Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [31]
“Oh, great.” Harry smiled. “Maybe by then Seven and Chakotay will be free and we can find out what’s really going on.”
Tom favored Harry with a wry smile.
“I know. You don’t know,” Harry answered for him.
Paris took a deep breath and did his best to look busy as Harry crossed back to his station. He’d been holding on to that message for B’Elanna—confirming Voyager’s arrival at the rendezvous coordinates—for days. He’d decided that the transmission could be most easily masked during the initial deployment of the relays.
But you have to get up pretty early in the morning to get anything past Lasren, Tom reminded himself.
It didn’t matter. Lasren would trust Harry and Harry would trust Tom to determine if the transmission was evidence of any threat to the fleet. By the time Harry figured out that he’d been lied to, Tom would no longer be aboard. He’d be with his family. With fewer than twenty-four hours to go he found it almost impossible to think of anything beyond his arms around them.
Paris couldn’t believe that his Starfleet career was over. He was surprised by how much it bothered him. At least Tom knew that he was leaving the ship in good hands. Having risen higher than he had ever believed possible within Starfleet, Tom was about to walk away without a backward glance.
“And I was so sure Commander Paris was having a little fun at my expense,” Counselor Cambridge said wryly as he stepped into the Galen’s sickbay. Chakotay was standing beside the ship’s chief medical officer, who for reasons that completely eluded the counselor still only called himself “the Doctor.” Opposite them, seated upright on a biobed, sat Seven of Nine. As always, the sight of her made Cambridge wonder where he’d left his last breath.
“Hugh,” Chakotay said, smiling warmly as he turned to shake his hand. They’d served together for three years, but it was only recently that they had become close.
“You’ve been with the fleet two days and this is the first I’m hearing of it?” he asked in mock annoyance.
“We were given temporary quarters aboard the Galen, though it’s my understanding that as soon as the Doctor sees fit to release Seven from observation, we’ll be transferring to Voyager,” Chakotay replied, smiling.
Cambridge shot an appraising glance at the Doctor, who was completing a tricorder scan of Seven.
“Two full days of observation? Is someone being a little overprotective of their patient?” Cambridge asked Chakotay quietly.
“Not in this case, I’m afraid,” Chakotay replied.
Turning to the Doctor, Cambridge extended his hand. “Doctor, I have been summoned. The question remains, to what end?”
The Doctor took the counselor’s proffered hand. “I will, of course, forward you my complete analysis for your review, but the concise version is this. A little more than five months ago, Seven underwent a process by which the Borg implants that had once sustained her biological systems were replaced by what I am going to call, for lack of contradictory evidence, Caeliar catoms. She has shown no physical signs of distress as a result of this process; however, Seven has reported a consistent presence, is that fair?” he asked Seven pointedly. When she nodded he continued, “A presence that seems intent upon convincing her that she is no longer Seven of Nine, but rather Annika Hansen.”
It was the most remarkable story Hugh Cambridge had heard in a long time. The fact that its subject was a woman he had admired from afar since the first day they had met was enough to pique his interest. Sensing where this was going, he realized that any hope he might once have nurtured of getting to know Seven better had just been dashed. She was about to become his patient.
“That sounds terribly unpleasant,” Cambridge said, meeting Seven’s eyes.
“I have provided Seven with a neural inhibitor,” the Doctor continued, pointing out a small, metallic oval affixed to the base of her skull just below her right ear. “I have monitored her steadily for the last thirty-six hours and it seems to have silenced the voice in her head.”
“But it’s not