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Janeway kicked off the wall in a surprising display of physical prowess, spinning to hit the target with her phaser and scoring the winning point.
“Congratulations, Captain.” Seven nodded, watching Janeway's face glowing with exertion and pride.
“One day, Seven.” Janeway clapped her on the back amicably. “That last one was close!”
“Clearly I need to do some further research on the strategies in Velocity.” Seven replied, voice flat. “I failed to calculate the depth of your desire to win into my approach. I will adapt.”
“Never underestimate your opponent!” Janeway teased, still slightly out of breath. “I thought I taught you better than that!”
“On the contrary.” Seven retorted. “It was Naomi Wildman who instilled that lesson. She is very adept at Kadis Kot. A fact of which I was unaware until she 'schooled' me, as she phrased it.”
Janeway laughed out loud, throwing her head back. Seven's lip traveled slightly upward as she lowered her head to hide it.
“You don't seem to have much luck with the women on this ship!” Janeway escorted Seven out of the Holodeck. “Perhaps you should test yourself against Paris or Kim? I'm sure they'd love to show you the intricacies of billiards in the Fair Haven simulation.”
“Or perhaps it is merely that I am unaccustomed to playing games.” Seven replied a little irritably, not at all interested in Fair Haven or Harry Kim. “The Borg considered such things irrelevant.”
“And what do you think?” Janeway tilted her head to catch Seven's eyes. “Do you think it's irrelevant?”
“At first I could see no benefit, and considered games to be entirely unproductive.” Seven answered honestly. “I calculated that the crew spent 74.56% of their available off-duty time engaged in frivolous activities. If they had applied that time to more practical matters, this ship would be 6.43% more efficient.” Seven halted her rant, feeling oddly insecure. “However, I have begun to see some benefits to these leisure activities.”
“Such as?” Janeway stopped in the hallway, waiting for an answer.
“I...” Seven folded her hands behind her back, ready to report. “After our games of Velocity you are more relaxed, and speak with me more freely. My interactions with Naomi Wildman have been strengthened by allowing her to teach me something she enjoys. Tuvok and I have improved our understanding through several games of Kal Toh.”
“Sounds to me like games have an important function after all.” Janeway commented, her voice wry.
“So it seems.” Seven nodded, then allowed her left eyebrow to raise 2.332 millimetres. “Perhaps we could make a game out of calibrating the warp drive. Then perhaps Lieutenant Torres would cease her glaring at me every time I step into Engineering.”
Janeway laughed freely for a second time. Seven enjoyed being the one to cause such a response.
As they reached the turbo lift, Janeway palmed Seven's shoulder and shook it lightly. “Next week?”
“Of course, Captain.” Seven nodded. “I will schedule the Holodeck for oh-seven-thirty.”
“Wonderful.” Janeway stepped into the lift. “Deck three. Captain's Quarters.”
“Are you not scheduled to be on the bridge at this time?” Seven inquired, knowing full well she was right.
“Not everyone is lucky enough to have nanoprobes to manage their internal temperature. Some of us have to do it the old fashioned way.” Janeway wiped her brow with a smirk. “I'll report for duty a little late, but I'll feel and smell better.”
“I understand.” Seven looked away for a moment.
“I won't tell the Captain if you don't!” Janeway winked as the turbolift doors closed.
Seven's brow lifted 3.45 millimetres of its own accord.
Seven spent her time engaged in fruitful activities. In her position as Astrometrics Officer, she extended the reach of the pulse relay emitters another two hundred thousand kilometres. She found several large deposits of deuterium and dilithium on a nearby planet, and she calculated a trajectory that would bring Voyager safely through a contested area of space and that shaved six weeks from the length of their journey. Off duty, she researched the discourse on what humans call game theory and watched the Starfleet Academy Championship Velocity tournaments from the past five years. She would have preferred to look at the past ten years, but unfortunately the computer did not have those files in its data banks. She spent her regeneration cycles processing all the data she had previously taken in. All in all it was a fairly productive week, and Seven was feeling particularly confident by the time oh-seven-thirty rolled around.
Janeway met her at Holodeck Two, already dressed in her sporting gear.
“Good morning, Seven.” Janeway smiled, again laying a soft hand on her shoulder. “Let's start with a warm up game, alright? It won't count on our tally.”
“Acceptable.” Seven agreed, and then commanded the Computer. “Computer, start program Velocity One Zeta.”
“Acknowledged.” The computer complied.
Seven stalked through the doors, leaving Janeway to follow behind her. It was a part of her new strategy, which includes something known as 'trash talk' and 'psyching out' one's opponent.
“After you.” Janeway smiled, amused at Seven's disregard for protocol. “By all means.”
“You will become accustomed to being in second place to me,” Seven removed her thin jacket, leaving her in a tight black vee-neck tank top and skintight leggings. “After my victory today.”
“Don't get cocky, Seven.” Janeway smirked, stretching out her back. “Your record doesn't back up your claims.”
“That will change.” Seven picked up her holographic phaser, and tested its weight in her hand.
“Care to make it interesting?” Janeway asked lightly.
“It will already be interesting when I succeed and you fail.” Seven replies sternly.
“Of course,” Janeway used all her Starfleet training to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head. “But what I meant was, would you care to make a wager?”
“Ah.” Seven scanned her eidetic memory for a reference. “You wish for me to put my credits where my mouth is.”
“Maybe not credits.” Janeway shrugged. “The crew usually trades in replicator rations...”
“I do not require rations.” Seven frowned. “I rarely use them. My nutritional supplements are medically prescribed and are therefore replicated through the Medical Bay.”
“Alright.” Janeway did not know that. “How about...”
“I believe it is customary to assign difficult, or embarrassing tasks as penance for losing a bet.” Seven recalled. “Perhaps something like that would suffice.”
“Alright.” Janeway agreed warily. “But it has to be within reason. Nothing contrary to regulations or safety protocols.”
“Acceptable.” Seven nodded. “Parameters established. Shall we begin?”
“We shall.” Janeway raised her phaser as the target began to spin.
“I do not understand how this is gratifying for you.” Seven sat across from Janeway, sulking. She had conceded defeat after twelve consecutive matches, of which Seven had won five. Now she was sitting uncomfortably on the Captain's sofa, staring into the swirling dark abyss of her failure.
“A bet's a bet, Seven.” Janeway replied mildly, fingers steepled in front of her mouth to hide her smile. “Are you going to try it?”
“I would prefer not to.” Seven looked at the dark liquid suspiciously. “The odor is bitter. From my experience I can extrapolate that it will have a similar taste.”
“Just a sip.” Janeway sighed. “I won't make you drink the whole glass if you hate it that much.”
“Some might say your obsession over this beverage is unhealthy.” Seven brought the glass mug toward her for closer inspection, frowning in distaste.
“Many people have said as much.” Janeway smiled. “But it's my one vice and I'm not letting it go.”
“And now you wish to afflict me with your... vice.” Seven admonished sternly.
“Come on.” Janeway waved her hands at the mug. “Stop procrastinating. Drink up!”
