw her friend as soon as she entered the mess hall. A tingle settled into her stomach, and she no longer needed to analyze it to recognize the emotion—a thrill of happiness at seeing Lynne again. She had been worried about Lynne’s departure from the ship, and although she wanted what was best for her friend, she was still very happy that her choice had been to stay.

After a detour to the counter to accept Neelix’s latest offering, she quickly made her way through the tables until she stood in front of her friend.

“Lynne,” she said. “It is very good to see you. I know you did not make your decision for my benefit, but I am nevertheless very happy that you chose to remain aboard Voyager.”

Lynne looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Seven. That means a lot to me. It’s great to see you, too.” She gestured at Seven’s tray. “Take a load off.”

Seven didn’t move except to tilt her implant toward Lynne. “This is another idiom?” she asked. An eye roll answered her.

“Sit down, Seven.”

Seven sat, filing the latest idiom away in her eidetic memory. It was a good thing her cranial implant could store an almost infinite amount of information, because she was taking up a good portion of that space with Lynne’s never ending supply of odd phrases.

She put a bite of food in her mouth, winced slightly, then chewed and swallowed quickly. “So,” she said. “What brings you back to our neck of the woods?”

Lynne’s mouth dropped open and she stared. Seven allowed a small smile to curve her lips and congratulated herself on her proper use of the idiom, as her friend began laughing helplessly.

“Okay, you got me on that one,” said Lynne, once she’d gotten control of herself again. “I keep forgetting about your memory.” She immediately put a hand up. “No, don’t. I didn’t mean to give you that opening.”

Seven shrugged her shoulders, another bit of non-verbal communication she’d learned by observation, and continued to eat.

Lynne watched her with a wide smile on her face. “You know, Seven, you’re one of the people I would have missed the most if I’d gone back.”

Seven swallowed, carefully placed her fork back on the plate and met Lynne’s eyes. She was unprepared for such a statement and could not reference any appropriate idioms to answer, so she reverted to what was most comfortable. “Thank you. That is…good to know. I would have missed you as well.” The tingle was back in her stomach. She watched as Lynne reached across the table and patted her arm, then squeezed it. “What is that?” she asked.

“What’s what?”

Seven looked down at the hand on her arm, and Lynne’s eyes followed.

“Oh. That’s non-verbal communication for, ‘You’re one of my best friends and I’m feeling very affectionate toward you right now.’”

Non-verbal communication was impressive in its efficiency. It could communicate a great deal very quickly. Once Seven had realized the obvious advantages, she had set herself to learning it. The greatest difficulty she encountered was that for some odd reason, humans tended to imbue the same gesture with two or more meanings. After a few awkward misunderstandings, she’d learned to ask for the alternate meanings.

“Is that the sole communication for this action?”

As usual, Lynne took her question seriously and sat back, thinking. “No. If you were upset and I did that, it would mean, ‘I’m sorry you’re upset and I want to comfort you.’ And if you were sick, it would be a gesture of comfort as well.”

Seven understood immediately. “I have seen Kathryn communicate with sick or injured crew in this manner.” Gradually, she was becoming more accustomed to referring to the captain by her first name when alone with her or Lynne. It was definitely one of her more difficult adaptations.

“Yes, I’m sure you have. She’s good at that.”

Seven tilted her implant toward Lynne. “I am one of your best friends?”

“Absolutely, Seven. Didn’t you know that?”

“No.”

“My fault, then. I should have told you. You have been for some time, Seven. There’s nobody like you and I’m honored to have you as my friend.”

Seven reached very deliberately across the table, patted Lynne’s arm, and then squeezed it. Inexplicably, Lynne’s eyes showed signs of imminent tears. Seven withdrew her arm swiftly. Had she misunderstood? “I apologize,” she said. “I did not mean to make you cry.”

Lynne caught her hand and drew it back, replacing it with a tremulous smile. “It’s okay, Seven. I’m just…a little emotional at the moment, and you caught me by surprise.” She patted Seven’s hand. “Thank you for this.”

Seven left her hand where it was, sandwiched between Lynne’s hand and arm. Physical contact was rare for her, and she enjoyed the sensation. Then her memory replayed Lynne’s words, and she frowned.

“Why are you feeling emotional?”

After a pause, Lynne shrugged and said, “It’s just been a long couple of days.”

Seven squeezed Lynne’s arm again and looked her in the eye. “That may be truthful but it is inexact. I would not have asked if I did not wish to know.”

“You know,” said Lynne in a tone of mild complaint, “between you, B’Elanna and Kathryn I don’t get away with anything at all.”

Seven slowly withdrew her hand and resumed her normal, erect posture. “It was your choice to select Kathryn for a partner and me and B’Elanna as friends. If we do not let you ‘get away with anything,’ that is merely a consequence of your own decision making.” She accessed an appropriate idiom. “Deal with it.”

Lynne snorted and began laughing again. “God, Seven, I have never heard anything so funny as you using slang. It’s just wonderful. Please keep doing it.”

“I will. Now tell me what is troubling you.”

Sobering, Lynne looked at her chronometer. “I’ve got a reservation on the holodeck in about five minutes. Will you go for a walk with me?”

Seven knew this meant that Lynne was going to use one of the outdoor-themed programs to “think,” as she’d put it once. She had often told Seven that she thought better while moving, and she felt better moving in a natural environment.

“I am free for the next forty-three point six minutes,” she said.

“Great. Let’s go.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Thirty minutes later, the two women sat on a grassy field in the sun, a light breeze ruffling their hair and carrying the sound of the distant waterfall visible on a high cliff. It was one of Lynne’s favorite programs. As they’d walked a wide trail up to this field, she’d told Seven the details of her time on Earth, followed by what Seven knew was an abbreviated version of her argument with Kathryn regarding the Temporal Prime Directive, and finally explained what she understood of the Hamilton Foundation and her association with it.

“So that’s it,” she said. “It’s just too much to take in, you know? I feel happy, and sad, and scared, and overwhelmed, all at once.”

Seven had no point of reference for this conversation. Emotions in general were not something she felt comfortable with, and facing so many simultaneously was positively intimidating. But Lynne was her friend, and in need of assistance. She began dissecting the conversation in her mind, pulling together similar threads and discarding details that seemed irrelevant.

