Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [32]
She'd just have to get used to it again.
The woman on the diagnostic bed opened her eyes.
Her body ached with weariness and her head throbbed. Even breathing was laborious.
She could identify nothing. There was a familiarity about this place, but no words, no names came to mind. The metal arching over her body-she knew it; the being puttering about with a tray full of tools was someone she recognized.
As she opened her mouth to speak, there was a brief flash of pleasure: I know how to communicate.
"Hello?" Her voice was raspy, her lips dry. The person over at the little table spun around, his eyes wide.
"Seven?"
She frowned a little. "Seven what?" There were birds, of course, but there were ten of them, not seven, and they were quiet. She ignored them, more curious about this place and this man.
The man did not reply. He took one of the tools and passed it over her head. "Oh, no," he said softly, and when his eyes met hers they were full of compassion.
"Seven do you remember who I am? What this place is?"
She shook her head, sitting up when the man pressed a button and the curving are of metal retreated back into the bed. She swung her long legs down and reached to touch her face.
"I don't know anything-yet I think I should. Why do you keep repeating that number? What is my name?" Suddenly afraid, she drew her legs up toward her chest and clasped her hands around them tightly.
"Please don't be frightened. It's going to be all right. Somehow.
You may call me the Doctor. You are-" Memories. Flashes of light, of images, of fear and wonderful smells and green and metal and embraces, soft fabric against her skin, fear that shook her to the bone.
She reached again to touch her face. Something cold and metallic was on it, and she fingered it gently.
Her brow furrowed. She reached up and unclasped her hair, combing it out with her fingers.
"Doctor," she said softly, "I remember. I know who I am."
"And that's the situation," finished Janeway. She had been watching her senior staff carefully as she briefed them on what her conversation with Tamaak Vrs had yielded. A warm glow of pride flickered in her breast. They were all in danger as long as the Skedans remained on their ship. The logical thing to do would be to go ahead and surrender them to these Ku and avoid another fight.
But, Tuvok and Vorik aside, this crew had never been about logic.
They'd always been about heart, about compassion, and there had never been a better opportunity to demonstrate it than now. Janeway had never seen a better example of innocence wronged than in the Skedans.
Provided that Tamaak's theory about the Scarlet Death's inability to jump species proved correct, she could present her findings to the Emperor and ask for clemency on behalf of a race that had already had to bear more hardships than anyone ought to. And with the Skedan's amazing diplomatic touch, she might be able to get that safe passage for her own crew as well.
Her senior staff clearly shared her sentiments.
There was not one comment, not a "however," not even from Tuvok.
Janeway of course had the authority to go forward with her decision regardless of what her staff thought, but it was always easier when everyone was of one mind-and one heart.
"I'm not overly fond of bugs anyway," said Tom, his comment bringing forth smiles and nods.
"Then we proceed. We travel at yellow alert-the
Ku might find us at any time. We-" "Sickbay to Janeway."
"Janeway here. What is it, Doctor?"
"You'd better get down to sickbay right away."
He refused to elaborate. Janeway left the bridge in Chakotay's capable hands and hastened to sickbay.
Her imagination took all kinds of twists and turns.
What in God's name had happened to poor Seven now?
The door hissed open and Janeway got her first shock. Seven looked fine, though a little tired. She was sitting up, her legs dangling off the side of the bed swinging,