Symmetry

By Sazzy

Written: Sept - Dec 2005

Symmetry (n.) Exact correspondence of form on opposite sides of a dividing line

------------------------------------------------------

Codes: J/7 (Alternative Universe)

Rating: NC-17

Timeline: This story is set at a time equivalent to near the end of Season Seven in the canon universe.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Paramount (sort of), this is just a bit of fun. A warning – this story features all female action, so look away now if that’s not your thing.

Thanks: To MercyCroft and Jay for beta reading duties

------------------------------------------------------

Alternative Universe Synopsis:

In this alternative universe Kes ascended to a higher state two weeks earlier than in the canon universe, at a time equivalent to just before the start of season four. At this time she bestowed her “gift” of safe passage past Borg space to Voyager. Though this meant the crew never had to encounter the Borg or Species 8472, it also meant they never met or freed Seven of Nine from the Collective. Fast-forward nearly four years to near the end of season seven…

------------------------------------------------------

Seven of Nine sat down at a table in the seedy bar, picked up the drink before her and took a deep breath. She paused for a second once it reached her lips, already able to smell it’s acrid stench. Gathering herself she tipped it down her throat, baulking at the harsh taste. The sound of laughter filtered through to her as she realised she had scrunched her eyes shut in disgust. Opening them she shot a withering look at her companion who was chortling to himself.

“That is their mildest drink, and still you can’t hack it,” noted Tarin with a shake of the head.

“It is…offensive,” Seven replied, looking disdainfully down at her glass. It was nearly a year since she’d been severed from the Borg Collective and still she had trouble with simple things like eating and drinking.

She placed it back down, glancing around to view the clientele of the bar that evening. Amongst them she could see a few of her co-workers from the power plant on the station. She could identify them not because she knew them well, but because they still wore the same work overalls as she did. The rest of the bar was filled with the usual mix of the disaffected and the depressed. She’d only been on the space station for a month or so and that was more than enough for her to conclude that it was not somewhere she wished to spend too much more. That left her with two problems – how did she get off the station and where would she go.

The first of those was more easily solved, whereas she had no idea about the second. She was sure she could find one of the many ships that passed through willing to take her on as a crewmember. One of the few advantages of being an ex-Borg drone was the vast knowledge she held in her brain and she would make a more than competent engineer or any other position that someone needed filling. Of course she didn’t make her skills too openly obvious, not unless she wanted one of the many people who held a grudge against the Borg to deduce her identity and carry out their own brand of retribution. She’d learnt from painful experience what could happen when people became aware of her background. That was what had led her to Outpost 47 in the first place, after she’d been hounded off the last space station.

Fortunately no one knew her here yet, and that’s how she liked to keep it. Her only confidant was Tarin, who sat with her now. He was one of her colleagues and his bubbly personality had been hard to say no to when he’d started asking questions to while away the mundane hours at work.

Seven was carrying out one last sweep of the room when her eyes suddenly met something of interest. She actually gasped as she saw the figure at the door, instantly recognising that they were another human – the first one she had seen outside the Collective in over twenty-one years. She immediately wanted to know more about the woman, watching as she crossed to the bustling bar. Seven turned her analytical eye on the compact form, striding with intent to its target. The woman was shorter than Seven herself, maybe by a few inches, but as Seven had already noted she held herself with a confidence that belied her size. Her hair was a dark red colour, auburn Seven believed was the correct description. Seven watched the play of the dull lights over it. She’d always liked red. Mentally shaking herself, Seven wondered where that illogical thought had come from.

Seven just managed to catch a glance at the woman’s face as she passed close by, committing the features to her eidetic memory for later study. The thing that had caught her attention on first look was the woman’s eyes. They were a pale blue-grey, but it wasn’t necessarily their colour that had engaged Seven’s interest – it was the look in them. They were eyes that had a tale to tell, ones that held sadness and despair, but also great power and hope. How Seven knew all this from just a brief glimpse, she didn’t know, but at the same time she was certain she was right.

As the woman reached the bar, Seven could see that the jostling crowd actually parted to grant her access. Obviously this woman was someone to be reckoned with; the lowlifes that frequented the bar didn’t normally show respect to anyone. Seven knew this from her hours spent just watching and studying their behaviour. She found the squalor of the bar repugnant, and she only came there to watch the myriad aliens and try to learn how to fit in better from her observations. It had not been easy for her adjusting to life outside the Collective and she often found that people would take offence at her manner when she hadn’t intended it. On more than one occasion Tarin had been required to step in and prevent a fight breaking out between Seven and the latest unsuspecting recipient of her conversational techniques. On a few other occasions he hadn’t been quick enough.

Fortunately, given her underlying Borg implants, Seven could more than handle herself when such encounters did descend into outright brawling, though she didn’t like having to resort to violence. She’d seen enough of that after twenty years with the Collective. Her opponents were often surprised when the seemingly slender woman bested them since Seven retained no outward sign of being a former drone bar the small metallic implant above her left eye, the starburst on her neck, just below her jaw line, and the mesh that covered her left hand. She considered that was fortunate, since she could usually pass off each of those as something other than of Borg origin.

She had to give the Patat-Damar credit – they had certainly done an impressive job when they’d rescued her. She even had a full head of blonde hair again now, though she secretly wished to have it even longer, thinking it highly annoying that humans had to wait months for it to grow. At least it was long enough to tie back now, having finally passed through the stage when all it seemed to do was get in her eyes. She’d been tempted to go back to having it short many a time during that phase.

Focussing on the other woman again, Seven could see that her hair was cut into a bob, the lines falling neatly about the smooth contours of her face, framing her high cheekbones. The woman was turning away from the bar, drink in hand, when Seven caught a brief flash of metal from under the short jacket she wore. Seven’s mechanical eye was able to zoom in and identify the phaser that she carried in a holster at her hip – a wise precaution in such an establishment. Seven did wonder if it was deliberate that the jacket didn’t quite obscure the weapon. The rest of the woman’s clothes matched the weather beaten appearance of the jacket – a faded red shirt, open at the neck, leading down to a pair of dusty black trousers and finally black boots. Her appearance led Seven to suspect she had been in a fair few scrapes of her own as was typical for most people who found themselves in this far flung corner of the galaxy. What Seven couldn’t quite work out was why the woman was there. Despite the clothes she seemed somehow out of place, almost like she was better than somewhere like the crumbling space station.

Seven had found that most people had a story behind what had brought them to Outpost 47, usually involving some misfortune or other. She keenly wanted to know what this woman’s story was. She was sitting now, alone in the corner, sipping at her drink, lost in her own thoughts.

“Who’s that?” Seven asked Tarin, trying to inconspicuously point.

Tarin followed her finger, his silver eyes peering through the gloom. They widened when he saw who she was indicating. “That’s our famous Starfleet captain, Kathryn Janeway,” he replied, “I haven’t seen her in here in a while. I suppose it was only a matter of time since The Paladin returned yesterday, minus one crew member I hear,” he added morbidly.

Seven knew of Starfleet. She knew of most things, thanks to the Borg. She accessed the appropriate information, recalling how Starfleet were a branch of the Federation, a collection of worlds joined by a common treaty. As far as she knew Starfleet were responsible for maintaining law and order within the Federation – no doubt they’d have a field day with somewhere like the space station, if it was ever sucked into their territory.

“She does not look much like a Starfleet captain,” noted Seven, “Unless they have changed their uniforms.”