“You are happy because you know your parents lived, and they took action to facilitate human space exploration and eventually your rescue, correct?”

“Yes,” said Lynne. “And I’m so proud of them for what they did with that little head start I gave them. My god, Seven, they practically shoved humans into space. My own parents!” She shook her head.

“And you are sad because of the choice you made to leave them behind?”

“Yes. But don’t you ever say anything about that to Kathryn. She’ll beat herself over the head with it, given half a chance, and I don’t want her to feel guilty.”

Seven paused for a moment, distracted by the visual image of the captain engaging in cranial self-flagellation. This was not compatible with her impression of the captain’s likely behaviors, so she assumed it was another idiom. But now was not the time to ask about it.

“You are overwhelmed by the amount of information you have been given?”

“That’s a good way of putting it. I guess I just need some time to process it.”

Seven nodded. “Your emotional reaction is understandable, from what I have learned of human emotions and mental processing speed. The only reaction I do not understand is your fear. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of that damn Foundation,” said Lynne.

That answer didn’t clarify anything at all. Seven approached it with her usual logic. “There is little reason at the moment to fear it. The probability that we will ever return to Federation space in our lifetimes is very low. The Foundation is not likely to ever affect you.”

“Do you really believe that?” asked Lynne. “I mean, I know what the probabilities are, but they’re just cold numbers. Do you really believe that Kathryn, or you, or B’Elanna, or someone else here won’t figure out some way to speed up our return?”

Seven gave the question serious consideration. “No,” she said at last. “I do not believe that. Given the unique abilities and determination of this crew, it is quite possible we may someday find a way to return sooner.”

“Well, there you go.”

Seven ignored this response, instead rephrasing her original question.

“Why do you fear the Foundation?”

Lynne looked toward the waterfall for some time without answering. Seven waited, not the least bit bothered by the silence. Those crew members who felt compelled to fill a silence with their voices, regardless of whether they had anything meaningful to say, simply made her feel irritable and impatient. Lynne understood that verbal communication was only worthwhile when it actually communicated something. It was one of the things Seven appreciated most about her.

Eventually Lynne turned her head and met Seven’s eyes again.

“Kathryn says I’m probably one of the richest and most powerful women in the Federation, Seven. I don’t know how to deal with that. I’ve never been either, you know? I’ve spent my life—until last year, anyway—living on a small amount of money and doing a job that I knew I was very good at. Now suddenly there’s this huge expectation. If we get back to the Federation, I’m going to have to take over some giant foundation, wielding the sort of power that some planetary leaders don’t even have. I don’t know how to handle those kinds of finances. I don’t know what to do with the power. I’m just a mountaineer and an outdoor instructor, Seven; what the hell do I know about leading a foundation?”

Seven thought she had detected the issue. She might not understand the more nuanced human emotions, but fear of failure was something she understood very well. Her determination not to fail Kathryn had driven her to some of her greatest efforts in the past.

“Are you convinced that you must take over the Foundation? And if you are, do you believe that the Foundation would accept you as its lead officer? Perhaps this is a nonissue.”

“I asked Kathryn the same thing; about being accepted, I mean. She’s convinced that my parents would have foreseen this and put something in place to guarantee my acceptance. And I’m inclined to think she’s right. Which means that my parents would have expected me to take over, so I owe it to them to try. Which brings me right back to my original problem. I’m terrified.”

Seven considered this. She personally believed that Lynne could do anything she wished to do, but how could she convince her friend of that?

“Eight months ago,” she said, “what did you know about space travel, tactical maneuvers, or hand-to-hand combat?”

“Nothing,” said Lynne automatically.

“What do you know about those topics now?”

Lynne stared. After a long pause, she said, “Did I just get slammed by Borg logic?”

“Yes.”

There was no sound but the waterfall for several seconds.

“Fine,” said Lynne at last. “You’re right. If it comes to that, I’ll learn what I need to know. I’ll just treat it like a mountain, I guess.”

“Clarify,” said Seven. “Please,” she added a beat too late. Some things still didn’t come naturally, despite her practice.

Lynne grinned at her. “Nice catch.”

Seven arched an eyebrow and waited.

“Okay. What I mean is, when you climb a mountain, you can’t look at the mountain as a single unit. You have to break it down into a bunch of smaller units, and plan your strategy for each of those smaller units in turn. You still need to have an overall goal or direction in mind, but you can’t be thinking about the summit while you’re still getting up and over the first steep pitch at the bottom. In fact, it can be dangerous if you do, because you can psyche yourself out—” She looked at Seven and corrected herself. “I mean, you can convince yourself that you can’t make it. And if you do that, you’re done. Might as well pack up and go home. You have to focus on what’s in front of you at the time. And after a while, one unit at a time, you find yourself at the summit. That’s how I’ve climbed every mountain, Seven. Even the ones I’ve done before.”

Seven nodded. “Your analogy is apropos. That is exactly what I was suggesting. If you view your current status as head of the Hamilton Foundation in the same way you view a mountain to be climbed, I believe you will succeed.”

“Huh. What do you know. I feel a lot better.” Lynne seemed a little amazed by this, and gave Seven a dazzling grin. “Thanks, Seven. That really helped.”

“I am glad I could assist.” And truthfully, she was. A few months ago Seven of Nine would never have considered partaking in a conversation of this sort—helping someone come to terms with their emotions. She would rather have realigned all of the plasma relays with her optical implant deactivated. But now, she found a sense of satisfaction in her success. She had aided her friend, and it felt—good.

Then another thought occurred to her. Did other people feel this sense of satisfaction when they aided a friend? Today she had been prepared to ask Lynne for assistance on a research topic, but Lynne’s distress had made her own desire seem unimportant. Now she wondered if being asked to assist might actually be beneficial to her friend. She ran this question through her cortical implant and in less than one second tallied seven separate occasions when Lynne had pronounced herself “happy to help.”

Seven was always ready to test a hypothesis.

“I am hoping that you might be able to assist me in turn,” she said, carefully watching Lynne’s face for a reaction. Her hypothesis received an immediate increase in credibility when Lynne smiled.

“Sure, Seven. Anything. What do you need?”

“You are aware that in the past I researched human sexual relations, culminating in a date.”