Seven brought the coffee to her lips and took the barest sip. Her mouth reacted to the warmth first, stinging the inside of her cheeks and lightly scorching her throat. It didn't burn painfully or cause any damage to her throat or surrounding tissue, so Seven allowed a moment to experience the sensation. Hesitantly she took another, larger mouthful. The bitterness of the strong black brew almost made her spit it out, but then it faded into a smooth and rich flavor that Seven didn't have the ability to describe. It was not entirely unpleasant, but she could not say she enjoyed the flavor of coffee. It was more that she enjoyed experiencing the flavor of coffee. The idea confused her, so she took another sip to gather more data.
“See!” Janeway nodded and raised her hand in emphasis. “It's not so bad, is it?” She took the opportunity to take a swig from her own mug. She shivered with appreciation.
“I am conflicted.” Seven put her cup down and stated her case. “I cannot say whether I 'like' coffee or detest it.”
“You'll come around.” Janeway held her precious cup with both hands, tucking her legs underneath her. “It grows on you.”
“I fail to see how a parasitic growth cycle would be an asset.” Seven rolled her eyes. “I have fulfilled the terms of the wager?”
“Yes.” Janeway smiles.
“Then I shall return to Cargo Bay 2 for my regeneration cycle.” Seven stood. “I will book the Holodeck for oh-seven-thirty. I believe you owe me a re-match.”
“Indeed I do.” Janeway stood and accompanied Seven to the door. “Start thinking about what you want to wager on tomorrow's match.”
“Oh, I have already settled on terms for your defeat.” Seven brightened. “I will oversee your diligent scrubbing of the intake manifolds.”
“Careful, Seven.” Janeway laughed. “Don't give me too much incentive to win!”
“And if I lose?” Seven raised her brow implant. “What is my incentive to win?”
“I'll think of something.” Janeway smiled fondly. “Now go. Get some rest.”
“Yes, Captain.” Seven turned and walked to the turbo lift. She did not see Janeway leaning out of her cabin to watch her go.
“Regeneration cycle incomplete.”
Seven was feeling disoriented as she was thrown out of her regeneration. Her internal chronometer stated that only 2.36 standard hours had passed since she had entered the alcove.
“Computer.” Seven stood away from the device. “Run a level one diagnostic on the Borg alcove, and all connected systems.”
“Acknowledged.” The computer made its beeping sounds as the seconds ticked by. “Diagnostic complete.”
“Relay findings.” Seven walked to her console to read the report. She read through all the data and could not find what she wanted. “Clarify.”
“Borg alcove running at one-hundred and three percent efficiency. All connected systems running within accepted parameters.”
“Explain the interruption to my cycle.” Seven demanded. The computer hesitated for a moment, calculating.
“Regeneration cycle interrupted due to a fluctuation in heart rate and brain activity in Seven of Nine.”
“State cause of fluctuations.” Seven appreciated the computer's efficiency in all things.
“Fluctuations in heart rate and brain activity due to the introduction of the stimulant caffeine into her systems.”
“How did it get there?” Seven could not recall taking a stimulant, and it had been days since she'd visited with the Doctor.
“Human consumption of caffeine is traditionally through the intake of beverages. Many varieties of tea and coffee, as well as many soft drinks, contain varying amounts of caffeine.”
“I see.” Seven's suspicions were proven to be accurate. The Captain had attempted sabotage to ensure her own victory.
She accessed her internal systems and reprogrammed her nanoprobes to filter the caffeine from her body. The interruption to her cycle was a minor inconvenience. Janeway would pay for her deception in the morning, and Seven would truly enjoy watching the Captain scrub each and every manifold to her exacting Borg standards.
“If you want something done right, Seven,” Janeway shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the railing. “You gotta do it yourself.”
“I hope you find this amusing.” Seven growled up at Janeway before bending to her task. “You have turned my plans against me.”
“I guess I did!” Janeway sounded surprised at her own machinations. “Now, I believe you need to be able to see your reflection in those manifolds before oh-four-hundred, as per regulations.”
“That is an unlikely outcome. Intake manifolds have no reflective surfaces.” Seven grumbled under her breath. She calibrated her handheld device to work 15.3 percent more efficiently.
I'll just be up here.” Janeway sipped from her mug. “Supervising.”
“You are enjoying this far too much, Captain.” Seven retorted.
“Should I leave?” Janeway kept her voice innocent. “Perhaps B'elanna could super-”
“That will not be necessary.” Seven interrupted quickly. “I prefer your company to hers, even as you revel in my defeat.”
“Well then, let's get to it.” Janeway put her coffee down on the console and hopped down the steps to the section beside where Seven was toiling. She rolled up her sleeves and took up a scrubber.
“What are you doing?” Seven protested. “This is my task. I lost the wager.”
“You know I like to get my hands dirty now and then.” Janeway dismissed her concerns. “And two sets of hands are always better than one.”
“If you say so, Captain.” Seven covered a smile. She took Janeway's scrubber out of her hand and exchanged it with hers. “This one is more efficient.”
“Thank you, Seven.” Janeway smiled. Their eyes met, and for a moment it seemed to Seven that they were not having the same conversation that she had initially begun and she could not identify what had changed. Then Janeway clapped her on the back with a jovial grin, and Seven was returned to herself.
“I require your assistance.” Seven stood straight, arms folded behind her back, at attention in front of Harry Kim.
“Um, yeah!” Harry shook his head. He had thirty-five minutes for lunch and didn't want to miss out on Neelix's take on stir fry. But it was Seven, so he starved a few minutes more. “I mean... Sure, Seven. How can I help?”
“I wish to improve at Velocity.” Seven stated the facts. “Aside from the Captain, you are considered the best player on the ship. You captained your velocity team in your final year at the Academy, and led them to victory. I require you to... coach me.”
“Of course!” Harry ran his hand through his dark hair. “It's been a while, but I can give you some pointers, I guess.”
“Unacceptable.” Seven handed him a padd. “This is the training schedule I have devised. It will be barely sufficient, but if you are adequate, it will ensure victory over the Captain.”
“It means that much to you?” Harry looked at his life for the next month. He didn't need to sleep anyway. “Beating the Captain?”
“Beating the Captain at what?” Tom Paris sidled up beside his best friend, grinning like the school boy he never was.
“Velocity.” Seven informed him. “I require her defeat at Velocity.”
“That's a tall order.” Tom rubbed his jaw, then held up a finger to pause the conversation. He tapped his comm badge. “Torres to the Mess Hall.”
“What do you want, Tom?” B'elanna's voice was thick with a familiar mixture of fondness and scorn.
“We've got a situation that could use your expertise.” Tom hedged, wheedling a bit. “I'll save you a seat.”
“Fine.” B'elanna sighed. “Five minutes. And get me a plate. I don't want to have to use my rations again.”
“Will do.” Tom signed off. “There. Now, let's eat!”
“I do not see how Lieutenant Torres' assistance will guarantee my victory.” Seven was pulled along the line for food, and took a plate from Neelix's hands only because she did not wish to dim his excited smile. They found a table and the three of them sat and pondered the situation.
“B'elanna has a unique perspective,” Tom smiled. He had been hoping for a chance to get closer to the feisty Lieutenant. “On most things.”
“Plus, she's really competitive.” Harry added. “She likes to win almost as much as you hate to lose.”
