Disclaimer: I Don't Own Them

Code: T/7.
Genre: Romance, Drama
Rating: PG-13

Ghosts

Seven of Nine opened her eyes and stepped out of her alcove. The computer toned overhead and protested that her regeneration cycle was incomplete. She noted it in the back of her mind but did nothing about it. She looked at the regenerating children, a pang of worry crossing her mind as she glanced at Icheb. His brow was furrowed and his nose ridge was twitching, as if he was having a nightmare. She watched until the dream passed and a peaceful expression returned to the face of her eldest charge, then proceeded out of the cargo bay.

She did not know why she had such difficulty regenerating as of late, but for the past week she had been unable to complete a cycle. She had checked in with the doctor after it occurred the first, second and third times, but afterwards had simply proceeded to Astrometrics to continue her never-ending quest for the most efficient external sensors she could develop. When she reached the entrance to Astrometrics, she stopped. The door did not open. She stepped back and tried to trigger it again, but again it ignored her. She laced her fingers together behind her back and quirked an eyebrow.

"Computer. Explain why the doors to Astrometrics are sealed," she demanded.

"Astrometric sensors are not on-line."

"Explain."

"Insufficient information." Seven raised an eyebrow and sighed. She checked her internal chronometer, which informed her that it was 04:42 hours. Ensign Vorik would be in charge of engineering. Not the best, but perhaps he could decipher the problem nonetheless. She headed off to Engineering.

When she reached her destination she was surprised to find Lieutenant Torres on duty. She was also surprised to find herself pleased at this, but dismissed it as relief at finding the best engineer. The half-Klingon was cursing fluently at a gutted console. Wiring and data chips were strewn about the floor surrounding her. She seemed disheveled, as though she had been pulled away from sleep by this job. Seven stepped around the mess, approached B'Elanna as closely as she could and announced her presence.

"Lt. Torres." B'Elanna swore as the tool she was using cut across her hand, leaving a bloody trail. She stuck her hand in her mouth and glared up at the tall blonde.

"Yeah?" she growled as she removed the wounded hand. Seven raised an eyebrow.

"Astrometric sensors are not working and the doors will not open. The computer cannot identify the problem."

"Great. Just great."

Seven of Nine glanced at Torres' hand. "I did not mean for you to injure yourself. Perhaps you should report to sickbay." B'Elanna looked surprised at Seven. She wasn't used to the Borg woman being so...considerate. But her temper flared once again and she decided to blame the messenger.

"I'm fine. I don't really have time for Sickbay," she snapped. Realizing it, she forced herself to calm down a little. "Astrometrics isn't the only place to have problems. Apparently, we have a ghost."

"A...ghost." Seven repeated dubiously, almost oblivious to B'Elanna's tone.

"Yeah. About an hour ago Holodeck two come on without anyone in it. At least, that's what the logs show. It ran seventeen different programs, each overlapping the others. It blew out the grid and that caused us to completely lose power on deck four..." B'Elanna rubbed the bridge of her nose, irritated and feeling the beginnings of a headache. "The power generator in the mess hall keeps blinking on and off and I've had to deal with power to life support re-routing itself almost fifteen times since I got here, which was about fifteen minutes after the holodeck incident. So I'm afraid that your precious Astrometrics will have to wait, since it's the least of my worries right now. I haven't had any complaints about sensors yet, so until I do, Astrometrics is pretty low on my priority list."

B'Elanna wanted nothing more than to just go back to her quarters and cuddle with Tom. Her head hurt, her hands hurt and worst of all, she couldn't figure out what was happening on the ship. She'd meant her ghost comment. As far as she could tell, the malfunctions were happening for no reason. She'd already ruled out a virus in the main computer, a saboteur and common wear and tear. She was so preoccupied in her own thoughts she almost didn't hear Seven of Nine. But the clipped tone of her voice caught her attention.

"My apologies, Lieutenant. I thought reporting malfunctions to Engineering was protocol. Next time I will fix the problem myself rather than—"

"Wait, Seven." B'Elanna stood, noting the hurt in the ex-drone's eyes, vaguely shocked to see it there. Seven refused to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. You're right." Seven looked past Torres when she tried to make eye contact. "I'm just—stumped and angry and you're a convenient target." The blonde looked at B'Elanna, shocking her with the blueness of her eyes, something the chief engineer had never before noticed. She pushed the thought away.

"I... understand," Seven said quietly. She was disturbed by the intensity of the emotions she had felt when the half-Klingon had yelled at her. She decided that perhaps it was time to try to finish her regeneration cycle.

Tom Paris looked up from his padd as B'Elanna walked into her quarters. He'd been waiting for her for almost an hour. He'd been irritated that she'd seemed to forget their breakfast date until he saw how haggard she looked. Her permed hair was sticking out everywhere, she was covered in filth and she was rubbing her left hand, where he saw a nasty looking wound.

"B'Elanna? Are you okay?" He asked, going to her. She looked up at him with semi-hooded eyes and hugged him. A little surprised at the greeting he hugged her back, but she moved off absently after a moment and headed into the shower. He sat down and decided to give her a few minutes to clean up, resuming his reading. After about fifteen minutes, she reemerged and headed for her bed, collapsing in exhaustion. Tom walked over to the bed and knelt at the side. "B'Elanna?" he asked, brushing aside a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I'm just so tired, Tom. Can we please reschedule our date?" She murmured sleepily. Tom smiled at her and kissed her forehead, a little curious when her brow furrowed at the contact. He dismissed it as a headache.

"Yeah. Just make sure to see the Doc about that hand." He got up and left. B'Elanna's eyes opened when the door hissed shut. She groaned a little and pressed her fingers to her temples. Her head was throbbing and she just wanted to sleep, but for some reason she couldn't. Her stomachs were bothering her and she felt wired. She'd worked only two hours, but after pulling a double the day before, it felt like she'd worked twenty. She decided to visit the doctor, as everyone had suggested, but when she tried to sit up her head felt like it exploded. She yelled, her hand going to her forehead, and then she just lay back, hoping that somehow she could get to sleep.

On the Bridge, Captain Janeway was glaring at the reading in front of her. Nothing. What wasn't up and running was being worked on, but nobody could find anything wrong with any of it. So all they had was...nothing. First Kathryn had not been able to sleep. Then she'd had to relieve B'Elanna when Vorik called up to the bridge complaining that she was overworking herself and tearing up Engineering. Finally, her replicator refused to work and she hadn't had any coffee once she realized she had to report to the bridge. It just had not been a good morning.

"Captain," Harry Kim called out. Kathryn looked over at him, thinking how he barely showed the age he'd acquired in the past six years. No longer a green, wet-behind-the-ears Ensign, his face still held some of its original innocence, despite everything he had gone through—being infected with the caretaker's attempt to procreate, being held in a prison ship with a device implanted in his brain designed to slowly drive him mad, broken heart after broken heart and, most recently, being forced to live the memories of a soldier gone mad from deeds the Ensign himself would never perform. Despite it all, he still hadn't broken—she could still look him in the eyes.

"Scanners indicate there's a derelict ship two light years, thirty-two degrees off port," he continued, breaking her reverie. "A weak, automated distress signal is being issued on a continuous loop. Audio only."

"Let's hear it," she said, facing the forward view screen. The message began playing and she cocked her head to the side, looking nowhere in particular, her chin on her hand as she concentrated on listening.

"To any vessel within range of this message. We are in need of medical assistance. Our ship has been infected with a virus apparently harmful only to ourselves. We are the Ssckerellon. Mammalians need not respond."

Janeway's eyebrow quirked upon hearing the last sentence. She gave Chakotay a 'can you believe this?' look. He raised his eyebrows in return.

" 'Mammalians need not respond,' " he repeated. "Doesn't sound very friendly."

"Indeed." Kathryn agreed. She looked at the screen and squinted as though she might be able to see the offending speaker. Then she sat up straight, looking determined. "Helm. Alter course to investigate the 'derelict ship'. Warp two."

"Aye, Captain." Janeway leaned conspiratorially in towards Chakotay.

"Your thoughts, Commander?"

"Might be worth a look if we get out of there before any 'friends' show up. If there's anyone left alive, then maybe they'll welcome any help they can get." Janeway gave him a half-smile, glad her first officer agreed with her. She looked back at her chief of security, curious as to why she hadn't heard from him.

"No objections, Tuvok?"
Tuvok raised an eyebrow at her.

"I have found that objecting seldom does any good when your curiosity is aroused, Captain. Furthermore, I, too, am intrigued. The likelihood of any survivors is minimal, though we should proceed with caution."

"Agreed."

* * *

Voyager sailed through space towards a ship roughly half its size. The little ship was black with various shades of green frond patterns, as though it was meant to hide itself in a dark, dense forest. It was smooth and shaped similar to a beetle's shell. It listed, rolling slowly, showing its underside. The belly was flattened and two pectoral wings extended out, thin and aerodynamic. Yellow stripes with red underlaying made up the ventral surface. All in all it was not a very friendly looking ship.

Which was what Tom Paris had just stated. Janeway was leaning towards the screen, staring at the ship. It had no running lights and as far as Harry Kim could tell, no life.

"But the ship has a forcefield with a configuration I've never seen before," Harry added. "It may be interfering with sensors..." Suddenly that part of his board went dark. "Which...we don't seem to have anymore." The captain turned in her chair to look at the Ensign.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it was working a second ago," he began as he tapped the controls that refused to even make their 'non-operational' sound. Janeway stood and walked over towards him, looking over his shoulder. "They were working a second ago, but now..." He pursed his lips and his brow furrowed. "I don't understand it, Captain."

Janeway put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Ensign, we'll figure it out." She was walking back down to the command area when the lights dimmed and began flashing red. An alarm went off and Janeway spun around to face Tuvok, who calmly announced:

"Intruder Alert."

* * *

Seven Of Nine had finally achieved her goal: opening the doors to Astrometrics. It was a mistake that she paid for almost immediately. As the door slid open, a dark form smashed into her, paralyzing her. She attempted to move from her place on the deck, but was unable. She felt a pain in her right arm and realized that the assailant must have injected her with a neurotoxin or other paralytic. The thought came that she should never have come here alone when there was obviously something wrong. Completely conscious, she was given time to lie and contemplate her error as she listened to the intruder alert sound.

Harry Kim's instrument panel finally lit up once again. A section began blinking, demanding his attention and he pressed it. His brow furrowed as he examined what the computer was telling him. He rechecked the data to make sure that he wasn't receiving false sensor readings. Once certain, he called, "Captain!"

Naomi Wildman was frightened. She had been running a holo-simulation with Mezoti when the hologrid suddenly shut down. Mezoti headed directly for Cargo Bay Two and Naomi was in the turbolift, en route to her quarters. The turbolift shuddered and stopped. A thud landed on the roof of the car. She bit back a scream and sat down in the corner. She heard a click, click, click and she began crying silently, wishing that Neelix or her mom or Seven were there.

Every monster with claws from her fairy tales ran a cycle of images through her head. She shook, wondering if the monster knew she was there, if it could smell her. The clicking stopped and Naomi waited quietly. A scraping sound began at the top of the lift, over the door and continued down the doors until it reached the center, then stopped. Naomi's heart pounded in her chest and she held her breath, being as quiet as she could, hoping it would just go away. But when the scraping noise began to sound like the creature was trying to open the doors, she froze like a rabbit caught in an open field.

Seven flexed her fingers. It was all the control she had at the moment. But that little bit of control was better than none. Every few minutes she felt like panicking, but forced herself not to, thinking that as soon as she started, some crewman would come along and assist her. Then she would feel foolish. So she remained calm, despite the growing knot in the pit of her stomach that insisted she would be alone here forever, unable to move or cry out. The logical part of her brain, however, reminded her stomach that she was suffering from a paralytic and that the effects were most likely temporary, especially based on the evidence. And she slowly lifted her wrist.

The door creaked and Naomi sat as still as she could, hoping the thing on the other side wouldn't get through, her heart feeling like it was beating out of her chest as the door began to slowly open.

Tuvok led the security team towards Deck 15. All the turbolifts on the first seven decks were non-operational, so they were climbing slowly down to the bowels of the ship. The Vulcan just hoped they would get there before the intruder.

B'Elanna punched the console. All the systems were going haywire. She fixed one problem and another arose. If it wasn't the artificial gravity on deck 13, it was the life support on the bridge. She had found out that there was a worm in the computer after all. Now she was just trying to destroy it.

A black—what? Naomi hesitated at calling it a hand. It was black, with a green hue, curving and bi-digited. It looked a little like a lobster, except for the fact that the smaller digit was opposable and the edges weren't serrated. Both the larger and smaller had a single claw about as long as the last joint on her little finger.

The claw-hand was soon joined by another and the doors slowly began to force their way open. Then its head appeared. It was a grayish black-blue in color with a blunt muzzle and large black eyes. The eyes were so big that at first Naomi thought they were just bumps on its head. Long slits ran up either side of its face from its chin, two small nostrils seeming to come straight out from it. A tusk hung down from its nose-chin.

The half-Katarian couldn't see anything that resembled a mouth. Naomi could see two dark, brownish-red horns, the same color as the tusk, set like a bull, on the sides of its head and one horn, like on a targh, only much bigger, on the top of its head. The horn on the top of its head was a dark green. It kind of reminded her of an ancient western Earth theme in its appearance—like a buffalo's skull she'd once seen on a history padd.

Naomi sat very still, hoping not to be noticed. It turned its head to the side and Naomi saw two more horns on the top of its head and back of its neck. To her, it looked like a cross between a bird and a bug. Its exoskeleton was the same color as its head, but it had more green mottled throughout. Also, it was a different texture completely. Whereas the head looked like skin, the rest of its body was rough and Naomi couldn't help thinking it looked scratchy. The legs, though they looked like the rest of the body, were really just a rough hide, with thick muscles under the skin and a reverse knee joint. The arms looked short, but were really just thick and attached to high shoulders. It had a shell-like exoskeleton that protected its sides and a real shell that came out behind it like a beetle.

It stepped into the lift and Naomi saw its feet. It had two toes on each foot in front and in back, and rather than a heel, it had another toe, each with thick claws on the tips. It turned its big, ugly head to her and stared right at her. It was about two meters high at its head, so it had to look down at her. It was an awkward movement, requiring it to lower its upper body in part. Then it opened its mouth. To Naomi it looked like its jaw split off a sliver and lowered like a lift of some sort. Its lower jaw was squarish and thin. A musty smell issued on its cold breath.

Naomi's fear got the better of her finally and she screamed at the top of her lungs. The alien reared up and closed thick eyelids tightly. The lids were the same dark green as the horns on top of its head. It issued a gut-wrenching bass roar. Naomi took another breath and screamed another blood-curdling scream. It reared up all the way and twisted itself around, hopping out of the lift. It fell downward and Naomi quit screaming.

She looked down and couldn't see the bug-creature anymore. She looked straight ahead in front of her. There was a ladder leading up and down. The door to the floor above her was closer. She reached out and jumped the short distance onto the ladder. She felt it shaking slightly and looked down, but saw nothing. Her head had hurt in the turbolift, but now the pain was fading. She started climbing up, her legs tingling to run and her belly feeling like she was going to throw up. She pressed the manual override on the door and it slid open a little. Just enough for her to squeeze through. Then she pressed the panel on the other side and it closed.

As soon as the door was closed and she felt safer, Naomi's legs gave out, she sat down hard and started crying loudly.

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One was crying. Silent tears ran down her face as her internal chronometer informed her that she'd been laying in the same place, alone, fighting the effects of the paralytic, which she now recognized as a neurotoxin as parts of her body began shutting down for twenty-seven-point-three minutes. She was dying—alone. She had regained control of her face, but the computer wasn't accepting voice commands. She had requested an emergency transport every three minutes since she had regained the ability to speak and tried to contact the rest of the crew forty-two times.