“Yeeesss,” Lynne drew the word out, her brows contracting.

“I found that research almost entirely lacking, and abandoned the project. Since observing you and Kathryn together, however, I have determined to renew my research. I believe that the primary cause of failure in my initial attempt was my decision to use the Doctor as a guide.”

“Yeah, that’d do it.” Lynne rolled her eyes.

“You do not like the Doctor?” asked Seven in some surprise.

“No, no, that’s not it. I, uh, just don’t think he’d be the best choice for a project like that.” Lynne’s speech was uncharacteristically halting.

“Why?”

“Because…well, Seven, please don’t take this the wrong way because I know you like him—but he’s not human, he doesn’t understand the intangibles and subtleties of human emotions, and yet he considers himself superior to humans in every way. That’s just the worst possible combination you could get in someone who’s supposed to guide you through human interactions.”

“I am not offended by your assessment. Rather, I agree with it. This is precisely why I have decided that you should be my guide in this project.”

“Right. Good, I’m glad you’re not—what?”

“I have decided that you should be my guide in this project,” Seven repeated patiently.

Lynne’s mouth dropped open.

“You should close your mouth before you catch flies,” said Seven, repeating a piece of advice she’d once heard Kathryn give a crewman.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m in the twilight zone,” said Lynne. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“You asked me to continue using idioms.” Seven was confused by Lynne’s reaction.

“That’s not what I meant! You want me to help you study human sexuality?”

“Yes.” Seven thought privately that Lynne was not exercising her usual intelligence at the moment. She did not normally ask questions that had already been answered.

Lynne clapped both hands to her face and slowly drew them down. After a few moments of silence, she looked back up at Seven. “Okay, one rock pitch at a time, right? What’s your summit?”

“Pardon?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose in an unconscious imitation of her partner, Lynne said, “What is the end goal of your research?”

“Ah. I wish to experience the full range of human sexuality, including non-procreative intercourse and the type of emotional intimacy that you share with Kathryn.”

An expulsion of air escaped Lynne’s lungs, accompanied by a sub-vocalization that sounded something like “hoo boy.” She shook her head. “All right. I’ll do my best, Seven, but this is a tall order. I’m not going to guarantee success. And I’m going to have to think about how best to do it.”

“The Doctor used the holodeck,” offered Seven.

“The Doctor is a computer program,” said Lynne. “That’s fine for him. I don’t have the slightest idea of how to program the holodeck.”

“But I do,” said Seven. “I would simply require you to advise me in how the programming should manifest itself.”

“You mean, I tell you what a character should say and do?”

Seven nodded, pleased. It appeared that Lynne’s normal intelligence was reasserting itself.

“Hmm.” Lynne looked thoughtful. “That might actually work. To a point.”

“I am glad to hear that.” Seven checked her internal chronometer and stood. “I must return to my duties. Thank you for agreeing to assist me.”

Lynne rose to her feet as well. “I’ll walk you out. Computer, end program.” As they departed the grid-lined holodeck, she said, “I gotta admit, you took my mind right off my own problems.”

Seven spent a few microseconds translating the slang, and then smiled to herself. It was so satisfying when a hypothesis was proven correct.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 3

 

 

“It’ll never work.”

“Clarify.”

“Yeah, B’Elanna, why not?”

B’Elanna looked at her two friends and sighed. She was going to get sucked into this harebrained scheme, she just knew it. Here she was, enjoying a nice dinner, when these two had to come over and throw a spanner in her plans for a quiet evening.

“It won’t work,” she said, “because Seven can’t do the programming. Part of dating is dealing with the unknown. If she knows how a character is going to act or react, she’s not going to learn anything.”

Lynne and Seven looked at each other.

“I hate to say it,” said Lynne, “but she’s got a point. And it’s not even on her head.”

“Hey!”

Lynne produced an innocent smile that didn’t fool B’Elanna one bit.

“Then what is the solution?” asked Seven.

Lynne’s smile turned predatory. B’Elanna groaned. She could see it coming, had seen it coming, and still had no means of escape.

Seven turned to her. “B’Elanna. You are the most qualified programmer after myself. You would be an excellent choice for this undertaking. Will you do it?”

“No! I mean, I’m not really a good choice for this, Seven. Sure, I could do the programming, but this requires a little more, uh, sensitivity than I have.”

“Bullshit,” said Lynne succinctly. “Don’t give us that. You’re plenty sensitive enough when you want to be. Kathryn told me about the chat you had with her when Seven and I were in the brig. And I seem to recall a few occasions when you and I had some pretty sensitive conversation. Try again, B’Elanna, because that one’s not gonna fly.”

Seven cocked her eyebrow—or at least, the implant where her eyebrow had been—at Lynne. “’Not going to fly’?” she asked quietly.

“Meaning it won’t work,” replied Lynne in a stage whisper. She turned back to B’Elanna and raised her own eyebrow.

B’Elanna looked back and forth at the two expectant faces. Her agile mind ran through several possible scenarios, none of which allowed her to get out of this with any grace whatsoever. She spent a brief moment hoping for a red alert, and when nothing happened, gave in as she’d known she would.

“Fine, I’ll help. But if things don’t turn out the way you hope, don’t blame me. You’re the ones who browbeat me into it.”

“Fair enough,” announced Lynne. “When do you want to start, Seven?”

“I do not see any reason to wait. All three of us are free at the moment. Shall we start now?”

B’Elanna groaned again, but her friends ignored her.

“Now’s good,” said Lynne. She pulled two chairs out from the table that B’Elanna had previously been enjoying all by herself, sat down, and aimed a cheerful grin at B’Elanna. Seven signaled to Neelix and sat next to her. In a moment Neelix bustled over, an expectant look on his furry face.

“What can I do for you ladies? The hash is particularly good today, and I can recommend the brownies. Pity about the lack of nuts in our stores, but I think the walla root makes an excellent substitute. You should definitely try it.” He looked at them hopefully.

Lynne’s wince did not go unnoticed by B’Elanna. “Thanks, Neelix,” she said. “Lynne loves brownies; why don’t you bring a big square over for her?” Ignoring the toxic look Lynne shot her, she continued, “I’ll just have a glass of white wine from the replicator. Seven?”

“Nothing for me, thank you,” said Seven.

