Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [82]
Seven, paradoxically, felt lighter as well.
Little by little, darkness spread like ink from the secret heart of Seven of Nine. There came a day when its effects were no longer confined within her.
On that day, she remained in her alcove for four minutes and ten seconds after the completion of her regeneration cycle. The regeneration matrix deactivated and she just stood there with her eyes closed, awake but unmoving.
For reasons she could not explain, she was reluctant to face the day. There was no impending danger that she was aware of, no stressful duty scheduled… but a feeling of dread settled over her like a blanket.
After four minutes and ten seconds, she forced herself to emerge from the alcove… but the feeling of dread stayed with her for the rest of the day.
And the next day, too. And the one after that.
It persisted so long that she wondered if it might actually be a warning sign alerting her to a threat. She decided to probe further, and examine every component of the environment in and around Voyager.
Oddly, she never quite got around to it.
It was just as well, for she would have found no hostile influence or immediate danger… though the feeling of dread was indeed an indicator of trouble to come.
One day, for instance, she stayed at her post for only twenty-two minutes after the conclusion of her duty shift… an unprecedented reduction in her daily overtime.
Similarly, she completed a report only three days before it was required… and found this dramatic tardiness to be acceptable.
On another occasion, she realized that she had been staring at the same sensor log for fifteen minutes and twelve seconds without actually reading it.
Then there was the day when she made Naomi Wildman cry.
While it was not unusual for Seven to avoid a social event, her absence from Naomi’s birthday party was beyond unexpected. Even more surprising was her reaction when the little girl left the party and came to find her, worried that something was wrong.
“Birthdays are irrelevant,” Seven said coldly from her alcove. “Parties are irrelevant.”
Naomi stood there and scowled, her lower lip quivering. Watching her, Seven briefly experienced an unfamiliar feeling… a twinge of petty satisfaction at having hurt someone who cared about her.
Then Naomi broke into tears and ran away, and Seven immediately regretted what she had done.
But it wasn’t enough to bring her to her senses. Unfortunately, regret was one of the fuels that best powered her secret heart.
And her secret heart told her that she deserved to be miserable, which was exactly how she felt when Naomi stopped coming around after that.
Well after nightfall, after many hours of torturous travel along the jungle trail, Zolaluz stopped and turned to Seven.
“We’re near a safe place,” said Zolaluz. “We can rest there awhile, if you like.”
Seven’s first instinct was to announce that she needed no rest and would prefer to reach Captain Janeway without delay… but she caught herself before she could say it. “A period of rest is acceptable,” she said instead, noting the visible weariness on Zolaluz’s face.
“The place we are going is safer than any other,” said Zolaluz. “Even a soldier will not go there. But I must tell you the reason for this. There is a risk if you go there.”
When Zolaluz explained, Seven told her that she was willing to take the risk.
As they continued onward, the sound of voices rose from the jungle’s nighttime tumult of animal cries and insect chirps. A dim radiance filtered through the trees, increasing in concert with the voices.
When they emerged from the tree cover into an open space, Zolaluz smiled back at Seven. “We are safe now,” she said in a half-whisper. “Welcome to Bahuzola.”
Through a gap between ramshackle huts, Seven glimpsed faces around a fire. Figures drifted in the flickering light, large and small, young and old, male and female.
Each and every one of them had neon pink skin and was damaged in some way, scarred or deformed or missing a limb. Not one