“Oh, she’s not one anymore,” he explained, turning back to her, “The Paladin’s not a Starfleet ship, it’s a small smuggling ship like a good number of the others docked here, though she is the captain of it. She got kicked out of Starfleet for something or other. Now she’s out here, bumming around with the rest of us losers.”

Seven prickled at the assessment of the Captain as ‘loser’ thinking she didn’t like it much. “Why was she ‘kicked out’?” she asked, using Tarin’s colloquial term.

“No one knows the full story,” he noted mysteriously, “And she certainly doesn’t talk about it. She doesn’t really talk much to anyone but her crew.”

“Then why does she come here?”

“Who knows, maybe she likes the atmosphere? Anyway I did hear through the general scuttlebutt that she got her Federation ship, Voyager, lost in the Delta Quadrant for a good few years. When she finally did get back the bigwigs on Earth weren’t too happy with her.”

“Earth?” repeated Seven. It was not a name she heard often.

“Yes, you know, that small blue-green planet that you lot come from.”

Seven did know it, or at least of it. She knew it was where humans originated from, though she had never been there herself. She had never really had the desire to either, until now. Suddenly seeing this other human had sparked her interest in finding out more about where she came from. She wanted to learn more about being human in general and Tarin certainly wasn’t going to help her with that.

Seven got up from the table, starting for the far corner.

“Hey, where are you going?” Tarin cried after her.

“I wish to learn more about humanity,” Seven informed him matter-of-factly before continuing through the crowds to the Captain’s table.

Once she got there Seven stood before the table, straight and stiff as she always did, hands clasped behind her back. When this didn’t seem to garner any sort of response from the redhead before her she resorted to making a tiny cough at the back of her throat. The Captain’s head slowly swivelled round and up, her eyes fixing on Seven in a look that said the young woman better have a very good reason for disturbing her.

“Yes?”

Seven didn’t respond immediately, experiencing a strange sensation and having to stop and assess it for a moment to deduce what it was. She realised that she was suddenly uncertain of her course, not something she was used to. The intensity of the look in the other woman’s eyes was disarming, shaking even Seven’s Borg bravado.

“My name is S…Annika Hansen. I am human like you.” Seven informed her, thinking it best to use her human name for the time being.

“Well bully for you!” noted the Captain sarcastically. “Was there something you wanted Miss S…Annika Hansen?”

The Captain’s eyes never wavered from Seven’s, pinning her in place where she stood. Seven may have been the one standing, but it was obvious who held the power in the conversation, even after only a few short exchanges. Seven opened her mouth mutely, wondering why no words were forthcoming. Maybe she was having trouble with her cortical node, she considered. It had been nearly two months since she’d last had the opportunity to have it checked.

“I want to join your crew,” Seven finally managed.

Instantly the Captain let out a barking laugh, slapping her hand nosily down on the table as she did. Some golden liquid jumped out of the glass before her and trickled across the worn surface. Seven looked nervously around the bar, seeing a number of dark eyes turning towards the sound of the disturbance.

“You want to join my crew?” repeated the Captain, still chuckling to herself. “I have to hand it to you, you’ve got some guts coming over here, but I’m afraid we don’t need any new crew members.”

It seemed the Captain considered the conversation was over, and was already turning back to her drink when Seven spoke up again.

“That is not entirely correct. I understand that one of your crewmen was killed on your last run.”

The Captain’s eyes were on her again in a flash, any hint of merriment gone from the stormy depths as they narrowed menacingly.

“And you want to replace him do you?” asked the Captain, her voice low and dangerous, matching her expression.

“Yes,” answered Seven simply.

Social behaviour wasn’t so alien to her for her not to know that the Captain’s question was more than likely a threat rather than an invite, but similarly Seven had learnt that it was best to stick to her own forthright manner in such situations. The Captain did actually appear to be considering Seven’s request for the barest of moments, her eyes silently appraising the young woman before her. Seven strained not to fidget under the scrutiny, keeping her hands tight behind her back.

Eventually the Captain shook her head. “I said we don’t need any new crew members,” she said dismissively, “And I meant it.”

“But…”

The Captain shot up, sending her battered metal chair flying. “Am I not making myself clear?” she asked jutting out her chin as she stood so close that Seven could smell the faint waft of alcohol on her breath. “We don’t need any new crewmen. Especially not some stranger I just met in a bar. For all I know you could be a Federation spy of some kind, come to check up on the erstwhile Captain. You have to admit you’re pretty far off the beaten track for a human.”

Seven was faced with a dilemma. She desperately wanted to join the Captain’s crew, with a passion that surprised her. There was another unfamiliar emotion associated with that desire – excitement, anticipation? Seven couldn’t be sure, still being so unaccustomed to the amazing range of feeling she could experience since leaving the Collective. However, at the same time, she really didn’t want to have to tell the Captain the truth. She’d discovered early on that ex-borg generally weren’t welcome anywhere in the universe, even remote outposts like this one that attracted the dregs of society.

“I…grew up in the Delta Quadrant,” Seven replied. It wasn’t completely untrue after all.

“Really?” noted the Captain, her interest apparently piqued. Her face had noticeably softened into a look of wistful remembrance before suddenly the harsh mask was slammed back down again. “Or is that what they told you to say to try and get me interested?”

“No, it is the truth.”

Seven could sense the conversation was teetering on a knife-edge. She also had the distinct impression that it could quite possibly be the most important discussion she’d ever had in her life - whatever happened in the next few moments would shape her very future.

“Oi! I’m speaking to you!”

The introduction of a third person to the conversation was not one of the options Seven had anticipated and she looked to the side to see one of the other patrons of the bar standing next to them waving the Captain’s discarded chair.

“Is this yours?” he demanded. He was of a species Seven was not familiar with, having not seen one of his kind in the bar before. His entire face and most likely his body was covered in short, sandy coloured hair, a pair of yellow eyes looking sternly at them from amongst the fur.

“Yes,” answered the Captain unrepentantly, “Thank you for returning it.” She took the chair off him and placed it down, sitting back at the table.

“Hey, I’m still speaking to you!” The enraged alien reached down and grabbed the Captain by the collar of her jacket, hauling her back to her feet. Seven balled her fists in readiness, should a fight break out.

The Captain calmly looked down at the fist that held her clothes. “Let go of my jacket,” she instructed slowly in a low voice.

“Are you going to make me? A puny little thing like you?”

The alien was laughing nastily to one of his companions behind him when the Captain stamped down hard on his foot, driving her wedge heel into his non-booted limb. The alien howled in pain, immediately releasing his grip on her. One of the other hairy aliens made a swing for the Captain, but Seven was faster, stopping him in his tracks with a swift punch to the face using her Borg hand. The Captain shot her a brief look of thanks before the bar descended into chaos as everyone leapt at the chance for a brawl.

Seven had plenty of experience of such things, even from her short time away from the Collective and she ably dodged all the fists and projectiles aimed in her direction. As she scrapped, Seven made sure she always kept one eye on the Captain, not wanting to lose her in the melee. The Captain looked like she was similarly used to such occurrences, defending herself with aplomb, which was even more impressive given the fact that she was smaller than most of the other combatants. She actually used her size to her advantage, able to duck and dodge where others couldn’t go. Seven watched her snatching up a bottle off one of the few tables left unturned and bringing it crashing down on another assailant. However, Seven could also see the Captain was unaware of the alien bearing down fast on her from behind.

Seven utilised all her borg strength to shove a huge reptilian alien out of her way so she could get to the Captain first, running across the bar in the other woman’s direction.

