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feelings had been "hurt," he had told her, as if emotions were a physical part of the body that could be damaged and then repaired. Seven sighed and turned to face her.

"You don't believe me," said Naomi in a low voice, staring at the floor. "You think I'm just making it up, just to get attention."

"No, I do not. You would not indulge in such self-aggrandizing behavior. You are more intelligent than that."

Naomi brightened. "But Seven, you know I wouldn't bother you if I hadn't really seen it."

"I believe you think you have seen it," said Seven, making a deliberate effort to soften her stance somewhat "But you are aware of the dark matter that has permeated our bodies and is affecting our judgment You have merely hallucinated this, or else you have created an imaginary friend."

Naomi planted her hands on her small hips and stared at Seven indignantly. "Why do I need to make up imaginary friends when I have the holodeck?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "You do not have the holodeck at the moment"

Naomi stomped her foot "Seven, I'm not!"

"What is it you require of me?" asked Seven, trying to pinpoint something concrete that the child wished her to do.

"I don't know. I just wanted to tell someone, I think." She peered up at Seven. "You really think it's the dark matter? That I hall-haloo-"

"Hallucinated."

"Hallucinated Ae ghost?"

"I do. What would a ghost be doing in a cargo bay? If I recall the myths correctly, ghosts manifest at the site where they were neutralized or hi places they frequently visited before their deaths. No one on Voyager besides myself has any connection to the cargo bay whatsoever. No one lives there, and certainly no one has died there."

Her logic seemed to reach the child. Seven was pleased She would have to tell the Doctor about this. He would undoubtedly compliment her on how well, how sensitively, she had handled the issue.

"Okay," said Naomi, having come to some sort of decision. "Thanks, Seven. Sorry to bother you."

Feeling gracious, Seven replied, "It is no bother," even though Naomi's interruption had, in truth, distracted Seven from her assigned tasks. She had found that these polite prevarications-Paris called them "little white lies"-were integral to smooth human interaction.

She did not watch as Naomi left, noting by the hissing of the door that the child had gone. Seven returned her attention to the screen. With a few deft touches, she commanded the computer to refresh the image.

There it was, the planet that Telek R'Mor had assured them bore the Shepherds. Seven frowned to herself. What a strange name to call one's race.

Her vision blurred. She blinked. It was occurring again, that jumpy, hazy image that filled her vision and then disappeared. It was the fourth tune since she had assumed her post today that it had hap-

pened-once on the bridge, twice in various corridors, and now here hi Astrometrics.

There had been incidents aboard Voyager where the crew had been affected by various illnesses or conditions, and Seven had been exempt, thanks to her implants. But it would seem that mutated dark matter did not discriminate. It occurred to Seven that if mere were a way to infect the Borg Queen with this substance, the Borg threat would be eliminated forever.

The image came again: an area approximately two meters hi height and one meter in length shimmered and danced across her field of vision.

A cursory glance at the screen told Seven there was no immediate threat to the ship that would require her attention. Nonetheless, it was with reluctance that she tapped her combadge.

"Seven of Nine to sickbay. My ocular implant requires adjustment."

"Again?" The Doctor's exasperation came clearly through the commlink.

"Again," stated Seven as she headed out the door.

Naomi hesitated at the door of the cargo bay. She thought Seven was one of the smartest people she'd ever met. If Seven thought the dark matter was affecting her