Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [28]
B'Elanna jerked a thumb at one of the consoles on the other side of the room-as far from her own console as possible. "That'll be your workstation," she told Seven of Nine. "You can conduct your computations there to your heart's content."
The Borg hesitated a moment, obviously unfamiliar with the expression. Still, she must have gotten the gist of it, because she didn't ask any more questions. She simply made her way to the workstation.
As B'Elanna watched, Seven of Nine inspected the console. Then she tapped out a few commands on its
keypadd. Her eyes moved in tandem with the data scrolling across the screen.
At least she's obedient, B'Elanna mused. She may be sabotaging the ship, but she's doing it politely.
Suddenly, the Borg looked up and saw the engineer staring at her. "This will be satisfactory," she said.
"Good," said B'Elanna. "If you're happy, I'm happy."
Her sarcasm was apparently lost on Seven of Nine. The Borg had no reaction that the lieutenant could discern. She just turned back to her screen and began to make her calculations.
The engineer shook her head. Then, forgetting about the Borg for the moment, she approached Vorik. He was working at his usual console.
"How are those thorium isotopes coming?" she asked.
The Vulcan stopped to look at her. He didn't look happy. -I will admit I am having trouble, Lieutenant."
"What sort of trouble?"
"Controlling the neutron absorption," he said.
B'Elanna pondered the problem. "Try increasing the temperature of the plasma above the neutronactivation threshold. That ought to help."
Vorik's brow creased as he considered his superior's approach. "Yes. I can see how it would."
She smiled. "Let's get that thorium to the captain as soon as it's ready."
The Vulcan nodded. "I will do that."
Leaving him to his labors, B'Elanna moved to the next workstation and then the one after that, seeing if there were any other difficulties that had arisen in her absence. There weren't.
Finally, she approached Seven of Nine. After all, the Borg was engaged in a project of particular interest to the captain. If she was approaching some aspect of the problem the wrong way, B'Elanna couldn't just let her founder. She would have to set her on the right path again, just as she would do with anyone else in her section.
"How's it going?" she asked Seven of Nine, trying to keep the rancor out of her voice.
The Borg looked at her with that empty expression of hers. "I am doing well," she responded.
Her tone was matter-of-fact, almost devoid of inflection. There was something about it that grated badly on B'Elanna's nerves-something that made her want to wring some emotion out of Seven of Nine.
"I'm glad to hear it," the engineer replied. She sized the Borg up. "Tell me something, Seven of Nine."
"Of course."
B'Elanna knew she shouldn't be asking the question. She asked it anyway. "When you hear about people like the Caatati, a race that was all but destroyed by the Borg ... do you have any feelings of remorse? Do you regret what you did to themt'
Seven of Nine's eyes seemed to lose their focus for a moment. She seemed to be searching for the appropriate response.
Finally, she came up with one. "No."
B'Elanna eyed her. She wasn't sure what kind of answer she had expected, but that wasn't it. "That's it? Just… 'no'?"
Seven of Nine regarded her with that cold, distant gaze of hers. "What further answer do you require?"
The engineer stared at the Borg. "Oh, maybe some kind of acknowledgment of the billions of lives you've helped to destroy ... a justification for what you did." She shook her head. "Maybe a little sense of guilt…"
"Guilt is irrelevant," Seven of Nine told her.
B'Elanna frowned. "Heartwarming."
The Borg regarded her. "An animal in the wild doesn't feel remorse for slaughtering its kill."
B'Elanna could feel the vitriol rising within her. "That's about what I'd expect from an unfeeling machine."
Seven of Nine was neither hurt nor offended ...
nor anything else. Completely unmoved,