From: "RHF" * * * * * * The Heart of the Borg A Star Trek: Voyager Story By Rick "0007" Feng Version 1.0b Disclaimer: Star Trek(c), Voyager(tm), Borg(tm), the cast of characters and relevant information are registered copyrights and trademarks of Paramount Pictures(r). The author reserves all rights to the story which are not in conflict to that of the above. However, expressed permission is given herein that this story may be used for non-commercial purposes, including but not limited to postings to newsgroups, web sites, and e-mails, provided that the entire story, including this disclaimer, stays intact and unmodified excepting for format changes. Dedicated to the TPG and Ms. Jeri Ryan With thanks to beta testers One, Gregory Mawson and Morgan Peer, and all RiFters. Prologue "Regeneration cycle complete," the uninflecting voice reported, a monotone rendered all the more sterile by the cold and expansive emptiness of Cargo Bay Two. Here was the storage site for provisions and an adapted home of sort to Seven of Nine, late of Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One in the vast Borg Collective. Seven opened her eyes, and without blinking, stepped down from the alcove, as tiny conduits disengaged from her lower spine with a faint hiss. Squaring her shoulders and raising her head slightly, she summoned the voice, "Computer, state the itinerary I prepared yesterday and relevant additions from duty shift briefings since the last regeneration cycle." "Acknowledged," the computer answered and started to repeat back for her a carefully laid out timetable. Seven listened, while running a tricorder over parts of her body in a routine check of her myriad Borg implants. She found the computer's voice lacking in ways undefined. For certain, it was a far cry from the callings of the Collective -- billions upon billions speaking as one -- and carried neither power nor reassurance, but this she had grown accustomed to over time. -Perhaps I am developing a preference for the human mode of speech, from my increasing immersion in the crew,- she mused. The Doctor would be the one to thank for that, as well as Ensign -- formerly Lieutenant - Paris, with his wealth of Twentieth Century euphemisms, the Captain, and Harry im. -...No, Ensign Kim.- Seven dwelled on a picture-clear mental image of him for just a fraction of a second longer than on the others', recalling the oft-felt befuddlement whenever the owner of that face said something unclear or even completely incomprehensible to her, which happened on about 59% of all the occasions they had been together -- with a sharp rise to 89.9% when they were alone. This had initially led more than once to her personal questioning of the Ensign's qualifications as the Chief of Operations. However, she had begun to see improvements in the efficiency of his communication with her in the past month or so, and, in any event, she rather preferred his company in work assignments, choosing to focus on his considerable skills over this minor shortcoming. "...This concludes your itinerary. Captain Janeway has sent a personal note. Do you wish to hear a playback or a summary?" the computer added, to Seven's mild surprise. "Summari...no, change the command to playback." As the computer complied, Janeway's familiar voice came on: "Seven, Neelix is throwing a birthday party for the Delaney sisters in the mess hall tonight, at 1800. You are off-duty by then, so if you can, I want you to come and join us. I hear that they'll break out a bottle of authentic Romulan ale." the Captain gave a slight chuckle, pausing briefly. "Janeway out." The consumption of beverages comprised of distilled organic matter held little appeal to Seven, who had a rather low tolerance for even synthenol. But this would provide for a good opportunity to observe social interactions, she decided, and a first hand study at the curious yet somehow familiar ritual called "birthday." Satisfied with her timetable, Seven gathered a few tools and was ready to start the day's business. However, she paused uncharacteristically at the cargo bay entrance, brow furrowed and eyes half-closed in an unreadable expression. Without her normal promptness, Seven turned to face the dimly lit interior of the bay, eyes on the row of glowing green alcoves. "Computer, activate regeneration cycle for alcove Gamma. Run continuously until 2200 hours," she mouthed the barely audible command, and was gone, hurrying down the corridor as if fleeing from what she had done. * * * * * * Four decks up, Ensign Harry Kim had just gotten out of the sonic shower. Still wrapped in a towel, he approached the replicator panel, about to order something hot to jump-start the day. However, the thought of his dwindling rations gave him pause, and after an agonizing moment, Harry resolved to brace whatever Neelix had in store in the mess hall. Instead he ordered something