“I’ll have a glass of water, too,” said Lynne.

Neelix nodded and bustled off.

B’Elanna looked at Seven. “When did you stop saying, ‘I do not require nutrition at this time’?”

“Stardate 53166.2,” said Seven, who as usual was nothing if not exact. “That is when I realized that I was the only person to use that response, and that such responses are at least partially responsible for the way other crewmembers view me. I have been attempting to modify my speech during social occasions. You, Lynne and Kathryn have been my most frequently-used models.”

“You’ve been modeling yourself after me?” B’Elanna wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Seven’s raised brow left no doubt as to her feelings, however. “I did not model myself after you. I modeled my speech patterns after several individuals, of which you were one.”

“Oh. Well, you could do worse, you know.” Now B’Elanna was a bit nettled.

“No doubt I could if I made a serious attempt to do so.”

Lynne’s snort drew B’Elanna’s attention from the ghost of a smile on Seven’s face. “You’re the one teaching her this disrespect, aren’t you?” she accused, but inwardly she was charmed. It was so amazing to see Seven’s face relax into that tiny smile she produced these days. Why, the woman was almost becoming human.

“B’Elanna, believe me, Seven never needed any training in how to be disrespectful.” Lynne’s face fell as Neelix set a brownie in front of her. “Uh, thanks, Neelix.”

“You’re most welcome! Try a bit now, and tell me what you think!” Neelix put B’Elanna’s wine down and stood back expectantly.

Flashing a you-will-die-soon look at B’Elanna, Lynne broke off a piece, took a deep breath, and placed it in her mouth. After chewing for a moment, she paused, and resumed her chewing at a slower rate. With a stoic expression, she swallowed.

“Well, what do you think?” Neelix asked.

“Um…it’s a very unusual flavor, Neelix. Not like anything I’ve had before.”

Neelix beamed. “There’s plenty more where that came from! Just let me know if you want seconds.”

“Oh no—I mean, no thanks, Neelix. I’m trying to watch my weight, you know?”

Neelix eyed Lynne, whose constant workouts kept her in near-perfect physical condition. “If you say so,” he said as he left.

Raising her wine glass, B’Elanna offered a toast. “To Fossil and her developing diplomatic skills.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Lynne, right before picking up her water glass and draining it. She thunked the empty glass down, wiped her mouth a little more vigorously than usual, and threw the napkin on the table. “Yuck. And you know I hate that name.”

B’Elanna laughed. “Serves you right,” she said. “Revenge is so sweet.”

Lynne pushed the plate holding the remains of her brownie as far away from her as she could get it. “Not in this case it isn’t.”

“Ladies,” said Seven in a perfect imitation of Janeway. “Shall we get started?”

Two heads swiveled to stare at her.

“You know,” said B’Elanna, “she’s getting positively scary.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Lynne. “When I started teaching her my idioms, I never gave any consideration to how far she’d go with it. Now she’s picking up speech patterns all over the place.”

Seven sighed. “That is inaccurate as usual. I have specific parameters for acceptable speech patterns, having no wish to adopt an inferior manner of speaking. B’Elanna should consider herself fortunate; her speech fell outside my parameters. However, I also gave consideration to whether or not the candidate was a friend, and it was this that enabled her to become one of my models.”

“Careful, Borg,” said B’Elanna. “Push me any further and I’ll teach you all about inferior speech.”

Lynne laughed. “You’re my hero, B’Elanna. I thought I was pretty good at cussing until I met you. Now I know I’m just a rank amateur.”

B’Elanna made a mock bow, and then both women turned back to Seven, who was waiting patiently.

“Okay, we’re ready,” said Lynne. B’Elanna nodded her agreement.

Seven fixed them both with an icy stare, then her face softened and that tiny smile appeared. “If you’re sure,” she said. At the nodding of two heads, she pulled a PADD out and placed it on the table.

“I’ve recorded the characteristics that I find attractive in others. I have then cross-referenced those traits with various crew members who possess one or more of them. This seemed to be a practical starting point for the project.”

Lynne took the PADD, scanned it briefly, then handed it to B’Elanna and looked at Seven. “Point number one, Seven. Dating has nothing to do with practicality. Your Borg logic is not going to be applicable here.”

“She’s right, Seven,” said B’Elanna as she replaced the PADD on the table a moment later. “Dating is about getting to know someone and seeing if they do anything for you.”

“Clarify. Please.”

“She means you just have to talk to your dates, spend time with them, and determine whether any of them attract you,” said Lynne.

“And how will I know if they attract me? How did you know with Captain Janeway?”

“Ooo, yes, how did you know?” asked B’Elanna, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to Lynne. This was bound to be juicy.

The question took Lynne by surprise. “Um…well, I guess I’d have to say it was when I realized that the sound of her voice put butterflies in my stomach. And that I was starting to count the hours until I could see her again. And then one night at dinner, I noticed that she had the most perfect set of—” she stopped and turned a bright shade of red, much to B’Elanna’s delight.

“Teeth?” she offered, enjoying the play of colors over her friend’s face.

“I was not aware that dentition was taken into consideration when determining a date’s attractiveness,” said Seven.

“Oh, it certainly is,” said Lynne, glaring at B’Elanna, “but the point is that you’ll know you’re attracted to someone when you suddenly start seeing them in a different way. For instance, I’d been having dinner with Kathryn for several weeks before I suddenly noticed that she had the most amazing eyes, and that they change color. If I hadn’t been attracted to her, it’s likely her eyes would never have caught my attention, or if they had, I would have observed them and then dismissed them. Does that make sense?”

“No,” said Seven. “I observe those details upon first meeting an individual. Instant assessment of an individual’s characteristics is programmed into all Borg. It aids us in determining the potential usefulness of each incoming drone.”

B’Elanna winced. It always made her uncomfortable when Seven referred to her Borg past so casually. It never seemed to bother Lynne, however, which she ascribed to the fact that Lynne had never met any fully assimilated Borg. She prayed that her friend never did.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Lynne said. “When you do your initial assessment of an individual, what do you make note of?”

