Chapter Text
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hiding from something out there.”
Admiral Janeway smirked at Seven through La Sirena’s viewscreen, half-playful, but with a little cocked eyebrow that challenged her to prove otherwise.
“You and your… colleagues… aren’t even hearing my case for two more weeks,” Seven responded evenly. “I thought it would be a good time to… recharge.”
“Mm, indeed,” Janeway replied, absolutely not buying it.
“Revoth is quiet. H’mok meditation is said to give clarity and perspective. I could stand a little of both.”
Janeway chuckled. “Well, I can certainly understand that. But don’t neglect Commander Musiker for too long.”
Seven tried not to flush. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
Her old mentor gave a short little cackle. “You two are nowhere near as slick as you think you are.” She winked. “Behave yourself for a couple of weeks if you can, Seven. And don’t hesitate to reach out if you need me.”
“Thank you…” She hesitated for a moment. “...Admiral.”
The screen blinked off. Seven stretched in her chair and tried to put all her weird feelings back into their correct places. She had been in love with Janeway before she even understood what that meant, not that it ever could have gone anywhere. She and Janeway had been through hell and back together, and then, at the end of it all, Seven had chosen to remove herself from Janeway’s world rather than jeopardize her Starfleet career. After all, twenty years ago, the Federation knew next to nothing about ex-Borg, didn’t trust them, had no idea how to deal with them, and well… Seven’s loyalty to Janeway led to her making a painful decision.
But now, after two missions with Picard and a brief, largely symbolic field command of the Stargazer, Seven was actually staring down the possibility of becoming a commissioned Starfleet officer. She had wanted it badly twenty years ago. In the intervening years, she had briefly tried to content herself working in an astrometrics lab, but found that to be not nearly suicidal enough for her tastes. The Fenris Rangers had offered an attractive alternative; high risk, low pay, dubious legality, and the warm, fuzzy feeling of providing needed services to communities that suffered from the crumbling of the Federation’s structure in those areas.
The hard drinking and ass kicking were merely a bonus.
So used to living on the outside, she had no idea what to do now with the prospect of suddenly being invited in.
****
Revoth was a pretty little planet about three days’ jog from Earth at Warp 4. To the extent that it was known at all, which was very little, it was known for its hot springs, bioluminescent caves, warm breezes and cool, starry evenings. It was also known for the small population of H’mok, a people given to meditation and calm. The center of their small society was a temple where they gathered to “achieve Communion,” which sounded dubious to Seven, but seemed harmless enough.
The H’mok had sweet little faces and big, bulbous heads. They were nominally warp-capable, as in, they had the technology, but seemed to have little inclination to use it. Who could blame them, Seven thought as she wandered through an immaculately arranged rock garden of blue and purple stones, it was serene here. The trees had been tended with delicate little H’mok hands to extend their branches in the most marvelous ways, to expose their various colored blossoms to best delight the wanderer.
The food wasn’t bad, either. She hadn’t even noticed that it was vegetarian until on her third day, it occurred to her that she was feeling a little lighter, a little cleaner somehow. One of her little H’mok hosts, Kivani, chuckled soundlessly when Seven announced that she was feeling better than she had in ages. “Of course,” she said, “no animal grease in your system.” Between that, the quiet, and the soft, loose clothing they offered when she got here, she was already feeling more refreshed than she’d expected.
Vacations. Who knew?
The sunsets on Revoth were banded with gold and pink, and the colors sparkled across the surface of the little reflecting pool that Seven crossed over as she walked barefoot along the smooth path. The garden meandered around the temple, a structure that must have taken these people ages to build, whenever it was made. The temple rested on a high plateau, overlooking an enormous lake that reflected the sunsets, and on those cool, clear nights, mirrored back the stars. Her best guess based on surreptitious readings she’d taken suggested it was about two thousand years old.
And it was covered, every inch of it, in painstakingly detailed mosaics.
She was looking forward to Raffi getting here to join her. They had still, after everything, not managed the kind of time together they wanted, and it was getting to both of them a little. Apart from a little mildly steamy talk over comms, which Seven wasn’t terribly good at anyway, they hadn’t properly spent time alone together that didn’t involve something exploding in the background or someone dying in front of them.
So while Raffi took care of a few loose ends back on Earth, Seven had gone ahead to Revoth and soaked up the quiet. She hadn’t noticed until she’d been here for about a day how overstimulated she was on a near-constant basis.
Kivani had gestured to the implant above Seven’s eye. “Harder for you than some others,” she said, “because of the extra. You take in so much, so much more than others like you. You do not see that your load is greater.”
This made sense, of course. The idea that she maybe needed to clear sensory space for herself. But of course, that would involve self-care, another thing that she wasn’t terribly good at and hadn't even been particularly interested in until she’d met Raffi.
