String Theory_ Fusion (Book 2) - Kirsten Beyer [10]
“Good morning, B’Elanna,” Seven said as she walked briskly into astrometrics, almost faltering in her apparent attempt to establish a conversational tone.
B’Elanna forced herself not to smile too broadly as she felt… no, she corrected herself, remembered… what it was like to live within Seven’s conflicted consciousness. Although the residual effects of their linked state had finally passed, the experience of sharing Seven’s mind had given B’Elanna an entirely new perspective on her own internal struggles. “I thought I had a rough time of it, balancing my human and Klingon natures,” she had recorded in her first personal log once the Doctor had separated them. But Seven’s battle to refrain from constantly acting on her own, usually superior impulses, and instead interacting within the limitations of verbal communication among Voyager’s crew until a consensus had been reached, made her own occasional bouts of temper seem pale in comparison. At least she’s trying, B’Elanna thought, surprised at the sensitivity and genuine warmth she now felt from time to time when she looked at Seven.
“Don’t worry,” she said aloud. “I’m not much of a morning person myself.”
“You require my assistance?” Seven asked as she joined B’Elanna at the astrometric display control console and added softly, “Perhaps for the next four or five hours?”
This time B’Elanna didn’t bother to repress her smile.
“You’ve been working with Ensign Brooks again this morning, haven’t you?” she teased.
Seven’s reply was uncharacteristic, due more to the heat than the speed with which it was delivered.
“I have, and if I am forced to return there in less time than I have suggested it is my belief that at least one of us will end up reassigned or on temporary medical leave.”
B’Elanna knew the feeling all too well. The only shocking thing was to see evidence of it or any other decidedly emotional response in the former Borg. Facing Seven with a hand on her hip, B’Elanna asked, with feigned seriousness, “Are you certain that all of the residual effects of our linked state have dissipated?”
“Why do you ask, Lieutenant?”
“Because I don’t think physical violence was ever on your short list of interpersonal problem-solving alternatives before,” B’Elanna said, turning back to her workstation.
Seven managed to resist the temptation to rise to B’Elanna’s bait. “How may I assist you, Lieutenant?”
“By taking a look at this for me,” B’Elanna replied, increasing the magnification of their most recent sensor sweep of the singularity and its surrounding environs. Fun as it was to tease Seven of Nine, there were definitely more pressing matters at hand.
“Does this remind you of anything?” B’Elanna asked, stepping aside and crossing her arms at her chest as Seven analyzed the sensor data and added the readings to her visual scan of the magnified sector.
Finally she confirmed B’Elanna’s suspicions. “There is a construct of almost fifty billion cubic meters revolving around the quantum singularity.”
“I can see that,” B’Elanna responded tersely, “but that’s not what I asked. Look at the power distribution signatures. What do they remind you of?”
Seven studied the readings in question again and to B’Elanna’s annoyance almost immediately tapped her combadge.
“Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway.”
“Go ahead, Seven.”
“Please report to astrometrics immediately,” Seven stated simply, in a tone that was more an order than a request before closing the comm channel.
B’Elanna shook her head and sighed deeply.
“What?” Seven asked in a manner that B’Elanna could have sworn dropped the temperature in the room by at least a few degrees.
“Nothing,” B’Elanna replied, turning again to the analysis.
“I have offended you,” Seven continued, obviously oblivious of B’Elanna’s attempt to drop the subject.
“No, not me.”
“Lieutenant Torres,” Seven began in her most condescending voice.
“Look, Seven, she’s the captain. She doesn’t take orders, she gives them. Would it kill you to ask her to join us, rather than making it sound like you’re the one who’s really