“Physical characteristics—eye color, which can indicate light tolerance; thickness of hair, which in some species indicates cold tolerance; overall health, length of bones, muscle structure, intelligence, fat to weight ratio—”

“Okay,” Lynne interrupted her. “I get the picture. But when you do that sort of assessment, have you ever looked at a person’s eyes and thought they were beautiful?”

Seven paused. “No. Beauty is defined differently by different species. It is irrelevant to the Borg.”

B’Elanna thought it was high time to get away from the Borg references. “Stop thinking like a Borg, Seven. Think like the human you are. Think about the human definitions of beauty. Have you ever looked at anyone’s eyes, say anyone on this ship, and thought that they were a nice color?”

Seven looked from B’Elanna to Lynne and back again. “No, I have not. But now that we are discussing it, I observe that your eyes are brown, and Lynne’s are a shade of green that is not common among humans. Many species define beautiful characteristics by their rarity, so I believe that Lynne’s eyes would be considered beautiful. Since brown is the most common eye color among humans, your eyes are not as likely to be considered attractive.”

“Thanks a lot,” said B’Elanna. Damn if Seven’s bluntness didn’t get her sometimes. Common eye color!

Lynne shot her a smirk. “Seven, you’re looking at beauty from an empirical perspective. But it’s really very subjective. If you were attracted to B’Elanna, you would probably note my eye color and its empirical attractiveness, but you’d look at B’Elanna’s eyes…” Here she made a point of staring into B’Lanna’s eyes at close range, and dropping her voice into a sultry register. “And you’d notice how rich and dark they are, and how you could just drown in their depths. You’d want to get closer to them; you’d want the right to be able to stare into them, instead of sneaking looks now and then…” Now she drew even closer to B’Elanna, who was beginning to feel a little hot under the collar. “And eventually you’d want to find out what those eyes looked like in the depths of passion, whether they got darker during orgasm, and whether she’d close them when you kissed her—”

B’Elanna’s eyes flew open wide when Lynne kissed her right on the mouth. She was so startled that it took her a few seconds to push her friend away. “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

“No,” observed Seven, “she did not close her eyes when you kissed her.”

“No, she didn’t, did she?” Lynne’s grin was demonical. “But you’re right, honey, revenge is sweet.”

“You bitch.” B’Elanna couldn’t believe that Lynne had gotten her like that.

“I’m wounded. You didn’t enjoy our kiss?”

“Apparently not nearly as much as you did, honey.”

Lynne threw her head back and laughed, and B’Elanna found she couldn’t stay irritated in the face of that. Her friend stopped long enough to point at her and gasp, “God, you should have seen your face!” before going off into gales of laughter again. Almost against her will, B’Elanna began to chuckle, and was soon laughing as well. Seven looked on with a bemused expression and patiently waited for them to calm down. Eventually they did, and Lynne explained between occasional chuckles.

“There really was a point to that, Seven. I mean besides getting B’Elanna’s goat.” She raised an arm to block B’Elanna’s light punch to her shoulder, flashing her a merry look before turning back to Seven. “When you’re attracted to someone, empirical definitions don’t matter. For instance, freckles might not be considered attractive, but if you meet someone you really like and he or she has freckles, you might suddenly decide that freckles are really pretty. It’s not the beauty that fuels the attraction, it’s the attraction that defines beauty to you.”

“She’s right,” said B’Elanna. “I always disliked self-centered, smug people until I fell in love with Lynne, but now I think those are really attractive traits.” This time she was the one to block the blow.

“Oh, stop it,” said Lynne. “We’re trying to help Seven, and you’re just confusing the issue.”

“No,” said Seven, “I believe I understand what you are both trying to convey. Clearly it is not something I will fully understand until I experience such an attraction.”

Two heads nodded in unison.

“Which returns us to the start of this project. How can we create a situation where I might experience this?”

B’Elanna looked at Lynne for any ideas. Lynne looked back at her. “We could send her on a blind date,” she suggested.

“Geez, B’Elanna, did any of your blind dates ever actually work out?”

“Yes. Didn’t yours?”

“God no, they were all unmitigated disasters and I made my friends swear they would never try it again. Think we could do better for Seven?”

“Are you kidding? We have the holodeck. I know we can.”

B’Elanna still couldn’t believe she’d gotten sucked into this, but damn if she wasn’t going to do the best job she could. This was her friend, and B’Elanna had learned that for all her icy exterior, Seven was really a warm-hearted person. She deserved someone to share herself with. The problem was, who on board could possibly match her for intelligence and strength of will? The only people she could think of were herself, Lynne, Janeway and Tuvok. Three of those were already paired, and she’d never really been into women.

Well, they’d start with the first part of the engine and build it as they went. Hopefully the necessary pieces would show up when they were ready for them.

Speaking of engines…

“So, Seven, one question before we start. Which fuels your engines, males or females?”

Seven cocked her head to one side. “You are referring to which gender I find most attractive?” At B’Elanna’s nod, she continued, “I do not believe that gender is relevant. Did you not just explain to me that it is the person inside who fuels the perception of beauty?”

“Well, yes, but usually a person is…prewired, so to speak, to prefer one or the other.”

“Ah.” Seven considered. “I do not think at this time that I can make a determination, having never been attracted to either one. In addition, utilizing both genders will double the possibilities of finding a suitable mate, will it not?”

“In theory, yes,” said Lynne. “Though you may find it doesn’t actually work that way. But we’ll go with both to begin with.”

Seven nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your willingness to help me with this project.”

Lynne reached over and rested her hand on Seven’s arm. “We’re not helping you with your project, Seven. We’re just helping you.”

After a pause, Seven said, “I understand.” And there was that tiny smile again.

B’Elanna watched their interaction in some amazement. Who would have thought, just a few months ago, that anyone besides Janeway could reach out to touch Seven—and she would actually smile?

If that sort of miracle could happen, maybe they had a fighting chance with this.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 4

 

 

Seven approached the holodeck doors with a feeling of trepidation. She hated being nervous; she had never feared anything as a Borg and didn’t enjoy the sensation now. She also didn’t enjoy having no control over her circumstances, but Lynne and B’Elanna had steadfastly refused to let her see anything they were doing.

