Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [21]
“I’d make them wish they hadn’t,” Neelix assured her as his eyes flashed icily, “and so would a certain Klingon warrior I used to know.”
Soft footfalls broke the tension between them. They turned in unison to see Dexa hovering over them, worry furrowing her brow.
“I’m sorry, but I think you should check on Miral,” she said.
“What is it?” B’Elanna asked, jumping to her feet.
“It’s probably nothing, but she seems to be running a slight fever,” Dexa replied.
Seven was unaccustomed to the silence in her mind. Nonetheless, she accepted the reprieve her recent encounter with Chakotay and Icheb seemed to have granted her and fervently hoped it would become permanent.
Icheb had repeatedly offered to remain with her until she departed with Chakotay the following afternoon. Her heart wished to reward the courage and deep affection he had shown by entering into the Pacrathar with Chakotay, but Seven worried that these feelings were evidence of weakness and not strength. After several moments spent assuring each other of their mutual regard and her promise to keep him apprised of her emotional well-being, Seven had insisted Icheb return to the Academy. In addition to instructing him to maintain his progress in her absence, she also requested that he keep a watchful eye on Naomi Wildman, who was due to enter the Academy in the fall.
“Watchful?” he had asked, needing clarification.
“Do not smother her,” Seven suggested. “But make sure she is aware that you are available to counsel her should the need arise.”
Once Icheb had departed, Seven had made excellent use of her newfound sense of strength, replying to several urgent communications she had been neglecting, and advising the Academy that she required an indefinite leave of absence for personal reasons.
With her affairs in order, only one task remained, and though she hesitated to complete it, Seven was also aware that to leave it undone was unthinkable.
Chakotay insisted on accompanying her to the hospice. Though Seven’s stomach writhed as she approached the entrance, she reminded herself that no one present would have any reason to suspect that she was in less than perfect health.
In a clear effort to deflect any unwarranted attention, Chakotay took the lead in cheerfully greeting the nurses who had attended Irene in her final days and who had subsequently arranged for the disposal of her remains. Seven was presented with an urn containing Irene’s ashes, and together, they left the hospice and utilized a nearby public station to transport to a small, secluded beach at the north end of San Francisco Bay.
Seven was struck by the lightness of the urn she held gingerly in her arms. She tried to call up a mental picture of Irene as she had been when Seven first returned to Earth. Instead, Seven could remember only the pale husk of what had once been such a vibrant woman, lying in her hospice bed, surrounded by low, humming machines. Still, Seven found unexpected consolation in the thought that she had been granted this moment, at least, to bid her farewell.
Chakotay seemed to share the heaviness of Seven’s spirit. Seven had resented his absence as Irene’s condition had worsened. Now she understood that his struggles had blinded him to the suffering of others. She could not condone his behavior, but she had accepted his apology.
“Would you like to say something?” he asked kindly.
Seven paused.
“What is there to say now?” she asked.
Chakotay smiled faintly. “Imagine she were standing here with us. What would you tell her?”
Seven tried to do as he suggested. Staring out over the clear blue water, a color she suddenly realized had been close to that of Irene’s eyes, she began.
“I saw Icheb today.”
It seemed odd to mention something so trivial at such a moment, but she couldn’t help herself. Irene had always shown a lively interest in even the most mundane details of Seven’s life.
“He received the highest marks in his class this year, as we suspected he would. I do not yet know what specialties he may pursue in his final