Picard Spills All
Janeway stared at Picard, not comprehending what she’d just heard. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She took quick, sharp breaths to bring oxygen into her lungs, attempting to stave off a panic attack. Seven of Nine, a murderer. Seven of Nine.
She wanted to run: where to, she wasn’t sure. Anywhere but Voyager’s ready room, even if it meant launching herself out of the starboard window.
“Kathryn,” Picard said. “Are you alright?”
She nodded quickly, unable to speak. She suddenly remembered where she’d heard Bjayzl’s name before. A voice message Seven had left her, years ago. I’ve struggled for months to adapt without you, Seven had said. But I’ve finally found solace. Her name’s Bjayzl…I think she might be the real thing. What I feel for her…I scarcely have the words to describe it. Janeway stopped the message before she found out if Seven had the words. Stopped the message and resisted an urge to demolish her entire communications unit.
“Yes,” she rasped. “Tell me what happened, please.” Was this hell? It felt like hell.
As Picard told them how the events on Freecloud came to pass, Janeway fought back a wave of nausea. That Seven showed up right at the last possible moment and won the day with her undoubtedly magnificent piloting skills wasn’t what set her off. Nor did the revelation that Seven offered herself as bait to catch this Bjayzl; she’d done that many times on Voyager. But the next part required a stomach made of iron, or a captain with her hippocampus removed.
Phrases pierced through the fog blooming in her brain. Private business. Intimate history. Hand around Bjayzl’s throat. Probably the Borg hand.
“Then what,” she managed to choke out. Oh good, now they all were looking at her. Was she naked? She felt naked. And she really wished she hadn’t asked.
“Bjayzl had murdered someone Seven cared about. Another ex-Borg she considered family.”
Oh god. Not this. Not—.
“Icheb,” Naomi spat out, brushing away an errant tear. “His name was Icheb.”
“That’s right,” Picard whispered. “Icheb.”
Naomi jumped out of the chair and began pacing, swatting at the tears on her face.
“They excised his Borg implants and left him to die.” He paused, looked away. “Seven said she had to end his pain herself.”
Raffi gasped.
Janeway fumed. How dare this Vajazzle bitch. I’d have ripped her to shreds myself. But of course the horror didn’t end there, no, it had to keep going. Picard thought he’d talked Seven off the ledge, changed her mind, but of course he didn’t know that once she’d set her mind she wouldn’t change it for love nor money, certainly not for the sake of her humanity.
“Not hard to guess how this story ends,” she said, softly.
Picard looked guilty. “When she left she asked me for phasers for Ranger business. I should have known where she was going.”
“She went back and murdered the bitch?” Captain Wildman said. Off Picard’s nod, “Good.”
Janeway ran a hand all over her face, pressing into her skin, and was disappointed to find that she was, in fact, sitting in Voyager’s ready room, and not living through some sort of waking nightmare. She’d spent so much time worrying about Seven’s borg half, when, as always, the human half was the source of the trouble. After all, was there anything more human than revenge?
“Not good, Captain.” Janeway rose from the floor, hoping that a good command conundrum would drive the emotions from her face. “Not good for us, not good for Seven, and not good for the Federation.”
“We’ve gotta get her out.” Raffi's voice was tight, her hands clenched into fists. Janeway could barely hear anything through the ringing in her ears. She wondered why she wasn’t the one racing around like a bat out of hell. Like she always had before.
“I can’t,” he answered gently. “If I became involved, I’d be charged as an accessory. All of Starfleet might be implicated.”
Raffi coiled up like a spring, her whole body trembling with anger. “She saved your life. She saved all our lives, more than once. And she never asked for anything in return. You have to help.”
Picard appeared at a loss, his brow furrowed.
“Please,” Raffi begged. “You have to do something.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t.”
Raffi banged her fist against the wall, frustrated.