else, which was entirely inedible. "Computer, please replicate one square meter of gift wrapping...Um, consult the social protocol database for pattern and texture suitable for birthdays," Harry thought to add, unsure of what would come up and how far back this would set him in the already shallow pocket of rations. "There are two-hundred-twenty-five varieties on file. Would you like an alphabetical listing?" -Oh brother,- Harry sighed, knowing that it was going to be a little difficult, as he had anticipated. Brain still a bit groggy, he picked a letter at random: "Gimme the R's." "Rajshak religious symbols, red lanterns, Roman numerals pertaining to the age of the recipient, rubber ducks, in yellow or..." "Stop!" Harry interrupted, sensing a swelling in his head. "Um, let's go with...yellow rubber ducky." -Hope Megan and Jenny had one of those when they were kids.- The replicator hummed briefly and a sheet of folded paper, with printed rows of yellow ducks floating on little pools of bubbly water, materialized in the glowing matter/energy beam. Harry took the sheet gingerly with both hands and laid it on his desk, on which sat the two to-be-adorned boxes of gifts. He eyed the square boxes, then looked down at the evenly cut sheet of wrapping paper, somehow unable to grasp the optimal geometric transformation which would envelop one around the other. This was a job for Neelix, he decided, appreciating how the Talaxian often seemed to redeem himself at moments like this, despite his culinary offenses. It certainly would be no help if he just made two crumpled heaps, as if getting the twins the same presents wasn't enough. -Well, at least the colors are different.- Having taken care of the first task, Harry began to dress, thinking already of the second business of the day. As he was fastening the collar of the uniform, his fingers brushed the small ensign's insignia, while his mind briefly wondered what that of a lieutenant or commander's would feel like to the touch. -"Rank is irrelevant; the lack of a promotion has not hindered your ability to perform."- With a smile he recalled what Seven had said, a smile which was soon replaced by tightened lips as he pondered the choice of his other gift. But doubting would not serve, as he had thought about this for a long, long time. He shook away reservations and acted. "Computer, copy all data from backup core file 7091 to the holocube in my terminal. Authorization Kim-epsilon-alpha-seven. Run double error correction." "Done. Duplication experienced no errors." "Erase file from backup storage." Harry paused at the finality of that action, then asked as a last precaution, "To whom is the security seal of the file keyed to?" "The key responds solely to crewmember Seven of Nine, rank and Starfleet service number undesignated." "Good," Harry nodded to himself. Gathering the assorted items in his arms he exited his quarters and headed for the mess hall. * * * * * * Light years away, a single star shone with the brilliance of youth, illuminating the barren vacuum of deep space with its impetuous rays. Near the edge of its reach was a small planet, a lone companion in a desolate solar system, whose rugged, ice-covered landscape betrayed no sign of life under an impenetrable atmosphere of hellish electric storms and snow blizzards. But deep beneath the planet's frozen mantle, thoughts were stirring. -The deep space array has detected a dampened Borg proximity signal,- a voice reported dutifully, manifesting itself neither in voice nor sight, but as silent echoes of one's mindspace. -Interesting,- from somewhere deep within a vast network of neural nodes and digital circuitry, another presence responded, even as more parts of the network sprang into frenetic activity, bringing to life circuits and matrices untouched for centuries. -Scan its origin with active sensors.- It ordered distant components to the task with a thought, as if exercising one's own limbs. -Bio-readings indicate the presence of a warp-capable vessel containing intermediately evolved bipedal life forms in the vicinity.- Almost instantaneously, the result of the scan came back. -Non-Borg and unassimilated.- -How fascinating...What insidious scheme have our evil brethren drawn this time?- asked another as more thought patterns emerged from the abyss of oblivion, with a cynic glee more aptly suited to ephemeral beings, rather than the ageless soul which it possessed. -Recommendation is maximum stealth and avoidance,- a cautious tone implored from another corner, bringing to heed ancient guidelines for survival. -But how unimaginative,- another part of the network chided the thought, -What of novelty? Of new information? Can we not allow for some exploration after bearing the weight of countless silent centuries?