Homecoming - Christie Golden [40]
“Yes?”
Disappointment knifed through him when an older woman’s face appeared on his screen. Almost immediately, though, he realized who this must be.
“Ms. Hansen?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Icheb. I’m a friend of Seven’s from—”
“Oh, of course, I know your name. Annika speaks of you often and so warmly. Let me get her, you just hang on. ...”
Icheb found himself staring into the room as Irene Hansen darted off to find her niece. He smiled a little; apparently, some people even now weren’t as comfortable with viewscreens as others. After a few minutes, [117] Seven’s face appeared. She was trying to maintain her usual icy demeanor, but a slight smile and glowing eyes betrayed her pleasure.
“Icheb.”
“Hello, Seven.”
“I assume you are contacting me to report on your first day of classes at the Academy. I trust all went well?” He filled her in, saving the surprise about Tuvok for last. She listened attentively. Finally she asked, “Were you ... bothered in any way?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We were Borg. Earth’s human population seems to be by turns fascinated and horrified by us.”
“Well, I did get a little bit of attention.” He hadn’t mentioned Eshe. Somehow, he didn’t want to.
“You need to be prepared to—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Annika, let the boy enjoy being popular.” Seven’s aunt again, chiming in on the conversation. Seven looked nonplussed. Clearly, she had thought she was alone. Icheb tried not to laugh when Irene stuck her head into viewing range.
“Icheb, why don’t you come on over for a homemade dinner and some strawberry pie? I’ve got a chicken in the oven, with potatoes and gravy and biscuits, and Annika and I are watching our girlish figures.”
“Aunt Irene!” said Seven, flustered.
“Ms. Hansen, I would love to come. When would be convenient?”
“You just hop over to one of those transporters whenever you’re ready.”
“Seven, is this acceptable to you?” Icheb asked.
[118] Although Seven looked annoyed, she also looked a little pleased. “It is satisfactory,” she said. Which, for Seven, meant that she was delighted.
B’Elanna swallowed hard, waiting for Tom’s face to appear on the viewscreen. When it did, her heart lurched. He was holding little Miral, who was making popping noises with her mouth and waving her arms around.
“Hi,” Torres said.
“Hi,” he said.
“This is the last time I’ll be permitted to contact you until after ... after this is all done.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“If anything goes wrong, the priests won’t know about it for a while. So you shouldn’t expect to hear anything, positive or negative, for some time.”
“Mommy’s just so upbeat, isn’t she, honey?” Tom said in a playful, high-pitched voice to Miral. The child squealed and tried to grab his nose. “Don’t worry,” he said, looking up to face his wife. “You’re where you need to be. I know that. I’m very proud of you.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “How did your folks take it?”
“About as expected. I’ve moved out on my own now. Well, almost on my own. The Doc’s my new roommate. Listen, we should seriously consider keeping him on. I think he missed his true programming. He’s a great nanny.”
“I heard that,” came the Doctor’s dry voice from another room. Tom looked vexed.
[119] “Excuse me,” he said. He rose and went to close the door.
B’Elanna laughed, and suddenly all the pain and apprehension was gone. Tom knew she was doing the right thing, and so did she. They would be all right, whatever happened to her. The only thing she wished was that she could hold her daughter and kiss her husband one last time.
“I love you so much, both of you,” she said.
“We know. We love you, too.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say good-bye and hoped he would end the conversation first. He made no move to do so. As she reluctantly moved to terminate the conversation, Tom said quickly, “B’Elanna—”
“Yes?”
“Qapla’!”
She smiled, and touched the button. The screen was now filled with the insignia of the