Her bladder had been the first to shut down, much to her horror. Her pancreas seemed to be the next thing, as she felt herself going into diabetic shock, her hand curling into a fist that she couldn't unclench and she began shaking badly. Nothing else seemed to be malfunctioning yet, but she didn't think she'd survive until the next organ gave up. Her pancreas had begun giving up only three minutes before. She was beginning to experience an excruciating pain as her central nervous system returned to normal.

When she heard the young sobbing, she thought she was hallucinating. After a minute, she decided a hallucination was better than no one to talk to, so she tried her vocal chords again. She hummed a little bit and though it sounded scratchy and a little slurred, she was able to form the name of the owner of the young voice.

"Naomi Wildman." She said as loudly as she could manage. She expected no reply and so was surprised to hear the girl respond.

"Seven!" Naomi yelled and came running, stopping dead in the hall when she saw the prone form of the ex-Borg. She walked slowly up to Seven, who felt a pang of guilt. She didn't understand why, but she didn't want the child to see her that way. However, since the damage was done, Seven took advantage of the situation.

"Naomi Wildman, I require medical assistance and the comm is not functioning." Naomi looked up at the ceiling, as though she could see malfunctioning speakers in the corners.

"What can I do?" She looked down at Seven. "The turbolifts aren't working." Seven closed her eyes and breathed out slowly.

"There is a Jeffries Tube at the end of this hall that leads to deck eleven. Perhaps the comm system is in operation there. I am unable to move. However, perhaps you can go for me."

Naomi's eyes opened wide. "Me?"

"Yes. But you must hurry." Seven almost added 'I don't have much time left,' but decided not to upset the girl further. Naomi nodded, then ran down the hall. "Wait!" Seven called. Naomi stopped. "It is in the other direction."

"Oh, sorry," Naomi said, blushing. She ran with a little less vigor in the correct direction. Seven only hoped that she would be fast enough...

Ghosts, Chapter 2

"Yes! B'Elanna yelled triumphantly. The worm was destroyed. It had been one of the most complex little bugs that the chief engineer had ever seen. She had been furious when she discovered it. It had disguised itself as a recipe. A recipe! Torres had seen a lot of viruses and worms in her time, but never one quite so--well hidden. She still blamed herself for not finding it earlier, but now the damage was done and there was nothing for her to do except repair the damage her mistake had caused.

She tapped her comm badge to report to the captain, but all she got was a muted beep. Nothing else. She growled and began accessing the comm system to begin repairs there when the doors to Engineering hissed open. She glanced up briefly to note who had come in and froze. It was Sam Wildman's kid, Naomi. B'Elanna blinked a couple times, and then walked over to her.

"Hey, kid. You lost?" She asked, smiling, kneeling down in front of her.

"The comm doesn't work."

"Yeah, I was just about to fix that. You looking for your mom or Neelix?"

"No, Seven asked me to come here. She's hurt really bad. She was shaking when I saw her and I dunno what's wrong, just that she needs medical assistance." Naomi was proud that her voice came out strong and clear, but inwardly she was shaking. B'Elanna stared at Naomi and felt her heart start racing. She stood up and ran over towards a console that would let her activate the transporter. Naomi followed.

"I'm gonna try to transport her to Sickbay," she explained to the child. Naomi watched the engineer's hands flit across the controls. After about a minute Torres hit them. "Damn!" She shot an apologetic look at Naomi, but rushed over to another panel. She tried again, but the sensors outside Astrometrics were so badly damaged that they couldn't get a lock on the ex-drone. Torres' mind raced as she tried to figure out how to get around the problem. Finally, she realized there was only one thing for her to do. She'd have to repair the sensors herself. She began keying in for transport, manually setting the coordinates so that she wouldn't beam into a bulkhead and hit Energize.

B'Elanna beamed into the hall and the first thing she did was scan the area with her tricorder. Life support in this section was non-operational. That wasn't something she was expecting... She looked over at the form of Seven of Nine. The Borg Ice Queen. Looking at her like a frightened child. She had her head turned toward her and looked like she was about to fall asleep. With the decreased oxygen levels, it was no wonder. B'Elanna herself was already starting to feel lightheaded. She began searching for the control panel that would let her access the transporter controls and sensors.

"Lieutenant Torres." B'Elanna stopped and looked at Seven.

"Yeah?"

"You are endangering your life being in this section. You should return to Engineering. Life Support is off-line here."

"How do you know it's on in Engineering?" B'Elanna asked, teasing the other woman lightly. Seven's ocular implant raised.

"Then you should return to wherever life support is operational."

"And leave you here to die? Forget it." Torres found the access panel and opened it. She then began assessing the mess. As far as she could tell, whatever had dismantled these systems had done it maliciously. It looked like they took a laser cutter to the main circuit pathways.

The bioneural gel pack was an odd greenish color, instead of its healthy blue. She jerked it out and glared at it. Then she walked across the hall, removing a gel pack from the door controls and replaced it with the sick pack. After all, no one needed to go into Astrometrics right now. She felt a pang in her chest, but shoved it down.

She placed the gel pack in the panel she was working on and began attempting to integrate it to these systems as well as repair the damage done by whatever had messed with the controls. It was a long job, unless she could figure out a way to bypass certain critical pathways that had been severed.

She had a lot to think about as she was working on the circuit panel. Almost anyone she could think of would question her helping out the Borg woman. They were adversaries, after all. Who'd know that she actually would care enough to risk her life for the ex-drone?

B'Elanna was a compassionate woman. Something very few people aboard Voyager seemed aware of. Chakotay knew, of course. He'd been her best friend while in the Maquis. Harry Kim, her best friend aboard Voyager after Seska turned against them. And of course, Tom. Well, sometimes. She didn't always feel as comfortable letting her more vulnerable side out to him as to Harry or Chakotay and that worried her some. Especially since she believed that, in a love relationship, you were supposed to be able to share every part of yourself with the other person.

But her compassion had been part of what had moved her to join the Maquis. Most people thought it was only because her Klingon side was always looking for a fight and that she hated Starfleet, so the Maquis was perfect for her, but that had only been part of it. The human side of her had felt the people's plight--being driven from their homes by a people they had fought off, but who had politically taken what they had once stolen and the people who lived there be damned.

Her compassion and guilt. She felt guilty. If she had only listened to Seven when she had lodged her original complaint about Astrometrics and investigated. If only she hadn't let her feelings against the woman cloud her thinking and at least send a team to check it out. Then maybe the ex-Borg wouldn't be dying right now. Maybe the worm wouldn't have spread so thoroughly throughout the system. Maybe everything would be okay and back to normal right now and no one would be dying because she had to be pissy. It was all her fault. And Seven of Nine was paying the price for her imperfection. If she hadn't been ready to cry, B'Elanna might have laughed at the irony.

Click. Beep, whir. 'Yes!' She had done it. The systems were back on-line. She turned to Seven to find her unconscious and seizing. Scared, B'Elanna hit the transporter controls and ran over to the ex-Borg. The transporter dematerialized them.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency." Voyager's nameless EMH materialized with the two women.

"She's been exposed to an area with no life support for I don't know how long. Apparently, she needed medical attention before that, too, but I don't know what else is wrong," B'Elanna shot out as quickly as she could. She took a much-needed breath. "Naomi said she was shaking."

The doctor closed the biobed Seven had materialized in and began the scanning process. "My God, she's been poisoned." He hurried from one side of the sickbay to the other, programming a hypospray as he returned.

"Poisoned?" B'Elanna exclaimed, outraged.

"Yes, with a biological neurotoxin," he explained as he injected her with the compound. "Her nanoprobes didn't start working until she had asphyxiated. Apparently, the toxin worked on her central nervous system, paralyzing and shutting it down, then released it, while disrupting the normal function of her internal organs. While her central nervous system was shut down, her nanoprobes ceased to function properly. Which is an oddity in itself, since if a simple neurotoxin worked against the Borg, they would not have lasted and expanded as far as they have. This seemed to actually prevent the nanoprobes from swimming through her bloodstream. It's really quite fascinating. I wouldn't mind obtaining a sample if at all possible."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to wait. I don't know what did this. There wasn't anybody on that deck when I got there. Just her."

"Well, it's a good thing you got there when you did. Another five minutes and she would have been dead. As it is, I can correct the internal damage with surgery. I'm already monitoring the oxygenation levels in her bloodstream, which are quickly returning to normal and raising her insulin level." The doctor looked up and noticed B'Elanna's anxious face. "No need to worry, she'll be just fine."

B'Elanna looked a little defensive. "I'm not worried." She looked down at Seven, noticing how human she was when she was unconscious. Not just a Borg. Her lips were partially parted, her hair was falling down slightly and her eyelids twitched as though she was having a dream. The half-Klingon couldn't help noticing that she looked very fragile and beautiful--like a butterfly. Torres shook her head slightly. A butterfly? What was she thinking? She turned and hurried out of Sickbay, to be alone with her thoughts.

Seven woke up, to see the smiling face of the Doctor, rather than B'Elanna's. For no reason she could understand, this came as a disappointment to her. She felt a pain seem to explode from behind her eyes. Her stomach heaved and she groaned.

"Well, that's to be expected under the circumstances," the EMH told her, as if she'd reported her physical ailments out loud.

"How is Lieutenant Torres?"

"She's fine. I'm assuming. She didn't stay long enough for me to scan for any damage from the lack of oxygen." He rolled his eyes and lifted his brows. "Typical of her." Seven felt an urge to glare at the hologram, but repressed it. She didn't think it would be pleasant to move her face anytime soon. Her throat was raw from the few words she had uttered and everything either ached, throbbed or burned. The doctor appeared with a hypospray. Seven eyed it warily. "Don't worry, this is a painkiller. You must feel like you got hit by a runaway shuttlecraft."

"That is not an accurate description. My bones are intact and--"

"It's a figure of speech, Seven. Meant to indicate a great deal of pain. I was merely expressing my sympathy. I recall pain. It is not a pleasant sensation."

"Indeed."

Naomi sat quietly, watching the Engineering staff work and wondering if anyone would ever notice her. She was too scared to go in the turbolifts and she didn't know the Jeffries tubes well enough to find her quarters. So she sat and waited. She watched as Lt. Torres came back and began giving orders. She watched as the warp core lit up to its normal colors and she watched as the engine room staff began cheering as systems came back on-line, one by one. She watched, but she never said a word nor moved from her position under a neglected access panel in the corner.

So it came with much surprise that B'Elanna Torres came knee-to-nose with the little girl. She thought she'd accidentally kicked a repair kit--until it squeaked. She leaned down and looked at the tear-streaked face of Voyager's youngest crewmember. She knelt.

"Hey... what are you still doing here?" she asked softly.

"I can't get home."

"Why's that?"

"The monster."

"Monster?" Just then, her combadge beeped.

"All senior officers, report to the briefing room immediately," the captain's voice came through sounding strained. B'Elanna raised her eyebrows, wondering 'what now?'

The captain did not look pleased. She was staring at the sensor data that Harry had just provided her with. There had been a vessel. A tiny ship, no bigger than one of Voyager's escape pods, but a ship nonetheless. And it had been attached to her ship for over a week.

That was not acceptable.

It emitted the same readings as the ship in front of them. They were almost identical, except for the size. Janeway put down the padd she was studying. "Why didn't we pick it up as soon as it attached itself to us?"

B'Elanna looked up, sitting up straight. "The cloak--"

"Shouldn't have disguised the extra weight we put on, Lieutenant." B'Elanna looked back down. She hadn't been able to explain that either. The ship's external sensors should have detected it as soon as it latched on—at least on some level.

"Maybe a dampening field..." B'Elanna rested her head on her hand. She was shaking slightly and she felt lightheaded. She realized, for the first time, that she hadn't eaten in almost three days. It had been bed to engineering to bed and back again. She'd only managed brief showers and her sleep had been troubled. Kathryn looked worriedly at her Chief Engineer. She had dark circles under her eyes and she detected a tremor running over her entire body. Her hair was slightly unkempt and she looked like she was about to pass out.

"B'Elanna?" Tom whispered. She looked up and gave him a brief, reassuring smile. He sat back, unconvinced.

"Lieutenant, are you alright?" Janeway inquired.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just—it's bugging me. There's something almost... familiar about this. I just can't place my finger on what it is."

"Well, if you figure it out, do let me know."

"Yeah," she replied absently, lost in thought.

"I don't like that someone was on my ship without me knowing. Especially for eight days. And I especially don't like that it injured one of my crewmembers. We don't even know what it looks like."

"Maybe we can get an idea on their ship," Chakotay offered.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to cancel the away mission, in lieu of recent events."

"I appreciate the advice, Mr. Tuvok, but I agree with the Commander on this. We need to know as much as possible about these people. Who they are, what they want, why they were on my ship and how they managed to get there."

"Captain," B'Elanna blurted, then caught herself.

"Yes?" Janeway turned her attention to Torres.

"Naomi Wildman. She's the one who found Seven. She mentioned a monster. I think she might have seen the intruder." Janeway raised an eyebrow, ducked her head, and then looked at B'Elanna.

"Well, then. I guess I'll have to have a talk with my assistant, won't I?"

Naomi looked around the corner, peeking into the captain's ready room before she actually entered. She'd been here before, to submit a plan to rescue Seven of Nine when the Borg Queen had first kidnapped her. But this time, the captain had called her. She wondered what it was about, although she was pretty sure she had it figured out.

"Come in, Miss Wildman." Kathryn called from behind her desk, putting on a formal show for the child.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Naomi asked, coming to stand in front of her.

"Yes. It has come to my attention that you night have some information that could prove to be very useful to us." Naomi perked up immediately.

"Do you mean about the creature that attacked Seven?" Kathryn smiled and nodded.

"It's my understanding that you're the only one who got a look at it. I wanted you to describe it for me." Naomi's eyes widened.

"It was big and ugly. Kinda blue-greenish black. It had big eyes and short arms. It had a shell and horns and its mouth looked weird and it smelled like a raw leeola root. It kinda looked like a big bug."

"How many legs and arms did it have?"

"Two legs, two arms. It had hands like a lobster and it had three toes—two in the front, one in the back. And I think it had a beak."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. It didn't like it when I screamed."

"How do you mean?" Kathryn leaned forward, interested.

"It jumped out of the turbolift when I screamed, and it roared." Janeway processed the information and smiled at Naomi.

"Thank you, that will be all." Naomi smiled and hurried out of the room, leaving Kathryn to her thoughts.

Harry, B'Elanna, Tuvok, Ensign Kyote and Janeway materialized on the bridge of the alien ship. Both Tuvok and the ensign had their phasers drawn, pointing in opposite directions. B'Elanna and Harry produced tricorders and began scanning for their various stations. Janeway reported to the ship and the task of finding out all about the Ssckerellon began.

Kyote stared down the empty corridor, scanning for any living Ssckerellon. So far, she hadn't found any. They were all dead, their husks rotting in the humid climate of their ships. The fetid air almost made her sick several times, and the site of the aliens did nothing to help her keep down Neelix's latest stew.

The captain had ordered her and Tuvok to search the surrounding decks for survivors and to contact her in the event of an emergency. So far, the closest thing to an emergency had been something resembling a rat scurrying out of the empty shell of one of the Ssckerellon. She didn't think the captain would care about that, though.

She saw Tuvok and nodded to him as their paths crossed. He returned the greeting without really looking at her and went back down the hall she'd just come from. She went down his hallway, continuing her macabre count. 'Thirty-six, thirty-seven...' Her search of the ship was almost complete, she only had half this deck and then back to the bridge.

Suddenly, she saw a blur of light blue and she went on alert. She heard hard footsteps, like hooves on the deck plating. She began pursuing the unknown alien.