- -True, it is but one vessel. Resistance will be minimal should extreme measures become necessary. The others will not know, once the vessel enters our untouchable domain,- another thought concurred, and that was all that was necessary to move the entire intertwined network to unified purpose: to lure the interlopers closer, with a bait irresistible to any Borg. -The signal has been sent; response anticipated in 3 planetary cycles,- components near the frigid surface of the planet complied to their enigmatic masters. Those for whom the passage of time had become still for so long, waited with less than the customary patience cultivated over uneventful eons. Some of them were becoming vastly curious about the intermediately-evolved bipeds, who chose to dwell with such dangerous bedfellows as the Borg. * * * * * * Presently a throng of those lowly bipeds were jammed into a space usually reserved for far less, in the mess hall on Deck Two of the U.S.S. Voyager. The ship was cruising along at impulse speed in a region of space sparsely populated by stars, its bright gray hall showing little worse for wear. The door to the mess hall hissed open, admitting Harry Kim and Tom Paris, still in their uniforms, as were most of those present, all being used to responding to duty calls at the most inopportune of times. They stood there for a moment, taking in the festive scene: banners, lights, ribbons, and an entirely too prevalent smell of synthenol. Tom looked around for B'Elanna Torres, the ship's Chief Engineer, whose unique blend of human and Klingon sensitivities -- or the lack thereof -- had captured his heart. "Guess she's working late again," Tom murmured to himself, with resigned disappointment. Never one to dwell on the unpleasant more than necessary, he turned to Harry, his friend from day one and the person entrusted with many a secret confession. "So, tell me, what did you get for them?" Harry was less than attentive, having been looking about into the crowd as well. "Hmm...them? What? Who?" he stumbled out. "Harry!" Tom raised his voice slightly, feigning exasperation. "Oh, Jenny and Megan you mean. Umm, just little rainbow stones I picked up at our last port of call, nothing too exotic," answered Harry finally. Truth be told, he had spent quite a while in that extraterrestrial market, trying desperately to find something which could pass decontamination, during the last hours of Voyager's day-long stay. "Okay...Jenny might like those. Now what did you get Megan?" Tom prodded. But the helpless look in his friend's eyes downed on him. "Oh no, don't tell me. You got them the same thing? Again?!" "Bingo," said Harry sarcastically. "What was I supposed to do? I don't want to send the wrong message with a nicer gift to one of them." He shrugged. "You mean you're over Megan now? Or was that Jenny..." asked Tom with an incredulous tone. "...Over before it began," Harry cut him short. "It was too hard, chasing the unwilling; besides I didn't want this to come between them," he justified without sounding too convinced about it. But lately it had become clear to him that one of the twins was definitely interested in him; unfortunately it was the wrong one, with whom the attraction had little hope of becoming mutual. -I could say just about the same for my other, nonexistent relationship,- he lamented. On the flip side, not much could set him further back on that one, with as little headway as he had made in almost two years' time. "Harry, buddy," Tom patted his back, and putting an arm around his shoulder, ushered them toward the bar, where Neelix was pouring drinks out of an intricate-looking bottle. "Someday you'll learn to have a little perseverance when it comes to romance...well, hopefully in less time than it took me." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "But in the meantime, you've a more important job: cheer up...this is supposed to be a party!" Neelix greeted them with his usual enthusiasm as the pair arrived at the bar, "Gentlemen! What can I get you on this fine evening?" "Something intoxicating," Tom replied, tapping the counter and obviously enjoying himself. Neelix winked knowingly, whiskers twitching. "Two Romulan ales, coming right up," he announced merrily and proceeded to pour the dark-colored liquid into two slender glasses. Looking up at Harry, he thought to ask, "Mr. Kim, I wrapped your gifts as you asked...quite interesting pick on the paper I should add. Would you like to leave a personalized message with them?" "Umm, no that's alright, thanks though," replied Harry, who was growing more unsure of his gift idea by the minute. "Please just put them along with the rest." "Very well," Neelix nodded, then excused himself to prepare more beverages, leaving Tom and Harry to sample their dubiously flavored drinks. Just then, the mess hall door opened, and Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine walked into the crowd. Harry's eyes lit up, but he did not move from the bar, seeing all the people