“I see.” Seven did not see. She had the cumulative knowledge of many assimilated empires more impressive than the Klingons stored in her cortical node. None of that information was assisting her now in her endeavors.
“So,” B'elanna strutted to their table. She looked at Seven askance and asked Tom a question with her eyes. “What's up?”
“Seven wants to beat the Captain at Velocity.” Tom didn't mince words. B'elanna gave Seven a blank, unimpressed look. Then burst out laughing.
“God, Seven.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You really dream big, don't you.”
“I do not dream at all.” Seven defended. “Unless my implants are malfunctioning.”
“Well, you may want to go see the Doc.” Tom joked.
“Are you attempting to assist me or are you merely ridiculing me for your own amusement?” Seven snapped.
“Sorry, Seven.” Harry looked ashamed.
“Alright.” Tom conceded. “We'll cool it with the teasing until we have a plan.”
“Okay.” B'elanna took stock of their options. “What have you bozos got so far?”
“I'm going to coach Seven.” Harry offered the padd. B'elanna took it with a raised brow.
“Nope.” B'elanna tossed it back at Harry. “Won't work.”
“I devised that schedule based on research into the training methods of several different cultures.” Seven protested, taking the padd for herself. “It is the most efficient means of improvement-”
“Why does the Captain beat you?” B'elanna interrupted. “By every measure you're faster, younger, more agile... Your brain processes data faster. You are in peak physical shape, and your nanoprobes give you an unprecedented edge on any human opponent. So why?”
“She has more years of Velocity training.” Seven stumbled for an answer. “She seems to be able to intuit where the target is going to be at any time.”
“Right.” B'elanna nodded. “So you think cramming some coaching into a few hours of your off time is going to beat a lifetime of Academy training and two championships?”
Seven attempted to answer, but her voice would not come. She saw the point that B'elanna was making, but did not want to concede that the Lieutenant was right.
“So.” B'elanna asked again. “Why does she beat you?”
“I do not know.” Seven admitted.
“So, first thing? We find out.” B'elanna leaned forward and explained the next step.
Seven entered Holodeck Two at oh-seven-fifteen.
“Computer, encrypt session with Borg encryption Omega Alpha three.”
“Borg encryption protocol complete.”
Seven began her task. “Begin Program Velocity One Zeta.”
“Acknowledged.”
A table with two phasers appeared, and a smooth disk hovered above her head.
“Computer.” Seven made sure to give detailed and clear instructions. “Record all further activity within this program. Store encrypted data in console three, Cargo Bay two. Accessible only with encryption key Gamma Omega Seven Nine.”
“Acknowledged.” The computer beeped and whirred. “Recording will begin on next program re-start.”
“Computer.” Seven finished up. It was oh-seven-twenty-three. “End program.”
The holodeck returned to it's natural state, and Seven stepped out into the hall to wait for the Captain.
Seven stormed into Cargo Bay two and threw her padd down in frustration. The Captain had teased her, allowed her to think she had the upper hand, and then demolished her in the last two rounds. And now she was committed to performing at Neelix's talent show. The Captain was diabolical. The Borg do not entertain. They do not have 'talents'. Perhaps the Captain would think twice if Seven decided to illustrate her ability to assimilate the crew, starting with Janeway herself!
She was on duty in Astrometrics for the remainder of the day, but she would see to it that all of her off duty time was dedicated to removing that little victory smile from Janeway's face. Aside, of course, from the percentage of time she would now have to allocate to learning a 'talent'.
Speaking of which, Seven pressed her comm badge.
“Seven of Nine to Tom Paris.”
“What's up, Seven?” Paris responded.
“I require that you, Lieutenant Torres, and Ensign Kim meet me in the mess hall at thirteen-hundred.” Seven informed him of his new lunch plans. “I have developments to discuss.”
“We'll be there.” Paris was usually very agreeable, but even over the comm he sounded... eager.
Seven filed that information in the section of her mind that she privately referred to as her personnel files. It assisted her in her social interactions to have a database of expected behaviors and responses to draw from. All data had value, and especially when Seven found herself in strange or uncomfortable situations, she found the accumulation of facts to be quite an efficient solution to her discomfort. Take, for example, her relationship with The Doctor. Being a programmed individual, the majority of his foundation was factual. His personality engrams were created merely as an imperfect copy of an imperfect human. Navigating The Doctor's frequent mood swings and irrational behavior had been extremely frustrating, until Seven had familiarized herself with his programming. Afterward she could, for the most part, successfully avoid the pricklier side of his personality. Even as he continued to exceed his programming and often managed to surprise her, she could extrapolate his reactions eighty-three point one-six percent of the time. Since the rest of the crew did not have algorithms saved in the computer, Seven took it upon herself to create something similar. She cataloged every interaction, and over time a pattern would be revealed.
At exactly thirteen hundred hours, Seven stepped into the Mess Hall and looked around for her expected companions. Harry waved enthusiastically to her from a corner table. Seven nodded and went to meet him.
“Hey, uh..” Harry chided himself. His interest in Seven romantically had waned a little, but she was still beautiful, and the effect it had on his ability to speak was embarrassing. “Seven! I got you a plate. I know you don't usually eat, but Neelix did a pretty good leola root spaghetti bolognaise. I thought you may want to try some anyway.” As Seven approached, he stood and pulled out her chair for her.
“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, Ensign Kim.” Seven knew that a little acknowledgment went a long way with Harry Kim. He was by far one of the easiest crew to understand. “Where are Mister Paris and Lieutenant Torres?”
“Right.” Harry looked toward the doors. “Tom is, uhh... He's gone to get B'elanna, who said she'd be another few minutes.”
“Is B'elanna in some way incapable of arriving at the Mess Hall on her own?”
“Of course not.” Harry smiled, sheepish. “Tom just wants to spend a little time with B'elanna. You know, alone.”
“Ah.” Seven nodded. “A romantic overture.”
“Exactly!” Harry grinned.
“Then I suggest while we wait for them to arrive, you show me how one ingests spaghetti bolognaise.” Seven lifted her fork and stabbed it into the small pile of pasta and sauce. “I am experiencing difficulty in this endeavor.”
“Sure, Seven!” Harry picked up his fork and twirled it in the pasta, and then lifted it to his mouth. “Piece of cake!”
Seven imitated his movements, and managed to collect a small mouthful of pasta. “Eating baked goods in this manner would not be efficient, Ensign Kim.”
Harry startled, watching Seven's face in confusion for a moment. Watching her mouth twitch at his face, he pointed at her across the table.
“You're making a joke!” Harry laughed.
“”Excellent deduction.” Seven swirled her fork into her pasta once more.
When Tom escorted B'elanna into the mess hall a few minutes later, they found Harry and Seven engaged in a very animated conversation.
“Your data is flawed.” Seven pointed with her fork. “Re-calibrating the ionic particle transducers would not have any effect on warp engine capacity or efficiency.”
“Not directly, but if you bypass the inverters and re-direct to the flow inhibitors...” Harry started.
“... it would increase thrust by approximately twelve point six three percent.” Seven nodded. “An interesting idea.”
“Yeah.” B'elanna sat down with them, joining in the conversation. “But without the inverters you're setting yourself up for a major relay failure down the line. The Captain would never allow it.”
“I guess not.” Harry shrugged. “I'll work on that.”
