Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [46]
Seven was vaguely aware that her flesh was intact, both at her wrist and where the birds had pecked her.
The damage had vanished.
"Kill you? But-" Seven froze as comprehension crashed over her. She stared at the little girl, who stepped forward cautiously. For a long moment, they gazed at each other.
"Annika," breathed Seven. The girl nodded and a tremulous smile curved her lips.
"Don't kill us," she repeated. "You're afraid. You feel guilty. But you're all that's left of me, and I don't want to die!"
Deep inside, Seven knew this for what it was. Part of her was thinking clearly. Part of her did not want to die, regardless of the crashing wave of remorse that threatened to sweep away sense, sanity, and life itself.
That part, manifested first in the black birds and now in the form of herself as an innocent child, was begging her to think, to hesitate just long enough to realize what she really wanted.
Seven of Nine wanted to live.
No! Imraak projected his thought with all the force of a physical blow. No, you want to die! Living is intolerable. The little girl is being selfish. She doesn't understand "You don't understand," rasped Seven of Nine.
Tears were flowing down her cheeks and she dragged an arm across her wet face. "You don't know how awful it is... to live with this. .
.
."
The child, her face wiser than her six years, nodded solemnly. "But I do know, Seven. I know everything. I remember being assimilated-and so do you. They took me, took us, and put us in a stasis chamber."
Her child's mouth lisped over the words, but there was knowledge in her blue eyes. "They removed parts of our body and replaced them with cold metal. They made us do the same to others. You are free. You have a chance to embrace being an individual. Do you think that Keela would turn her back on such an opportunity?"
Startled, Seven thought of the small kitten. She couldn't imagine little Keela taking her own life. Nor proud, dignified Druana. Nor Rhly, so full of life and love, nor Aman, fighting to the end.
"No," she said slowly. "I don't think she would."
"Then don't. Fight your pain." Annika moved closer to Seven until she was a hand's breadth away.
She smelled clean, like fresh air and flowers, and the carrion scent fled before the fragrance. The scent made Seven's heart hurt. "Don't give in. Don't kill US." Seven gasped as something deep inside her shattered. "I won't!" she sobbed, reaching out to fold the child into her arms. Annika hugged her tightly. Seven buried her face in the golden curls, breathed in the sweet, poignant little-girl scent. "I won't," she promised.
Behind Annika, wheeling and turning and cawing in delight, flew fourteen black birds.
And huddled in a corner of Cargo Bay One, Imraak, for only the second time in his life, tasted defeat.
WHEN ENSIGN KiM ARRIVED PRMSELY THREE HOURS later, Seven was completely in control. She had shed her flowing red garment in favor of her customary brown unitard. Her hair had been brushed and repinned neatly in a coil at the back of her head. She noted and dismissed his reaction-a quick burst of dismay, an equally swift recovery and return to normalcy.
The peculiar and nearly lethal wave of despair that had flooded her earlier had been vanquished. She was slightly embarrassed by it now, and by her previous maudlin longing to be "liked." Being liked was irrelevant. She was crisp and cool when Harry arrived and she hoped he, too, would think no more on their earlier conversation.
"Ready for some lunch?" he asked.
She considered the emptiness in her abdomen.
"Yes," she confirmed. "I am hungry."
When they entered the mess hall, Neelix's homely face flooded with pleasure. "It's a pleasure to see you back here-" He hesitated.
She replied, "I am Seven of Nine."
"Ah. Just wanted to make sure. Always good to know who you're talking with, eh?" She noted that he seemed just as happy to receive Seven of Nine in his special culinary domain as he had