Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [9]
The birds are nothing but an annoyance. They are in fact easier to ignore than humans," she added pointedly.
Janeway opened her mouth, then her eyes lit on the screen. She frowned. "Seven, what are you analyzing?"
"I am plotting our course to the Lhiarri homeworld and incorporating all waystation points, as I have been ordered, of cou-" Seven broke off abruptly, her gaze following Janeway's.
What was on the screen was not the area of space that lay before them.
It was a small spot of space hundreds of light-years away. Seven knew that area, and fear spurted adrenaline into her human bloodstream.
"What is it?" Janeway moved closer and though Seven didn't want to admit it, her presence was suddenly a comfort.
Seven licked dry lips. "It is the homeworld and owned space of the Graa. Keela's race."
"I think you'd better report back to sickbay."
"Captain, I am weary of being analyzed by the Doctor," Seven retorted, and Janeway's lips curved in a smile.
"I can see that," said the captain. "But I don't want you here at the moment." She gestured at the grid on the screen. "You're in a position where an error could be disastrous. Surely you can understand that."
"I have failed you. I am. .." Seven reached for the word Torres had taught her. "Sorry." Her voice, as always, was clipped and cool.
Inside, though, she raged. The sensation was as alien as it was powerful.
"Seven, you're undergoing something terribly traumatic, made all the worse by the fact that no one knows what it is. I wouldn't call it failure. Why don't you take a break and return to your alcove for a few hours? I'll come talk to you later and see how you're feeling."
It was couched as a suggestion, but Seven had learned to know a command when she heard one. She nodded, and without further comment turned and left Astrometrics. The door hissed shut behind her. But the birds followed.
She had no intention of arguing with Janeway, and the incident in Astrometrics had unsettled her as well. Seven of Nine fully intended to return to her alcove and spend a few hours regenerating. But just as her fingers had betrayed her in Astrometrics, calling up one area of space while she intended to research another, now her feet seemed to have a will of their own. She strode down the corridors, the three black birds flying silently ahead of her leading the way.
She stopped in front of the entrance to Holodeck Two and requested a certain program.
"Simulation activated," came the brisk female voice of the computer, and the doors opened.
It was morning in Tuscany. The light flooded Leonardo da Vinci's studio, and dust motes swirled in the golden glow. The three black birds happily settled themselves, almost as much a part of the environment as the paintings, sculptures, and models they adorned.
Seven blinked, confused. Why had she come here?
She turned and gazed at one of Janeway's works and remembered sticking a clay nose on a clay sculpture.
It aroused no interest, no emotion-it was an irrelevant action that A sudden scent, present and then gone, of rot, of carrion Something was wrong with this place. "There should he no walls, " Seven said aloud, and immediately the walls dissolved. A soft, sweet-scented breeze caressed her face. "And the grass... it's not the right color, it should be pale purple." At once the grays changed color.
Seven wandered about, her words remaking the landscape into the one she had known, in which she had grown to maturity, had bonded with a lifemate and brought forth children, had blessed those children's children.
She thought of the right seat, and with a word it appeared,- she changed the lump of clay to a large rectangular chunk of pale yellow stone. Simmik stone was her favorite medium. Harder than clay, softer than most stones, it seemed to respond to her touch as a lover might, coyly revealing the images it cloaked in its luminous depths.
Seven picked up a chisel. It was not quite the correct tool,