Janeway glared at the science station in front of her. These Ssckerellon definitely had a low opinion of "mammalian species". Anything warm-blooded, actually. They had encountered a bird-like species once, and classified it as "lesser," the same they apparently gave anyone not reptilian or insectoid, which they seemed to be a combination of.

"Hey, Captain. You might wanna check this out," Harry called. Kathryn trotted over to his station and peered over his shoulder. He stepped aside so she could see a little better. She read the screen out loud, for the benefit of the bridge crew, who was patched in via their communicators.

" 'Live specimen recovered... mammal/lesser... assumed sentient, all attempts at communication failed... known species—thirty-four point eight, previously... exterminated?' " Janeway looked up at her ensign as though he might have the answer to her outraged query. She returned to reading. " 'Furred, external... front-set optic organs... third spectrum high.' What's that supposed to mean?" She raised her eyebrows and continued: " 'Grazer characteristics with omnivorous tendencies, bipedal mammal base-form..."

"You think that means 'humanoid?' " Commander Chakotay's voice came through the combadge on Janeway's uniform.

"Pretty good chance, is my guess. 'As usual, gender characteristics unavailable in recognizable form. Thin hide, easily ruptured/damaged, light shaded. Fur centered to cranium and assumed genitalia... Bone structure weak, though sturdy by lesser standards.' This thing reads like a half-translated, Gorn med student's journal and it goes on like this for three pages, there's no useful information here. All I get from it is that they had someone captive on this ship. A humanoid of unknown gender or species. We should try to locate their brig or... whatever they might keep a 'specimen' in—a giant petri dish, if necessary, and see if they're still alive."

Then the sound began. It was a rhythmic 'cl-clack, cl-clack.' And it was coming closer. Janeway pulled her phaser and pointed it at the sound. Suddenly, a blur shot through the door, faster than it could completely open. It tripped into a pile of blue and white. It—no, she, definitely she—stood up and faced B'Elanna. Kyote followed, brandishing her phaser.

Ghosts, Chapter 3

The alien turned toward Kyote and lowered her forehead, from which a five-inch curving, opalescent, cerulean horn grew, threatening the Ensign. Kyote aimed her phaser at her.

"Stand down, Ensign." The captain held out a hand to Kyote, who reluctantly lowered her weapon. The alien danced agitatedly back and forth, like a bipedal equine. Janeway got her first good look at her. She was just shorter than Harry Kim, with a wild blue mane that tumbled down her back almost to her knees. Her eyes, which were as big as any Betazoid, were flashing white, rolling like a frightened horse. She stamped her hoofed feet, which had blue fetlocks, matted with blood darker red than human, another sign of agitation. Any time a crewmember would get too close, she'd lower that horn of hers at them, making it clear that she wouldn't be taken without a fight. Her small nostrils flared and she emitted an unhappy snort, while a deep bass growl began from somewhere in her slender throat.

Her skin was white and pink-veined, tiny blue hairs covering about as much of it as if she were a human. Her breasts were strawberry colored and the fluff between her legs looked like it would be soft as bunny fur if it weren’t matted and filthy. All of her was dirty, as though the Ssckerellon hadn't offered her any sanitary facilities at all. Somehow, Kathryn was not surprised.

"Anotu oijhh iajoiut loupriit nyinliisken."

"I'm sorry, we don't understand," Janeway replied, curious as to why the universal translator wasn't doing its job. Tuvok came in and, seeing that no one else was brandishing arms, lowered his phaser. The alien let out a high-pitched, nasal whinny and stamped her left hoof. Her forehead lowered and she pawed the deck.

"Whoa, girl," Harry began, drawing the alien's attention. "Easy. We're not here to hurt you." The woman calmed a little, sidestepping a little closer to Harry. "Here," he said, taking off his jacket. She watched every move he made suspiciously. When he came too close, she sidled away slightly, lowering her horn, watching him. He slowly extended his jacket to her, offering it. She looked around at the group, shifting her weight, and then finally took the proffered clothing. She put it on and it fell to just below her waist, barely covering what needed to be covered.

"Jzhelout ep." She nervously glanced at the crewmembers surrounding her, then sidled up next to Harry, pressing herself against him for protection. "Yemolin zhekano ple vel wirk'be..." She began murmuring something in her language, completely lost on the five Starfleet personal standing around her.

"Species 1013. Adversarial. Uncompromising. The Borg were unable to assimilate them. They made poor drones, tending to self-terminate after rejecting borg technology with which they are incompatible. The Borg did not find them a threat, however. Their ships are better suited to atmosphere than vacuum as their hulls rupture fairly easily. Their ships were assimilated for their superior shield technology and high-yield torpedo blast ability then rejected as they could not be adapted to borg technology."

"Why did their bodies reject borg technology?" the doctor inquired. Seven turned her focus to him.

"Their hides were difficult to pierce, even with assimilation drills. The nanoprobes could not travel freely. Furthermore," Seven paused and swallowed. She glanced at Lt. Torres, who was watching her intently. For some reason, unknown to her, her throat was suddenly dry. She swallowed and tried to continue. "Their bodies produce a..." she coughed slightly, "produce a..." the deck began rocking, swaying up and down before her eyes. She suddenly felt arms around her and realized she was on the ground. She looked up and saw Lieutenant Torres. Was that worry? Concern for her? Seven's stomach suddenly felt light.

"You assured me that you were up to this," the Doctor reprimanded softly to Seven. She tried to sit up but failed. Another failure. Another miscalculation. Seven felt frustrated and weak. Her eyes began burning and she forced herself not to cry. She had not told anyone about her crying earlier and Naomi had not noticed.

"It's alright," B'Elanna said in a voice that was barely a whisper. Only Seven's superior hearing was able to pick it up. She looked at B'Elanna in surprise. She looked just as startled as Seven felt. She heard the captain order the transporter to move her to sickbay and she started to reach for B'Elanna's hand, thinking 'don't leave me' when she materialized on a biobed. A nanosecond later, the Doctor appeared and the new tests began.

Janeway stalked into Sickbay demanding, "What happened?" The doctor walked over to her, responding quietly, so he didn't disturb his patients.

"Her body is still fighting the poison, captain. It's running through her bloodstream, faster than I can track it. I've given her a hypospray to use whenever she feels dizzy, to counteract the effects of the alien toxin. It's my hope, that with several treatments, we will be able to eradicate the poison from her system." Janeway nodded at the end of the doctor's speech.

"Keep me informed."

"Yes captain." Janeway looked at the alien woman, asleep on another biobed.

"What about our guest?"

"She's resting. The universal translator has yet to begin picking up on her language. Ensign Kim has been working on it all day." Then the doctor began smiling. "But, on the other hand, she's beginning to pick up on a few of our words. So even if Mr. Kim is unable to do his usual stand-up job, she should be able to communicate in a day or so, given her rate of learning."

"Dock tor?" The alien girl announced her consciousness. Janeway looked at her. She was wearing an unflattering starfleet-gray hospital robe and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. "I em... bat room?" Her words were heavily accented and halting, but the meaning was clear.

"Of course. Right through there is the bathroom," he directed her, and then turned to the captain. "See what I mean?" Janeway smiled and nodded, then turned back to Seven of Nine, who was asleep. She walked up to her and watched her worriedly. Her hair had escaped its usual knot and Kathryn brushed it off her face maternally. A soft thumping alerted her to the alien's return and she refocused her attention momentarily.

"Do you have a name?" Janeway asked. The other woman smiled.

"Arynlliana Camylleenta Artruo, Cap teen."

"That's a mouthful. Is it alright if I just call you Aryn?" Arynlliana wrinkled her forehead slightly, trying to make out the captain's words. Janeway understood and tried to clarify. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said, placing her hand over her heart. "But usually people call me Captain or Kathryn. I'm asking if I may shorten your name, so that I can better pronounce it," she explained, then pointed to Arynlliana. "Aryn." Arynlliana listened carefully, watching the captain and decided to guess at what she was saying.

Placing her hand over her own chest, she repeated, "Aryn. I." Then she pointed to Janeway with one long-clawed finger. "Cap-ten." She lowered her hand. Kathryn smiled. The doctor had been right about how fast she learned. Her big, green eyes were fixed on the captain's, somehow unnerving her. Janeway couldn't help wondering if the young woman was an empath, probably just because her eyes looked so—penetrating. Yet, they were innocent at the same time.

"B'Elanna?" Kathryn turned towards the voice. Seven was sitting up in bed, looking about with semi-glazed eyes. Kathryn walked towards her, watching her eyes focus and her face sculpt itself into its usual lack of expression. "Doctor," she began, "how long have I been here?"

"Not long," he replied. "Only about fifteen minutes. Don't worry," he reassured her, "You're going to be fine if you take it easy." He then proceeded to explain to her what had happened as he had to the captain only moments before.

"Then may I continue my—"

"Seven! What did I just say? You need to regenerate, eat and take it easy. Speeches are not in any of those categories." Seven glared at the hologram and looked at Janeway.

"Please, captain," she began, and then saw the look in the captain's eyes. There would be no more briefing. At least, not for her. She sighed. "I... wish to be useful."

"Seven," the captain said, her features melting into compassion. "You have been useful. You will be useful again. But you need to rest and eat. How long has it been since you've regenerated for an entire cycle?" Seven looked away. "How long?"

"Nine days." Seven did not look up.

"Seven! You only reported—" the doctor began sputtering, but Janeway interrupted him.

"That's alright, Doctor. I'm sure Seven is ready to return to her alcove." Janeway gave Seven a meaningful look. Seven cocked her head, then nodded.

"Yes, captain." Seven slid off the biobed and took the hypo that the doctor offered her with a reproving look. She did not look up as she left Sickbay. She walked down the corridor towards the turbolift, mentally reviewing Arynlliana's species. Species 1019. The J'marel. Hunted by the Ssckerellon when the Borg encountered them. Peaceful, gentle. A combination of equine and feline. They had made good drones. Seven had not had time to share this information with the crew. She knew that the captain would now finish her lecture with the data she had submitted before the review. Seven was so deep in thought that she failed to notice Lt. Torres until she had stepped on her boot. She jerked her head up and looked at the Lieutenant, mentally flinching and expecting a scathing 'why don't you look where you're going?' Instead, she saw worry in the other woman's eyes.

"Seven, are you okay?" B'Elanna wasn't sure why she had come down here. She had told Tom that she was going to Engineering. She also didn't understand why she had lied. Concern for a comrade—no. B'Elanna had never cared about Seven. Why should she now? She knew the questions, just not the answers, so here she was—seeking them.

"I am... on my way to Cargo Bay Two. To regenerate. I have had difficulties as of late."

"Yeah, me too. I've been waking up with a splitting headache for over a week."

"I have not had any... headaches, but my inability to regenerate has lasted for a similar period of time."

"No kidding. Think it had something to do with our intruder's visit?" B'Elanna asked, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to lean on the wall behind her.

"Perhaps. The Ssckerellon emit a mild telepathic field that can disrupt the biorhythms of other species. They use it for communication." Seven's heart was beginning to pound and her hand holding the hypospray shook slightly. She swallowed and felt her lips twitch into a smile. "I must go now, Lieutenant. Th-thank you for your concern." Seven hurried through the turbolift doors and ordered the computer to send her to deck four.

B'Elanna stood in shock. Had Seven just smiled? She watched Seven's figure retreat into the turbolift and just stood there, feeling more confused than ever.

Ghosts, Chapter 4

In the following month, Harry Kim and Voyager's newest passenger became very close. Tom teased Harry, but he told B'Elanna that he was really happy for him. B'Elanna kept her feelings to herself. That she didn't understand why Tom couldn't seem to support Harry without teasing him, for one. Though Harry said he understood and that after all they'd been through, they always knew what the other one meant, B'Elanna still couldn't. She hated that Harry was closer to Tom than she was, though she was the one in the relationship with him.

She began thinking she might be happier without Tom. They hadn't done anything for fun in the last five weeks, she was just... bored. The only reason she stayed with him was because she still loved him. But... She didn't love him like she used to. Not like a lover. Like a friend. She shook her head and finished confiding to Harry. "And I hate that I feel more comfortable talking to you," B'Elanna looked down at her plate, which was only half-eaten, "Than to Tom." Harry looked at her with sympathetic eyes.

"Why can't you talk to Tom?"

"He's always busy... or he just doesn't seem to want to talk. Or rather, to listen to me. I've dropped hints, but he's oblivious."

"Well, I hate to say it, B'Elanna, but maybe you're better off without him. If you don't even feel comfortable sharing your feelings with him, then you can't spend your life with him." B'Elanna brought her fist up to her mouth thoughtfully. "You're my two best friends. I know that Tom loves you and that you love him. But if it isn't working out, there's no reason to keep beating a dead horse." B'Elanna's head shot up.

"You know what? You're right. But how do I tell Tom? I don't want to hurt him."

"Well, you could sing 'The time has come to say good-bye.'" Harry grinned and B'Elanna laughed. Then Harry's face turned serious. "Just try to be gentle. I'm the one who has to pick up the pieces." They exchanged smiles.

"So how's Aryn?" B'Elanna grinned at Harry. Everyone knew that he and she were a hot item. As hot as she and Tom had once been. B'Elanna expected a pang, but all she felt was the pain of losing what she had once had—not Tom.

"We've—she's—um, we're..."

"Come on, Harry. Tell me everything." Harry grinned.

"Lets just say, I didn't make the wrong choice for once." B'Elanna smiled.

"I'm glad to hear that." They ate in comfortable silence until Seven walked in. Seven had been terse and flighty around B'Elanna lately, never spending more time in her presence than necessary. Even more so than usual. Now Seven glanced over at them and walked quickly to the other side of the Mess Hall.

"What's with her?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. She's been acting strange ever since that incident with the bug people." B’Elanna said. Harry laughed. The 'bug people' was what the crew referred to the Ssckerellon as, since most of them couldn't reproduce the guttural hiss the beginning of their name required for correct pronunciation.

"Do you think she's okay? I've noticed that she's more reclusive than she used to be. This is the first time I've even seen her in here in quite a while. I think she's been eating here after hours."

"Why do you think that is?" B'Elanna asked. Seven of Nine sat alone in her corner, unable to not hear the conversation between the two other officers. She had been strangely fixated on Lt. Torres lately and she spent all her off-duty time trying to figure out why. She didn't understand why she was obsessed with this individual, but she was. The way she walked, smelled, the texture of her hair, the way she looked in her uniform... Seven moved her food around her plate, not really noticing it until Neelix's fuzzy yellow head popped into her view.

"Why, hello Seven? How are you?" Seven forced herself to eat a fork full of her nutritional supplement to keep Neelix from commenting on her loss of appetite.

"I am... fine." She chewed the food, noting for the first time that it had no real taste. It had never bothered her before, but chewing slowly, leaving it in her mouth longer than necessary, she had suddenly realized that its tastelessness was unappealing.

"Really?" Neelix sat down across from Seven and leaned towards her, his face all friendly coaxing. "C'mon, Seven. You may not smile, but I can still tell when you're frowning more than usual. I'm your friend, you can tell me what's wrong."

"Are you?" Seven felt... alone.

"Am I what?" Neelix was as bright eyed as a child. 'So innocent,' Seven thought, enviously. She suddenly desired his naïveté, his... good-natured amiability. Though she often found him annoying, his approach did seem to work to win him friends.

Friends. Friends had never meant much to Seven. She took the few friendships she had for granted. The doctor and the captain both professed to be her friends, she and Tuvok were close colleagues, but she still did not enjoy the activities that the other crewmembers shared. She decided it was perhaps because she did not share the closeness that they did. Harry Kim and Tom Paris were her prime subjects on the matter.

She did not have anyone with whom she was as close. Not even the doctor, because his program too often got in the way of their relationship. In addition, she had a suspicion that he harbored amorous feelings towards her, making their friendship slightly uncomfortable since the sentiment was not mutual.