around the Captain and Seven -- the former exchanging pleasantries and smiling, while the latter stood by with impatience in her posture, merely nodding tersely at the others. Tom meanwhile had finally spotted B'Elanna, who was talking to the twin causes of the celebration, in front of a large, round birthday cake, snow-white with icing and blazing with candles. "Harry, let's mingle." He lifted the tall glass between his fingers and was gone before his distracted friend could give an absentminded consent. Harry suddenly felt very alone when he looked up again and saw Seven approaching the bar briskly. He had time to straighten his uniform before they came face to face. "Seven! Glad you could join in," managed Harry without fumbling, trying hard not to let his excitement show. "Ensign Kim," the beautiful half-Borg acknowledged him. "I am here at Captain Janeway's request. Since I finished my tasks ahead of schedule, my presence here will have minimal impedance on efficiency," she added, not to Harry's surprise. "All the same, I'm glad to see you here," replied the Ensign, beaming. -"I can see the way your pupils dilate when you look at my body..."- Seven recalled one of their first encounters, but thought better of bringing it up. "I...find this occasion interesting as well," she replied tactfully instead. Neither said anything for the next few seconds, and Harry, looking everywhere but at Seven, was starting to feel her expectant gaze. Finally, Harry grabbed the bottle of Romulan ale Neelix had left on the counter like a safety line. "Care for a drink?" he suggested hopefully. "No," Seven declined. "I find the post-consumption stage, after ingesting such beverages, rather disconcerting...thank you nonetheless," she added after detecting a change of demeanor in the Ensign which suggested minor disappointment. "But perhaps you can tell me something, as I find this ritual of celebrating one's birth curious." "Hmm, why is that?" asked Harry, always eager for discussions like this, though he tended to come away from them with his feathers ruffled more often than not. Seven glanced at the huge birthday cake, amazed by the inefficient use of replicator resources. Yet the sight of it connected with something deep in her memory: -The number of candles should be less...six to be precise.- Aware that the Ensign was expecting her elaboration, she pushed back the resurfacing thoughts and went on, "To begin, why is this event significant? Isn't it somewhat conceited to place so much importance in one's own creation? I understand how humans would see their own inceptions as consequential events, but what is served by marking it ceremoniously year after year?" "Well," Harry thought about the easiest way to get the idea across. "It's not just about yourself. I see it as an occasion for your loved ones, your friends, and basically everyone who value your existence, to tell you how much they treasure you. It could also be an opportunity for reflection, on how you have lived, so on." "I see," Seven nodded thoughtfully. "So this is why it's traditional to present the person with various items of value? As physical reaffirmation of one's existence?" "Gestures, more like," Harry clarified, "A lot of it is pretty symbolic...but a thoughtful gift will help to convey your feelings about the person more strongly." "Can I infer that you gave the ensigns gifts?" Seven asked of the twins. "So you value their existence? As members of the same collective? As friends, or as loved ones?" "Umm...yes I did," Harry admitted, scratching his head. "I see them as good friends, who are valuable members of the crew...but nothing more beyond that," he hastened to add. "Understood," said Seven with comprehension. "A clever arrangement: to compensate for the inadequacies of verbal communication, by resorting to objects to import complex feelings. I will take this into account in my future interactions with the crew." -But apparently you have not tried to utilize this aid in dealing with me, noting the frequency of unclear exchanges between us,- she thought, but had learned better than to ask him too many pointed questions, which often seemed to induce from the Ensign symptoms of great distress. "You were always a quick learner," Harry said, grinning. Internally he sighed with relief, but soon began to frown over how to get on with what he must do. "Seven, talking about gifts, I've something for you." He took a deep breath before proceeding. -Here goes.