It had been a week since the discussion in the mess hall, and her friends had locked themselves in the holodeck programming room every available off-shift moment. Any question Seven asked was simply answered with, “You’ll see when it’s time.” She had learned to hate those words, and had questioned herself with increasing frequency as to the correctness of her decision to involve her friends. In the meantime, she had researched blind dates in the ship’s library, finding a large amount of literature devoted to various negative aspects of this social custom. This had not been reassuring. Then she had received the summons:  she was to appear in the holodeck at 1700, wearing “casual clothes for a temperate day.” She had spent some time in front of the computer attempting to determine the definition of “casual clothes,” refusing on principle to ask anyone’s advice. Her attire was the one factor over which she had any control at all. Now, standing in front of the holodeck doors, she knew for certain that she should never have instigated this project. Unfortunately, retreat was not an option, so with a deep breath and a conscious straightening of her shoulders, she stepped inside.

She was on a city sidewalk, busy with pedestrians and lined with small shops. At the end of the street, a high snow-capped mountain range towered over the city. The sky was a cloudless blue, and the air temperature, she noted, was 28 degrees Celsius. A slight breeze blew from the direction of the mountains, carrying with it the scent of some species of flower. Seven recognized B’Elanna’s involvement in this—very few engineers programmed in details so fine as scents on a breeze.

She turned in place, observing her surroundings, and heard her name called. Her cortical implant triangulated Lynne’s voice and she immediately began walking in that direction. Her friend sat at a table outside a small restaurant, dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt and sipping from a glass. Seven began to wonder if her own light sundress might be too formal for Lynne’s idea of “casual clothes.” Lynne didn’t let her wonder long, however.

“Hi, Seven! You look great! Have a seat.”

Seven sat on one of the two empty chairs at the table and looked around for the occupant of the third.

“He’s not here yet,” said Lynne. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I do not require…no, thank you, nothing for me.” Seven’s speech tended to revert to Borg formality when she was uncomfortable. She was irritated with herself, knowing that Lynne would catch her error.

“Nervous?” asked Lynne.

“No.”

Lynne looked her in the eyes and smiled.

“Yes, I am nervous,” admitted Seven. “I have never before engaged in an activity where I was unable to research and prepare in advance. I do not like the feeling of being unprepared.”

“I understand, Seven. Really, I do,” Lynne added when Seven raised a brow. “I’ve been on blind dates before, and so has just about everyone. And the one thing they all have in common is that you never know what you’re in for.”

“How reassuring to know that my feelings of trepidation are normal,” said Seven.

Lynne’s eyes danced. “Wow, your sarcasm is really coming along.”

“May we initiate the exercise now?” Seven’s ability to make “small talk” had dwindled to zero, and she just wanted to complete this part of the project as quickly as possible.

“Not yet,” said Lynne, as Seven repressed the urge to roll her eyes. “I want to tell you a few things about your date first. You didn’t really think I’d let you go into this totally blind, did you?”

Seven was sure her expression left no doubt.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” said Lynne. “I guess we could have shared a few details with you, but I didn’t want you stressing over what you knew. I wanted to be here with you from start to end of this project.”

“You will be here, physically, during this date?”

“Yes. Not all blind dates are one-on-one. Sometimes the friend who makes the introductions sticks around, just to make conversation flow more smoothly. Because she’s the only one who knows both parties. So that’s what I’m doing today. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Seven was surprised at the amount of relief she felt—suddenly the date project seemed more interesting and less intimidating.

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your presence.”

“You’re welcome. And I promise to do my level best to make this work for you. Now, shall I tell you a bit about your date?”

“Yes, please. You may start with our current location.”

Lynne leaned back in her chair. “Okay. You’re in my old stomping grounds at Boulder, Colorado. This restaurant is a popular jump-off spot for climbing trips.”

“‘Jump-off spot’?”

“A place where people meet and load their gear before starting a trip. I’ve been to this restaurant a zillion times. And the man you’re meeting is one of my climbing buddies.”

“He is like you, then.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I’ve been climbing all my life, but Paul—that’s his name, Paul Hosta—he just started climbing a few years ago. He was married, but his wife died of cancer. He always told her he’d like to learn to climb, but never got around to it. Before she died she asked him, as a favor to her, to make the time and learn. So he did. And he’s gotten really good at it, too, good enough for me to trust him on my rope.

“I chose Paul, Seven, because he understands personal loss. And I think that for anyone to have the slightest chance of making a connection with you, they have to understand that. Your separation from the Borg was an enormous personal loss, and it has a lot to do with who you are now.”

Seven regarded Lynne in some confusion. “So he will talk about the loss of his wife, and expect me to discuss being severed from the Collective?”

“I don’t think so. He may never even mention his wife today, and he probably won’t expect you to talk about your separation from the Borg. Remember, Seven, he knows nothing about you except for what I’ve told him—I mean, programmed into him. Just like you will only know what I’m telling you now. The point is that you will both be learning about each other at the same time.”

“Very well,” said Seven doubtfully. “Please share any other relevant personal details.”

“Okay. First of all, he’s a professor of mathematics at Colorado State University. B’Elanna downloaded modern mathematical concepts into him, so he won’t be stuck in 21^st century math. You might be surprised at what you and he can talk about. He’s a very nice man, very detail-oriented, loyal to a fault, and quite generous. He’s pretty serious, though, which is why he and I were never more than friends. I need someone with a wicked sense of humor.” She winked. “Your humor is still developing, so I don’t know if his seriousness will be a plus or minus to you. You’ll have to let me know. Does that help?”

Seven nodded. “Yes. It is more than I knew about Lieutenant Chapman before my last date.” She was somewhat surprised to see Lynne’s expression grow dark.

“That was a fiasco,” said Lynne, “and if you don’t mind my saying so, the Doctor handled it all wrong. He put you in unfamiliar clothing, in an unfamiliar setting, and then left you to figure out for yourself what to do. You should never have been put in that situation for your very first experience.”

“You have also put me in unfamiliar clothing and an unfamiliar setting,” Seven pointed out.

“Well, the setting is unfamiliar, that’s true, but I had you pick out your own clothing, and I’m not leaving you to figure out for yourself what to do. I’m going to be here every step of the way.” Lynne leaned forward, her eyes intent. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point in this, let me know. We’ll stop it right there, and then we’ll talk about why you feel uncomfortable and see if we can fix it. There’s no pressure, Seven. Paul isn’t real; you can’t hurt him or his feelings, and he’s not going to tell everyone on the ship how your date went. This is just practice.”

