Meltdown
Meltdown
“Regeneration cycle complete.”
That voice. Seven hadn’t heard it in years. As she blinked into consciousness, her fingers tightened against the support beam. Having a clear, ordered mind after so many years was almost too much to handle after years of suffering. From order to chaos, the story of Seven of Nine.
The cargo bay snapped into view - her home for five long years was little more than a warehouse full of boxes to the naked eye, but, to her, a wellspring for who she’d become. As she scanned the room, memories swarmed before her - here, practicing her first human smile, there, fighting with the Captain over the death of a Species 8472 stowaway, there again, coming to terms with her parents’ sins, protecting Naomi, Icheb, Menotti, others, all over, all gone.
Then the bad memories rolled in; everything she’d shoved away over the years rushed to fill her empty, ordered mind, the regeneration unit having lowered decades of mental defenses with the aim of making her mind more efficient. How is this efficient, she thought, wracked by giant sobs. She mourned every collective she’d ever known: from the comforting chorus of the Borg collective to the chaotic efficiency of Voyager to the pain and loneliness that followed and how, each time she’d tried to find another collective, she’d only found tragedy.
Raffi was the only exception, of course. But Seven knew from the wan, forlorn look Raffi gave her in the shuttle that that she’d done that one in herself; that she’d never really let her in, and perhaps wouldn’t ever be able to.
Everyone she knew only knew pieces of her, and she longed to be seen as whole - as Seven of Nine and Annika Hansen, as Borg and human, as a child who overcame tragedy and tried to become a hero, but failed, over and over again. She could live with all of it if only someone could see it.
She took a deep breath, surprised to find how, as her tears slowed, her mind still felt less cluttered. She made a mental note to have a full-strength regeneration unit installed on La Sirena when this was over. She stepped away from the dais and wiped her eyes, noticing, for the first time, a petite woman curled up in a blanket by the side of the room.
“Captain,” she whispered, and the woman immediately rose.
“You’re awake,” Janeway muttered, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“How long was I regenerating?
“36 hours or so.”
“And you were here the whole time?”
Janeway stepped forward, not quite making eye contact. “I was afraid you might disappear.”
Seven felt a brief surge of warmth that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Janeway flinched under the white hot rage that must be showing in her eyes, in her raised chin, in her shaking fingers. In a microsecond, Seven cycled through 300 cutting remarks but, finding them wanting, kept to herself. She took a deep breath, wiping a final errant tear from her cheek, and walked straight out of the cargo bay doors.
—-
“Bourbon. Neat,” she muttered to the hapless hologram bartender in the mess hall, silencing his objection with a stern stare and a gentle tap on her ocular implant. She shot the whole thing back and gestured for another.
“Mind if I join you?”
Seven turned to the voice and couldn’t help smiling. “Naomi Wildman. I owe you one.”
“It’s not me you owe, Seven. But I think you know that.” Naomi attempted to wave down the holo-tender but he studiously ignored her. Seven gave him another stern stare and a second glass swiftly appeared.
“Good to know the service here is as terrible as ever,” Seven said.
“At least Neelix was kind!”
“True,” Seven said, chinking her glass against Naomi’s. Before she could take a sip, Naomi snaked her arm through Seven’s and pulled her in tight.
“I’m so sorry, Seven. I should have been there for you.”
Seven laid her head on Naomi’s. “No, you shouldn’t,” she muttered. “You were right where you were supposed to be - becoming a Starfleet superstar. I would only have been a distraction.”
Naomi pulled away and glared at Seven. “Do you think that distancing yourself wasn’t distracting enough? I thought about you every day.” Naomi saw they were attracting attention and lowered her voice. “I know you needed space, and I gave it to you, but don’t act like you were doing me any favors. You think I didn’t need you? After Icheb died? After my ship got stuck in a black hole? When I almost got kicked out of the Academy for telling off the teachers?”
Seven took another gulp of her bourbon.
“I’m not mad at you, Seven. I just didn’t get why you didn’t let me in .” Naomi turned to her, eyes large and watery. “But now I do, and guess what? You’re still my family. And I’m yours.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “And it’s not just me. Raffi. The Captain. Any of us would die for you.”
Seven’s jaw tensed again with the mention of Janeway. “You and Raffi are my family.”
“Janeway is too.”
“Why do you insist on pushing this?” Seven slammed her drink on the counter. “I do not want to talk about her.”
“Ok, then.” Naomi paused, then resumed, her eyes dark and mischievous. “Can we talk about how you, of all people, fell for the devil incarnate?”
“Naomi Wildman,” Seven hissed. “You will cease this line of inquiry at once.”
“Fine, then we can sit here in silence.” And so they did, for about half a minute, at which point Naomi began whistling.
I know I’ll regret this…. “She abandoned me,” Seven whispered. “After she promised she wouldn’t.”
“Yeah. She did,” Naomi said, firmly. “We heard the whole thing. She really fucked up. And she knows it.”
“As if that changes anything.”
Naomi drew in a deep breath, visibly impatient. “So this is your grand plan? She ignores you so you’re gonna ignore her?”
“Yup.”
“Oh yeah, real great plan. So great how you’ll let your hurt feelings deprive kill off one of the most important relationships in your life.” Naomi got up and started pacing. “What do I have to do to get you to talk to her?”
“You can start by rewiring my cortex so I can forget what she did to me.”
“Oh, what she did to you. I know what she did to you. She sent you to the answering machine for 15 years.”
“She made that choice. Riding in on a white horse won’t change that.”
“And you’ve never thought to ask her why?”
Seven raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Irrelevant.”
“Of course it’s irrelevant.” Naomi’s eyes blazed, her voice cutting like steel. “It’s funny - you’re talking Borg, but you’re showing pure human weakness.”
“Excuse me?”
Naomi stood straight and pulled at her tunic, not unlike Janeway. “I wanted to be just like you, once. I watched you conquer every one of your fears with reason. You used logic to work through the most intractable problems. But now? You’re just childish. Petty. I thought you were better than all of us - but maybe I was wrong.” Naomi slammed her glass onto the counter. “Goodnight.”