- -I was wrong with my initial assessment,- thought Seven, surprised. She gazed at him with an air of bemused expectation. -She's so beautiful,- Harry became momentarily distracted by her gemlike blue eyes, which always shone with intensity but -- or was it his imagination? -- were now even more luminous and alluring. Determined, Harry refocused himself. Reaching into the small pouch by his hip, his hand emerged with a translucent, yellow holocube. "I've thought long and hard about this, but couldn't delay any more. This cube contains One's memories during his brief time with us." Harry paused, not knowing how Seven would react. He held her gaze. Seeing that she remained composed as before, save for a slight narrowing of her eyes, he continued, "About two months after One sacrificed himself for us, the Doctor, having problems with the mobile emitter's secondary program buffer, ran diagnostics and found a matrix of digitized neural patterns. He and I worked together and soon we suspected that One maintained a constantly updated backup of his experiences, like all...drones, whose memories are retained even after death by the Collective..." "He did not wish to become one with the Collective...he had no place to send his memories," Seven interrupted, signs of deep turmoil now visible on her once imperturbable countenance. "We...were his...Collective." Harry looked pained, yet he must go on. "Yes, we were...But apparently he managed to store a copy of his memories in the mobile emitter, while it was incorporated into his system. Some of it was damaged in the destruction of the Borg sphere. That's why it took so long for us to reconstruct it, but I think we got almost all of it. At the time we were worried about how you'd be affected if we told you. Even after we salvaged the memories, we waited and waited, only informing Captain Janeway, who handed the decision to me." Harry's concerned and beseeching look at the silent Seven revealed his reluctance at taking on the responsibility, which nonetheless he devoted himself to wholeheartedly. "I'm sorry for waiting until now," he said earnestly. Eyes downcast while listening to Harry's words, Seven looked up again at him, her face more composed. "I understand why you chose this day," she said, to Harry's great comfort. "One was created exactly one year ago. Today is...his...birthday. "I had hoped to forget the intense...sadness I experienced, after his death; for a while I succeeded...but this morning I realized today's significance to me. Yet I did not know what to do, how to commemorate him in the human fashion. I could only active the alcove he once occupied..." Seven continued, mouthing the words as if each bore the weight of her long-hidden sorrow. "I have feelings I do not know how to express. Sometimes I wish that he had survived, or that I could have expressed my feelings while he was here." Slowly she took the holocube from Harry's hand. She held it up in her palm, eyes boring into its intricate, translucent folds as if trying to see into the past. Both moved and pained by the way the once haughty and impassive woman was trying to contain her human emotions within her Borg exterior, Harry longed to put a supportive arm around her, give her a hug, or anything else he could do to ease her grief -- but dared not to. "Seven..." he began after a moment, gently laying a hand on her shoulder, delicately soft to his touch. "I wish to be alone now," said Seven somberly, abruptly cutting short the words in Harry's throat. She closed her fingers around the holocube tightly, shooting Harry a last look with sad but ardent eyes, and was gone, making her out of the mess hall in subdued strides. Across the room, Commander Chakotay noted Seven's sudden departure. Just moments ago he had seen her deeply engaged in conversation with Ensign Kim, who was now alone at the bar, frowning and nursing a drink with all the solemnity of someone who was about to down poison. Puzzled over what the Ensign had gotten wrong this time, he thought to go over and ask, but not without taking leave from the company he was keeping first. "Captain, if you would excuse me for a moment." He turned to Janeway by his side, who was on her second glass of a sparkling white Talaxian spirit. To his surprise she glanced over at Harry and shook her head in a silent "don't." It seemed that the perceptive woman already knew what had happened. "There's a time for everything, and right now is for enjoying ourselves," Janeway told her First Officer, as someone who was accustomed to bearing heavy burdens and still be able to entertain lighter possibilities. "Have some more of Neelix's homebrew...you never know when we can do this again." She poured him another glassful, watching the white bubbles tumble in the clear liquid, like snowflakes caught in the wind. * * * * * * Several hours later Seven had just finished regenerating in her alcove back in Cargo Bay Two. She stood on the silent deck, far from feeling completely at ease. In the past, whenever she encountered difficulties in dealing with her resurfacing humanity, she had retreated to the familiar comfort of the alcove. When she fell into its warm embrace and closed her eyes, she felt protected, assured, and peaceful. Near the beginning of her journey on Voyager, she often experienced flashbacks