“Captain!” she called out in warning, seeing the alien swinging a chair directly at the redhead.

Fortunately the Captain heard her, falling to her knees to avoid the object, which whistled harmlessly past her head. That gave Seven time to get there, hefting the alien up off his feet and hurling him against a nearby wall. He crashed into it, slumping down onto the floor in unconsciousness. The Captain watched all this before turning her eyes up to Seven in a look of evident surprise.

“Thanks,” she noted.

“You are welcome,” replied Seven with a nod of the head.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” suggested the Captain, clambering to her feet and dusting herself down.

“A wise decision,” agreed Seven, already heading for the door before anyone else attempted to attack them.

Once outside in the quiet of the corridor, the Captain turned to Seven, looking her up and down thoughtfully. “That was some impressive fighting back there, you must be stronger than you look.”

“I…work out,” Seven answered after a seconds pause to create an excuse for her enhanced strength. “Can I ask why you did not use your phaser when that alien accosted you?”

The Captain gave her a sly grin. “Now where would be the fun in that?”

Seven didn’t think there would be any, though likewise she couldn’t see how the alternative brawl was fun either. It appeared the Captain thought differently though.

The Captain was still studying her, assessing the young woman. “So you still want to be on my crew do you?”

“Yes.”

“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow at 18:00, docking station 23.”

…….

Seven walked along the dim corridors of the station, carrying the holdall that contained all her worldly possessions. The bag was small since she owned pretty much nothing, apart from the clothes on her back. The grey t-shirt, sleeveless jacket, sturdy black trousers with a multitude of pockets and heavy-duty work boots were the only set she had apart from her work overalls, which she had brought along too. Apart from them the only other item of any size in her bag was her portable regeneration unit.

It had been a parting gift from the Patat-Damar when she had left their planet. It enabled her to perform the regeneration she required at least every forty-eight hours or so without the need for a Borg alcove. The Patat-Damar had realised she would need something convenient and easily carried, so it worked slightly differently from a regular alcove, being attached via a special interface to the tubules of her left hand. The scientists on the planet had hoped that one day she would not need to regenerate at all, and that she would be able to sleep naturally like other humans. She had tried sleeping on a few occasions, but found it difficult to accomplish and usually resorted back to her unit instead when she became frustrated with lying there with her eyes open wondering exactly how one achieved a state of sleep.

“Seven!”

Seven stopped in her tracks, turning to see Tarin dashing up the corridor after her.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?” he asked when he caught up with her.

“I am leaving with The Paladin,” she informed him.

“And were you going to say goodbye?”

Seven looked at him quizzically. “Goodbye?”

“Yes - farewell, so long, see ya. It is customary when you leave a friend.”

“A…friend?” Seven repeated, pausing over the unfamiliar word. She had never had a friend before.

“Yes, a friend,” he confirmed, smiling at her, revealing the sharp points of his teeth. “I suppose you didn’t have many of those in the Collective. A friend is someone you like spending time with, someone you can confide in, someone who’s there to support you when you need it.”

“And I am those things to you?”

“Yes, of course you are!”

“I believe you are the same to me. You are my friend,” she stated. “I am sorry that I was leaving without saying ‘goodbye’, that was not a very friendly thing to do.”

“No it wasn’t,” he agreed, “But you know what, the other things that friends do is forgive each other, so why don’t you just give me a hug and we’ll forget about it.”

“A hug?”

“Oh for pity’s sake!” he cried in exasperation.

Without another word he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, almost crushing the life out of her in his bear like grasp. Seven was shocked for a moment, before her arms naturally rose to embrace him too. When Tarin pulled back Seven thought she could detect a hint of moisture in his eyes, staring curiously at it.

“Now go,” he said, wiping it away, “Before I start blubbing in a highly undignified manner.”

Seven picked up the holdall that she had dropped during the hug. “Goodbye, Tarin,” she said, “Thank you for being my friend.”

“Goodbye Seven,” he said in return, “And good luck. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Seven nodded and turned to continue on her way, wondering at the strange aching sensation in her chest. It was like she was leaving something behind, something she didn’t want to leave but had to. Focusing on the future instead she made her way to the docking port where The Paladin was berthed. There was no one around and she had a moment’s doubt as to whether she had come at the right time. Stepping over to the viewport she saw the small ship out in space at the end of the docking tunnel.

Seven could see that it had obviously been a Starfleet ship at some point in the past – there was the distinct dual nacelle design common to most of their vessels. However, the ship’s registration number and designation were not visible - the area on the hull where they should have been blackened and burnt. Seven wondered if that was deliberate or a battle scar. The ship carried a number of those, along with haphazard repairs. In general it looked like the ship had seen better days. She scanned her knowledge of Starfleet ships, eventually identifying it as a Medway class vessel.

Ships of its type had been involved in battles with the Borg in the past, and from that Seven knew that they were the smallest of Starfleet’s full starships, intended to be able to be crewed by a minimum number of people. They were fast, highly manoeuvrable and well-armed. It occurred to Seven that it was slightly odd that an ex-Starfleet Captain was in possession of a Starfleet ship. She didn’t imagine that Starfleet were in the habit of giving their vessels away.

“Admiring the old girl are you?”

Seven swung to face the Captain who had somehow crept up on her. From speaking to other space-farers she knew that many of them liked to refer to their ships as if they were a person. It seemed Captain Janeway was one of them, and that her particular ship was of the female gender.

“She is…” Seven stopped herself, searching for something diplomatic to say, rather than continuing with her normal bluntness. The captain waited, standing with her arms crossed, studying Seven intently. As with the day before Seven found it hard not to shift uncomfortably under the watchful gaze. “…impressive,” Seven finally added as an adjective.

Janeway laughed, uncrossing her arms. “It’s all right, you don’t have to lie to ingratiate yourself with the Captain. She’s a rustbucket, but she’s my rustbucket.”

Seven wasn’t sure what a ‘rustbucket’ was, but presumed the term was not complimentary.

“Is that all your stuff?” asked Janeway, indicating Seven’s bag. “Like to travel light do you?”

“Yes,” replied Seven, “These are my only belongings.”

Janeway regarded her curiously for a moment, like something had piqued and interest and she was contemplating pressing for more details. Whatever it was she wanted to ask she didn’t pursue it, extending her arm in the direction of the hatch instead. “Shall we?”

Seven nodded and followed the Captain over. In a way she was glad that the Captain wasn’t asking too many questions. For one she found it hard to lie convincingly and for another she was troubled by the thought of having to deceive the other woman, which she would no doubt be called upon to do. Though they had only just met Seven found herself intrigued by the Captain in a way she couldn’t really define. What she did know was that, having discovered what they were, she wanted to be friends with the Captain, and she didn’t think that friends were supposed to lie to one another. The only moral guidance she had to go on was what she’d received had been from the Patat-Damar. They were an intellectual, logical people who valued honesty and truth. Seven had fitted in quite well, though at the same time had always been different, and not just because of her appearance.

The Captain tapped in the entry code and the large doors slid open to grant them admittance to the access tunnel.

“I suppose I ought to explain some of the rules of the ship and what I expect of you,” commented Janeway as they walked. “Actually there’s only really one rule that’s important and that is that I’m the Captain and what I say goes. If I give you an order I expect you to follow it, if I give you something to do I expect you to do it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good. Other than that as long as you do your job and respect the other crewmembers we should get along just fine. So what sort of experience do you have of starships?”

