Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [44]
“Doctor.” It was, as he had known it would be, Seven of Nine.
“Seven,” he said, imitating her stiff manner.
“It is my understanding that your speech was not well received.”
He looked away. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. I am transporting over.” And just that quickly the transmission ended and there was a hum in his living room.
The Doctor folded his arms and tried to look annoyed, but was too glad to see her for the pretense to be believable. He was always glad to see her, even though he saw her every day.
She was dressed in more casual clothes than she wore to their place of work, and she was wearing her hair loose. But her manner was as stiff as usual.
She got straight to the point.
“It has been my experience that for humans, a common way to acknowledge distressing passages in their lives is to participate in an activity called ‘drowning their sorrows.’ This usually consists of imbibing alcoholic beverages and interfacing with members of their collective who do not object to their somewhat maudlin behavior. Should you wish to acknowledge your disappointing reception among your peers this evening in such a ritual fashion, I will agree to accompany you.”
“Somehow, I think that was intended to make me feel better,” the Doctor said.
Seven arched a blond eyebrow.
“I don’t drink, Seven,” he said, both moved and exasperated by her. “I can’t. Well, not the way you’re referring to, anyway.”
“Nonetheless, you have been known to exhibit maudlin behavior. I will tolerate it if it assists you in regaining your usual equilibrium. Our group needs you operating at full capacity if we are to continue to maintain our high standards of intellectual discernment and offer our full assistance to the Federation.”
Four years since she was liberated from the Borg, and she still talks like a computer, the Doctor thought, somewhat fondly. Seven was Seven, and that was exactly why she was so dear to him.
“Very well,” he said. “Let us go forth and drown our sorrows.”
Chapter
12
THE DOOR CHIMED. “Come,” called Astall.
Her easily readable face registered surprise as her door hissed open and Kaz stepped inside. She got to her feet immediately.
“Dr. Kaz!” she exclaimed. “How very nice to see you. What can I do for you?”
He didn’t take the seat she indicated right away, but stood, fidgeting a little.
“I was wondering what your schedule looked like today,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes and went to the replicator. “I’m just about to have a nice cup of tranya,” she said. “Will you join me?”
“No thanks.”
The cup of orange beverage materialized in the replicator and Astall took a sip. Her ears flapped gently as she closed her eyes in pleasure.
“I just love this,” she said. She turned toward her guest. “My schedule is wide open,” she said. “Are you inquiring for yourself or on behalf of a patient?”
Sighing, Kaz gave up the appearance of nonchalance and dropped into a chair. He rubbed his tired eyes.
“Myself,” he admitted.
“Thought so,” she said. “You look like you haven’t been getting a lot of sleep.”
“I’ve been having some very distressing dreams lately.” He smiled without humor. “I’m such a hypocrite. There are a couple of people I’ve advised to come see you, and yet I keep putting it off myself.”
Astall wrinkled her nose pertly. “You’d be surprised at how often that happens,” she said. “Medical professionals, in both our fields, are often very good doctors, but very bad patients.”
“When can I schedule an appointment?”
She shrugged. “I’m free now. Are you?”
His eyes widened slightly. He realized he had hoped he could just get away with the empty gesture of making the appointment and then “forgetting” to show up. Her eyes twinkled, and he realized that although she wasn’t a telepath, she knew exactly what he was thinking.
He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”
“Computer,” Astall said, “run privacy program Astall One.”
“Request granted,” came the pleasant voice of the computer. Now, Kaz knew, they would not be disturbed unless there was an emergency.
Astall