during regeneration, in which she was back in the cavernous green interior of a Borg cube, buzzing with the coordinated activity of a thousand drones and awash with the voices of billions. These episodes, while discomfiting in their spontaneity, helped to soften the impact of the sudden loss of all that she had known, and the unwanted gains of her unexplored humanity. Lately she had relied on this coping mechanism less and less, knowing that she would never relinquish her individuality again; she instead confronted directly the inner demons of being human again, small and alone in an uncaring universe. Nonetheless regeneration still offered relaxation of the mind, and contemplative silence, in addition to being necessary to maintain her system of implants. That is, until now. Three hours in the alcove could not quiet her surging emotions, turbulent tides in the inconstanture of the mind. She thought she had learned to control them, by breaking their unruly waves against the shores of infallible logic, and quelling them with occupations of duty. One part of her despised these feelings as signs of weakness, the product of an imperfect mind, urging her to exorcise the disquieting spirits with her unforgotten Borg practicality. Another part of her, a part she did not know she possessed until recent times, was convinced that these emotions were an integral part of being human: responsible for people falling in love, going to war, and even fueling homo sapiens' drive to the stars. These two parts warred within her, unleashed with a vengeance when Harry Kim had given her the holocube. In that moment she recalled the all too real grief she felt at the loss of One. She knew now that if love was the most intense emotion one could experience, she must have loved him. But she also knew that there existed different kinds of love. Which kind did hers belong to? The love between a man and a woman? Between the mother and the child? Or simply as an incomplete self who had found the other half, irreplaceable in the entire Universe? -Irreplaceable and lost,- Seven pondered the finality of that injustice, then looked at the holocube, cradled in the center of an once again silent alcove. Did she dare to access it? To relive his all-too-short existence? To find out if he had loved her? Slowly, she reached for it, taking it with both hands, feeling its weight which belied the value of its contents. She hoped that she could make up her mind on the walk to the holodeck. * * * * * Unable to sleep, Harry got dressed and went out for a stroll in the corridor, thinking about the last couple of hours. After Seven left, he stayed in the mess hall until the party was winding down. Though he was in no mood for celebration he tried not to show it, receiving all the ribbings for his ill-conceived gifts with good humor. -I'm such a nice guy, the un-deflatable Kim. Or am I a coward who hides his real feelings behind a sunny face?- It was gut wrenching for him, watching Seven trying so hard to deal with her grief. The loss of a loved one was always one of the harder things to accept in life, and undoubtedly doubly difficult for someone who had not always been human. Harry could not help but feel guilty for putting her through it, but he also knew that it was something she had to learn on her own terms. But did Seven have to face it so early? Before she could even fathom the delights of friendship, of family, and love, she had come to know the saddest of life's lessons. Harry abhorred the unfairness of it, and wished that he could do something, anything, to change it. Unknowingly, the unhappy thoughts brought him to the entrance of the holodeck, and Harry almost jumped when he rounded the corner and found Seven at the control panel. "Ensign Kim," Seven registered his presence as usual, but after that did not look at him directly, instead choosing to gaze intently at the holocube, inserted halfway into the program slot. "Umm...Seven...I'm sorry," said Harry, apologizing for more than just having surprised her. "I was just out on a walk; before I knew it I was here. I understand if you don't want to see me, especially now." He scolded himself silently for being so inconsiderate. Afraid of eye contact, he too shifted his gaze toward the holocube. "Your assumption is incorrect," said Seven, sparing him a languid glance. "I wish to thank you for what you had given me...for your gift." "You're welcome," Harry replied earnestly. "I'm glad you...um...could use it." As soon as that came out he knew how stupid it sounded. Embarrassed, he gave in to his escapist instinct: "So I'll be on my way now, sorry again for disturbing you." He turned to leave. "You are wrong to assume that I wished to access it now," Seven's next words stopped him. "I could not arrive at a decision before, but seeing you has helped me. I will access it at some other time, when I'm ready." With that