Seven considered this, and realized that she was currently more relaxed than she had been at the start of her last date. Lynne was treating her role of mentor in a very different manner than the Doctor had, and she appreciated the difference. It would just be so much more efficient, she thought with an inward sigh, if she could simply assimilate all of this social information instead of learning it in this slow manner. Sometimes, she really missed being Borg. Of course, if she were still Borg there would be no dating to consider. She immediately dismissed this circular line of thinking, reminded herself that she’d asked for Lynne’s help, and focused on the project.

“I am ready,” she announced.

“Okay. One more thing, Seven. I had B’Elanna program Paul with current knowledge of Federation and non-Federation species, so he knows about the Borg. It wouldn’t be realistic for you to date someone who could look at you and have no idea of what you used to be. So he may ask you some questions. But Paul’s a good guy; I don’t think he’d be obnoxious about it. I just wanted to give you fair warning.”

Seven was puzzled by this—since her separation from the Collective, she’d never known anyone other than Lynne who didn’t judge her by her Borg past, so the concept of not being judged in that manner had not occurred to her. She said nothing, however, merely nodding her head and waiting.

Lynne looked down the street and said, “Computer, begin program Paul Hosta.”

Seven couldn’t detect the addition of a person to the crowd moving up and down the sidewalk, but within six seconds she separated her target from the others. A tall, blond man, approximately 186 centimeters and 100 kilograms, was walking toward their table and looking directly at them. When he saw her looking back, he smiled and raised a hand. She imitated his gesture and critically assessed him as he drew near their table. Light brown eyes, no facial hair, tanned and weathered skin indicating time spent outdoors. His body structure denoted consistent physical exercise. She determined that by human standards, he would be considered attractive.

When he arrived at their table, Lynne put a hand under Seven’s elbow and stood up, tugging as she rose. Seven stood as well, waiting with some discomfort for the formalities of the initial meeting.

Lynne stepped around the table and walked right into the man’s arms, hugging him tightly. “Hi, Paul!” she said, smiling as she stepped back. “It’s so good to see you.” When she turned, Seven detected tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth to ask about the cause, but stopped when Lynne shook her head slightly.

“Paul,” said Lynne, “I’d like you to meet one of my best friends and a very special woman, Seven of Nine. Seven, this is Paul Hosta, a good friend and climbing partner and a really bad poker player.”

“I’m not bad; you’re just lucky,” said Paul, flashing a toothy grin at Lynne. He leaned across the table, holding his hand out to Seven. “Seven, it’s good to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

Seven shook his hand. “Thank you. I have also been informed of your positive characteristics.”

He laughed, which Seven found odd. Her statement had not been meant to amuse.

Lynne sat down, pulling down on Seven’s arm as she did so. Seven sat next to her, and Paul settled himself in a chair across from the two of them. Seven had no idea how to proceed, and was grateful when Lynne took charge.

“I haven’t eaten yet, have you, Paul?”

“No, and I’ve been thinking about a calzone all day,” he said.

Lynne turned to Seven. “This place is famous for their incredible calzone. I would personally walk ten kilometers for one. I know you’re not hungry, but would you like to try some of mine? I can order it with an extra plate.”

Seven nodded. “Yes, that would be acceptable.”

Paul signaled a waiter over. “Shall we share a bottle of merlot?”

“Red wine,” whispered Lynne, as she leaned across Seven to reach for the water jug.

“Thank you, but I will have water instead,” Seven said.

“Seven can’t drink, Paul,” said Lynne. “She has a reaction to alcohol. But I’ll happily share a bottle with you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Paul said, looking at Seven. “You’re missing out on one of the finer things in life.”

“I disagree,” said Seven. “I have seen many things in life that I consider much finer than wine.”

“Such as?”

Seven briefly catalogued several thousand items, then picked one that she thought her dinner companion might understand.

“Such as a warp field equation that works perfectly in the first iteration.”

His face lit up and he smiled widely. “Yes, Lynne mentioned that you work in astrophysics. You obviously know your way around theoretical mathematics—that’s great! I’m sure Lynne told you that I’m a math professor at CSU; I don’t often get a chance to talk shop with anyone besides my coworkers. And none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Oh, that was ham handed, Paul,” said Lynne, throwing her balled-up napkin across the table at him. He caught the napkin and tossed it back, smiling in a manner that Seven thought indicated minor embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said to Seven. “I tend to stick my foot in it when I’m nervous, and I’ve been nervous about meeting you. Though I’ve been looking forward to it very much,” he hastened to add.

“I have also been looking forward to meeting you,” Seven answered. It wasn’t a lie, “looking forward” did not necessarily imply that pleasurable expectation was involved. But Paul’s admission of nervousness had eased Seven’s own sense of trepidation, and she was able to summon up a smile. “And I find it…refreshing that you commented on my mind first and my physical appearance second.”

Paul’s face turned red, and Seven took a moment to acknowledge B’Elanna’s superior programming skills. Not many holodeck characters showed the depth of detail that this one did.

Lynne laughed. “Well, Paul, you certainly deserved that one.”

They were interrupted by the waiter, who took their order efficiently and left them to their conversation. Seven decided it was time to take command of the situation, and utilized a conversational line she’d stored from her research.

“Paul, tell me about your work at the university.”

He obliged, talking at great length about the students he taught, the research he was involved in, and the joy he had felt the previous year when he’d finally come up with the proof for a mathematical theorem that had stymied him for several months. Seven found herself listening with interest; Paul had an analytical mind, and although she knew she could have found his proof within days rather than the months it took him, still it was…pleasant to hear someone speak enthusiastically about the type of problem-solving that she herself enjoyed.

At his urging, she described some of the solutions she’d devised in her time on Voyager, and he listened carefully, asking intelligent questions and demonstrating a keen understanding, if not of her work specifically, then of the underlying mathematical principles. Their food came, was eaten (the sampling she had of Lynne’s calzone was quite palatable, another example of B’Elanna’s thoroughness) and their plates cleared, and still she and Paul conversed easily. Having never had this type of pleasant conversation with anyone other than Captain Janeway, Lynne, or sometimes B’Elanna, Seven was enjoying the novelty of the experience. The time passed without her being consciously aware of it, so it was with some surprise that she watched Paul rise from his chair and smile at her.