"Seven? Seven? Am I what?" Seven returned her attention the Neelix, whose face had turned to anxious worry in a matter of moments.

"My friend." Seven took another bite of her food and noticed that it seemed to have a taste this time—an unpleasant one.

"Of course I am." Neelix put one of his hands over hers. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"I am..." Seven heard B'Elanna laugh and her throat felt like it closed. She stood up abruptly. "Excuse me," she said to Neelix as she walked quickly out of the Mess Hall and towards Astrometrics.

"Weird," said Harry to B'Elanna, commenting on Seven's departure. B'Elanna said nothing, merely watched the door, feeling her hearts begin to pound and worrying about Seven of Nine.

B'Elanna walked into Astrometrics to confront Seven. What she found made her stop in her tracks. Seven was sitting against the console, on the floor, her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking. B'Elanna rushed to her, dropping to her knees and putting her hands on Seven's shoulders.

"Seven? Are you okay?" Seven looked up and jerked away, standing as quickly as she could. Her face was tear streaked and her eyes swollen.

"Lieutenant! What are you doing here?"

"You seemed distressed in the Mess Hall and I had something to talk to you about already." Seven forced herself to stop trembling and control her emotions.

"I am fine, Lieutenant."

"Bull. People don't cry when they are 'fine.' Look, Seven. I want to know why you've been avoiding me. Why every time we're together you want to run to the other side of the ship and won't give me the time of the day unless you have to."

"It is eleven-hundred, forty-three hours. But what has the time of day to do with anything? The computer can supply you—"

"It's a figure of speech, Seven. It means that you won't speak to me."

"We are speaking." B'Elanna stood there a moment watching Seven, trying to figure her out.

"Then tell me what's wrong?" B'Elanna asked softly.

"Why should you care?" Seven turned away. "You have never shown any interest in my feelings before."

"My mistake," B'Elanna said, surprising them both. Both were silent and Seven refused to meet B'Elanna's eyes. "Maybe..." Seven looked up.

"What?" B'Elanna thought carefully before she answered.

"We could start over. Try not to be... adversarial. We could be friends."

"Friends?" Seven looked at B'Elanna, her heart racing. The question was very important to her and it showed in her eyes. B'Elanna saw it and couldn't stop herself. When her lips touched Seven's she discovered what had been missing in her life for so long. Something that Tom couldn't give her. 'Tom!' B'Elanna pulled back, apologizing. Seven's eyes opened and it seemed to take her a moment to realize what B'Elanna was saying. She frowned. "What are you sorry for?"

"I—Tom—I shouldn't have..." Seven looked at B'Elanna patiently while she stammered.

"Lieutenant Torres. You did nothing that I didn't wish. As for Ensign Paris, that is your concern, I cannot help you with him. As I assume it is your wish, I will not tell him of your...indiscretion, nor shall we discuss what has happened further until you are ready." Seven forced the calm words out, forced herself to be calm. Inside, her heart was pounding, she didn't want to pretend nothing happened, she wanted B'Elanna to herself, but she wanted her to be happy more than either of than either of those things, so she offered her silence.

"Thank you, Seven." B'Elanna had a new respect for her, but at the same time, a little part of her wished that Seven would demand she leave Tom and force the issue. But she knew that would only make her dislike Seven and refuse to leave Tom. But still...

"Why?" Tom asked. He had come to B'Elanna's quarters after his duty shift, prepared to ask her to marry him. Instead, he had been ambushed with her announcement that she wanted to break up. He had thought everything was going perfectly, that he had found someone to spend the rest of his life with. He couldn't believe that he was so wrong. "At least tell me why."

"I'm... bored, Tom. The things we had—they just aren't there anymore."

"Don't you love me?"

"Yeah. But not like that. It's... gone for me. I'm sorry." Tom didn't stay another minute. He turned and left, no interest in remaining friends—it would just be too painful. But he was a man that took no for an answer. He just didn't ever want to see her again and cursed fate that he would be stuck with her for another sixty years, barring wormholes and new technology. He headed to the nearest replicator to recycle the ring he'd spent a half-week's replicator rations on.

B'Elanna didn't run to Seven, no matter how much she wanted to. She didn't want to 'rebound' to someone she really cared about. But she didn't know if this would count as a rebound. Until she figured it out, she didn't want to act impulsively, so she didn't act at all.

Seven walked grimly to the captain's ready room, report in hand. She had found Arynlliana, the J'marel's home world. It was devastated. Janeway looked up from the report, her face pleading Seven to say she was wrong. Seven of Nine looked away.

Everyone on the ship had begun to know the bright-eyed, young, optimistic Aryn. She spent part of her time in sickbay, learning how to become a doctor and the rest with the captain, learning to be a science officer, a position that Voyager seemed to be lacking. She was gentle and quiet, but also very wild. The gentle side had won her over with the doctor, reminding him of the pupil he had lost years before—when Seven came on board. Everyone who had liked the gentle Kes liked Aryn. And everyone who liked adventure liked her, too.

She had started going on away missions with the crew, especially when food was on the list of supplies. She had an uncanny knack for finding food that even Neelix couldn't render inedible. Even Seven liked her for her efficiency and tenacity. She was always early and finished her work ahead of schedule. The thing that puzzled Seven was her daydreaming. She often seemed to 'space out' at inopportune times, sometimes ruining a project. Never on anything important, but Seven still worried when she saw the girl working on something that would affect all their lives.

Seven had worried that she would take her place as the captain's prize pupil, but such had not been the case. Certainly, the captain spent a lot of time with her, but never at the expense of the plans she made with Seven. Often Seven thought that was one of the things that made her a good captain, she tried to make time for everyone.

Aryn had been searching for her people since she learned of them from Seven's report. She had been alone on a planet for twenty-five years. She had been a mere child—only equivalent to five years, Earth development. But her species aged quicker—six times faster, to be precise. So, in actuality, she had been less than a full year old. Her parents had taken her, in an escape pod, to the surface of the planet to escape attack. Her father didn't survive the crash and her mother died a few months later. She raised herself, hoping that one day, she would be found.

But now...

Though she had been rescued and she lived a very happy life on Voyager, she had still harbored the hope that she would reunite with her people one day. According to the readings of the planet that had been identified as the J'marel home world, that would never happen.

Seven turned silently and left Janeway to her thoughts. Kathryn reread the report and estimated how much time it would take off their journey to investigate the planet firsthand.

B'Elanna looked at the away team. Herself, Harry, Aryn, the doctor and the captain. Aryn's usually bright eyes were shadowed and her normally milky skin was grey. Even her horn was dull and dark, causing Harry to send quite a few worried glances her way. Harry had become her best friend now, more than ever. It was hard on him, since he was also Tom's best friend, but he managed somehow. Tom was avoiding her like the plague and she just didn't have the time to care. She was always busy working or thinking.

She had been spending quite a bit of time with Seven. Somehow they kept managing to schedule projects so that they were working together or they 'ran into' each other in the mess hall or corridors. She felt something for Seven, of that she was sure.

"...will be your responsibility, Lieutenant." The captain finished her instructions and indicated that everyone should get on the transporter platform. B'Elanna stepped up, still lost in her own thoughts.

No sooner than they had materialized on the planet than B'Elanna lost hope of finding any survivors. Less than a meter away was a skull that resembled Aryn's features, only the horn was longer and the jaw was bigger. She opened her tricorder and began scanning for technological debris.

Aryn looked around at her every nightmare. She stepped forward, her tricorder forgotten. Memories of being safe and warm in her mother’s arms flooded into her mind, being replaced by memories of coming back to the crash site to find her mother cold and lifeless. For this is what she saw everywhere she looked. Dead, cold bones and rock. On a continent that had once held periwinkle grass blowing in the wind against an emerald lake and blue sky. Opalescent stone houses were reduced to rubble and so much grey where it had once been white. Her hooves sunk in dusty, burnt clay that had once been alive and beautiful. It had all been beautiful. Now it was...

Harry's head whipped around at the sound of Arynlliana's scream. He ran to her as she collapsed, screaming words in her own language that he couldn't understand. He tried to hug her but she shoved him away, standing on shaky legs. Her horn was glowing faintly—a dull golden color. Tears ran down her face and she suddenly jerked her body around, galloping off away from the team.

"Aryn!" Kathryn shouted, putting up her tricorder. She began running after her, but her footing wasn't as sure on the rocky ground and she slipped. A hand pulled her up as she watched Harry Kim speed past her and she smiled at B'Elanna. "Thank you." B'Elanna nodded, then continued her pursuit of Harry and Aryn.

All her hopes, her dreams—gone. Aryn ran, blinded by tears, away from the death. But where could she run? Everywhere she turned, there was more death, more bones. She couldn't outrun them.

She felt a burning in her forehead, under her horn. It felt like it was pulling her somewhere. She chased it, chased the feeling, chased her broken dreams and ran while her throat burned from the acrid air and her hooves gathered little rocks to cut painfully into the soft parts of her feet. Suddenly the ground dropped out from under her and she fell for what felt like forever, finally landing to a world of darkness.

B'Elanna grabbed Harry before he could jump after Aryn. He struggled for a moment and then slouched against B'Elanna. "Lia!" he yelled down. "Arynlliana!!" He waited silently for an answer, but none came. B'Elanna felt him crushing her hand as if she was his only anchor to life—but his grip was slipping.

Harry composed himself before the rest of the away team arrived. B'Elanna kept what had happened between them, leaving her friend some dignity. She watched silently as the captain organized the party, planning on how to enter the small hole and retrieve Aryn. B'Elanna felt distant from it all, like she wasn't really alive. She had felt like that since she arrived on the planet. She felt cold and alone. She walked up to Janeway and noticed that there was a look of depression breaking through the captain's eyes.

Perhaps it was the planet, B'Elanna thought. Aryn had often displayed empathic abilities. Perhaps there was a psychic echo issued by the former inhabitants while they were being slaughtered.

When B'Elanna had been at the Academy, she had known a Betazoid cadet who had talked once of psychic echoes. He had said that they had driven his sister insane when they once visited a planet that the Cardassians had kept and murdered Bajoran slaves on. That Betazoid girl joined the Maquis a few weeks later, and B'Elanna had met up with her only once during her time with the rebels, but she remembered the haunted look in her eyes and the way she talked about 'the voices of ghosts.'

The Betazoid had heard the echoes because she was telepathic. B'Elanna wondered if telepaths could leave an echo that non-empaths could pick up on subconsciously. It was the first time B'Elanna had thought hard about telepaths and empaths, having never really been close to any herself. Tuvok, Kes, Suter and Aryn were the only ones she had spent any time with, and it had never been any quality or even quantity time at that.

B'Elanna broke out of her musings as the captain told her to get back up to the ship, that she could take a break until later. She saw that Tuvok had beamed down with a few crewmen and repelling/climbing equipment. Tuvok was issuing orders to a couple security personal in the group while the others began setting up equipment for the rescue expedition. B'Elanna, who had never been timid, approached the captain with her suspicion. The captain listened attentively, as did Lt. Tuvok, the latter making her somewhat nervous. But when she was finished, Tuvok surprised her.

"I believe she may be correct. I have experienced a growing unease since we arrived, but had dismissed it as concern that we might be attacked by whoever did this."

"Whoever did this?" Harry snapped. "What do you mean 'whoever did this?' It was the Ssckerellon! Who else?" Tuvok raised an eyebrow at the outburst.

"We have no proof that the Ssckerellon were even involved, Ensign."

"They had Aryn on their ship!"

"They found her on the planet that her parents' escape pod crashed on twenty-five years earlier," Tuvok calmly countered

"What about their own report that her species was 'exterminated?' Or Seven of Nine's report that they hunted the J'marel?"

"Still, there is no proof that the Ssckerellon were responsible for this. We do not know how many enemies the J'marel had."

"What other species could be so cold-blooded?"

"Enough, gentlemen," Janeway interrupted. "This is no time for this. When we rescue Aryn and are back on the ship, you can debate the matter and work on investigating the incident. But for now, can we please concentrate on the matter at hand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said and Tuvok nodded. B'Elanna watched them walk toward the rest of the team as she dematerialized.

Seven reviewed Voyager's music files, looking for something different from the music the doctor had already exposed her to. Despite how fond he was of the pieces, she often felt that their lyrics lacked the emotional intensity that she felt at that moment. She had begun by exploring the Klingon musical section, finding the operas and common songs a little too bloody for her tastes. Even the love ballads seemed to have fighting and dying firmly interwoven throughout.

She finally found one that she liked the lyrics to, but the tune was nonexistent. She didn't mind the monotone as much as the lack of rhythm. It was listed as popular with the adolescent crowd. In fact, much of the music in that category was lyrically appealing to her, but often lacked any instruments but the drums that Klingons were so fond of.

For days she had been conducting her search in her off hours. Since Mezoti, Azan and Rebi had left, she had found herself with more free time with which to occupy herself with her quest to 'discover herself,' as the Doctor put it. Music seemed at least a little important with every member of the crew, so she thought she should begin forming her own opinions.

Vulcans did not have lyrical music, not that she was surprised to discover this. The Romulan music on file was full of propaganda, the Cardassian music: paranoia. Andorian, Deltan, Bolian... She scanned hundreds of cultures, finding music in each one that she liked and music that she didn't. But she was having difficulty finding the right balance of emotion from music and lyrics matching her emotions.

Since she was born Human, she decided to try more Terran music. Recent music tended more towards synthesized sound in orchestral styles. She looked at the twenty-third century. In the later part, Earth lagged in musical achievements, the middle was filled with war songs and the early was brass and drum-styled.

She finally found what she was looking for in the tumultuous time just before the Eugenics Wars. In the mid-to-late-twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. The electric guitar was a sound she liked and she found the electric bass guitar strangely comforting in its repetition. The drums had more variation in sound and she liked the emotional honesty of the lyrics. She didn't like the songs that hid their meanings in euphemisms, as they were hard for her to understand or identify with, but she liked the ones that bluntly stated feelings and emotions.

A tiny note in the database caught her attention. Apparently, Arynlliana had liked this particular music as well, since there was a program that contained quite a few of the songs Seven had already begun to listen to and enjoy. She decided that she would request to review Aryn's files when she returned to Voyager. For now, though, it was dinnertime and she had promised Naomi a game of Kadis Kot after dinner, so she had to stay on schedule.

On her way to the Mess Hall, Seven bumped into B'Elanna. She started to smile (something she only did for B'Elanna) when she saw the expression on the other woman's face. "What has happened?"

"We lost Aryn." B'Elanna didn't meet her eyes. Seven felt like ice was moving down her back.

"She is dead?"

"No!" B'Elanna looked up. "At least, I don't think so. She fell down a hole on the planet and no one knows what happened to her." Suddenly, the red alert klaxon went off and both women hesitated only a moment before heading to their stations while Commander Chakotay's voice announced:

"All hands, brace for impact. I repeat..."

Ghosts, Chapter 5

The Ssckerellon ship loomed on the viewscreen, nearly four times the size of Voyager. Neither ship moved, as if frozen in the cold blackness above the lonely scorched planet. Chakotay wanted desperately to beam the away team to Voyager, but couldn't risk dropping their shields. He leaned forward in the command chair and ordered that the other ship be hailed.

"They're not responding, sir," the crewman at Harry's console announced. Chakotay flinched inwardly. Of all times for Voyager to be missing her captain, chief of security and operations officer. He thanked the gods that he still had B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris. With Tom at the helm and B'Elanna at the engines, they could make a run for it if necessary.

But right that moment, neither ship gave anything away about its commander or situation. They simply sat in space, staring each other down. The Ssckerellon ship was pitch black and in stark contrast to the little pale Voyager. Like a great chess match, they waited for the next move—neither quite sure whose turn it was.