“I have an extensive knowledge of them and their systems, though no practical experience,” Seven replied, careful of how much she revealed straight away.

“Oh great,” noted Janeway, “Read about them have you, and thought you might to have a little adventure?”

“Something like that,” agreed Seven, thinking it was easier to go along with the Captain’s assumption rather than correct it by informing her she had assimilated the knowledge via the Borg.

“I guess we’ll just have to see how you get on then,” remarked Janeway.

“You will not regret bringing me on board,” Seven stated, sensing that Janeway was possibly starting to doubt her decision, “I am a hard worker and will perform whatever tasks you ask of me.”

Janeway made a small smile, stopping as they reached the end of the tunnel. “You certainly don’t lack confidence, I have to give you that,” she noted, “If your work matches up to that then hopefully I won’t regret it.”

The doors before them slid open and Seven stepped through and onto The Paladin, immediately able to detect the faint hum of the warp engine reverberating through the deckplates below her feet. Janeway led her through the ship and Seven stayed close since the level they had come in on was lit with only emergency lighting.

“I’m afraid the turbolift’s out of commission at the moment,” Janeway informed Seven, “So it’s a short climb up to the upper levels, but luckily this ship only has five decks”

Janeway nimbly clambered up the ladder ahead of Seven, leading her out onto a more brightly lit level. However, the greater illumination only served to highlight the dilapidated state of the ship. Debris littered the corridors and damaged panels and equipment had been left un-repaired. Seven wondered how many crewmembers there were if the ship was allowed to remain in the obvious state of disrepair.

As if reading Seven’s mind, Janeway interrupted her assessment of the ship. “I’ll introduce you to the crew and then give you a quick tour of the rest of the ship.”

As they continued on Janeway turned to her again. “I’ve been wondering, the metal on your face and hand, what is it?”

Seven had expected that question would crop up sooner rather than later. Fortunately she had prepared and rehearsed her answer, in an attempt to make it sound authentic. “I have a rare medical condition affecting my heart and blood circulation that requires regulation. The devices on my face and hand provide that.” It wasn’t too far a diversion from the truth, since the implants did provide a regulation of sorts, just of her Borg systems rather than her human ones.

Janeway nodded, seemingly accepting the answer. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, since we don’t have a doctor at the moment. This ‘condition’ won’t be a problem will it?”

“No, it will not affect my work, as long as I keep the devices in good working order.”

“Make sure you do then,” Janeway said.

Seven thought she had perceived a faint hint of concern in the Captain’s voice, though considered that Janeway could just be worried about how it might affect her performance rather than anything more personal.

“Here we are then, the messhall,” Janeway informed her.

They entered an open plan room, which had a number of tables and chairs dotted around the main area and a small galley off to one side. In the centre of the room sat two people who both swung round and then stood to meet their entry. The first of them was another human, a male. He was slightly shorter than Seven and possessed a round face in the middle of which sat a pair of dark but welcoming eyes. His hair was equally dark, cut into a short spiky style. He smiled as he saw them approaching.

The other person couldn’t have been more of a contrast. She was female, but not human, or at least not fully. Seven believed she was most likely half Klingon if the forehead ridges were anything to go by. Where the man seemed pleased to see them, she had a scowl on her face, regarding Seven suspiciously. They both wore battered clothes similar to the captain, though the woman was by far the grubbiest of the three. Her face and arms were smudged with grease and grime as if she’d recently been working on something. Glancing at the table where they had been sitting, Seven could see there was some engineering equipment arrayed across it.

“Harry, B’Elanna, I’d like you to meet our new crewmember, Annika Hansen,” the Captain said by means of introduction.

“Actually, Captain,” Seven quickly interrupted, “I prefer to go by my nickname – Seven.”

“Seven?” repeated Janeway doubtfully.

“You want to be known by a number?” added the dark-haired woman called B’Elanna.

“Yes,” replied Seven.

“Well, pleased to meet you, Seven,” said the man, extending his hand, “As the captain said, I’m Harry, Harry Kim.”

After receiving an almost imperceptible look from the Captain, the other woman grudgingly offered her hand too. “B’Elanna Torres,” she said, her voice carrying barely concealed hostility. Seven knew that Klingons were renowned for being antagonistic, and Torres was living proof of that. As an added hint of just how surly they could be, Seven could feel the other woman attempting to crush her hand as she shook it. Fortunately her Borg enhanced skeletal structure meant the Klingon’s attempt was futile, and Torres looked perturbed when Seven gave no outward sign of discomfort.

Finally Torres dropped her hand and Seven glanced around the rest of the room. “Where are the rest of the crew?”

B’Elanna laughed out loud. “We’re it, baby!”

Seven found it hard to contain her surprise, also wondering why the woman was comparing her to an infant. “The three of you, you are the only crew?”

It was Janeway who answered the question. “Yes, we had five to begin with but…well, things happen. The ship is designed to be run by a minimal crew, though three is pushing it slightly.”

“You have four now,” Seven reminded her.

“Yes, we do,” agreed Janeway, “Anyway, we should get on and look at the rest of the ship. How are the repairs to the plasma conduit regulators going by the way, B’Elanna?”

“Oh, just great. As you can see they’re a complete mess,” she remarked, indicating the disassembled components on the table, “I’m at a bit of a dead end to tell you the truth, which is why I brought them up here. I thought a change of scenery might provide inspiration.”

“Here’s hoping, I don’t fancy going to warp without them,” Janeway said seriously, “Come on then, Seven.”

Seven, however, wasn’t listening, scanning the equipment before her intently.

“Seven?” repeated the Captain.

Seven finally swung to the Captain. “Would you like me to take a look at the regulators?”

“You know about Starfleet warp plasma regulators do you?” asked Torres incredulously, jabbing her hands on her hips in a defiant stance.

“I have seem something similar,” replied Seven evenly, ignoring the challenge in the tone and looking to the Captain for permission to proceed.

“Knock yourself out,” said Janeway, gesturing to the table.

“Captain!” cried an offended Torres.

“There’s no harm in letting her have a look is there?” said Janeway reasonably, “You can keep a close watch if you want, in case she’s doing something she shouldn’t.”

Torres reluctantly stepped away from where she was blocking Seven’s access to the table, continuing to eye the young woman with suspicion as she picked up one of the components and turned it over in her hands a couple of times. The others weren’t to know, but Seven was actually scanning it with her enhanced left eye, immediately able to see what the problem was.

“There is a micro-fracture in the main assembly manifold,” she stated.

“What?” cried Torres, “How in Kahless name could you know that?” She snatched the component back off Seven and picked up an engineering tricorder. As she ran it back and forth across the metal Seven could see her eyes widening in surprise. “She’s right,” she eventually said, looking up at the Captain in amazement.

Seven caught the barest of smiles, playing across the Captain’s lips as if something had amused her about the situation. Seven was unsure what that was and was disappointed to see the smile was gone again just as quickly. It had been different to the ones the Captain had flashed about with abandon so far. This one had contained genuine warmth.

“Better get it fixed then,” the Captain instructed Torres.

Once they were back out in the corridor on the way to survey the rest of the ship, the Captain’s curiosity appeared to get the better of her.

“How did you detect that flaw in the manifold?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained forwards as they walked.

Seven hesitated over what to say. “I did not,” she lied, “I merely deduced it was the most likely cause of the malfunction.”

“That’s some pretty good deduction then,” noted the Captain, “Especially if B’Elanna hadn’t come to the same conclusion already.”