“Seven, this has been a true pleasure. Honestly, I can’t remember when I last enjoyed shop talk more. I hate to leave, but I’ve got to get back to the university and finish up some papers before tomorrow. Can I call you later?”

For a moment Seven was stymied by the request, since obviously a holodeck character could not contact her. Then she remembered that this question was common at the end of a successful blind date, indicating that Paul wished to date again. She trusted that B’Elanna would have programmed Paul to not ask for her contact information, and responded in the affirmative.

Paul smiled widely. “Great! Then I’ll call you soon.” He reached out and shook her hand, then turned to Lynne, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through their conversation.

“Sorry, Lynne, I know this must have been boring as hell for you.”

“I’m not sorry,” said Lynne, getting up and going around the table to hug him. “You and Seven had a good time, and that’s what I was here for. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” he promised, and with a final wave at Seven, Paul turned and walked away, soon vanishing into the crowd of pedestrians.

Lynne stood looking after him for a few moments, then resumed her seat and downed the last of her wine in one long gulp.

“Are you all right?” asked Seven.

Lynne laughed shortly. “I’m supposed to be asking you how you feel right now.”

“Perhaps. But I am not the one who had tears in her eyes earlier this afternoon, nor am I the one currently showing signs of sorrow.”

At first Lynne did not respond, merely staring down the sidewalk in the direction Paul had gone. Then, without turning her head, she said, “B’Elanna’s a hell of a programmer, isn’t she?”

Confused by the apparent change of topic, Seven could only agree with the truth of Lynne’s statement. “She is excellent. Her attention to detail is unusual and admirable. But that did not answer my question.”

Now Lynne met Seven’s eyes. “It’s just that I didn’t expect the holodeck version of Paul to be so…Paul. I mean, it’s him. Really him, not just some two-dimensional character. Even with the little differences we put in to modernize him, he’s still my friend, and it really threw me for a loop to meet him here.”

“Were you not involved in his programming?”

“Yes—and no. I mean, I told B’Elanna all about him, and I designed his physical appearance with her help, but B’Elanna did most of the work and I never actually saw the walking, talking end result until now. It was a bit of a shock to see someone I’ve left behind, and have to tell myself that he’s not real.”

“I believe I understand,” said Seven. “I am sorry that this caused you pain.”

“Don’t be,” said Lynne, straightening up and smiling brightly. “It’s not a big deal, it was my own damned idea, and besides, this was about you. So tell me, what did you think?”

Seven knew she was being diverted, but she also knew from experience that Lynne would not talk about her emotions until she was ready, if ever. So she answered the question with due consideration.

“It was a far more pleasant experience than I expected. Paul is a kind man, and his thought processes are logical, ordered and analytical. I enjoyed our conversation. I noticed, however, that you did not take part.”

“What, are you kidding? I’m not the one who understands algorhythmic warp field equations, or whatever the hell you two were talking about. I just though it was great fun watching you relax as the date went on. You did really well, Seven. If this had been a real date, Paul would be calling you tonight or tomorrow to set up your next one.”

She probably should not feel this pleased, thought Seven. After all, this was just a holographic date, not a successful ship defense or something truly important. But coming after the dismal failure of her first date, success on this one was very satisfying indeed.

“I did notice,” she said, “that he did not ask me about my implants or my time with the Borg.”

“Not surprising,” said Lynne. “Paul is very polite, and he would probably consider it ill-mannered to comment on your implants on a first date. It would certainly come up later, should you choose to continue dating him. And as for your time with the Borg, he’s probably fascinated by the concept but afraid to ask about it for fear of causing you pain.”

“Why would speaking of it cause me pain?”

“Because you lost your connection. Humans tend to put their own emotions onto others, Seven. Paul lost his wife and that hurt him very deeply. He’s going to assume that losing your connection to the Borg hurt just as much if not more. So he’s not going to want to ask you about it, no matter how curious he might be. He’ll likely wait for you to bring it up yourself.”

Seven processed this new information, decided that it could be useful, and filed it away. With this date successfully completed and analyzed, she was now ready to continue with the project.

“What will happen next?” she asked.

“That’s entirely up to you. What do you want to have happen next? Do you want to see him again?”

“I do not know,” said Seven. “While enjoyable, our conversation was in actuality quite limited in range. I am unsure if we will be as compatible when we attempt to discuss other topics.”

“That’s the whole point of dating, Seven. To figure out whether you’re compatible. So your choice is to try Paul for a second date, and see if you can talk about something besides math, or to try someone new. B’Elanna and I have a second person lined up for you, so we’re ready for whichever choice you make.”

“Who is the second person?” Seven wished to have all of her options clear before making her decision.

“Thought you might ask.” Lynne flashed a grin. “Her name is Sandra, and she’s another climbing friend of mine. Incredibly strong, both mentally and physically. Not a math whiz at all, but she’s ex-military, so you’ll have something in common.”

“But I have never been in the military.”

“God, Seven, you’ve been in the biggest military organization that ever existed. You don’t think the Borg are military in structure?”

Seven considered this, then nodded her head. “I understand how you can make that comparison. In reality, the Borg do not have a military command structure, but the concept of each person being trained to do a specific task, and working together as a team, is similar. And we certainly do attack and defend with precision.”

Lynne’s next question was unexpected.

“Do you still consider yourself Borg, Seven?”

Seven hesitated. She knew that most of the crew would expect her to answer in an immediate negative, but with Lynne she took a moment to deliberate. “Most of the time I do not. But sometimes, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because just now you said ‘we’ when referring to the Borg.”

Reviewing the conversation in her eidetic memory, Seven confirmed Lynne’s statement. “Does this bother you?”

“No, not at all. You’re my friend no matter how you perceive yourself. I was just curious, that’s all. So, what will it be? A second date with Paul or a first with Sandra?”

“I wish to meet Sandra,” Seven decided. “Do we have sufficient holodeck time available to do it now?”

“Amazingly enough,” said Lynne, “I just happened to reserve the holodeck time. Shall we?” At Seven's nod, she smiled and said, “Computer, begin program Sandra Kernston.”

 

 

 

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