she pulled out the holocube resolutely, and turned to face Harry. Harry again did not know how to respond, but a part of him sighed with relief, glad that Seven was dealing with it in her own direct fashion, and that her strong-willed self was again in control. For the next few seconds he just stared straight into her eyes, only to find the same craving for understanding shooting back. "I would like to show you something, a program I've been working on," Harry's voice was sure and steady when he spoke again, after the brief eternity. Seven found it hard to refuse. She acquiesced with a nod. Harry walked up next to her and called up a stored program on the control panel. "Program running," the computer confirmed a moment later. "Shall we?" Harry smiled, gesturing toward the holodeck entrance with gentlemanly aplomb. Seven returned him a subtle but pleasant look as they stepped side by side into the archway. A darkened planetscape awaited them. It was that of a barren world, one where giant fissures ran across jagged plains like overgrown veins, and sharp-pointed rocky cliffs jutted halfway into the night sky -- monolithic sentinels who kept watch over emptiness. Overhead, the brilliant beacons of a thousand stars formed a canopy of light, unobstructed by the thin atmosphere. Involuntarily, Seven drew a breath, stirred by the magnificent desolation. Without a word, Harry started to scale a lowly ridge, beckoning her to follow. Soon they were near the top, hardly breaking a sweat, for the air was plentiful and the temperature pleasant -- necessary deviations from the airless planetoid the program was supposed to simulated. Harry helped Seven up the last few steps until they were standing on a flat ledge, overlooking what appeared to be a vast silvery plain with a mirror-like smooth surface. -A sea of liquid methane,- Seven soon corrected herself, applying her considerable knowledge of planetary geology. But this was hardly a sight for sore eyes, so she turned to Harry, about to ask what he really meant to show her. "Shhh...it's starting now, just watch," he whispered to her, a finger across his lips. Seven followed his gaze, but saw only the slightly shimmering methane, extending as far as the eye could see. She was about to demand some answer when suddenly a golden glow spilled over the reflective surface, starting from where the sea met the horizon. At first it was just a glowing tip, barely registering against the background starlight. Then it rose, higher and higher, revealing a swirling mass of rainbow-like luminosity, making stars which previously adorned the night sky pale by comparison. Soon the spiral pattern was plainly discernable, appearing translucent from the light of distant stars shining behind nebulous dust clouds. Still the horizon was falling away, until a gloriously brilliant core emerged from the now golden-colored methane ocean, banishing darkness all around it with the force of a billion suns, far too densely packed to make out individually. "Isn't it beautiful?" Harry said breathlessly as the Galaxy continued to rise, a magnificent, elliptical mass composed of two slender spirals, a whirlpool of countless stars blended with the endless colors of exotic nebulas. "When I was a child, back on Earth, on a clear night I could see it edge on as a dim strip of stars: the Milky Way. This is what I imagined it to look like from a planet high above the galactic plane, inside Galactic Cluster Three perhaps." Head turned to Seven, who was silently taking the scene in, he added with a grin, "But of course I was afraid to ask you." The memory of that encounter, ending with her striking him unconscious, brought a slight smile to Seven's lips. "Your conjecture is largely correct, though personally I have not witnessed a more...majestic sight," she replied. "As a drone I have set foot on two-hundred-fifty planets, among the tens of thousands the Borg controlled...but the Collective was hardly interested in sightseeing, however impressive the scenery." "Still, that's far more places than I've ever been to, and the Spirit of Space knows that Voyager has done her share of travels," said Harry. "Hmm," after a moment's thought he asked tentatively, "Of all the planets and stars out there, do you ever wonder where the Borg came from?" "That knowledge must be available somewhere within the Collective; however, no drones could have been concerned about details deemed irrelevant to carrying out their duties," Seven answered truthfully. "As an individual I have often thought about it, though I lack the means to make meaningful speculations...but I suppose that somewhere out there lies a place, perhaps some small, inconspicuous planet not unlike here, where the Hivemind first came into being." She gazed up at the Galaxy again, now filling a large corner of the sky. "I suppose too," Harry nodded, contemplating the meaning behind