“I will assist you.” Seven decided. “I have knowledge from the Collective that might prove valuable.”
“Let me know when you get started.” B'elanna chipped in. “I'll lend a hand too if I have time.”
“Thanks, Seven! B'elanna!” Harry bounced in his seat. “I'll send you both my data files right after my shift!”
“So!” Tom rubbed his hands together. “What's going on, Seven? I doubt you called me here to talk about engineering.”
“Indeed.” Seven agreed. “I have lost yet another wager with the Captain, and she has decided that my penance is to perform in Neelix's talent show.”
B'elanna, Tom and Harry tried hard to stifle their amusement, some better than others.
“I require one or all of you participate in this event with me, so as to mitigate any embarrassment or social errors on my part.”
“Oh, gee...” B'elanna looked up and to the left. “I would love to help you out there, but um...”
“I'm already signed up.” Harry admitted. “I'm playing the clarinet. We could duet, maybe?”
“I am not comfortable in my musical knowledge.” Seven stated. “I would prefer to stay within established parameters.”
“So, you wanna stick to what you're good at.” Tom rephrased it for her. “I may have just the thing!”
“Explain.” Seven demanded.
“Not yet.” Tom stood up, getting more and more excited at the prospect he had envisioned. “I need some time to work through it. Meet me in Holodeck three tomorrow after Alpha Shift.”
“As you wish.” Seven nodded, and Tom left the table with a wave.
“I should go too.” Harry stood. “Duty calls. I'll see you tonight for Velocity practice?”
“Yes.” Seven agreed.
“Good!” Harry exhaled, and backed away from the table, knocking into several patrons and a dining table. “Right. So... Bye!”
“Bye, Harry.” B'elanna laughed at Harry's clumsiness.
“Lieutenant Torres.” Seven took a final bite of her pasta, and then wiped her face with the cloth napkin. “May I make an inquiry without you perceiving it as an insult?”
“Depends.” B'elanna crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaning back in her seat.
“Why are you assisting me?” Seven asked. “I am aware that your tolerance for me is limited, and yet you have committed to tasks that will have the two of us collaborating for much of your free time in the future. I wish to know your motives.”
“Ah.” B'elanna relaxed, and took up her fork. “I have my reasons.”
“I had assumed as much.” Seven did not waver. “I am inquiring as to what they are, specifically.”
“Ugh.” B'elanna looked away for a moment with a pout on her face. Then leaned in toward Seven conspiratorially. “So, here's the thing. The Captain never loses.”
“Statistically that is impossible.”
“I know that.” B'elanna huffed. “And you know that. But Janeway seems to defy the odds. Why do you think we don't have a weekly poker game on board?”
Seven continued to stare at B'elanna, contributing nothing.
“Because we tried and we all lost our shirts to... her!” B'elanna screeched as quietly as she could under the circumstances. “No matter what we try, Janeway comes out on top.”
“I have noticed that Voyager seems to escape quite often from impossible situations.” Seven mused. “I take it this is part of your theory?”
“Yes!” B'elanna hissed, lowering her voice. “We should have died, or been stranded, or something in the last seven years. But somehow we manage to get through. Because of Janeway.”
“She is the leader of our collective, therefore she is responsible for the lives of this crew.” Seven argued. “Perhaps she is merely an exceptional Captain.”
“She is.” B'elanna smiled at Seven's loyalty. “I'm not disputing that. But there's a pattern that doesn't fit my understanding of the universe. Janeway never loses. I want to know why.”
“And her loss in Velocity would re-affirm your understanding of the universe.” Seven nodded. Confusion and desire for order was something she could most definitely understand.
“Yeah.” B'elanna grinned. “Although I won't say it's not going to be satisfying to see her eat crow for once.”
“I doubt that even Neelix would attempt to serve Janeway crow.” Seven raised her brow. “I believe it is against Star Fleet Regulation 942.8 regarding cruel and unusual punishment.”
“No, Seven. It's a saying.” B'elanna snorted in frustration. “God, you're so literal sometimes...”
Seven pursed her lips to hide her smirk. Her attempt failed.
“And damn it, you're yanking my chain.” B'elanna laughed. “I didn't know you could be funny.”
“And I did not know you could be kind.” Seven stood to take her leave. “Perhaps we have both been blind.”
“Yeah.” B'elanna's gaze shifted from the table to Seven's face and back, feeling a bit awkward. “Guess so.”
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Torres.” Seven nodded. “I have some files for you to look at when you have a chance. I will send them to your quarters.”
“Yeah,” B'elanna tried to smile. “Thanks. I'll get on it after Alpha Shift.”
Seven walked stiffly out of the Mess Hall, and B'elanna watched her go, shaking her head.
“Thank you Mr. Kim, for that lovely original piece,” The Doctor clapped lightly, escorting Harry from the stage. “I had no idea that someone could play for that long!”
Harry takes a quick red-faced bow and hops down, resuming his seat in the audience.
“And now, we have Tom Paris,” The Doctor startled. “And Seven of Nine...? Who have something of a surprise for us this evening.”
“Welcome, all.” Tom Paris leapt up to the centre of the raised platform. He was wearing a tuxedo, a cape and a top hat. “Tonight you are lucky enough to be in the presence of greatness. You will be astounded, confounded and dazzled by a power you have never seen before!” Tom pulled a bouquet of flowers from his sleeve and tossed them in B'elanna's direction, who scoffed but looked pleased. “Please welcome my lovely assistant, Seven of Nine.”
Seven, still in her usual jumpsuit, stomped on to the stage.
“Seven, why aren't you wearing the costume?” Tom stage whispered, “You agreed to wear the costume!”
“I agreed to nothing.” Seven crossed her arms.
“Okay.” Tom pulled off his top hat and scratched his head, closing his eyes. “That's fine. We can still do this. I mean, it's just a costume.”
As Tom blindly considered his options, long white ears emerged from the hat, followed by pink eyes and a twitchy nose. When paws appeared on the brim, Seven sighed, and took the animal out of the hat and held it close.
“Anyway, back to the show.” Tom grinned at the audience. “I will now attempt a classic trick. I will pull a live rabbit out of my hat!”
The audience laughed, and Tom bowed. Seven coughed, trying to be discreet as she petted the small creature.
“Just a minute, Seven.” Tom placed his hat upside down on a table. He flourished and strutted as he pulled a wand from his sleeve. “This is magic. It requires concentration, and complete.. silence.”
Seven coughed again, louder. The audience laughed, and Seven smirked.
“What did I just say?” Tom rolled his eyes. “Silence!” He ran the wand around the rim of the hat.
“Lieutenant Paris.” Seven called, deadpan.
“I told you not to call me that!” Tom stomped his foot. “We're doing a show here! I'm going to pull a rabbit out of a hat and it's going to be amazing!”
“Yes.” Seven nodded, holding the rabbit up for the audience to see. “I'm sure.”
“That's the spirit!” Tom returned his attention to the hat, dramatically flinging his cape into a whirl around himself. “Abra-”
Seven rolled her eyes and threw the rabbit up toward the ceiling, to the gasping surprise of the audience. They were even more astounded when it disappeared in thin air.
“Cadabra!” Tom finished, and pulled the rabbit from the hat to wild applause.