The tone of the Captain’s voice led Seven to suspect that the Captain wasn’t convinced by her explanation, but she didn’t press any further. Maybe she was just happy the item would be repaired, however the reason for its failure its was discovered.

Janeway led Seven through the rest of the ship, which was in a similar state to that which she had seen so far. Considering there were only three crewmembers she supposed it was a miracle that the ship was functioning at all. The three of them probably had to work day and night to keep it running given the line of work they were in. Seven had seen enough cargo vessels and smuggling ships docked at the station to know that the occupation was a hazardous one in this particular region of space.

Finally they came to the crew quarters. They were on the same deck as the messhall one below the main bridge, but they had been down to the lower decks before arriving at the door they now stood before.

“And these are your quarters,” Janeway said, keying in a code on the door.

The room was divided into two sections, both of them fairly small, but larger than Seven’s quarters back on the station. The first area she presumed was what would be designated as the living area, with a couple of relaxed chairs and a low table arranged over by the window. There was also a desk built into one of the walls with a computer terminal on it. In the wall next to the desk was a replicator. Seven had never seen one before apart from in her Borg related memories and she was curious to test it now, wondering what she might attempt to replicate.

The second room contained a bed and a small ante-room with washing facilities and a sonic shower. Seven marvelled at the size of the bed – it was much larger than what she was used to on the station where she’d utilised a bunk bed. Of course she rarely used it for sleeping purposes and it was a shame the same would be true of the one before her when it looked so inviting. All in all she considered that the quarters were plain but functional and more than adequate for her. They were also clean, which was more than could be said for anything back on the grimy station.

The Captain was beside her as Seven continued to survey the bedroom, looking out the viewport above the bedhead at her former home. “If you don’t like them then there about ten other empty ones to choose from,” mentioned the Captain, “Though they’re all identical.”

“These ones are acceptable,” Seven stated

“A couple of points to note,” Janeway continued, “I’m afraid the replicators in the individual quarters don’t work – we don’t have enough power to keep those going. Luckily the ones in the messhall are working. For now at least.” She added with a rueful shake of the head.

Seven caught the odd gesture. “Captain?”

“I was just thinking how ironic it is,” explained Janeway, “In a lot of ways we’re worse off now than we ever were on Voyager, stuck in the Delta Quadrant. Though I guess our situation is similar – it’s not like we can pop by the nearest Starfleet station for repairs.”

“You would not be welcome?”

Janeway laughed out loud, though there was little merriment in the hollow sound. “I think I can safely say we would not,” she agreed, “Not after we…appropriated one of their ships.”

“You stole this ship from Starfleet?”

“Yes we did,” answered Janeway abruptly. “Anyway, as I was saying we have to be careful in terms of power and resource usage. So if you need to take a sonic shower or anything else like that that’s going to be a drain on power you need to clear it with me or B’Elanna first.”

“Understood.” Seven didn’t need to make use of a shower very often anyway since her nanoprobes regulated many of her bodily functions and secretions such as sweat.

Seven couldn’t fail to notice how Janeway had quickly shifted topics away from the past. Seven was keen to know more about this Voyager and its time in the Delta Quadrant. Her Borg acquired knowledge did not include anything on the ship, leading her to assume it had never encountered the Collective. Seven was also curious about the Captain herself – how had she gone from Starfleet captain to the margins of society? It seemed that whatever the reason was, it did not provide happy memories for the Captain since she hadn’t lingered on the subject more than was necessary. If anything she sensed the Captain regretted letting slip the modicum of information that she had. Seven supposed she would have to wait until a more suitable time to bring it up again, or discover the information herself somehow.

“What you do have in your quarters is access to the ship’s database,” continued the Captain, “So familiarising yourself with the ship and its systems would be a good start to your time with us. Sorry this has been a bit of a whiz-bang tour but I need to go and sort out our cargo for our latest trip. I’ll give you some more specific tasks when I get back and we’re ready for the off.”

Janeway was on the way to the door when something occurred to Seven. “The database, is it restricted to just this ship and its systems?”

“No, we have a copy of the Federation database too, that Harry insisted on bringing along.”

Seven found it hard to contain her excitement, surprised by the degree of it. “May I access it?”

Janeway regarded her curiously, the blue-grey eyes fixed on Seven’s face in that already familiar look of silent examination. “Looking for something in particular?”

“I would like to know more about the Federation,” explained Seven honestly, “And Earth.”

“I don’t know why,” remarked Janeway, bitterness edging her tone, “It’s really nothing special.”

Seven was nonplussed by the comment. “But it is your home…”

“Was my home,” corrected the Captain quickly, “There’s nothing there for me now.”

Seven could tell this was another touchy subject, but pressed on anyway, thinking she would never learn anything if she didn’t at least probe to some extent. She couldn’t understand how someone who had a proper home, somewhere they belonged, could be so disdainful of it. “You do not miss it?”

“No.”

It appeared Janeway was not going to be forthcoming in responding to Seven’s queries. Seven also suspected that the other woman was not being entirely truthful in the answers she was giving. From her short experience, Seven had gathered that what people said and what they thought were often two different things. She was not accustomed to it herself, finding it hard to carry off such deception with ease. She had surprised herself with how she had managed it so far with regards to anything Borg related, though even then she’d had to stick reasonably close to the truth.

“Anyway,” said Janeway to break the uncomfortable silence, “If you do want to access it, feel free. You can from any of the terminals like the one on the desk.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Seven attempting to give the other woman a smile to show she was genuinely grateful. She wasn’t very practiced in the art and the odd look Janeway gave her in return made her think her latest attempt had been a less than stellar success.

Once the Captain was gone, Seven immediately crossed to the desk, bringing up the Federation database. However, her initial searches for the information she was looking for proved fruitless and as she dug deeper she discovered that her first findings regarding it were confirmed – it appeared someone had deleted all reference to Voyager and its crew, including the Captain.

Seven could only assume it was Janeway herself who had removed the records, making her wonder why. Was she trying to hide something from others or was there something she was trying to forget herself? Seven considered that she could try and retrieve the records, since they would have most likely left some trace in the system. However, that would require her to breach security protocols and lockouts and could possibly be detected. In the end she decided against it, not wanting to get her new life onboard The Paladin off to an ignominious start. Hopefully in time she would be able to discern more about the other ship and its crew from the Captain or the others. Most importantly she hoped that she would learn more about the Captain herself.

…..

Kathryn Janeway gazed out of the viewport in her ready room, studying the vista of the decaying space station visible to her. It was a far cry from the Federation that was for sure. Some times she would sit late at night wondering what had brought her to this, being little more than a glorified delivery person on the edge of the galaxy. How had a once proud Starfleet captain sunk so low?

Of course she knew the answers, but she didn’t like to deliberate on them too long, because with those recollections came pain, sorrow and hurt that she’d rather forget. However, even with her avoidance she seemed incapable of doing that. It was like she was stuck in the past, constrained by the weight of the guilt and recriminations that lay there.

Sighing to herself she crossed to the replicator. “Coffee, Black.”

She knew it was an extravagance, but she needed something to keep her going that day. It was lucky they actually had replicators for the time being, so she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Keeping the ship running was a constant battle and had been for the last year since they’d left Earth and cut themselves off from Starfleet. Sooner or later the replicators would be down again and then it would be back to rations or one of…

Janeway had to stop herself.

She had been about to finish with ‘Neelix’s concoctions’. Only of course they wouldn’t be sampling any of Neelix’s food ever again.

