Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [49]
“Until now.” She frowned.
After a pause Harry said, “But if you’re really that intimidated by B’Elanna, you’re not going to be happy at all when I show you what’s behind those shuttlebay doors.”
“What’s behind those doors?”
Harry led her into the shuttlebay and directed her toward the ship they had retrieved that morning.
Yet another Torres masterpiece, Nancy realized, her confidence taking another blow.
Kim unlocked the ship’s main door and led her down a few steps into the engine compartment. He allowed Conlon to silently study the slipstream drive B’Elanna had engineered, which was similar, though not identical, to the Starfleet one. Nancy immediately found herself wondering why B’Elanna had chosen to align the injectors at such an odd angle and whether or not those were actually regenerative circuits she was looking at. These thoughts were relegated to the back of her mind when she discovered a small chamber installed opposite the main drive that housed what looked like benamite crystals.
She moved closer to study it and within moments understood Harry’s sublime confidence of a few minutes before.
“Is that a—?”
“A benamite recrystallization matrix,” Harry finished for her.
“How did you know about this?”
“My security team gave the shuttle a once-over, per regulations, the moment we brought it on board.”
“How did she—?”
“I don’t know,” Harry cut her off again. “But if I were you, I’d ask her.”
Seven of Nine perched on the edge of the chair with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Until her implants had been replaced by the Caeliar, she had never found 0800 to be an onerously early time of day. With sleep remaining elusive, the position required more concentration than it used to.
“You know it’s not actually necessary to sit at attention,” Counselor Cambridge said dryly.
Seven noted that he rested in what appeared to be flagrant ease, well into the seat of the soft, black leather chair that was a mirror image of hers. His long legs were crossed at the knees and his right foot twitched occasionally, particularly when she remained silent for any lengthy stretch.
When she refrained from adopting a more relaxed pose, Cambridge continued, “How was last night?”
“Is that relevant to our discussion?” Seven asked.
“Seven, I get that you are most comfortable in an arena when you are able to exert control. You are obviously disciplined, eminently capable, and probably accustomed to being the smartest person in the room.”
Cambridge leaned forward, his elbows resting on the tops of his thighs as he set his chin upon his joined hands.
“When you’re here in this room with me, that’s not going to be the case. We can’t both have control right now. You’re going to have to cede that to me. The good news is, I am also disciplined, capable, and smarter than you, at least when it comes to the problem that’s on the table right now.”
After a brief pause, Cambridge asked again, “How was last night?”
“It was enjoyable,” Seven replied curtly.
“To you?”
“To everyone present.”
“I don’t care about them right now,” Cambridge clarified. “Was it enjoyable to you?”
“What difference does it make?” Seven demanded.
Cambridge sighed. “For the first time in years, you were able to interact socially with the people who formed your first support system beyond your parents—whom I know you do not remember well—and the Borg. This is complicated by the fact that up until yesterday, you believed that two of those people were dead. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“You wish to ascertain whether or not I still feel comfortable in their presence,” Seven answered. “You wish to know if I harbor any resentment or feelings of inadequacy as a result of the deception perpetrated by Commanders Paris and Torres. You are attempting to determine whether or not this group will effectively help or hinder my efforts to regain my equilibrium.”
“Wrong,” Cambridge replied flatly.
Seven was momentarily dumbstruck. Finally she