Arynlliana blinked up at the shadowed figure standing over her. Her head throbbed and her stomachs heaved, but she leapt up to her feet and pranced away from the stranger. He chuckled and a moment later a light flared into existence.

"Easy, child. I'm not going to hurt you." Arynlliana gasped at the sight of him. His long, blood-red horn was broken and cracked, his black mane long and matted. Gentle green eyes met her own from the dark golden skinned male. He wore a torn robe that matched his horn in color and condition. He stood nearly a foot taller than her, making him over two meters high easily, though he was so thin he looked frail. In the tradition of the males of her species, his mane ran under his chin and down to his clavicle in front as well as in back. It was thick and stained with dirt and blood.

"Who are you?" She asked quietly. He closed his eyes and growled in relief, his head thrown back

"It has been so long since I heard a living voice!" He lowered his head, opened his eyes and smiled at her. "You have no idea how beautiful it is to me. I am Laj Raykma, of the Western Sand Valley. You are...?"

"Arynlliana Arturo. I think I'm from the Northern Grass Beach of the Second Continent."

"I'd say so, with your coloring. How have you reached here? By star vessel? Or sky ship? Is there still a colony alive?" He stepped towards her hopefully, touching his horn to hers. Immediately his face fell and he roared in hopelessness. Arynlliana shook with the memories she had received from him. Brief and fleeting, but strong and frightening. She had forgotten touching her horn to her mother's for comfort at night when the predators closed in on their escape pod.

With her mother, it had been comforting. With this male, however... it was disturbing. She saw the land being torn by fire and weapons, her people screaming and dying, dark blood boiling. She shook her head, tears running down her face and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. She fell to her knees once again in despair.

"Who, Laj? Why?" Laj looked at her, his horn dark and dull, his skin pale.

"They were like insects. A plague of them. Our starfarers had sent us reports on them—how they hunted us and did lethal experiments on those that they caught. We thought that surely, nothing like they could truly exist. But we were wrong. And they found our homeworld. Just to hunt us for game and amusement. They took some of our children as slaves.

"The screams were deafening. We had no defenses. We never created anything so destructive as they had. We had no chance—horn, tooth and claw was not enough, it couldn't be." Laj hung his head, tears running down his cheeks, leaving clean tracks. "I hid. Spirits help me; I hid. After my great-grandchildren were ripped from me by their weapons and fire, I hid down here. I waited to die, wanted to die. They took my wife, children, and their children and theirs. So many dead. I'm the only one who survived. I had hoped..." He sagged to the ground.

"I've been alone here for about seven seasons, though it's so hard to tell them apart without ground growth."

"How have you survived this long?"

"There's a spring, about thirty steps that way," he said, pointing. "Mushrooms and small roots grow by it, little crustaceans swim in it. Not much to live on, but it has kept me alive. Once a season a small shrub that grows in the water produces berries. Hard to know how it knows to do it every season, but it does. The best time-keeper in this place." Arynlliana noticed for the first time that his mane had several white streaks in it.

"So you never leave the cave?"

"Once or twice. But there's never anything up there but ashes. Sometimes it rains and the ashes become mud."

"How do you get out?"

"Same way you came in... But a little more gracefully." He stood up in an arthritic way and walked towards the only patch of natural light that Arynlliana saw. She followed him and looked up. There was a webwork of vines leading up for what looked like thirty meters. Arynlliana felt amazed that she had survived the fall, much less intact.

"They're strong enough to climb?" She took a patch in her hands and tugged, testing it.

"Strong enough for me, so there's no reason it shouldn't hold you. Just avoid the western side, there's a particularly vicious plant that grows over there. Took off part of my ear once," Laj pulled his hair aside to show the ravaged ear as he said this. "Stick to the east and you should be fine." He turned and began walking away.

"Aren't you coming with me?" Arynlliana watched Laj hobble to the far wall.

"No. I've gotten too old to climb up anymore. Besides that, I don't really want to live anywhere but here anymore. After all, I've got everything I need, can't ask for more."

"You don't look healthy. You should at least come with me and get a little more food and perhaps get cleaned up." Laj laughed heartily.

"I must appear frightening indeed, then. Not many reflective surfaces down here. No, no. I'm fine. A little thin, perhaps, but I'd prefer to remain down here. I've learned to become fairly good company for myself." He sat down and pulled out a long, stringy root to gnaw on. "Good-bye, friend Rinly." Arynlliana looked at him, a memory of her father calling her that flashing into her mind. Tears stung her eyes as she turned back and began climbing the vines.

"Good-bye, friend Laj," she whispered as she climbed toward daylight.

Janeway paced agitatedly from one group of her officers to the other. The first rescue attempt had ended in a medical situation. Nothing approaching an emergency had happened yet, but the captain was still being cautious. Chakotay's report of the Ssckerellon ship couldn't have come at a worse time, it seemed.

They were trapped. Kathryn felt helpless and frightened. It took all her strength to appear neutral and not scream 'We're all going to die!' She cursed the damn planet and its fatalistic influences. She felt panicked when she had heard of the ship and ordered Chakotay to raise shields and had to stop herself from ordering him to destroy it.

Her heart pounded in her chest and ears and she was almost dizzy from the ever-increasing panic eating at her inside. Another rescue attempt seemed pointless—Aryn was probably already dead anyway. Just like they would all be soon. Hopelessness began eating at her mind.

Kathryn shook her head, banishing the unproductive thoughts. 'Concentrate on what's right in front of you, Kathryn Janeway. Finding one of your crew and helping her.' Replacing the negative thoughts with thoughts of finding Aryn completely safe and grateful, Janeway began organizing another attempt at finding Arynlliana.

Just as the party was finished organizing, Aryn climbed out of the hole. She stood watching the party form itself, unnoticed for almost half a minute. Then Harry saw her and faster than Aryn thought that Humans could move, he was in front of her, grabbing her close to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and just let him carry her away from the hole until she heard an authoritative "Ahem." She slid to the ground and hugged Tuvok.

This warranted two raised eyebrows from the Vulcan, but before he could protest or even react at all beyond his expressive brows, Aryn launched herself at Janeway to hug the captain. Kathryn briefly hugged her back firmly, then pulled back.

"I'm glad to have you back with us. It's amazing that you weren't seriously injured." Aryn, tired from emotional and physical exertions, merely nodded her agreement. Janeway smiled tightly then glanced at the sky. "Now if only we could get back to the ship..."

Neelix looked at the drawing Naomi had just handed him. It was really very good for someone her developmental age, but it didn't help alleviate any of the tension he was experiencing from the stalemate Voyager seemed to be having with the alien vessel. The drawing was of the Ssckerellon that had cornered Naomi in the turbolift—in quite a bit of detail and with smaller close-up drawings of the head, feet and hands.

"This is... very nice, Naomi. But don't you want to draw something a little more, er, cheery?" He gave her a big, encouraging smile and mentally prayed that he never had to see one of the 'bug people' himself.

"I don't feel very cheery." Naomi stared at the table in front of her. Neelix had tried, unsuccessfully, to lift her spirits since they had gone to red alert, but she just continued to be unhappy and withdrawn.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I want to talk to Seven." Naomi rested her head in her arms and stared at nothing.

"Well, Naomi, you, uh, you know that, uh, Seven is busy with the ship."

"I know," she said, sounding lost. Neelix put a hand on her shoulder. Just then, the ship lurched and both Neelix and Naomi were pitched forward.

"Return fire!" Chakotay yelled at the young woman at tactical. Phasers cut angry, glowing slashes through the vacuum, missing the lumbering giant in front of them by far to wide a margin in the first shot. The Ssckerellon shields harmlessly deflected the second shot. Voyager was not so lucky.

Consoles exploded and the automatic fire suppression system released a gas that was harmless to the half-dozen humanoids scurrying about the bridge. Paris swerved Voyager away from as many shots as he could, but without the order to retreat, he couldn't do much but delay what would be inevitable if they stayed much longer.

In Engineering B'Elanna spit curses at the 'bug people', Tom Paris, the people around her and all of their parentage. She coaxed her engines gently, trying very hard to keep up with the strain of Tom's piloting, encouraging them by cursing Tom in as many different languages as she could for putting them through such a horrible strain. Vorik merely raised an eyebrow at her 'eccentricity.'

In Astrometrics, Seven discovered a weakness in the Ssckerellon's defenses. Within minutes she had devised a plan of attack, not realizing that it would come too late...

In Samantha Wildman's quarters, a Ssckerellon materialized through a break in Voyager's shields and knocked Neelix into a bulkhead across the room. It walked right up to the cowering form of Naomi Wildman who opened her mouth to scream. She felt something sharp pierce her right hand before she could make a sound. A second later, she thought no more.

"Commander! I-I don't understand! The Ssckerellon are withdrawing!" Chakotay whirled to stare down the crewman, as if expecting to confess that he was lying and that the next hit would tear them to pieces. He ran up behind the crewman and rechecked the data. They were leaving!

"What's going on?" Chakotay demanded as the Ssckerellon ship sped away at warp. "Why did they break off their attack? We were losing!"

"Sir!" cried the crewman at tactical. "Apparently, one of the bug people beamed over here, then beamed off right before they withdrew!"

"Why? What did they take?" Chakotay walked up to her quietly. "Where did they materialize?"

Seven of Nine scanned the sensor data coming in until they froze on just one thing. She ran from Astrometrics to Samantha Wildman's quarters. None of the furniture was disturbed and it was oddly quiet.

"Naomi Wildman?" Seven scanned the room until her optical implant ran across something her human eye had missed—the crumpled form of Neelix. She jogged over to him and noted the huge bruise forming on the right side of his face. She ran into Naomi's room and as soon as she saw that Naomi wasn't there, something inside her snapped and she screamed. "Naomi!"

Ghosts, Chapter 6

Neelix was in Sickbay for almost a full day before he regained consciousness. Janeway had laid in a pursuit course for the Ssckerellon ship in hopes of reacquiring Naomi by using a plan that Seven of Nine had devised. Seven of Nine fell into a depressed pattern of regenerate, track the alien ship and back again. She skipped meals and B'Elanna began worrying about her. She was finally concerned enough to ask, but Seven merely stated:

"We have to find Naomi," and hurried away from the other woman. As thoughts of miscalculations and imperfection plagued the ex-drone's mind, she avoided B'Elanna out of self-loathing. For how could B'Elanna like her when she hated herself so much at that moment? But B'Elanna's heart merely became more firmly attached to Seven as her concern for the ex-borg grew.

What none of them dared express, not even in thought, was the fear that there was no point in rescuing Naomi Wildman. Not Sam Wildman, not Seven, B'Elanna or Kathryn Janeway. No one would even think the words 'Naomi might be dead.'

Even though they had no idea...

Naomi woke with a splitting headache. She rubbed her eyes and began looking around. She had to squint to see very well in the darkness and she felt around her for more clarity. She was in a cage about the size of her bedroom on Voyager. It had a wire mesh closing it off and it reminded her of the bug boxes Mr. Neelix used to contain the insects he used to help pollinate the hydroponics bay.

Thinking of bugs reminded her of why she was here. The bug people had taken her and hurt Mr. Neelix. She began to cry softly as she remembered her friend and baby-sitter hitting the wall. Her own pain didn't seem to matter as much as she wondered if Neelix was okay now or if no one found him and...

She covered her face in her hands and rubbed her pinky over the small bumps she felt as tears wetted her hands, making them cold. She lowered her hands to her lap and leaned her face against the cold, biting wire links. She thought about her mom and Seven and the captain and wondered if Voyager was still there, looking for her or giving her up for lost.

She remembered that first time she had strode into captain Janeway's office with her plan for finding Seven of Nine. It had been a good plan, but the captain already had a better one. Seven had come back to the ship and Naomi had no doubt that she would as well. She wondered if Seven had devised a plan, as she had, of rescuing her this time.

She imagined it would be a great plan, one that made all the bug people regret hurting her and her friends. She allowed a small smile to tug at her lips as she imagined everyone throwing a party in the Mess Hall, for her return safe from the bug people and how everyone would smile and hug her and lift her up, telling her how much they missed her, even Seven.

'No,' her mind thought. Seven would walk up to her, hands clasped behind her back and say 'Welcome back, Naomi Wildman.' Naomi grinned as she pictured it. Then Seven would lean down and say quietly, 'I missed you.' Naomi allowed these thoughts to comfort her as she sat alone: a little girl in a cold, dark cage.

Seven took the sonic spanner from its place on the deck next to the crouched form of B'Elanna Torres. They were working on the deflector coil, reconfiguring what they could from inside Voyager as an engineering team worked outside on the dish. They were configuring the deflector to be able to emit a wide pulse beam that would disrupt the Ssckerellon shields long enough for Voyager to destroy their shield generator.

Seven didn't feel that there was time for niceties.

B'Elanna had begun growing steadily more irritated at the blonde ex-borg all morning. Twice she had snapped at her about taking tools without asking, only to get a cold response from the other woman and more missing tools. She understood why Seven was so temperamental, but she was getting sick of trying to placate her. It seemed that suddenly, she couldn't do anything right. She misaligned three gel packs and two critical circuit pathways by 'point-oh-three-five,' according to Seven, by seemingly just looking at them wrong.

B'Elanna was sick of her attitude. The next time she was blamed for something she didn't do...

"Correct for my adjustments, Lieutenant, instead of daydreaming." B'Elanna looked at Seven in disbelief. Seven looked at the half-Klingon, whose mouth was agape and inwardly sighed in exasperation. She walked over to where Torres was working and pushed her aside. The next thing she knew, she was laying on the deck, her nose throbbing and a warm tickle running down her cheek.

Suddenly, all the emotion that Seven was coldly shoving down inside herself came boiling to the surface. She stood and confronted a startled chief engineer. "Seven, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Irrelevant!" Seven rushed B'Elanna, who stood dumbfounded until the former drone swung at her. Not one to be taken off guard, B'Elanna blocked it and swung her right arm in towards Seven's abdomen. Seven anticipated this and grabbed B'Elanna's arm, twisting it in a motion meant to break it. Rather than let her arm be broken, B'Elanna rolled into the other woman, bringing them both to the floor.

Seven kicked B'Elanna away from her and stood up. "I don't want to fight you, Seven!" B'Elanna had never been confronted by a rage worse than her own before and was beginning to worry that someone might get seriously hurt here. She wished that they hadn't been working alone today, so that somebody would know what was happening.

Seven didn't seem to hear B'Elanna and in fact charged her again, howling her rage like the fiercest Klingon in the heat of battle. B'Elanna blocked a lot of what was flying at her, but Seven was just faster and stronger. Finally, a blow landed against B'Elanna's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her and taking her to her knees. Seven brought both her fists together and was about to land a final attack when she looked at her target.

B'Elanna was on her knees, one arm up to protect herself from the blow Seven was preparing to deliver. One eye was beginning to swell and blood ran in a trickle from her lips. Seven's entire body went cold and tears ran from her eyes, both organic and not. She hiccuped and fell down on her knees in front of B'Elanna whispering, "What have I done?"

B'Elanna watched Seven drop, completely filled with confusion and just a little fear. But all of that disappeared when she heard the first choked sob issue from the slender throat of her opponent, her friend. Seven cried helplessly, hopelessly, sounding lost and broken. B'Elanna clutched her to her tightly, pulling the ex-drone into her lap. Seven wrapped her arms around B'Elanna's waist, crying against her breast. B'Elanna bounced Seven higher, like a child, so that she was completely resting in her lap, curled in a ball, draining herself.

"You are not to blame, Lieutenant." Seven choked out. "I am the one who is imperfect. I am flawed and ca-c-cannot," sobs stopped her words. "It is futile, I cannot be perfect, no matter how hard I-I try. I make one mistake after another, and now I have, have l-lost m-my f-f..."

"Shh..." B'Elanna soothed, stroking Seven's disheveled hair." It'll be okay. We'll find Naomi. It wasn't your fault we lost her, Seven. No one could have known that they would attack an entire ship just to steal one little girl."