Janeway walked back over to the small window in the ready room, staring out at the hull of the space station, trying to put desolate thoughts of the past behind her and look forward to their latest supply trip instead. They were almost ready to set off on their latest run, but Janeway found herself viewing that with more trepidation than she was accustomed to, at the same time knowing exactly why that was.

She’d sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to pick up any more waifs and strays on her new ship, not like she had done on Voyager. Keep the crew small, she’d told herself, that way there was less chance of losing them. Then again, she’d never expected to meet any other humans this far out on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant, and certainly not one as pushy as Seven.

Janeway considered the conundrum of the young woman. Not only was there the incongruity of finding her out in the middle of nowhere, a lone human amongst a host of aliens, but then there was her whole personality. Janeway didn’t think she’d ever met anyone quite so forthright. Her degree of confidence was verging on the arrogant. And yet at the same time Janeway sensed something else behind it, an almost child-like innocence hidden beneath the icy exterior. There’d been a glimpse of it when Janeway had mentioned the Federation database. Seven had looked like a child with a new toy at Christmas, and Janeway found herself strangely pleased to be the one giving it to her.

There was a chirrup at the door that broke Janeway out of her thoughts of the peculiar young woman.

“Come,” she called out, sitting behind the desk. This ready room was a lot smaller than her one back on Voyager. It barely had room for the desk and the small couch that sat by the window.

The doors opened to reveal her chief engineer, B’Elanna Torres. Janeway had to mentally catch herself and remind herself to stop thinking of the other woman like that. B’Elanna wasn’t her chief engineer; she was her only engineer.

“B’Elanna,” acknowledged Janeway as the younger woman crossed to the seat in front of the desk, “Is everything set for departure?”

“The ship’s as good as I’m going to get it for now,” B’Elanna confirmed, “Which just leaves one problem.”

Janeway raised her eyebrows, waiting for further elaboration, though she thought she knew where B’Elanna was heading.

“Why have we got a new crewmember?” asked B’Elanna, confirming Janeway’s assumption.

“We were one person short,” Janeway informed her.

“We could have coped,” reasoned B’Elanna, “And I’m sure I’m going to get the Doctor back online soon. It’s not like you were rushing to get someone else when we he went offline in the first place. I know it was hard losing Neelix too, but I don’t think it’s a good idea picking up some stranger to replace him.”

“Are you questioning my decision?” Janeway asked with a touch of reproach in her tone. She hadn’t liked the reminder of the recent death of their Talaxian friend.

“Not exactly,” B’Elanna replied, “Just wanting to express some doubts about the wisdom of bringing a stranger on board. And aren’t you just the little bit suspicious? I mean a human, all the way out here - it’s pretty fishy.”

“We’re out here,” reasoned Janeway. The fact was that she did share B’Elanna’s doubts, but she decided to play devil’s advocate in this instance.

“And we know why that is don’t we. So what is she doing out here? Who is she hiding from?”

“Good questions,” agreed Janeway, “Maybe you should ask her?”

“Why haven’t you asked her?” cried B’Elanna in exasperation. “This isn’t like you, Captain, taking on someone on pure faith like this.”

“Isn’t it? Or maybe this is exactly like me, or at least the old me.”

“Oh, I see, this is some way to try and remind yourself of the old days is it?”

Janeway fixed B’Elanna with a stern look that immediately silenced the other woman. “The fact of the matter is Seven is human,” she outlined skirting round the previous comments, “She’s one of us.”

“Are you sure about that?” demanded B’Elanna. “I mean what are those metallic things on her face and hand? I’ve never seen any humans with anything like that before.”

It was at times like this that Janeway regretted the fact that on this ship she held no proper sway over the crew - B’Elanna would never have been quite so challenging back on Voyager, or at least not quite so openly so. Most of the time Harry and B’Elanna still acted as they would have done back on that ship. They deferred all decision making to her and respected her in exactly the same way as the old days most of the time. They still even called her Captain, even though none of them held a rank any more and she had told them to call her Kathryn on numerous occasions. Harry had looked aghast at the mere suggestion of it and she thought B’Elanna continued to use her former rank out of habit more than anything else. She supposed even on a cargo ship someone had to be in charge and that task had naturally fallen to her. There had been no debate about it, that’s just the way things had happened. No one had actually asked her if that’s what she wanted.

Getting back to the conversation she answered B’Elanna’s question about Seven. “She said they were for some medical condition, to regulate it.”

“And you believed that?”

Janeway sighed. “I’m willing to accept it for now, until proved otherwise. Aren’t you being rather judgemental here? She’s only just come on board. It’s not like she’s done anything to warrant this kind of suspicion or are you smarting because she was able to fix the plasma regulator when you couldn’t?”

“No,” said B’Elanna defensively, though her body language said something else.

Janeway leant forward on the desk, deciding to be magnanimous, despite the fact that B’Elanna’s attitude was causing the faint stirrings of a headache. “Ok, I’ll let you in on something,” she began slowly, “I am slightly suspicious of her, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. We’ll keep a close eye on her, and if she does step out of line, then we can ditch her, all right?”

She supposed she should have been more disturbed by the callousness in her own words, but she didn’t always have time for social and moral niceties these days.

“All right,” agreed B’Elanna grudgingly.

As the younger woman departed the room, Janeway suspected that B’Elanna was starting to question the wisdom of coming along with Janeway when they had left Earth. She couldn’t blame the young woman; she had her hands full keeping the ship running with only Harry and Janeway herself for help. It was a long way from having a whole department of engineers at her beck and call.

And she certainly couldn’t blame B’Elanna when she herself continued to harbour misgivings about what she was doing out in the arse end of the galaxy. It had taken a lot of convincing to get her to leave Earth, mainly on the part of Harry. She’d been quite happy in her pit of despair until he came along.

As her thoughts turned back to Earth, Janeway naturally found herself in front of the replicator again, the familiar demon at the back of her mind telling her she needed something a little stronger than coffee. She tried to ignore it, but it was persistent, persuasive.

“Whiskey, neat,” she instructed the machine, immediately hating herself for succumbing.

She stared at the taunting glass before snatching it up and downing it in one swift gulp. The real alcohol caused a faint, satisfying burning on its way down. Having ordered another she wandered back over to the desk and pulled open the drawer, thinking she may as well compound her pain while she was at it. She took out the photo frame as she had dozens of times before and placed it on the desk before her.

“Where did it all go wrong?” she asked the pictures before her, focussing in on the second of them. “Why did you leave me?” she pleaded of the person in it. As always they had no answer for her.

Suddenly the door to Janeway’s ready room swished open without any chime to request admittance as a precursor. Janeway had to quickly sweep the frame back into the drawer. She glanced up to see Seven striding in and she hoped the young woman hadn’t spotted the pictures. Seven came to a halt in front of the desk, but remained standing, her hands behind her back.

“It’s considered polite to knock before entering,” Janeway commented sarcastically.

Seven looked back at the doors before returning her gaze to Janeway. “That would be impractical since they open automatically as someone approaches.”

Janeway eyed her suspiciously, unsure if Seven was being facetious or not. “You know what I mean – ring the chime next time.”

“If you wish.”

Janeway considered that Seven’s honest, yet abrupt answers really were quite disconcerting. They gave whomever she was talking to no room for manoeuvre in the conversation. There was no preamble or disassembling like there was in a normal discussion, time that gave you the chance to formulate your next response. Janeway could see she would have her hands full keeping one step ahead, but was sure she was up to the task.

