Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [5]
The long silence convinced him that Seven was lost. He hurried to the computer and dispatched two urgent messages.
Now, all he could do was wait.
You are Annika.
Seven stood in the open plaza of a magnificent city. Wide moving walkways transected the white marble ground at regular intervals and on several levels. The massive courtyard was surrounded by tall steel-and-glass edifices, and the sky had a faint amber glow. There was a long reflecting pool shallowly filled with dark water directly before her. There were strange statues and well-trimmed trees manicured in absurd shapes scattered about. The city appeared to be completely deserted, and the eerie silence suggested the city was not the bustling metropolis the structures suggested it was.
She approached the pool and examined her reflection.
You are Annika, the voice said again.
Seven refused to be baited into another argument with the intruder in her mind. Surely by now it knew where she stood on the issue.
You are Annika.
“I am Seven of Nine,” she murmured automatically.
Suddenly, the water began to tremble. Seven backed away cautiously as a small figure emerged. She was both familiar and completely alien.
A young girl with long strawberry-blonde hair stood on the water. Her face was unmistakably human, but her arms reached almost to her knees, and her wide, large feet each had only two toes and a claw-shaped appendage. She was swathed in diaphanous lavender fabric that reached her ankles.
“Why do you resist?” the girl asked.
“Who are you?” Seven demanded, terrified that she already knew the answer.
“I am Annika/You are Annika,” the girl and the voice replied simultaneously.
“I am Seven of Nine,” Seven shouted back defiantly.
A sad but wicked smile spread across the girl’s face.
“Not anymore,” she assured Seven.
Seven suddenly found herself immobilized. Her skin began itching and tightening and felt as if it were solidifying. A gasp caught in her throat, stopping the scream that rose from the core of her being.
Annika began to giggle.
Help me, Seven thought in terror.
But even if her plea had been audible, there was no one left to hear it.
A light knock sent Chakotay hurrying from Seven’s side and down the stairs. He opened the front door to find a calm and very self-assured young cadet standing before him.
“Icheb.” Chakotay smiled in relief before gathering him into a friendly embrace. “Thanks for coming so promptly.”
Icheb returned his affection a little formally before pulling away to ask, “Where is Seven?”
“Upstairs,” Chakotay replied evenly.
Worry darted across the young man’s face. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Chakotay raised a hand to forestall further questions.
“Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll explain.”
Icheb’s chin lifted and his head tilted slightly to the right, as if he were processing a request he found disturbing. It reminded Chakotay of the days when he, like Seven, had been more Borg than not.
Finally Icheb made his way into the living room and perched himself on the end of the sofa, his hands folded compliantly in his lap.
“Before I go any further, Icheb, I need to ask you something,” Chakotay began hesitantly.
He nodded slightly for Chakotay to continue.
“How have you been feeling these last few months?”
“Very well, thank you,” Icheb replied automatically.
“Are you sure?” Chakotay asked.
“Quite.”
As the young man looked healthy enough, Chakotay wasn’t inclined to push the point further, though it was still difficult to understand, given Seven’s state.
Chakotay swallowed hard before continuing. A deeply ingrained sense of duty made it difficult for him to risk compromising the trust Starfleet had once placed in him, as well as Icheb’s future with the organization he had wholeheartedly embraced. Unfortunately, Seven’s life might now well depend upon it.
“As I am sure you are aware, several months ago, the Borg invaded Federation space and were only defeated by a race of aliens