Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [15]
Because the Emperor could turn the Ku on anyone.
Beytek was staring at Xanarit expectantly, and the chief advisor searched for words. "Then perhaps the buzzing of these rumors should be regarded as merely an annoyance, as we regard the tariflies."
"Perhaps they shouldn't."
"Very well, then let us assume there are a few Skedans who have somehow survived, escaped the Borg, left their quarantined planet, and found a way to get this close to Lhiaari without being detected."
Xanarit's voice dripped scorn. "Then, my master, you should perhaps spend a season gambling on the Shamrik Moon-the odds are about as good."
"Do you think I'm a fool, Xanarit?" yelped the Emperor. "I know what I'm saying, and I'm saying there are Skedans within the borders of my empire! I want you to double security on every waystation. And I want to know every last detail about this year's Tribute celebration. If a rodent eats grain at a storage facility, I want to know about it. Do you hear me?"
"I hear and obey, 0 Great One." Xanarit let it hang in the air between them for a moment, then dipped his head to look at the list. "We now must discuss-" "Nothing!" A fine tantrum was building, Xanarit could see that. Growling, Beytek seized the tray and hurled it at Xanarit. Gracefully, the chief advisor ducked, which seemed to enrage Beytek all the more.
"We will discuss nothing but what I say we discuss!
Don't you understand? If there are Skedans alive, and they are heading this way, everything will be ruined!
Everything! And if I fall, I swear this to you, each of you will fall with me. So you'd better listen to the tariflies, my so-called advisory council. Listen and when next I summon you, you had better have some advice worth listening to!"
He stormed out, shunning the litter bearers who abruptly snapped to attention. The four guards exchanged glances, then hastened after their wrathful lord.
Xanarit watched them go in silence. When he was certain they were truly alone, he turned to the others.
"How long would it be before we can arrange to have a water-extraction system smuggled to Tatori?"
He listened as the rest of the council discussed the matter and focused more on the fact that he was saving innocent lives than that he was committing the ultimate sin for a Lhiaarian-treason.
"How are you feeling?" Captain Janeway's voice was soft, warm with concern, and her forehead was furrowed.
What a foolish question. Typical of a human.
"I am not well," replied Seven. Surely it was obvious. She was lying down in the diagnostic bed.
The Doctor had taken several samples of just about everything in Seven's body, including her nanites. He had run over a dozen tests. She was frightened, exhausted, weak.
And the five black birds persisted in accompanying her.
Something suddenly broke in her and she screamed at them, "Go away!
Leave me alone!" She tried to bolt upright but the diagnostic bed constrained her. The Doctor was there at once, trying to calm her down.
"Seven! It's all right! There's no one here to hurt you!"
But she didn't hear him, didn't hear Janeway and her efforts to soothe.
All she could hear was the soft cawing of the birds, the birds who wouldn't let her be Suddenly Seven ceased struggling and simply stared at them. She felt the strong hands of the Doctor on her shoulders, pressing her back down. She resisted, locking eyes with each of the birds-ravens-in turn.
They weren't the enemy. They were the one constant in Seven's abruptly shifting universe. She didn't know why she was waiting in and out of other people's lives in this frightening way. For so long, Seven of Nine had been a part of the collective, part of a vast, intricate network that had no place for individuality. Now, faced with losing the individuality that had been so abruptly foisted upon her, Seven realized she wanted to keep it. And somehow, in a way that she didn't understand, these ravens were the key to holding on to who she was.