“Thank you!” Tom bowed, “Thank you!”
At the back, Captain Janeway laughed and gasped with the rest of her crew as Tom and Seven managed to amuse and astonish with their act. Tom, playing the bumbling, egotistical magician and Seven assuming the role of the scathing but talented 'assistant' who manages to complete all the tricks regardless of Tom's foolishness. By the time the two were finished, the crew were standing and applauding raucously, giving Tom and Seven the first standing ovation of the night.
“Well, I don't know who's going to want to follow that act!” The Doctor came up as the applause trickled down. Tom took a last bow, and led an uncomfortable looking Seven off the stage. “But they will have to, because that's what the roster says! Please welcome the Delaney sisters, and their self choreographed interpretive dance, set to... ah, the sounds of space!”
The mess hall darkened to black, and Janeway privately groaned. She hated interpretive dance.
The after party was in full swing, with Neelix serving some passable hors d'oeuvres, and the replicator providing enough synthetic champagne to keep everyone happy. Seven stood by the wall, sticking close to Tom as most of the crew came to them to offer congratulations.
“You guys were amazing.” Harry grinned. “I didn't even know you could do magic!”
“It was not magic.” Seven rolled her eyes. “It was a careful display of misdirection and persuasion. However, I do believe we performed adequately.”
“Adequately?” Tom took offense. “We were great!”
“I'll drink to that!” Janeway strutted up to their group, champagne flute in hand. “That was marvelous, Tom, Seven. Where did you get a rabbit?”
“A magician never tells.” Tom grinned.
“It was not a-” Seven attempted to clarify for the Captain.
“A magician. Never. Tells, Seven.” Tom clamped his hand over Seven's mouth. “Especially if they don't want to get other people in trouble.”
“I see.” Seven drew herself away from Tom's hand, freeing her mouth once more. “Then I will comply.” She turned back to the Captain. “That information is classified.”
“I don't understand it.” B'elanna came up to then, running a hand through her hair. “I checked the logs, and the power distribution, and there's no evidence that you used transporters or Holo-technology in your act.”
“That is because we did not.” Seven frowned.
“That's right, B'elanna.” Tom moved to her side, and waggled his fingers theatrically. “It was magic!”
“Yeah right!” B'elanna nudged him with her elbow.
“No, really.” Tom looked so earnest, B'elanna wanted to believe him. “We replicated the props and the costume, but we didn't use technology in the performance.”
“That's impossible.” B'elanna dismissed the possibility. “No way. And what Seven did to you in the last act? You had to be using tech. I'll just have to find out how Seven covered your tracks.”
“I'm in for that.” Harry piped in. “I'll bet you a day's rations we can't find anything.”
“You're on.” B'elanna grinned. “Seven's good, but I'm better.”
“Lieutenant Torres.” Seven interrupted sharply. “If I had made even a slight effort to hide digital traces of my actions, you would most definitely not find them, but as I have done no such thing it would be wise of you to re-consider your wager. No doubt you will spend a day hungry, or subjected to Neelix's cooking.”
“Are you worried about me, Seven?” B'elanna feigned surprise.
“Of course not.” Seven met B'elanna's dark eyes with her icy blues. “I am merely unwilling to suffer through a day with you being especially... cranky.”
The group laughed, including B'elanna. Seven smiled and bowed her head, feeling a flush of joy and acceptance.
“Hey, B'elanna” Tom circled B'elanna's shoulders with his arm and walked her away from the group. “I was um... I mean... Would you-”
“Come on, Fly Boy.” B'elanna smirked. “Be brave.”
“Would um...” Tom blushed. “God, I'm worse than Harry.”
“Good.” B'elanna pecked him on the cheek, and started to walk away. “It means that you mean it.”
“So, would you?” Tom called after her. “Tomorrow night?”
“We'll see, Fly Boy.” B'elanna laughed and turned the corner. Tom runs his fingers through his hair.
“Well.” He said to the empty hallway. “That wasn't a no.”
“Seven!” B'elanna ran into Cargo Bay Two, breathless and excited.
“Lieutenant Torres?” Seven stepped out of the alcove, her cycle interrupted. “Did we have plans?”
“We do now!” B'elanna grinned. “I watched the recordings of your matches with the Captain, and I think... No. I know how we can beat her.”
“How so?” Seven crossed her arms, challenging.
“You do everything I say.” B'elanna was nearly bouncing with excitement.
“I-”
“She has a weakness.” B'elanna started pacing. “With you. Maybe not with everyone but definitely with you. Of course, you have a weakness for her, but I think we can use that. I mean, come on! You're both completely unaware, right?”
“I don't understand.” Seven watched B'elanna pace.
“I know!” B'elanna agreed, gleeful. “But this will work.”
“Explain the plan.” Seven demanded. “And stop moving back and forth. I dislike it.”
“After Alpha shift tonight, you will ask Janeway for a final challenge.” B'elanna stops pacing and grips the workstation with both hands. “One match, winner take all. Schedule it for next week. Four days should do it, I think.”
“I do not see...”
“What is the first part of the plan?”
“Do everything you say.” Seven retorted without inflection.
“Yes. Let's make that... Rule number one: Do everything I say without question!” B'elanna raised her finger.
“I do believe I regret ever asking you for assistance on this matter.” Seven growled and turned back to her alcove.
“You don't have to like it.” B'elanna stepped to the doors to let Seven go back to Borg Sleep or whatever. “Just do it. And try to sell it!”
The whoosh of the doors closing smothered Seven's response.
“Captain.” Sevens stood at the threshold to the ready room.
“Come in, Seven.” Janeway gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”
“I prefer to stand.” Seven stood at attention.
“Alright.” Janeway was used to Seven's quirks. “What can I help you with today? If you want to back out of the match, you just have to ask.”
“I do not need to forfeit the challenge. I-I require...” Seven looked down. “I require a night off.”
“You've never asked for that before.” Janeway leaned forward. “Is everything alright?”
“I am functioning within established parameters.” Seven answered. “However, I have an engagement this evening that I would prefer not to miss.”
“It's a bit late to change the schedule, don't you think?” Janeway covered her surprise. “Most of the crew schedule their time off months in advance.”
“I apologize Captain.” Seven clenched her fists against her thighs. “However, this engagement came upon me unexpectedly, as was the necessity of my attendance.”
“Seven?” Janeway, shocked, blurted out. “Do you have a date?”
“I do not have enough information to answer that.” Seven continued to stare at the carpeted floor. “I merely wish to engage in an agreed upon social interaction this evening. If I am permitted.”
“Well.” Janeway swallowed. “Of course!” Her smile was not bright, and not full. “Far be it from me to hinder your exploration of humanity, however it comes.”
“Thank you Captain.” Seven nodded, and turned to leave.
“Seven...” Janeway called. Seven turned. “If you need someone to talk to... about these new developments. You can come to me.”
“Perhaps.” Seven blinked, and left Janeway's ready room.
“Huh.” Janeway looked at the closed doors. “Seven on a date. Will wonders never cease.”
The next morning saw Janeway ten minutes late for Alpha Shift. She had slept poorly, and when she had managed to sleep she'd had discomfiting dreams. Good thing for her, she was the boss.
