Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [5]
"What?" Janeway stopped so abruptly that Paris almost walked into her. She craned her neck to see and worry gnawed at her. Tuvok, as usual, was right.
Seven was nowhere to be found.
"Captain? Our guide is rapidly outpacing us," Tamaak said.
"Sorry, Tamaak, we've lost a member of our crew in the crowd. Excuse me." She hurried forward to catch one of the guard's four arms.
"We'll have to wait a moment. One of our crewmembers is missing."
"Wait, I see her," said Kim. "I'll go get her."
Janeway watched him go, the pleasant company of her new friends forgotten in a wash of concern over Seven of Nine. Then logic reasserted itself.
Of any member of her crew, Seven could probably take care of herself with the most efficiency. She'd be all right. Probably she'd just spotted something of interest and taken off to examine it without thinking to request permission. It would be just like her.
The humans had a term for this phenomenon. They called it dL6jl vu, which meant "already seen" in one of their Earth languages. French, a calm part of her mind told her with irritating irrelevance, even as she sat huddled against the wall, long legs clasped to her chest.
It seems to know me. Those were the words she had entered in her log almost a year ago, when the visions of the black bird-the raven-began haunting her.
The mystery of her visions and the concurrent regeneration of the nanoprobes lying dormant in her bloodstream had been solved then.
Seven had been responding to a Borg resonance signal, a kind of homing beacon.
The signal had led her to the wreckage of the only home she had known until she had been assimilated-a small Federation vessel piloted by her parents. That vessel was called the Raven. The Borg signal had reawakened both her implants and her memories. The Doctor had adjusted her implants so that she would not be troubled by Borg resonance in the future.
Or so they had all thought.
She raised her head and stared again at the bird. It really did seem to know her. It had flown closer now, and stared, unblinking, into her blue eyes.
"You are nothing more than a product of my-my imagination," Seven told it sternly. She fought to keep her voice from quivering, her body from trembling. She failed. "You are not real. You do not exist!"
The blackbird opened its beak as if in silent laughter.
"Look, mama!" Seven cried, extending a pale blue digit in the direction of the bird. "It's a skorrak!
They're not supposed to be here for seventeen more circles!"
"You've been studying hard, Keela!" Her mother, soft and warm and furry, stroked her daughter with a clawed hand Seven snuggled into the embrace, loving to be touched and petted "Your tutor must be very proud. Now, are you going to make Warrior K'itka proud too? Bring him the first skorrak of the season?"
Nervousness caused Seven's two hearts to beat faster, but she set her pointed teeth and nodded.
T will do my best, " she assured her mother.
"That is all I would ever ask, my dear child.
The so , yellow tufts of fur about Seven's eyes and oft jaw fluttered softly with the gesture. Normally, when she went hunting, she carried weapons, but it was the mark of a true warrior to bring down prey with only his hands and teeth and wits. Perhaps today would be the day of her first blooding. It was an exciting thought.
The skorrak remained unaware of their presence.
It hopped about on its spindly legs, its scarlet and black plumage gleaming in the early morning light.
Seven settled herself, and focused on the prey. Her long tail twitched, revealing her agitation. Then she leaped forward, propelled by the power of her enormous haunches, and landed on the bird. It squawked and managed to elude her clumsy, kitten's pounce.
All Seven got for her trouble was a mouthful of feathers.
"Seven, are you okay?"
Seven blinked. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred kilos, far too heavy for her slender stalk of a neck.