Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [27]
Why, did you know that you are the only one on the ship who actually likes my roast jak'ra? I promise I'll make you a special batch if-when you pull out of this."
A touch on her hand-warm, strong. "You're one of the toughest people I've ever met. You've got to pull through this, Seven." The voice grew husky.
"You brought me back, you dam well better come back yourself.
Please."
Seven chuckled to herself as her two little ones chased each other around her ankles. They had not yet mastered telepathy, so the warm spring air was filled with their happy chirps and trills. She glanced up at the sky, as she had done every day since word came that the Borg were heading toward their verdant planet. But her mate was the elected One of the continent of Ioh and the selected leader of the entire Circle of Seven, and he had reassured her that reinforcements would soon be arriving.
Still. The atrocities the Borg committed on those unfortunate enough to be assimilated were well known, and the thought of the monsters approaching their planet made Seven shiver. But surely the Emperor would honor the pact, would send his mighty battleships to protect the planet. Surely, there was a reason for the delay. Besides, the attack was not due for another six "What's that?" asked her youngest. Seven craned her long neck and followed his gaze.
Large cubical shapes were penetrating the atmosphere. And there was a voice-or rather hundreds, millions of voices-shattering the silence of the spring morning "We are the Borg. Prepare to be assimilated.
Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile." Tamaak! thought Rhly. Tamaak, they are early!
Seven of Nine, lying prone on the diagnostic bed safely in sickbay, began to scream. She kept her eyes closed and opened her mouth in a large 0 and screamed from her very gut. She kept screaming, as Rhly of Skeda was assimilated and her children placed in stasis tanks. As To-Do-Ka and Zarmuk and Shrri underwent the same ordeal. As one after the other of innocents were ripped from their lives and transformed into Borg. She felt the deaths of their personalities, sometimes the deaths of their physical bodies as well. They marched on in a merciless line, hundreds-no, thousands-of them. Their faces, their histories, their loves and losses and dreams were inextricably part of her and her body and mind writhed in agony as she died again and again.
Through the pain she heard voices, felt the warm press of hands, even of lips on her sweat-slicked forehead. She was told that she, Seven of Nine, was cared about, was safe, had value.
She didn't even recognize the name.
She was no one, and everyone. Designations meant nothing, and everything. She screamed until her voice was gone and even after that silent, heaving gasps erupted from her-belly.
What are you doing?
The thought was launched at Imraak like an assault and the other Skedan reeled backward from the power of it. He stumbled, and caught himself.
What you ought to have done the moment we came aboard, he sent, his own thoughts hot and angry. We have directed all our efforts, toward this thing, this one, healing thing, and she stood in our way! She could have ruined everything!
The other Skedans, alerted by the telepathic equivalent of shouting, had come forward and were staring at their leaders. Shemaak, her ears twitching in agitation, made as if to interrupt but Imraak raised a hand and impaled her with a furious glare. She halted, confused.
You are killing her! protested Tamaak.
Good.
She is an innocent! We do not killImraak's answer ripped through Tamaak's mind and his head hurt violently. Gasping softly, he applied pressure behind his large ears as Imraak continued to rant.
An innocent? She is a Borg, Tamaak! Have you forgotten? Can it be that the loss of your mate and children means so little to you that you grieve for the injuring of the very one who took them?
Fury rose in Tamaak and he didn't