“All stations report.” Janeway stormed across the bridge to her chair, smiling that her coffee was already waiting for her.
“All stations reporting in, Captain.” Harry Kim followed the chatter at his workstation. “Except, um...”
“What is it Harry?”
“Astrometrics hasn't reported in.”
“Janeway to Seven of Nine.” Janeway tapped her badge and waited for a response.
“Seven of Nine here...” Seven took a few breaths. “Captain.”
“Why haven't you reported in?”
“I... I am not yet at my station.” Seven's voice was apologetic. “I was delayed.”
“I want your report in five minutes, Seven.” Janeway snapped. “Bring it to my ready room.”
Janeway gave Chakotay the bridge and sat in her ready room, pondering Seven's strange behaviour.
Exactly five minutes later, Seven arrived. Janeway gasped. Seven's hair was down and un-styled. She was wearing a loose blue blouse and black slacks, along with requisition Star Fleet boots. She seemed flustered and out of breath. And she was... blushing?
“Explain.” Janeway sat back in her chair.
“Here are your reports, Captain.” Seven placed the padd carefully down on the Captain's desk. “I apologize for my tardiness.”
“I don't want you to apologize. I want you to explain.”
“I...” Seven cleared her throat. “I overslept, Captain.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I chose not to regenerate, and rather attempted to sleep in a bed. It was successful. Too successful, apparently.” Seven colored in her cheeks and the tips of her ears.
“Did you speak to the Doctor about this... development?” Janeway asked carefully.
“It has been brought up before, however I have not attempted it until now.” Seven shuffled backward, feeling most uncomfortable. “If that is all?”
“Yes.” Janeway whispered, mostly to herself. Seven of Nine had slept in a bed. There was a conclusion to be drawn, if Janeway chose to make the leap. She did not. “That's all.”
Seven turned and left the ready room so swiftly that Janeway didn't raise her eyes to watch her leave until she'd already gone beyond sight.
Another night of poor sleep and worse dreams. Janeway stretched out in her bed, her muscles sore and stiff.
“Computer, lights.”
The computer chirped, and the lights came on at 50%, which was Janeway's pre-set before her morning coffee.
“Coffee, black.” Janeway ordered as she slipped into her robe and shuffled to the bathroom. She heard the whir of the replicator as it conjured her morning brew. She used the latrine, and washed her hands and face in cold water.
Coffee in hand, she took up a set of padds from her desk and found a comfortable position on her couch. She tried to read through personnel reports and status reports and reports about the formatting of the reports, but she could not set her mind to it. Instead, her mind chomped heavily against its restraints, wanting to tackle the mystery of Seven's unusual behavior.
She wasn't deluding herself. She could add the facts together and come up with a conclusion. Seven had had a date the night before, and had woken in a bed, late the next morning. She had worn replicated clothes instead of her suit and had neglected to tie back her hair. Of course, the conclusion was obvious. Seven had made a romantic connection, and was investigating the more animal aspects of humanity.
She gripped her cup tightly, taking a resentful sip. What she could not understand is why she did not know about this development. Seven spoke to her about everything, especially her exploration of her humanity. They were close, friends even. The idea that Seven felt uncomfortable with her was unacceptable.
And underneath all of that was the niggling sensation that something was off. Gossip traveled around this ship like recycled oxygen. There should have been a hint. Some sign that Seven was growing closer to someone in the crew.
But there was, wasn't there? Seven had been seen with Harry Kim, Tom Paris and B'elanna Torres in the mess hall several times. And Seven had done that wonderful act with Tom, which by all rights would have required a lot of rehearsal. Janeway furrowed her brow. The idea that Tom Paris would have captured Seven's attention was not entirely impossible. He was arrogant in his way, but a good man; handsome, funny and relaxed enough to handle her prickly nature. She would have bet the farm on Tom having feelings for B'elanna though. So perhaps it was Harry, who had a standing holodeck appointment with Seven, twice a week. Harry was kind and naive, fresh-faced and jovial. She could see how Seven would be drawn to his calm sincerity.
Frustrated, she downed her coffee and stood, pacing her quarters as her mind grasped clues and couldn't manage to make a whole picture.
“Who am I kidding.” Janeway raised her hands in surrender, the ceiling her confessor. “It could be anyone on the ship.” She laughed at herself, getting worked up over nothing. Dismissing any thoughts about Seven of Nine's personal life, she stepped into the bedroom to get dressed. Putting on her pips always made her feel better.
The Captain decided to take her lunch in the mess hall, rather than dining privately in her ready room. She'd been alone most of the day and it was always good to be among her crew. Also, Neelix had had a kitchen disaster so everyone was allowed to replicate one dish for lunch, and possibly dinner, until the problem was sorted out. It would cut into the power surplus, but Janeway was just grateful that they had a power surplus to draw from. She was going to order barbecued ribs, corn on the cob and mashed potatoes with gravy. She'd squander another ration on a large pitcher of iced tea, and another on some chocolate fudge ice cream for dessert. She rarely splurged like this, so she was going to make it count!
She swaggered into the mess hall and took a seat by the windows. She loved watching the universe fly by as she sat still. It was still magical to her after all these years in space. She told Neelix what she wanted, and he rushed off to replicate her feast. She looked over to the kitchen area, and chuckled at the thick black scorch marks scarring the walls and the ceiling. The smell of burnt plastic and ozone still hung in the air, but was fading as the air scrubbers did their job. Neelix placed her lunch in front of her, and she poured herself a large glass of iced tea.
“You are incorrect.” Seven's head popped up from behind the serving counter. “The ignition was not caused by Neelix. It was a faulty repair to this section of the tubing.”
“No way in hell.” B'elanna stomped into view from behind the wall. “Are you saying it's my fault?”
“I am merely stating facts, B'elanna.” Seven held up the defective part. “There are microfractures throughout the structure. It was likely re purposed from another are of the ship.”
“Darn it.” B'elanna took the broken piece from Seven's hand. They lingered, smiling at each other. “I see them.”
“It would be easy to miss.” Seven conceded. “I do not find you or your department at fault. They... You, are exceptional.”
“Thanks, Seven!” B'elanna grinned, and helped Seven off the floor. “You're not so bad yourself.”
“I will remind you of that the next time you throw me out of Engineering.” Seven stated.
“Please.” B'elanna held Seven's hand for a moment. She looked sincere, almost pleading. “I wouldn't do that. Not- Not anymore.”
They spoke quietly to each other as they left the Mess Hall, not acknowledging anyone as they got caught up in their conversation.
Janeway watched them go, barely keeping her jaw from dropping. A deep sigh turned her head to the left. Tom Paris turned from the doors to face the Captain.
“I guess I got my answer.” Tom stated mournfully, looking for a kindred spirit in his misery. He sat at the Captain's table, asking with a tilt of his head that she answered with a nod.
“What on earth was that about?” Janeway asked him.
“I don't really know.” Tom looked down. “But I guess I can say that Seven and B'elanna have been getting closer over the last few weeks.”
“I-I...” Janeway smiled wryly. “I am speechless. When has that ever happened, Tom?”
“Never, ma'am.” Tom returned her look.
“Ma'am?” Janeway prodded.
“Feels like crunch time.” Tom shrugged.