her words. "Somewhere out there is also Earth, so insignificant in a vast galaxy, yet the birthplace of all things human. Sometimes I imagine that people back home would look up on a clear night, and wonder where Voyager is -- my friends, my parents, and Libby...I hope she has moved on now," he mused nostalgically. "Libby, your betrothed," Seven recalled, a bit puzzled. "Do you wish that...that she no longer loved you?" "I don't know." Harry shook his head ruefully. "I guess I just don't think that I'm worth waiting five years for...and counting." But honestly he now could not remember how he felt when they got engaged, in the passionate vitality of youth: him fresh out of the Academy and having just accepted his first post, and her being the warm, inviting girl who always had an eye for a certain dashing cadet in uniform. Five years and being on the opposite sides of the Galaxy had made things a lot different. "Do not be so certain of your assessment," Seven spoke to his surprise. "From what I have learned of human preference you would make an ideal mate. She would do well to have more patience." "Umm...Seven...you're kidding, right?" Harry managed to say, completely caught off guard by such a response. There was so much more he could have said, but it only came out as a nervous laugh. "Perhaps not," Seven replied, with an unexpected touch of playfulness, the intense look in her eyes locking the Ensign's eager but hesitant gaze. "In the past few weeks I have thought about whether a change in the nature of our affiliation was in order, and if you were ready to help me to explore more of my humanity. Yet I hesitated to seek you opinion directly, in light of initial reactions." Harry's throat felt dry, and his heartbeat was becoming almost audible in the silent surrounding. Half-blushing, he remembered how his first attempt at "creating a romantic mood" had prompted Seven -- then only weeks-old to her rediscovered humanity -- to respond in an extremely forthright manner. From there on he was always careful in keeping their relationship businesslike for the most part, to earn her trust. He hoped and thought that she was beginning to accept him, as much of a friend as she had on Voyager. This he treasured very much, and therefore was made all the more reluctant to advance further, fearing that rashness would destroy what they had built up with time, sweat, and even blood. Nevertheless, what she said now was what he longed to hear for more than a year, and at the same time beyond his wildest dreams. When his mind wandered back to the present, Harry found that the distance between them had vanished, and Seven was probably close enough to hear his overworked heart. He could not help but marvel at her exquisite features, exotic implants and all. The heady aura of her scent threatened to overwhelm conditioned reserves, as he realized the thrill of sharing the same breath with her. Gingerly, Seven reached up with her right hand -- her human hand, free of the Borg webbing which covered her left -- and stroked Harry's cheek, feeling the skin grow hot for a brief moment before pulling away. She spoke, voice barely above a whisper, "I appreciate all that you have shown me, with your 'idle conversations,' your actions, and your...feelings. You demonstrated patience and kindness which I now find very relevant and essential to interaction among individuals. I did not know how to reciprocate for all these before, and I am not certain that I know how now." She looked into his eyes, and in these windows to the human soul, found only her own face. "Neither do I..." She heard him whisper back. "...but I've an idea: why don't we start with small things." She then felt Harry's slightly trembling fingers below her chin, lifting it to his tilted head. The look on his face told her what his tongue could not, and seeing it made her feel more human than ever before. Yet something deep inside her was afraid, shrieking within the fibers of her being for her to break away, even as their lips came closer to touching... That part of her won out when the ship-wide communication system suddenly blared to life: "Bridge to Seven of Nine and Kim." Chakotay's voice sounded intrusively loud in the barren environment. "Yes Commander," Seven acknowledged, quickly backing away from Harry, whose expression of frustration was quickly masked by resignation. He too answered the hail by tapping his communicator. "You're both needed up here right away," the Commander said with uncommon urgency. "We have detected a Borg signal." "We are on our way," Harry answered for both of them. Pausing only long enough to share a brief look of surprise, and uncertain apprehension, they quickly headed for the archway exit. Once again they were, foremost, partners in the hazardous line of duty, all too soon leaving behind the wondrous moment they had shared seconds ago. To be continued...