“I’m glad you came by, actually,” Janeway said, “I wanted to talk more about our mission and your job on it.”

“That is why I came also.”

“Great, then we’re on the same wavelength,” noted Janeway lightly.

Seven’s expression remained impassive despite Janeway’s attempts at breaking the ice. It was like talking to a brick wall in terms of reaction she considered.

“Why don’t you sit down?” offered Janeway.

“I prefer to stand,” replied Seven.

“And I prefer not to get a crick in my neck,” shot back Janeway, “So, please, sit down.”

Seven lowered herself uncomfortably into the seat. Janeway watched her the whole way, noting how the young woman sat stiffly even when she was down, her back ramrod straight. Janeway tapped a couple of commands into her computer, swinging the monitor round so Seven could also see the star chart she had called up.

“We’ve got a couple of deliveries to make, and one final pickup to bring back here to the station. Have you ever been to any of these planets?” she asked indicating the three dots.

“I have not.”

“Never mind, I’ll probably be making all the trades so there won’t be any need for you to leave the ship unless you have a particular desire to explore any of the planets.”

“It does not bother me where we are going, I only wish to leave this station with you.”

Janeway got the strangest sensation that when Seven said ‘you’, she meant Janeway personally rather than the ship and crew as a whole. “I gather you don’t much like it here?” Janeway asked, mentally shaking herself back to her senses.

“You gather correctly. Though that is not my primary reason for leaving. I wish to be with my own kind.”

Janeway studied the young woman before her, the piercing blue eyes of Seven meeting her own unflinchingly. “You make it sound like you’ve never seen another human being before,” remarked Janeway.

Janeway was surprised when no answer was forthcoming, and even more shocked when the hitherto confident and assertive Seven broke eye contact to glance nervously to the side.

“How long exactly were you in the Delta Quadrant?” asked Janeway.

“Twenty years.”

Janeway was stunned, sure that much was obvious on her face. “But that means you must have left when you were…five, six?”

“Six,” confirmed Seven, “My parents were scientists, they wanted to…explore.”

“That’s some exploring,” Janeway commented in admiration, at the same time making a mental note to check up on the facts Seven was giving her, “So they took you round the Delta Quadrant for twenty years did they?”

“Not exactly.”

Janeway could see the nervousness in Seven’s demeanour again, realising that for all her plain speaking, Seven really wasn’t very good at covering things up. Sensing she didn’t even need to press, Janeway merely waited for further elaboration.

“I…lost them not long after we arrived there,” Seven added after a couple of moments under Janeway’s stare.

Janeway detected the first hint of emotion in Seven’s voice when she tripped over the word ‘lost’. “I’m sorry, that must have been awful,” she offered inanely, “Losing them so far from home, being all alone. How did you survive?”

“I had to adapt, quickly.”

It was starting to dawn on Janeway why Seven seemed so odd – she’d hardly had any human contact before now. “So where did you grow up then?” she asked, wondering what species Seven had been amongst to leave her so socially underdeveloped.

“I lived on the planet of the Patat-Damar,” explained Seven.

Janeway had never heard of them. “And what were they like?”

“They were an intellectual race, interested in science and order, so I learnt many useful subjects while there.”

“Such as plasma regulator maintenance?”

“Yes,” replied Seven.

Something about that didn’t ring true, but Janeway left it for now. “Apart from their intellectual capabilities what were they like as people – were they kind, welcoming, loving. I presume they must have been to some extent if they took you in.”

“I suppose so,” agreed Seven, the small device above her left eyebrow quirking upwards as she considered it, “I do not really know. If they were those things they did not show them openly.”

The more Seven talked the more Janeway sensed that her first impressions of the young woman had been somewhat misguided. Though at first Seven came across as blunt, combative and maybe a touch unfeeling, Janeway sensed that was more to do with the fact that she didn’t know how to interact with people, rather than how she actually felt underneath. She basically said what was on her mind without any of the normal social considerations. In a way it was refreshingly honest, but it could take some getting used to.

“They sound positively Vulcan,” noted Janeway in regards to the people Seven had grown up with.

“I believe that is a reasonably accurate comparison,” agreed Seven

Janeway seized on the comment. “You’ve heard of Vulcans then? All the way out in the Delta Quadrant?”

Seven paused momentarily, obviously caught out. “I read about them in your database,” she answered eventually.

“What a coincidence,” Janeway remarked, “That you happened to have read about them already and that you remembered it.”

“I am a fast reader and I have a very good memory.”

Janeway could tell Seven was hiding something, especially since her answers had become even more clipped than before. There was obviously more to her tale of growing up with these Patat-Damar people than she was letting on, if it was true at all of course. Janeway decided to leave that aspect of it for now, since Seven had become so reticent and concentrate on something else that had bothered her about the story.

“So how the hell did you manage to get all the way to the Delta Quadrant and then all the way back again, all in the space of twenty years?”

“How did you get there and back?”

Janeway hadn’t expected her question to be turned back on her so swiftly. The fact that she was unprepared left her unable to stop the dark look from crossing her features as she recalled her time there and what she had done to get them home in the end. “You heard about that did you?” she asked edgily.

“There was talk on the station,” confirmed Seven.

“Oh, I bet there was,” scoffed Janeway, “Bad new always travels fast, even to the very edges of the galaxy.”

“What happened to Voyager?”

Janeway stared at her. There it was again – Seven’s unrelenting directness. Most other people would have been warned off by Janeway’s obvious bitterness. “It’s a long story, not one I want to recount now,” Janeway stated.

“Sorry, I did not mean to bring up painful memories.”

Janeway glanced at the young woman, surprised at the comment and the degree of empathy it had shown. Seven showed no visible sign of concern though, her expression as placid as ever, her pale blue eyes regarding Janeway intently.

“Forget about it,” said Janeway dismissively, “We all have a past we want to forget - I can’t imagine you ended up at Outpost 47 out of choice. I get the sense that there’s something you’re not telling me about this Delta Quadrant business but frankly I don’t care what you might have done in the past, just as long as you do a good job for me now.”

“I will do whatever you ask of me.”

“Just what a Captain likes to hear,” noted Janeway. “In that case, I may as well give you this, she added handing a PADD to Seven. It’s what B’Elanna colourfully refers to as her ‘shit list’.”

Seven’s eyes were scanning the PADD, scrolling through the numerous entries. “An interesting turn of phrase.”

“Basically it’s all the little things she’d like to do but hasn’t got around to due to lack of time,” explained Janeway. “We’ll see how you get on with that before we move you onto anything else more challenging. It should keep you occupied for a good few weeks…or months!”

“I will attend to them immediately,” stated Seven, rising from her chair and heading straight for the door. Janeway thought she was going to sweep directly out without waiting to be dismissed, before the young woman suddenly turned on the threshold as if she had forgotten something. “Thank you, Captain.”

Then Seven was out the door onto the bridge leaving Janeway to mull over the encounter. It was too early for her to form an accurate impression of the young woman, who seemed to be far more complex than Janeway had originally assumed. Janeway had gotten so used to fending off the multitude of different people all wanting to join the infamous Captain’s crew during their time out in deep space, that she hadn’t wanted to give Seven the time of day to begin with. She wasn’t sure what exactly all those people were expecting – glory hunters out for some sort of high adventure or perhaps just money she supposed. Or maybe they fancied getting a look at, or maybe even stealing some, Starfleet technology. She didn’t think Seven was like that. It appeared her expectations were few, beyond wanting to spend time with other humans.