“It certainly does.” Janeway slumped in her seat. She slid her plate over to Tom, and promptly left the Mess Hall.
Janeway was not a snoop, per se. She had of course, read her sister's diaries and found out all her secrets. As the older sister, it was almost a responsibility to be aware of her younger sister's actions. She had also made sure to be in the know about her father's secret missions, especially when she was asked not to join in on them. And of course, once she started at the Academy secrets were something of a currency among the students, and Katherine was one of the wealthiest cadets in her year.
But she wasn't a snoop. She preferred for her friends and family to confide in her of their own volition, and felt much the same way about her crew. She liked to view herself as open and available, non-threatening to her own people. She preferred to give them space to fail and learn by getting up and starting over.
But... Seven was different. She was responsible for Seven's happiness, having severed her from the collective and forced individuality upon her. If Janeway was no longer in Seven's confidence, it didn't change the fact that the Captain wanted to be there for her. So, she may have snooped. A little.
She looked through Seven's database inquiries, a fairly benign invasion of privacy, considering the tools she had at her disposal. The list was for the most part unsurprising. Many references to Velocity, a download for the complete text of Sun Tsu's Art of War, a detailed analysis of the Omega particle by a Bolian researcher that Janeway had never heard of, and many requests for information on cultural matters. What makes an acceptable birthday gift. Texts on human interaction, including romantic and sexual encounters. Klingon mating rituals.
Klingon. Mating. Rituals.
“Janeway to Lieutenant Torres!” Janeway allowed her rage to guide her.
“Torres here, Captain.” B'elanna sounded as though she'd just woken up.
“Meet me in my quarters in twenty minutes.” Janeway ordered.
“Yes, Captain.” B'elanna groaned, and Janeway heard shuffling. “Can I ask why I'm needed in your quarters at oh-three-hundred?”
“No.” Janeway clipped out her answer.
“Understood.” There was a scuffling noise, and low voices in the background. “Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon.” B'elanna's voice again, not addressing Janeway. And the mystery companion's whispered answer, caught just before the comm cut off.
“I will comply.”
Janeway bit furiously at the skin around her thumbnail, a bad habit that she only resorted to in times of extreme stress. She had managed to avoid it entirely in the last seven years, but today was a different story. She poured herself two fingers from her precious bottle of authentic Irish Whiskey. She took a large swig and was considering downing the rest and pouring another, when her door chime pinged.
“Enter.” Janeway put the glass down, and sat regally in the armchair facing the door.
“Hey, Captain!” B'elanna stifled a yawn. “What can I do for you?”
“You...” Janeway spat, and then lost all her words. She slumped down. “What am I doing?”
“I don't know.” B'elanna looked at Janeway, assessing. “Are you alright, Captain?”
“No. I don't think I am.” Janeway finished her glass, and poured herself another. She nudges another glass and the bottle toward B'elanna, who sat and served herself. “I called you here to... question you about your relationship with Seven of Nine.”
“At three am?” B'elanna took a sip. Weak. The burn did not slice through her throat like Bloodwine, but it had an earthy flavour she did not hate. “You must really care.”
“I suppose I do.” Janeway looked lost. She stared up at B'elanna. “You know the fraternization rules as well as anyone. And the punishments for breaking them.”
“I guess.” B'elanna sharpened her gaze. “Look, Seven and I...”
“I don't want to hear it.” Janeway stood. “I- I'm sorry B'elanna. I shouldn't have disturbed you.”
“Are you really that angry that Seven and I like spending time together?” B'elanna stood, glowering. “You were the one who wanted us to stop fighting. You were the one who encouraged her to socialize with the crew. And now you're angry because we're both doing what you wanted?”
“You're dismissed, Lieutenant.” Janeway narrowed her gaze.
“Nuh-uh.” B'elanna pointed her finger at Janeway. “You don't get to pull rank on this. This isn't about regulations. This is about you wanting to keep your pet Borg to yourself!”
“That is enough!” Janeway shouted. Then she took a breath and lowered her voice. “Be very careful of what you say next, B'elanna. I wouldn't enjoy sentencing you to the brig for the rest of the trip.”
“God, I'm going to be so glad when you two finally play your stupid little game.” B'elanna stormed to the doors. “Because when you crush her once and for all, she won't ever want to play Velocity again, and she'll be free of the crazy hold you have on her!”
B'elanna rushed out of Janeway's quarters, leaving the Captain to chew on her last words.
Janeway, for her part, rubbed her face with her hand and sat heavily on her couch, feeling quite sorry for herself as she poured another drink.
Seven of Nine had regenerated for six consecutive hours. Sleeping was... interesting, but it did not reset her nanoprobes, or provide her with the guaranteed revitalization that a good long regeneration did. And with her extremely important Velocity match scheduled for later this evening, it was important that she follow her prescribed pre-game plan. After emerging from her alcove, she replicated a nutritional supplement, and checked the sensor array for anomalies.
B'elanna had spoken with the Captain last night, but would not say anything more than it had been enlightening. Serven wanted to know what the Captain had spoken about. She wanted to know if the Captain was nervous about the match that evening. She wanted... She wanted.
She had not had any private time with Janeway since their last match. There had been brief moments, on duty and off, but it hadn't felt like enough. She realized how much she valued and cherished her interactions with Janeway. But B'elanna had a plan, and she said it was working. So Seven of Nine spent her evenings in B'elanna's quarters, and spent her days assisting in Engineering as much as possible without affecting Astrometrics. She had followed all of B'elanna's plans down to the letter, but did not see how anything that was happening would improve her skills at Velocity. But B'elanna had asked that Seven trust her. And so Seven did.
Half an hour before the game was to start, Seven strode down to Holodeck Three. She had put on the attire that B'elanna had laid out for her, and put her hair up, not in a tight bun, but back into a loose ponytail, as it was called. She began stretching, warming up her human muscles. She had never needed to before, but sleeping sometimes meant waking stiff and sore, with limbs numb with pins and needles from laying atop herself. She found stretching useful, and also soothing. B'elanna had introduced her to Klingon martial arts, and to the Human practices of Yoga. She enjoyed the physicality of both forms, but for relaxation and mental preparation yoga was preferable.
To win tonight was to prove to Janeway that she was an equal. That she could match her. It was important, although Seven did not know why. If she lost, she would be bitterly disappointed. Another word would be better there. She would be... heartbroken, felt closer to the truth.
The holodeck doors opened and Janeway strolled in wearing her usual sporting gear, a long sleeved tunic and thin black pants that clung tightly to her legs. She had a towel slung casually over one shoulder and looked as though she hadn't a care in the universe. She set her belongings down, and quickly stretched out.
“Good evening, Seven.” Janeway's voice was warm, and Seven had missed it. She also missed the way the Captain took her in like a breath. Her tight tank and loose shorts were a revelation against the loose strands of blonde framing Seven's face. Janeway shook it off. Or tried to.
“Captain.” Seven nodded.
“Have you decided what you're going to ask for if you win?” Janeway smiled.
“Yes.” Seven smiled back. Her triumph would be so sweet. “But I will not reveal it until I can claim victory. Have you also chosen?”
“Of course.” Janeway smirked, a lighthearted gambit. “But it's a secret too.”