"I miscalculated, I should have seen the transport immediately. I was preoccupied with breaking through their defenses, I-I..."

"Seven!" B'Elanna rocked gently. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that no one's perfect?" Seven's eyes grew big and she looked at B'Elanna like she had just said that there was no tooth fairy.

"I should be perfect." B'Elanna hugged Seven tightly.

"No. No one can be perfect, it isn't possible. After all, look at me. No one will ever call me perfect."

"But you do not strive for perfection. You are satisfied with being flawed." Seven felt herself being calmed by the rocking and stroking.

"Gee, thanks. Make a girl feel special, why don't you." B'Elanna growled with a laugh. Seven's big eyes looked innocently up at B'Elanna.

"But you are special." She quickly looked away. "You are special to me." B'Elanna's hearts began racing at Seven's words. How she wanted to speak them back to her! But B'Elanna cowered from her feelings, hating herself for it, but not finding the courage that Seven displayed with those few words. "Do you hate me?" Seven asked quietly.

"No! Why would you even ask a thing like that?" B'Elanna looked incredulously at Seven, who shrunk back.

"Because I am imperfect."

"Seven, what did I just say?"

"That no one is perfect. Yet, still, you show no feelings toward me other than friendship, despite what happened in the cargo bay a few months ago. You are no longer involved with Lieutenant Paris, yet you still have not spoken to me of what happened. Are you ashamed of what you did? Or is it me? Do you dislike me? Am I unattractive now? Why do you not feel for me that which I feel for you?" Seven looked at B'Elanna for answers, for a reason not to hate herself, for... love.

B'Elanna buried her head in Seven's hair, unable to stop herself from breathing deeply of the sweet aroma contained therein. Her pulse slammed in her ears and chest and tears burned at her vision for the words that she could not express. "What is it that you feel for me?" B'Elanna flinched from herself, her mind screaming 'Coward! Tell her!'

"I wrote a... poem." Seven said it so quietly that B'Elanna almost didn't hear. "I am not sure what I feel, so one night, I wrote the sensations down. It is not good, the meter is odd and it probably does not make sense—"

"Tell it to me. Please."

Seven began trembling in B'Elanna's arms, terrified of rejection. But even more frightening seemed the possibility of B'Elanna reciprocating her feelings, without her ever being aware. So she allowed herself to recite that which had woken her up from regenerating to write. She called up the information from her memory and began sharing her heart. "I named it, 'All I Know:'

'Cold without you
sick without you
all alone here
help kill my fear
where are you now
hold me somehow

please, I can't, please
please, I can't breathe
I feel hollow
I can't swallow
this pain inside
I fear I've died

help me, please help me

to find your love
to find you, love
I cannot wait
cannot tempt fate

that you'll turn from me

I need your arms
your eyes, your charms
your scent, your skin
how to begin?
It burns, It churns
It yearns, It learns
It becomes me
It comes to me
Please, I love you
Let me feel you
Heart, body, mind, soul
Come make me whole

All I want to breathe is you
All I know or feel is truth
And all the truth breathing through
Is that all I want is you."

Seven sat silent, waiting for B'Elanna's response. B'Elanna clutched Seven's shoulders and hugged her tightly, crying, her shoulders shaking and managed to get her voice to work. "I feel the same. I need you, too, Seven. And please don't call me Lieutenant. My name is B'Elanna." Seven closed her eyes.

Ghosts, Chapter 7

Naomi woke up to her fifth day of imprisonment. Her stomach growled ravenously, reminding her that she hadn't been fed since she had been captured. A small hose snaked into her cage, from which she could drink and wash. A bucket sat in the corner that she realized quickly, much to her horror, was to be her only bathroom facilities.

She hadn't made any noise since coming here, afraid of what was waiting for her in the dark. She used the bucket, then filled it with water from the hose and dumped it through a small grate in the floor. She hosed out the bucket some more and dumped that water, too. It had become a routine, to keep her mind off her isolation. She had developed many routines.

After the bucket was clean, she washed her hands with the hose, then drank from it. She searched every inch of the cage for any way out, any loose links and, as usual, found none. She looked for anything that might contain food and again, it was a fruitless search.

But still, everyday, she maintained her routine.

Next, she began reciting her alphabets. Terran, Katarian, and finally Vulcan. She liked the sound of the Vulcan alphabet and had asked her mother to teach it to her after hearing only part of it once. She had enlisted Lt. Tuvok to help her with pronunciation. He had said she did an acceptable job. Her mom assured her that this was high praise.

Each one she recited in her head, whispering them out loud, stumbling over the thirty-seventh letter of the Katarian alphabet every time. She drew the letters on the ground in front of her with her finger, erasing the invisible marks with her thumb. Once this ritual was complete, she began her next and favorite: fantasizing about how she would be rescued.

And on her day went. Never did she hear from the bug people who kept her locked in the cold cage while her nose ran from a cold she had caught and her stomach growled for the food she was missing. Her eyes began adjusting to the dark she seemed permanently thrown into and her ears strained for even the slightest sound. But alone she was, and lonely, too.

Perhaps that's why she deviated from her routine that evening or morning or whenever it was—time being so hard to tell in a place that never got lighter or darker. One thing that she had noticed about her cage was that it was suspended above the ground. Now, she didn't know how high it was, only that it was held up in the middle so that the cage tilted whenever she moved from one side to the other.

She began thinking that maybe if the cage fell, it would land with enough force to open the door or crack enough links for her to squeeze through. What she would do when out, she had no idea. She tried not to think about what would happen if the cage were so high off the ground that the roof would collapse and squash her if it fell. But one fear that lay heavily on her mind was that the ground below her might be full of water and when she landed, the cage would fill up and she would drown. Certainly the room sounded like it was full of water.

Naomi decided to chance it. She walked up to the wall of the cage and began climbing. Once she reached the ceiling, she jumped off and braced herself for impact. She landed hard, but as soon as she landed, she began jumping up and down as hard as she could. The rusty clang and squeak of chains greeted her efforts and began echoing, revealing that her room might be a lot bigger than she had thought.

"Hello? Who is out there and why are you making so much noise?" Naomi froze at the sound of another little girl's voice. After a moment, it was joined with the sounds of at least half a dozen other little girls' voices. Over the din, the first girl's voice rose in a tone that was very familiar to Naomi. "This is unproductive! Only one girl should speak at a time! Otherwise, none of us shall be heard! The girl making the racket, if you are a girl, should speak first since I spoke to her first."

In the silence, Naomi almost couldn't find her voice. But she forced one choked, hopeful word out: "Mezoti?"

Seven had a small room in the corner of Cargo Bay Two that the captain had suggested she store personal items in. She had taken that suggestion. She was rifling through those items this morning, trying to sort out feelings that had been waking her up at night. Her personal items were few, but they were very personal.

She kept her favorite tools in here as well as a few things that the children had left behind. There was the clay sculpture that Mezoti had made of her, so flawed and childish—it was her most precious possession, though none on Voyager knew that she had it. A couple of almost identical drawings by Azan and Rebi were hung, side by side on the otherwise bare gray walls.

The Borg influences were strong, but they brought a small smile to Seven's face, especially Azan's entitled, "Breaking Off From The Hive Mind," which depicted small geometrically shaped pods breaking off from a honeycomb in pairs and groups and a few by themselves. Rebi's seemed cluttered, but made from the same basic shapes, showing enlargements of sections and entitled, "Mechanics of Art."

The way the boys carefully wrote their names and titles below each piece showed the most individual personalities. Azan wrote thick and wide, while Rebi wrote a little more childishly and didn't put a 'hood' over his a's. Both styles were distinct and imperfect. Seven stared at the signatures as tears began to form in her eyes. She missed the children. She sifted through all the art they had given her, watching how their styles had developed. How Mezoti never got the details quite right, how Rebi's pieces always seemed cluttered.

Then she came to Naomi's pile. It wasn't very big, just a few drawings that she had done with the borg children, only a few more recent than that. But she noticed how much talent Naomi had. She drew whatever she saw and she drew it very well. One piece in particular caught her attention. It was of Arynlliana and done in oil-based paint—Naomi's favorite medium.

Seven felt the tears well up in her eyes and threaten to fall and she dropped the pictures back into the storage crate she kept them in. If anything, she was now more determined than ever to rescue Naomi Wildman, whom she would always remember as being the first person on Voyager to seek out and gain her friendship. She would not fail.

Seven girls. Seven stories, all ending in the same place—this Ssckerellon prison. From there on in, all the stories were the same. Huddling in the dark with no food or people, just a hose and a bucket. But now that the voices had been freed, it was like a dam breaking. The voices echoed off the walls to mix into an unintelligible din. Naomi and Mezoti struggled to separate their conversation from the rest.

"So what happened to the twins?" Naomi asked.

"I do not know. It appears that only female children have been abducted."

"Either that, or they're hiding the boys somewhere else."

"That is plausible." Naomi's eyes were closed to help her concentrate and her head leaned against the wire mesh. She was beginning to lose the initial excitement of finding not only other people, but also her best friend in favor of the depression of their collective situation.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?"

"I suppose not. But it has been only seven months and four days since I left Voyager. You do not sound different, either."

"Do you know what happened to your, er, foster parents?"

"They were killed," came the soft reply.

"I'm sorry." Naomi opened her eyes and examined her hands. Neither she nor Mezoti spoke for a while. Naomi let herself be lulled by the dull roar of voices when suddenly she heard the hiss of a door opening. All the voices in the room stopped.

"Larvae," called a guttural voice. Naomi flinched at the word and made a face at the images it invoked. "I bring food." Immediately, the voices in the room began to crescendo with cries of hunger and calls for food. Naomi watched as the grate in the floor opened and a dull green sack appeared. A moment later the grate closed.

Naomi examined the contents. There was a loaf of bread, a few roots and leaves, dried and salted meat and a sculpture of pure sugar in the shape of a leaf.

"Why?" Naomi heard Mezoti ask. "Why now? Why are we being fed now?"

"For passing a test."

"What test?"

"Discovering each other."

"How were we to know that we were being tested?"

"That is not our concern. You will only be fed for passing tests."

"Will we be told that we are being tested?"

"No."

"That is illogical. How are we supposed to pass tests that we don't know exist?" A hissing laugh was the only reply. Naomi glared at her food.

"You call this food? This is supposed to make up for starving us?" Naomi's heart raced at her own boldness.

"You will eat it."

"And if we don't?"

"Then you will die."

"We have various nutritional needs. Not all of them are met with what you have provided us," Mezoti chimed in.

"We will tell you what you need. Meanwhile, you will eat what is given to you or you will starve." With that, the nameless Ssckerellon left. Naomi bit into a root and immediately bit into the sugar to get the bitterness out of her mouth. She sighed and tried the bread. It was edible and she set about trying to figure out how to make a root sandwich with sugar sculpture. She just hoped that she could keep it down.

B'Elanna stared at the doors to Cargo Bay Two. She held a bouquet of roses in one hand and a gift in the other. The wrapping paper glittered silver and blue while the bow just sat all dark, contrasting velvet. Her hearts pounded hard against her chest and she growled at them, afraid that Seven would be able to hear their frantic rhythm.

She stepped into the Cargo Bay and froze. Seven was singing, abusive to her voice, her head thrown back in beatific abandon. Her hair was down and her eyes closed as she poured her heart into singing. B'Elanna almost dropped her gifts as her arms fell to her sides, forgotten. Seven was wearing B'Elanna's favorite biosuit. Though she'd never admit it, she felt that the blue made her look softer somehow, more real.

She listened to the words pouring out of the speakers and out of Seven, feeling her heart in her throat, her eyes aching from the beauty in front of her, from the anguish that poured out of the lush lips to her ears. She swallowed and listened:

"This is my place to hide from everything./This is my place and time for everything./None are made before their time./And now you know: this could never be justified./Now you know: I could never be satisfied./Now you know: you can't love me if I can hide./Now you know: that this little child is terrified!"

Seven moved her body in a way B'Elanna found entrancing. As the music pounded through her body B'Elanna found herself walking towards Seven. Seven turned her head to see B'Elanna and shock colored her features before she began pulling herself together. She snapped at the computer to end the music program and it immediately complied.

In the sudden silence, B'Elanna stood, unsure what to do or say. "Hello, B'Elanna."

"Hi." B'Elanna was still stunned by the picture forever burned into her brain of Seven in her moment of total abandon. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. "Am I intruding?" she asked, afraid that Seven would ask her to leave.

"I was... engaging in recreation." B'Elanna smiled at the answer. Seven raised her borg eyebrow at B'Elanna's limp arms. "Who are the gift and flowers for?" B'Elanna immediately snapped her arms up and held out the gifts.

"Happy Birthday," she said quickly. Seven's eyes widened.

"How did you know?" Seven took the presents reverently.

"I just looked up a few things," she mumbled. "Um, the reason I—that is the flowers, uh..." Seven raised her eyebrow again as B'Elanna stammered. "Look," B'Elanna said, falling into a more forceful approach. "I wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight."

"That requires flowers?" Seven asked, puzzled.

"No, um, the, uh, the flowers are a present, but for another reason than your birthday."

"I don't understand."

"I'm trying to ask you out!" B'Elanna blurted, then blushed. "Just forget it." She turned and tried to retreat from the room when Seven's voice stopped her.

"I would like that." B'Elanna stopped and turned around hopefully.

"Shall I come for you at nineteen-hundred hours then?" Seven smiled.

"I will be waiting."

"Great," B'Elanna smiled, then fled from the cargo bay. Seven set the roses down, then gently unwrapped the gift, stroking the bow and ribbon. She liked how soft they were. Perhaps she would replicate a dress out of similar material.

Inside was a portable device with two wires leading to small speakers. She read the card: 'For away missions and times when you just need music. I added a couple songs to help you think of me.' She looked at the display and scrolled through the selections she had for music. It was all of her favorite songs and a few that she didn't recognize.

She looked at the doors B'Elanna had just exited and smiled, clutching her new possession to her chest. "Thank you," she whispered.

Naomi covered her ears. One of the bug people had come into the room without saying anything. The girls had waited quietly for any indication of what was coming, but none of them had any idea. It had grabbed Mezoti. Tears ran down Naomi's cheeks and she added her screams with her friend's. She had no idea what was happening, only that it had said, "I have a test for you." Then Mezoti started screaming.

The screams eventually stopped, but Naomi's ears rung with them long afterwards. She called to Mezoti, but received no response. She started crying, then screaming at the Ssckerellon, "You ugly monsters!" It was the worst insult she could think of. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Silence filled the room until Naomi heard her own grate being opened.

Terror began to grip her until she saw—Mezoti! "How did you get out?" Naomi hissed. Mezoti's eyes were haunted and her eyes swollen from crying. She lifted her arm and Naomi choked back a sob. Her hand was gone and two assimilation tubules writhed loosely from her wrist. "I thought the Borg couldn't assimilate the bug people?" Naomi whimpered.

"They can be assimilated through—" Mezoti stopped herself. "Don't think about it. We must escape."

"How? Where do we go?"

"The ground is not far down. Let us start with freeing the other girls, and move on from there." Naomi nodded.

"Are you going to be okay? Won't you bleed to death?"

"My nanoprobes have stopped the bleeding. If we get medical assistance in the next day or so, I may even be able to have my hand reattached." She indicated a pocket on her dress and Naomi saw a bloody bulge in it. She quickly looked away. "This species obviously has no set of morals as we know them. Most species would draw the line at harming children, but obviously, Species 1013 has no such line."

"Yeah, even the Hirogen didn't hunt me with the rest of the crew, they put me in the brig."

"Come on. We don't have a lot of time." Naomi followed Mezoti, hoping that Voyager would get there in time to save them all.