From what Janeway had gathered so far it sounded as if the young woman’s past held its fair share of tragedy and Janeway couldn’t help but be saddened by that. To be orphaned at such a young age was terrible. Janeway rubbed roughly at her face, running her hand wearily through her hair as she realised where her thoughts were heading. This was all she needed – to start caring and worrying about those under her command again. Not that Seven was under her command as such, but Janeway still felt that familiar responsibility for those on her ship stirring within her.

She’d done her best to banish such feelings over the previous year - to become harder and more detached. She’d had a fair amount of success too, garnering a fearsome reputation in the sector, built on a combination of fear and respect. However, what with Seven’s appearance and Neelix’s recent death it was getting harder to deny that deep down that sense of duty and loyalty that had always driven her on in the past was never far away. She guessed she would just have to keep an eye on that as well as the new addition to their crew.

………..

When Seven received Janeway’s hail informing her they were ready to depart the space station she secured what she had been working on in the Jeffries tube, and headed up to the bridge to watch the departure. As she came out onto the bridge from the access ladder she saw that all the front stations were now occupied, whereas on her earlier tour they had been empty. Janeway sat in the command chair in the centre of the room, and before her sat Harry and B’Elanna at the two seats for the main bridge console. As Janeway had earlier informed Seven, from there the two of them were responsible for navigation, tactical, engineering and operations. In the event it was required all controls could be routed via a single console. There were a couple of free stations at the rear of the bridge and Seven made her way to one of these, remaining standing.

Janeway obviously sensed the movement and swivelled slightly in her chair to regard the young woman. Seven offered her a small nod of acknowledgement before she turned to the front again.

“All right, now we’re all here, take us out Harry, nice and easy does it.”

“Aye, Captain,” replied the young man.

Seven could see Janeway relaxing back into her chair as the docking clamps released, her eyes keenly on the fore view screen. Janeway looked at ease in the chair, like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Seven envied her that feeling, hoping she too may discover something similar one day. The ship eased away from the station at minimal speed before swinging towards open space.

“Set course for Agnadi,” Janeway instructed, giving Harry the opportunity to perform the task before following it up. “Warp six, engage!”

The ship leapt into the reaches of open space, the telltale streaks of light showing that they had gone to warp speed. Seven supposed she should feel some sort of pang of remorse or regret about leaving her temporary home, but all she felt was what she had now defined as a sense of excited anticipation for what lay ahead.

…………….

Seeking to make a good impression with her new crewmates, Seven busied herself with work over the next few of days, working her way through the list the Captain had given her. Fortunately most of the tasks were well within her capabilities to perform and where they weren’t a quick consultation of the database revealed the answers to her. She didn’t really see much of the others while she spent her time down Jeffries tubes or behind access panels, sharing the odd nod of acknowledgement if one of them happened past. A starship was a big place when there were only four of you though, even one as small as The Paladin. Seven was so consumed with her work that she neglected to join the others for meals those evenings, though the Captain had pointed out to her that it was common for them to share an evening meal together. Seven was somewhat reluctant, though, given her difficulties with food and hoped that her absence hadn’t been considered as a snub of some kind. She resolved that she would make the effort that evening – she was meant to be learning about humanity after all and she wouldn’t do much of that spending all her time with tricorders and plasma conduits.

She was working on one of those conduits now, jammed into a Jeffries tube, hunched over it. She pulled out her tricorder from one of the many pockets in her trousers, wearing the same clothes as she had come aboard the ship in. She considered them to be practical and efficient. Just as she was scanning the faulty conduit the doors next to her slid open.

“Kahless!” cried Torres, almost falling off the access ladder in surprise when she saw Seven sitting there. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I am fixing the plasma conduit.”

Torres’ eyes narrowed perceptibly. “Ok, correction,” she said, “What the hell are you doing here so goddam early?”

“Is this not a suitable time for plasma conduit maintenance?” asked Seven nonchalantly.

“Well, no…I mean yes…”

“And if not what are you doing here?”

“That’s beside the point!” snapped Torres testily, “Don’t you ever sleep?”

Seven didn’t think answering truthfully at that point was prudent. “I merely like to get on with the tasks assigned to me whenever I have the opportunity.”

“In that case you must have practically finished them all since you never seem to be out of engineering,” noted Torres, “Let’s have a look at that list shall we?”

Torres snatched up the ‘shit list’ from where it sat on the deck next to Seven, starting to scroll through it. Seven supposed she was trying to catch her out, but as the multitude of tasks flashed by Torres’ eyes got wider and wider. “Holy cow!” she exclaimed eventually, “I can’t believe it, you have, you’ve fixed the whole blasted lot.”

“The Captain gave me a task and I wished to complete it,” stated Seven.

“I don’t think she meant for you to finish it in three days flat!” cried Torres, shaking her head.

“She will be disappointed that I have finished quickly?” asked Seven, disconcerted that she may have made an error.

“Hell no,” replied Torres handing the list back to Seven, “I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”

Seven felt a strong sense of satisfaction on discovering the Captain would be pleased.

“I suppose that means I better find something else for you to do…”

…………..

The something else that Torres found for her to do was attempt to fix the single shuttlecraft the ship possessed. Seven could understand why Torres had left the vehicle as it was – it was damaged almost beyond repair. But Seven was never one to shirk a task or a challenge so she set about it with her customary gusto. However, she made sure that come the evening she made her way to the messhall to join the others. Only when she got there she found that there was only a single occupant of the room. She tried to hide her disappointment, especially when Harry turned and offered her a warm smile.

“Where are the others?” asked Seven, sitting down opposite him.

“The Captain’s been and gone, said she had something to do,” Harry outlined, “B’Elanna’s still working I expect.”

Seven silently cursed herself for not arriving sooner, making a mental note of the time so she could correct the aberration the following day.

“So what can I get you?” asked Harry, getting to his feet and heading to the kitchen area, “We have replicators at the moment, so it’s whatever you like.”

Seven’s knowledge of food was almost as extensive as her knowledge of humans in general - practically non-existent. While she continued to regenerate on a regular basis she didn’t need to consume food or drink beyond the barest amounts. “Perhaps you could recommend something?” suggested Seven.

“Right,” noted Harry, “I suppose you don’t get much federation food out in the Delta Quadrant, though if you want you can program in some recipes you do know.”

As he went over to the replicator Seven realised the Captain must have discussed her with Harry and no doubt B’Elanna too, since she had never mentioned her Delta Quadrant past to Harry herself. She was faintly disconcerted that they might have been talking about her, wondering exactly what the Captain had said. She supposed it was only natural for them to have some misgivings about an unknown new crewmember. Harry certainly gave no outward sign of being perturbed by her presence; he had been nothing but friendly, unlike the openly hostile Torres.

He was heading back to the table now, carrying a plate. “I thought I’d stick to something simple to begin with,” he said setting it down before her, “See how you get on.”

Seven picked up the fork he had also set down, prodding uncertainly at the food. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s pasta,” he replied, “It can come in lots of different shapes, but this one is called penne. It’s in a tomato and basil sauce.”

Seven skewered one of the cylindrical food items, eyeing it suspiciously before putting it in her mouth. After chewing very deliberately she finally swallowed it.

“So, what do you think?” asked Harry who had been watching expectantly.

“It is acceptable,” agreed Seven, surmising that the pasta was sufficiently bland for her unseasoned palate.

Harry