“I have heard from the crew that they are making wagers of their own regarding the outcome of this game.” Seven revealed, hesitant to get her newfound friends in trouble. “I have bet heavily on myself to win. If I do not prevail, I shall be unable to use the holodeck for the remainder of our journey.”
“It was inevitable.” Janeway chuckled and shook her head. “In fact, B'elanna and I made a side wager just minutes ago.”
“Care to reveal the terms?” Seven was curious to know what B'elanna had asked for.
“Not yet.” Janeway picked up a phaser. “Let's see how this plays out.”
“Agreed.” Seven chose her phaser.
The computer chirped. “Players, begin in five, four, three, two, one.”
The target hovered for a moment and then flew swiftly away. Seven raised her phaser and fired.
Captain Kathryn Janeway took the long walk to the bridge alone. Another day, another ridiculous predicament. She straightened her uniform, and with a sigh she crossed to her chair.
“An item of business before we begin.” Janeway held up her hand. She pressed a button on her side panel, and opened a ship-wide channel.
“As you may already know, myself and Seven of Nine bet on one final game of Velocity last evening. As my penance for losing, I have been asked to read the following; Let it be known that Seven of Nine is a superior life form to Kathryn Janeway in the matter of Velocity. And as Kathryn Janeway holds the title of Undefeated Champion in the Federation, and Velocity is not played outside of the Federation, it is therefore logical to assume that Seven of Nine is in fact the best Velocity player in the Galaxy, or perhaps even the universe. In Velocity, she is Omega. That is all. Return to station keeping.”
Holding back a wry, embarrassed smile, Janeway looked to her bridge crew to see them all in differing states of amusement. Paris was turning red from holding back his laughter. Harry was hiding behind his hand, his shoulders shaking. Even Tuvok had an eyebrow raised.
“All right.” Janeway fluttered her hands. “Let it out.”
The crew let out their mirth in a flurry of chuckles and giggles and guffaws.
Janeway allowed herself a small huff of laughter. It was absurd, and Janeway could see the humour, even if it was at her expense.
“Okay, that's enough.” Janeway schooled her features. “Harry? What have we got?”
Janeway retreated to her ready room after giving her orders to explore a nebula and avoid a hostile area of space. She replicated herself a carafe of coffee and poured herself a cup.
Her door chirped.
“Come.” Janeway inhaled the aroma of her favorite vice.
“Captain.” B'elanna stood at attention.
“B'elanna.” Janeway motioned for her to sit. B'elanna did.
“I wanted to apologize.” B'elanna clenched her hands. “I was out of line. I meant no disrespect.”
“I know.” Janeway gave B'elanna a soft look, one she hadn't seen in years. “And I was the one who was out of line. I reacted out of anger, and I should have been above all that.”
“But should you?” B'elanna asked, serious. “I mean, yeah. You're the Captain and you make the hard choices. But you shouldn't have to be the Captain all the time. You need a break now and then, friends to confide in, maybe someone to come home to. I don't think it's fair to expect you to be perfect.”
“Thank you, B'elanna.” Janeway smiled. “I hope that's your version of accepting my apology.”
“Sort of.” B'elanna grins. “I'm here to collect on our bet as well.”
“I see.” Janeway smirks. “Alright. Lay it on me.”
“Okay.” B'elanna chooses her words carefully. “You agreed that if Seven won, you'd do one thing I ask.”
“I remember.” Janeway sipped her coffee, eyes rolling. “Get on with it. I'll scrub manifolds or wear a Flotter costume to dinner or whatever embarrassment you want to inflict on me.”
“I'll keep that costume thing in mid for next time.” B'elanna played her last card. “I want you to ask Seven of Nine out on a date.”
“Pardon me?” Janeway sat up, shocked. “You want me to... But I thought you-”
“Yeah. No.”
“But...” Janeway whispered, her mind whirling in confusion. “The night off, the morning after... she was in your bed...”
“All true.” B'elanna grinned wide in her ultimate victory. “I may have put some things in motion, but no. I'm not involved romantically with Seven.”
“But then why?” Janeway shook her head.
“Because I could.” B'elanna slouched in the chair, comfortable now. “Goodness knows you two were never going to do anything about it, or even figure it out unless you were pushed.”
“Does she?” Janeway started to ask. “No. Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“She does.” B'elanna answered anyway. “I don't know if she knows that she does, but she does.”
“Impossible” Janeway put down her mug. “It would be irresponsible, not to mention against Star Fleet Regulations...”
“None of that matters.” B'elanna shrugged her shoulders. “A bet's a bet. You have to ask her.”
“I most certainly do not!” Janeway tried to strong arm her way out of the deal.
“Fine.” B'elanna made movements to stand. “I'll just tell everyone you welshed.”
“No!” Janeway dropped her shaking hands to her desk. “No. I-I'll ask her. And when she turns me down, we'll all forget any of this ever happened, and never mention it again.”
“Fine.” B'elanna laughed. “But when she says yes, and you two get together? I want full credit for your happiness. In fact, I want a ship wide announcement too!”
“She won't agree.” Janeway dismissed the thought. “Nothing will come of this.”
B'elanna leaned over Janeway's desk, smug and glorious.
“Wanna bet?”
Three months later:
“Come back to bed.” Tom groped blindly for his partner's arm.
“I'm on rotation.” B'elanna straightened her pips. “And so are you. Get your ass up, Fly Boy.”
“Fine.” Tom pouted.
“Oh, Seven wanted us to meet her and the Captain for lunch today.” B'elanna asked her sleepy boyfriend.
“Sure.” Tom grinned. “I still can't believe you orchestrated all that. And that you blackmailed me into playing along!”
“It wasn't blackmail.” B'elanna swatted his behind. “It was negotiation.”
“You said you'd only go on a date with me if I made Janeway think you and Seven were bangi-” Tom changes his vocabulary on B'elanna's scowl. “Together.”
“Like I said, negotiation.” B'elanna ran a brush through her stubborn Klingon hair. “And it was brilliant.”
“And Machiavellian.”
“And it worked!”
“And it was sexy as hell.” Tom leered at her.
“Of course.” B'elanna smiled, full of joy at her blooming relationship with this man.
The computer chirped once. Then came a crackling.
“This is your Captain speaking. As you may already know, myself and Seven of Nine have embarked upon a romantic relationship. We both owe our new happiness to Lieutenant B'elanna Torres, who's tireless efforts on our behalf, and her underhanded sneakiness, led us to this point. Of course, should Seven and I ever break up, she will be responsible for our, and therefore all of your, eternal misery as we chart our course to the Alpha Quadrant. Please keep that information in mind. That is all. Return to station keeping.”
B'elanna stared at Tom. Tom stared at B'elanna.
B'elanna was the first to crack, falling back into bed in her full uniform, howling with laughter. Tom soon followed, unable to hold back after seeing B'elanna give in.
“I am so screwed!” B'elanna choked out through her laughter.
“You totally are.” Tom agreed.
“I'll just have to keep them together forever.” B'elanna clutched her stomach, as cramping began to usurp her mirth.
“Not forever.” Tom giggled and kissed her cheek. “Just until we get home.”
“Yeah.” B'elanna stopped laughing, and raised her hand to caress the face of her lover. “Just until then.”
END