Ghosts, Chapter 8

Janeway walked into Sickbay, wondering why the doctor had called her down. Voyager had only just resumed pursuing the Ssckerellon ship after nearly a week of preparing the ship for the upcoming battle. She hated that it required the ship to drift for six days while the deflector dish was made ready. God only knew what was happening to Naomi in that time.

As she entered she glanced around, trying to guess why she had been summoned. Her eyes rested on Aryn, her legs folded to the side of her as she sat on a biobed. She was humming softly and smiling, her eyes half closed. Janeway had two guesses as to what this was about and as the doctor approached her smiling, one of them became more solid in her mind.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Actually, captain, I believe you should speak to Aryn yourself." Kathryn walked up to the crooning young woman and smiled. Arynlliana glowed back at her and Harry came into the room. He was grinning ear to ear and Kathryn couldn't stand the suspense any longer.

"Well, go on," she urged. Aryn leaned her head back against Harry's chest and closed her eyes.

"Captain, we'd like for you to marry us," Harry stated. Janeway lifted a brow and put her hands on her hips.

"Right here, in Sickbay?"

"No," Aryn crooned, still smiling and humming. "After we retrieve Naomi. After all, I should have a—flower girl."

"Then why did you call me down here?"

"We just couldn't wait, Captain," Harry said enthusiastically, "To share our news with you." He licked his lips and smiled at Aryn. "We're going to have a baby." Aryn nodded and lifted her shirt to show the slight swell that had begun. Kathryn smiled back as her suspicions were confirmed. But one thing nagged at the back of her mind.

"How?" This is when the doctor came in.

"Apparently, J'marel have the same number and a similar enough type of chromosomes as Humans, Vulcans and Betazoids that they can procreate with any of those species without genetic assistance. It's really quite fascinating, considering the physiological differences of all four species."

"You only have one stomach, I have four, for instance." Aryn said, then resumed humming quietly.

"Plus there's the fact that you're a unicorn," Harry teased Aryn lightly. Aryn laughed, letting more whinny into it than she normally had. Janeway smiled.

"Well then, as soon as we rescue Naomi, I guess there will be a wedding!"

Naomi, Mezoti and the other five girls all slunk through the halls of the Ssckerellon ship, silently sticking to the shadows. The shuttle bay loomed up ahead of them, if Mezoti had assimilated the information correctly and just beyond that was the second 'specimen chamber' that held the captive boys. There were only four of them.

That was their destination. The Ssckerellon kept no adults on this ship, they only studied children. At least, that was what the computer had listed as their ship's mission. Naomi much preferred 'boldly going where no one had gone before.'

Except when she was doing it almost by herself. They had armed themselves from a weapons locker that they had passed, but none of them knew how to shoot beyond 'point and press the trigger.'

The big doors loomed ahead of them and Naomi felt the butterflies in her stomach turn into wild targhs. Taking a deep breath, she assumed point and the doors opened in front of them. The hall was relatively bright, so the room they entered seemed pitch black to the seven girls.

"To the sides of the door, so it will shut," Mezoti commanded and the girls obeyed. The doors shut and a moment later a voice hissed out at them from the darkness.

"Who's there? You don't sound like an insect." Naomi didn't recognize the voice as belonging to Azan or Rebi, so she let whoever did recognize it, answer it.

"Serben? Is that you?"

"Melly? Sister?" The siblings found each other quickly and Naomi set out with two of the other girls, Senli and Ralla to free the other boys. Azan and Rebi were not in the group. Naomi glanced at Mezoti in the dark and saw the quiet anguish on her face.

"Maybe they hid from the bug people when they came." Mezoti looked at Naomi, a little hope filling her eyes.

"Perhaps." It was the most hopeful word Naomi had heard today and she briefly hugged her friend.

"Let's get out of here." Mezoti nodded and Naomi led them all back to the shuttle bay. Once there, they slipped inside to find two Ssckerellon engaged in some sort of game with a floating ball and headsets. Naomi felt her finger flit to the trigger of the blaster and she began shaking at the prospect of shooting the two monsters.

"Cease this activity." Mezoti commanded. The Ssckerellon stood and turned quickly to raise their weapons at the children. They froze in mid-motion when they saw seven blaster rifles aimed at various parts of their anatomies. "Drop your weapons." The Ssckerellon on the left had a scar down the side of his face. This was the bug that spoke.

"Why should we? Do you truly believe we will let you live after this?" It looked at Mezoti's rifle, which was balanced on the remains of her forearm and held with her right hand over the trigger. "Ah... the little Borg beast. Whatever has happened to your hand?" It growled, laughing at her.

Mezoti's eyes narrowed. "The same thing that I will do to you if you don't comply."

"Yeah," Naomi added. "Watch who you're calling a beast, bug." It laughed hissingly at Naomi's defense of Mezoti.

"You are but larval mammals. You are of no threat to us. Look at you, you can not even shoot us while you have the chance. You wait while your absence is undoubtedly being noted and a search team being formed. You will die before you can find the courage to shoot us." This time, both Ssckerellon laughed.

Naomi shot the one with the scar. She was horrified to see his body eaten up by the beam until he became nothing—not even dust on the floor. Her hands tried to start shaking, but she forced herself to be calm and point at the second bug. Its hide shifted from blue to more green and Naomi wondered if that meant it was scared.

"Now are you going to drop your weapon or do I have to shoot you, too?" Naomi's mind screamed, 'Don't make me do it! Please, I can't!' everything in her body rejected the thought of killing another living creature. She hoped that this one would do as it was told so she wouldn't have to kill again.

"Comply." Mezoti demanded. It shifted its gaze between them, then as Naomi started raising her rifle menacingly; it dropped its weapon. Within a few minutes, it had opened a shuttle for them and fled the bay. Mezoti held her wrist out towards the main control panel and a moment later she was sitting at the helm, instructing them to find seats.

Naomi sat in a chair made for something shaped completely different than she was and she wiggled uncomfortably. One of the boys sat near her and looked over at her. "How old are you?" he asked.

"I was born on stardate 49548.7," she answered simply. He looked confused.

"When was that?"

"Five years ago."

"You don't look five years old."

"My species ages at one and a half times the speed of most humanoids."

"Oh," he said. "What's your name?"

"Naomi."

"Mine's Gremmel. My friends call me Grem. I'm eight." Naomi looked at him, wondering why he was talking to her. Admittedly, he was the only boy who didn't have a sibling, but surely he'd prefer to talk to one of the other boys. His eyes were an odd grey-violet color and his eyebrows had ridges instead of hair. His hair was reddish-blond, not that far from her own color. And judging by his expression, he was terrified.

"It'll be okay, Grem. I'm sure my ship is right behind us. It won't take long to reach it and then we'll be safe."

"You're sure they'll be able to protect you? Even though the insects took you once already?" He looked doubtful.

"Yep. Voyager won't lose me twice. They'll make sure we're all safe."

"All of us?" His eyes widened. "Are you sure your captain will let us hide on his ship?"

"Of course she will. I promise and you can believe me, because I'm the captain's assistant." Grem's eyes grew huge in awe.

"No wonder you're so brave," he said, beginning to smile. "Thank you for saving us. I know you didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. It would have been wrong to leave you behind. I was only doing what was right." Naomi smiled back at him. "Don't be afraid, Voyager will help us." One of the other children who had been listening spoke up.

"You're lying. Why would a captain have a child as her assistant?" Naomi glared at the boy. He had pale, greenish skin and ridges from his lip to his hairline. A shock of white hair fell down into his angry amber eyes as he leaned forward to accuse her.

"Naomi Wildman does not lie. I used to live on Voyager with her," Mezoti defended quietly as she worked the controls to the blaster cannon on the shuttle. It fired and the bay doors exploded into space. The ship, which was no longer moored to the deck, was blown out into space with a few crates and all the oxygen and loose circuitry in the large room.

Mezoti allowed the ship to drift in the debris, finally firing thrusters to head towards an asteroid cluster to hide once the Ssckerellon ship blinked out of sight. Mezoti navigated one-handed towards a crater that was just large enough to hide the shuttle inside and inconspicuous enough for it to take anyone a while to find them.

The green-skinned boy returned to his earlier attack on Naomi. "Of what possible use can you be to a captain?" His sister glared at him, but he ignored her.

"I was the first child born on Voyager. I'm her assistant so I can learn to be a starfleet officer or captain when I grow up!" The boy looked startled at her answer.

"I suppose I believe you. But, what's Starfleet?"

"An organization dedicated to exploration and the protection of the United Federation of Planets," Mezoti answered easily.

"Where's this 'Federation of Planets'?"

"In the Alpha quadrant, where my parents come from," Naomi answered.

"Where's the 'alpha quadrant'?" Naomi sighed in exasperation. Didn't this boy know anything?

"The 'Alpha Quadrant' is the designation given by the Federation and surrounding empires for their quarter of the galaxy. It is approximately sixty thousand light years from here." Naomi was grateful for Mezoti's ability to explain things so well.

"Well, how did your ship get all the way out here?"

"It's a long story," Naomi said. Suddenly, all the kids gathered around her.

"Please tell us."

"We want to hear."

"I'm so bored!" Naomi was suddenly the center of attention and she began squirming. She had never really been comfortable around other children, always keeping the Vaadwaur children in mind with the way they had talked about Neelix. Yet still, as all the eager children's faces looked into hers and rescue being hours or even days away, she couldn't help spinning the tale of Voyager, the ship far from home.

Ghosts, Chapter 9

On the bridge of the USS Voyager, Harry Kim picked up a distress signal originating from not far ahead, blinking a short message, then it stopped. It was only one burst, but he caught it and called out to the captain.

"What is it, Ensign?"

"I just picked up a distress call." The captain turned to look at him.

"Where from?"

"Dead ahead on our current course. We'll reach it in about three hours if I'm not mistaken."

"Is it a message?" Harry looked down at the small data in front of him. It would have been so easy to miss.

"I can't tell, captain, it's encoded. But it was only sent once and it's very small, like someone didn't want the wrong person picking it up."

"What kind of encoding is it?" Harry was already working on that. Suddenly, his head shot up and he looked, startled, at the captain.

"It's Borg."

"Borg?!" The captain rose from her seat. "Send it down to Icheb in Astrometrics, see if he can decode it."

"Yes, Ma'am." Harry pressed a few buttons on the console and the little message was sent to Astrometrics. Less than a minute later, Icheb hailed the bridge.

"Icheb to the bridge."

"Go ahead," Janeway answered.

"Where did you get this message?"

"It was just sent to us, what does it say?"

"It's just three letters, captain. S-O-S. Unless it's the Klingon word for mother, I do believe it stands for—"

"Save Our Ship," Kathryn finished.

"Yes. But captain, the Borg do not use code like this. It is... It reminds me of..."

"Yes? Go on."

"Before Mezoti left, she took a fascination in the old earth methods of code, especially Morse code. She knows the particular encoding used in this message."

"You're saying," Kathryn looked over at Chakotay, who cocked his head to the side, "That you think Mezoti might have sent this message?"

"That, captain, is exactly what I'm saying".

The dress was velvet black and soft, shining ever so slightly in the dim light of the cargo bay. Seven looked around at her space. It was hers again, Icheb having moved into his own quarters months before, shortly after he saved her life by nearly giving his own.

Now the room was too large, the extra alcoves dark and cold. Seven shook her head, trying to banish the unproductive thoughts and slipped out of her biosuit. She set the biosuit in the storage closet she used for her clothing. She took off her utilitarian Starfleet issue grey bra and set it in its place in the closet.

Seven walked back over to the dress that she had laid across a cargo crate and picked it up again. She had never worn just a dress. Usually, if she wore a dress, it was just another biosuit, fashioned to look like a dress, courtesy of the doctor. But this was a real dress, replicated for form over function and Seven was shy about putting it on.

She had replicated a bra to go with it, simple black silk with just a hint of lace. She put on the bra and resumed looking at the dress. After a few minutes of just stroking the material, she finally slipped it on. It glided down her body, soft and form-fitting. She smoothed out imaginary wrinkles and wished for a full-length mirror to view how she looked. But such a thing was not practical, so she didn't own one.

She never thought she would regret that. She walked over to the small mirror she allowed herself for styling her hair each day. She let her hair down from its usual style and watched it fall down over her shoulders. She picked up her hairbrush and brushed it until it shined, falling behind her shoulders and down her back in soft waves. She pulled back the front of it until she finally decided that it looked nice enough for a fist date.

Date—she was going on a date. With B'Elanna Torres. A shiver of excitement ran over her body and she quickly slipped on the comfortable black, low-heeled shoes. She returned to the mirror to check her hair once more when she heard a peculiar sound. The door chimed. She looked at it, unaware that it could do that, considering the fact that usually, no one asked her permission to enter, they just came in.

She rather liked the sound of the chime. Then the sound came again and she realized that she should give them permission to enter. "Enter," she called and the doors slid open. B'Elanna stood in a thin-strapped, crimson dress of a similar material to Seven's. Seven flashed briefly on running her hands down that dress, then felt herself blush slightly.

B'Elanna, for her part, didn't notice. While Seven was staring at what she considered the most beautiful person in the galaxy, B'Elanna was staring, in her mind, at the same person. And indeed, they were a pair. Seven's milky skin glowed in the tight black dress whose sleeves were only long enough to cover the implant on her right shoulder and the slit that ran up the left side flashed some beautiful leg when she moved towards B'Elanna.

B'Elanna's creamy caramel complexion was complemented by the dark crimson dress and Seven glanced down to see that the high heels she wore sculpted her calves gorgeously. Seven stepped up to B'Elanna and did what she had felt the urge to do on many occasions—she ran her fingers through the other woman's hair. B'Elanna closed her eyes at the caress, her lips parting slightly.

"Seven," she breathed.

"Yes?" Seven asked quietly. B'Elanna looked up into her eyes and smiled.

"Shall we?" B'Elanna held out her arm and Seven took it, smiling back.

It was bound to happen. Seven had mastered crying, its opposite was sure to follow. She felt the laughter bubbling up inside of her and suddenly it erupted. The bark of laughter startled and embarrassed Seven at once. B'Elanna was immediately grinning ear to ear as Seven blushed.

"What's wrong?" B'Elanna wrinkled her nose in concern and Seven had to smile again, the gesture was just too cute not to.

"My laugh is... loud." B'Elanna started laughing.

"Don't tell me about loud laughs. You should have heard the way this kid in my class at school laughed when we were fifteen. He defined the term 'braying laugh.' He really sounded like a donkey!" B'Elanna demonstrated the laugh for Seven, which completely broke down Seven's new resolve never to laugh again. This time her laughter wasn't as loud, if it was still as abrupt.

But Seven began growing a little uneasy as she remembered that Voyager was hurdling through space to rescue Naomi Wildman, who could not be laughing herself at this moment. Guilt overwhelmed her and she began to shake.

"What is it?" B'Elanna asked worriedly, pausing with her food halfway to her lips, the linguini noodles dangling, threatening to fall.

"I was thinking about Naomi Wildman." Seven looked at her own half-eaten food and wondered briefly if Naomi was eating anything, or if they were even feeding her. B'Elanna put her fork down.

"Listen to me, Seven." Seven looked up and obeyed the quiet command. "There is nothing you can do about Naomi right now." B'Elanna raised her hand to stop Seven from interrupting with some chore she could create to make herself feel useful. "No, you've already done your part, the most important part before rescuing her—making the rescue possible. Now it's up to the captain and pilot to get us there. When we get there, you will use the deflector to break her out. But until then, you have to think about what Naomi would want."

"She would want me to rescue her and not rest until she is safe on the ship."

"Not at your own expense, though. Naomi would be happy for you that you're learning to laugh, that you're actually trying to enjoy yourself. She's your friend and she would want you to be happy. I'm worried, too, but Seven, you have to learn to live or else there's no reason to go on."

"I am alive," Seven said, puzzled.

"There's more to living than just a functioning body. You have to feel alive. Borg drones are technically alive, but would you say that they're living? Did you feel like you were alive?" Seven thought seriously on the subject.

"No."

"Then learn to enjoy life now, make up for what was taken from you. When we get Naomi back," B'Elanna promised, stressing 'when,' "Then she'll be immensely happy to see that you missed her, but didn't stagnate because she was gone. I'm sure that Naomi would love to hear you laugh, to see you smile." B'Elanna smiled at her. "I can't think of anyone who couldn't." They sat in silence for a minute while it all sank in for Seven, then she smiled over at B'Elanna gratefully.

"Thank you." The evening went on, with laughter, silly stories, deep thoughts and a growing sense of newfound happiness for both women.

And so it came as a great disappointment when Seven realized that the time to regenerate was drawing near, because she found that she was actually having... fun. She froze with the glass of sparkling grape juice (that B'Elanna had replicated in respect for Seven's dislike of the effects synthehol had on her body) just below her lips. B'Elanna noticed and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. I just had a realization." Seven set the glass down on the coffee table. "I am having fun." B'Elanna smiled at Seven, but her smile faded as Seven's eyes lowered to her lap.

"What?" B'Elanna leaned toward Seven, putting her hand on the other young woman's leg.

"I should return to my alcove to regenerate." B'Elanna's eyes fell as well. Her heart fluttered confusedly, wondering what she had done wrong.

"I suppose it is getting late." She looked down at her hands and began picking at an imaginary imperfection in her nail to hide her disappointment. Seven stood and she followed her to the door. At the last moment, Seven spun, her eyes wide and upset.

"I do not wish to leave," she proclaimed in a voice that sounded like a little girl begging her mother not to go anywhere without her. A voice that needed reassurance and love. B'Elanna immediately offered that reassurance as she gently put one hand on Seven's hip and guided the beautiful blonde back to her, meeting her descending lips halfway. She lost herself in the silk of Seven's lips, the warmth of her embrace, feeling calm and peacefully happy at first.

They moved back to the couch to explore each other's eyes, their lips and mouths. A passion began building and the heat of their bodies began rising with it. Seven's fingers began dancing lightly up and down B'Elanna's hand, moving upwards ever so slowly, until she had reached the shoulder that the half-Klingon's dress left so enticingly bare.

Seven sat back and trailed her hand gently around the creamy shoulder, down the warm, soft skin. B'Elanna licked her lips, her breath changing at the touch. Seven looked up and into B'Elanna's eyes and felt a thrill at the reaction she invoked. She leisurely stroked the reacting flesh of her arm, playing lightly, barely touching, rubbing strongly over the palm of B'Elanna's hand, bringing the Klingon to short panting breaths of need, while things low in her belly twitched and moved.

Seven's breath started matching pace as she saw what this gentle touch did to the fiery young woman next to her and her hand moved across the back of B'Elanna's neck to flick gently across the baby hairs at her nape. B'Elanna let out a small sound of pleasure that made Seven's pulse thunder in her ears. B'Elanna's hand clutched at the fabric over Seven's thigh, running her nails down it lightly. Seven released a breath she hadn't known she had been holding and her mouth made its way to B'Elanna's hungrily.

B'Elanna wrapped her arms around Seven's shoulders and swung herself in a position to straddle her. Caramel hands found their way through silken blonde hair, clutching it carefully as a pressure inside her began threatening to explode.

Seven felt new desires beginning, burning through her body like a seismic disturbance. She couldn't seem to catch her breath or hold B'Elanna close enough as her hands clutched at the soft back of the woman in her arms, bringing her as close as she could without hurting her. Something in her mind began warning her that things were happening too fast and she stopped.

She held B'Elanna a little away from her, gazing at her beautiful face, with eyes closed in bliss and lips slightly pursed and swollen. Her breathing still labored, she managed to express her desire not to move so quickly. B'Elanna let out a shaking breath and agreed, turning slightly and snuggling against Seven's chest, listening to the frantic beating of her heart.

Ghosts, Chapter 10

Most of the children had fallen asleep, comforted by Naomi's story and reassurances. Naomi walked up to the helm, where Mezoti dozed and cleared her throat. Mezoti woke up.

"Yes?"

"Do you think that Voyager will find us?" Despite her seeming confidence around the other children, Naomi was still worried.

"I sent an encoded message to Voyager. I used an ancient Earth code that is still used by the federation today. I am certain that if Voyager is directly following the S-sk—the 'bug people's ship," Mezoti made a face at the difficult name, but continued, "They will have received my message and be looking for us as we speak."

Naomi took solace in those words and found a place on the floor to sleep, dreaming an odd dream about leading a resistance movement against an evil Sorceress with the help of a ragtag team of various people, all fighting with magic. In the dream, Flotter was her lieutenant and Mezoti her second-in-command. Seven made a brief appearance to offer pearls of wisdom right before the Sorceress' troops came screaming from the sky in shuttles that all looked like the Delta Flyer.

Mezoti watched Naomi sleep, noting that she looked upset for approximately fifty seven minutes before a more peaceful expression took the place of the furrowed Ktarian brow. She briefly wondered what the other girl was dreaming before she was seized by sleep as well. Visions of playing cards and Borg cubes filled her mind and the alert signal on the panel in front of her began blinking an urgent warning, lost on the sleeping ex-drone.

Voyager glided into the asteroid field, trying to trace the brief signal sent by the young ex-Borg, Mezoti. Immediately upon seeing the vast rocky obstacle course, spirits plummeted. There were thousands of places that a small shuttle or escape pod could hide and Harry's announcement that at least half of the rocks contained traces of metals that were indistinguishable from a shuttlecraft to the sensors, hope seemed a foreign concept.

Then they detected the other ship. The design was unrecognizable, a race previously unencountered. And not at all friendly. They claimed that the field was theirs to mine and didn't give Captain Janeway even a minute to explain their situation. Paris navigated through the field, dodging most of the blasts sent by the smaller ship.

"Shall I return fire?" Tuvok asked.

"Disable their engines," Janeway answered.

"There is no need," Tuvok said gravely. "They were unable to maneuver out of the way of a large asteroid and impacted on the surface. I doubt that there are any survivors." Kathryn sunk into her chair, rubbing her face.

"No, I suppose that would be too much to ask. Is there any further development in the search for Mezoti's ship?"

"Negative," Harry answered softly. "Maybe we should contact Seven of Nine and ask her to modify the sensors..."

"Icheb to the bridge."

"Or maybe Icheb can do it," Harry mumbled, amused. Janeway rewarded him with a tight grin, then answered.

"Go ahead."

"I believe that with a simple modification, I can isolate any bioreading in the sector from the radiation of the asteroid field. I merely wished to check with you to make sure that it is alright to make the modification."

"Well, if you think you can do it, go for it. But if you have any problems, contact Seven of Nine."

"Acknowledged, Captain. Icheb out."

"Think he can do it?" Chakotay leaned over to Janeway and asked.

"Only one way to find out," she replied.

"Captain, reading eleven humanoid lifesigns bearing zero-four-seven-mark-eight. One Ktarian!" Harry looked up excitedly, then returned to his readings. "One Norcadian," again he looked up and grinned, "And I don't recognize the rest of the species."

"No Wysanti?"

"No, ma'am," Harry replied.

"I guess that means Azan and Rebi aren't with her," Chakotay stated.

"I wonder why she's not with them," Janeway agreed. Within moments, Voyager had discovered where the little ship had tucked itself away and sent out a hail.

Beep, beep. Mezoti tried to banish the persistent noise, but could not ascertain the origin. Her dream fell to shreds around her as she realized that the noise was real and the world she believed to be true, was not. She rubbed her eyes, mentally growling at the Wysanti for weaning her off of her regeneration unit. Sleeping was much less efficient and she did not always feel rested at the end of a cycle, as she had under the artificial conditions imposed by borg regeneration.

Mezoti scanned the instrument panel for an indication of where the transmission directed at them was coming from. Once she had confirmed it was Voyager, she attempted to calm the rapid pounding of her suddenly overexcited heart. Her hand hovered over the key that would answer the hail, pausing as she debated internally about waking Naomi. Her friend deserved more than to just be pulled, sleeping, into the ship that she had praised and put all her hopes in. She deserved to answer the hail that brought them all home.

Mezoti stood and walked over to Naomi, gently shaking her shoulder. Naomi woke with an undignified snort and rubbed her eyes. Mezoti noted that in the half-year that she had been off Voyager, Naomi's Ktarian development had not slowed and she appeared an entire year older. She had professed to age at only one and a half times normal humanoid development, but it seemed to Mezoti that she actually aged twice as quickly.

"What is it, Mezoti?" Naomi asked, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

"Voyager." Mezoti knew that it was all her friend needed to hear. True to form, Naomi jumped up and looked excitedly at the ship's small viewscreen. Her brow wrinkled and Mezoti quickly explained. "I thought you would like to answer their hail." Naomi looked at her best friend and hugged her. Mezoti showed Naomi how to work the comm system, then Naomi sat in the copilot chair and answered Voyager.

"Hello, Captain." Kathryn smiled at the bright young face on the screen in front of her.

"It's good to see you're alright, Naomi." She answered honestly.

"Not all of us are, captain. We require medical assistance as soon as possible. Only three of us are hurt, but..." Naomi looked at Mezoti. Kathryn's eyes followed her to the young ex-drone, but she saw nothing wrong with her.

"Move your injured into one place and inform me when you're ready to have them beamed over. We'll send them directly to sickbay."

"Yes, Captain." Naomi stood and walked off screen, Mezoti following. A few moments later, Naomi announced that they were ready. Janeway gave a signal and she saw the light from the transporter briefly illuminate the background of the shuttle. "Captain? Has Seven of Nine been informed of our rescue?"

"Not yet, we didn't want to get her hopes up until we knew for sure. I'm about to—"

"If you could wait, Captain, I'd like to surprise her." Janeway smiled.

"Then I'll just contact your mother."

"Thank you, Captain. Janeway watched as the viewscreen switched to the forward view before calling Samantha Wildman.

The children were greeted quietly in the shuttlebay, only the captain, a few security guards and Samantha Wildman present. Naomi ran to her mother, who caught her up in her arms, hugging her tightly. She set Naomi down and held her at arms length, smiling.

"Most human parents complain about their children growing up too fast, but they have no idea." She hugged Naomi again and kissed her on top of her head. The captain walked up to Naomi, frowning inwardly at the tattered playsuit she wore, stained and torn. But she forced herself not to show anything but the happiness that she felt at her youngest crewmember's safe return.

"I'll expect a full report on my desk by tomorrow evening." She informed Naomi, who looked surprised before her face broke into a brilliant smile.

"Yes, ma'am." She said, straightening her back and standing at attention. She relaxed and ran back to her mother, who insisted that she visit sickbay. Naomi frowned and explained that she wanted to see Seven first. Sam insisted that she at least change her clothes and Naomi agreed.

Naomi ran through the corridors in the red checked dress her mother had put on her, heading for Cargo Bay Two. She froze when she saw Seven and B'Elanna walking side by side, laughing! They were heading her direction and she ducked into the small holodeck nearby, wondering what Seven was doing on deck three, when the cargo bay was one deck down. She was also amazed that Seven had been wearing a dress unlike any she had ever seen on the ex-Borg.

Naomi realized that Seven was obviously heading toward the turbolift that she had been trying to get to a moment before. She allowed the holodeck doors to close, the waited until she was sure that Seven would be about to cross in front of the doors, then she jumped out, yelling. She was rewarded when Seven jumped back into B'Elanna, who yelped with surprise. A moment later, She felt all the air rush out of her as Seven picked her up and hugged her with a considerable amount of strength.

"It's good to see you, too, Seven." Naomi squeaked out, hugging Seven back. Seven seemed to regain her composure and she set Naomi down. Naomi had accidentally dropped the holocamera she had been holding and B'Elanna picked it up.

"Naomi Wildman. I am glad to see that you are home safely, though I am curious as to why I was not informed." Seven looked at the young Ktarian child for answers, which she happily provided.

"I asked the captain not to tell you. I just got back, and I wanted to surprise you myself."

"Well, we were certainly surprised," B'Elanna remarked with a half-grin. She indicated the camera. "Planning to get a few pictures to remember Voyager by?" Naomi nodded.

"I wanted a picture of me and Seven." Seven looked at Naomi with a small smile.

"With me?" Seven queried. Naomi nodded vigorously. Seven smiled wider. B'Elanna looked around.

"The lighting's not that great here..." B’Elanna stated. Naomi smiled and indicated the holodeck. The women followed her into the room, where Naomi ordered a light source from the air. Seven knelt down and gave a wide smile, her arm around Naomi, whose arm hugged Seven's shoulder in reciprocation. Her face seemed to lose years when she smiled next to Seven and B'Elanna snapped the picture, handing the camera back to Naomi.

Naomi took it and promised Seven a copy before launching into her tale of the alien ship. Seven and B'Elanna listened attentively, while escorting her to Sickbay. The turbolift halted on deck five and the entered the medical bay before Naomi had reached the part about discovering Mezoti. So it came as a second shock to Seven when she saw the young Norcadian girl in the doctor's care.

"Hello, Seven." Mezoti greeted her, then flinched as the doctor finished the process of reattaching her severed hand. The EMH smiled at Mezoti, offering an apology for any discomfort, then began healing the bruising.

"There. Now I'll have to have you visit me once a day for the next week to insure that there isn't any permanent nerve damage. And you'll need to do those exercises that I described to you at least three times a day. You can come back if you have any questions. Mezoti nodded and the Doctor moved on to the next patient.

Seven stood frozen the whole time, unable to speak. Mezoti hopped off the bed and walked up to her, turning her head to the side questioningly. Seven knelt down in front of her and looked into her eyes a moment. Then Mezoti threw her arms around Seven's shoulder and Seven hugged her tight.

"I have missed you," Seven revealed, not ending the hug.

"Me, too," Mezoti confessed. They broke the hold and stood there a moment, unsure what to do or say next.

"Are you going to stay on Voyager or return to the Wysanti?" Seven asked, trepidation in her voice.

"I do not know. I'm sure that the Wysanti will find me another foster family. But..." Mezoti looked at the floor. Seven stood quietly, waiting for her to continue. B'Elanna looked from one to the other and practically jumped up and down in exasperation. It was obvious that they didn't want to be split up, but neither had the courage to say it.

"You want to stay here?" B'Elanna asked, deciding that the silence had stretched long enough. Mezoti nodded. "You want her to stay?" B'Elanna turned to Seven with her question. Seven's eyes grew wide and she nodded slowly. "Fine. You stay, you adopt her." B'Elanna gave the solution to their problem as though it was obvious to all. But she saw in Seven's eyes that it had never even occurred to her.

Mezoti looked up at Seven wide-eyed. "Do you want to adopt me?" Seven looked at Mezoti, feeling tears forming behind her eyes from the surge of emotion within her. Her mind raced with the idea, wondering if it was even a possibility. She looked at B'Elanna, then back to Mezoti, realizing that the girl desperately needed an answer.

"Yes. Do you want to be my... daughter?" Seven's tongue tripped over the foreign word, but Mezoti didn't seem to notice. She nodded like she might shake her head off her shoulders and put her hand in Seven's.

"I want you to be my mother." She looked at Seven with all the hope that she had been denied along with her childhood. A maturation chamber had been no place for dreams, had no place for a mother. But for Mezoti, on that day, Voyager became that place she had never had, the home she had never known she needed. All the ghosts of the past evaporated for both of them as they held each other, finding something that both of them needed.

Family.

The End...?

There is a sequel called “Family”.

Disclaimer: I Don't Own Them

Monday, August 14, 2017

Ghosts (Star Trek: Voyager)

Ghosts

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As H.S. Kallinger