Kivani’s partner (wife? Lover? husband? Seven was unclear on how the H’mok thought of marriage and partnership and wasn’t even entirely clear on gender delineations here) approached her as she followed the path that led around the back of the temple. They were called Iktoh, and Seven had found their company pleasant enough on the few occasions they’d spoken.
“Captain Seven,” they greeted her.
“Just Seven, please.”
“Seven,” they amended with a little smile. “Would you like to attend Communion this evening?”
Seven had still not entirely gotten clear on what exactly it entailed. “Would I be able to just observe?”
Iktoh considered her question. “It is difficult to sit in the Temple and not be drawn into the Communion. I suspect that your…” They gestured to her eye implant. “...would make you more sensitive to its effects.”
“What is it, exactly?” She had not been able to get a satisfactory explanation from anyone so far.
Iktoh smiled. “The temple focuses your energy. Allows your spirit to travel to anyplace you wish.”
Sounded like transcendental meditation. “But I wish to be here,” she said, gesturing around at the gardens, and at the sides of the temple, whose edges were beginning to pulse with a pale golden light.
“Your choice, Captain Seven. We do not push.”
She didn’t bother to correct them this time. “What would I feel?”
“You will feel your desire come into focus. You will visualize where you want to be. And then, you will be there, in spirit. You will fully experience the environment. You will retain awareness of your physical body and location, of course, but you will also be someplace else.”
Seven’s brow furrowed. “Where do you go?”
Iktoh smiled. “Me? Oh, I have places I like. There is a nebula in the Mutara Sector that is especially stimulating. Sometimes I simply ask the temple to show me beauty, and it takes me someplace new. Once you understand where it is your soul craves to be, you will see how it works.”
The sun was sinking lower now, and the gold light was pulsing up the sides of the temple even brighter. Iktoh gestured toward the structure. “Come. It is beginning.” They paused, noting Seven’s hesitation, their eyes settling on the implant above her eye. “I know what you fear. It is not that. You do not lose your individual self, nor is anything taken from you. There is no invasion of your mind. It is simply like… traveling. Without the limits of time, space, or any other physical limitations. It is pleasant. You will see.”
Still dubious, Seven sighed, “Why not,” and followed Iktoh along the path to the front of the temple. The folds of her loose, silky top and shorts rustled in the gentle breezes as she walked. She had at first not wanted to wear them, because of all the additional leftover implants that would show, but the H’mok were kind and sympathetic to her residual discomfort and convinced her that she needn’t feel shame at them. And honestly, the clothes were terribly comfortable. She’d underestimated the simple joys of unrestricted blood circulation.
She followed Iktoh into the temple, along with an ambling line of other H’mok, called by the pulsing lights. As she passed through the high doorway of the entrance, she felt something immediately different in the atmosphere. She’d have trouble explaining it, but it felt like the presence of a signal. It didn’t feel invasive, but it was definitely there.
Iktoh gestured around at the large, open space. Those seams of gold light ran along the seams of the pyramid on the inside, too, and along the floor from corner to corner, and from the corners to the center. In the center, directly below the point of the pyramid, a large case stood, which contained an object that was difficult to identify, but looked like a stone carving of some kind that held a burning light. “That powers the temple?” she whispered to Iktoh?
They nodded. The space was littered with floor cushions, and many of the H’mok were claiming them and sitting down on them. Iktoh gestured to them. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Seven picked a cushion and sat down. After a moment of glancing around, she mimicked the cross-legged posture of the H’mok around her. The floor seemed to throb with energy even through the thick, soft batting inside the cushion.
A diminutive H’mok stood in the center beside the case, and as a few stragglers entered, began to speak. “It is the time of Communion. The time when we practice the path that gives us perspective and peace. Thanks be to Tarraba, for opening the stars to us. Thanks be to Tarraba for giving us the freedom to see the whole of creation. Thanks be to Tarraba, for powering the journey of our minds and spirits.”
All vaguely religion-y kind of stuff, Seven thought.
“And now, friends, let us close our eyes, and seek the Communion of our choosing.”
A few hundred eyes all closed at once. Seven glanced around, taking in the sight of the crowd of calm, quiet H’mok, the glowing item in the case, and the way the light caught on the intricate tilework all over the interior. As Iktoh had told her might happen, she felt a need in herself sharpening, and despite initial resistance, it became easier to simply close her eyes and allow the experience to happen, whatever it might be.
She found herself standing in a sunny room; the very same sunny room that Raffi was always in when she recorded her video messages. She had not had a sense of how small it was till now. Just enough room for a bed, a kitchenette and a table.
Raffi was stretched on her bed, her eyes fixed on the strip of blue sky in the little skylight above her. Music was playing; something soulful that Seven didn’t recognize. This kind of music was too mellow for her tastes, usually.
But Raffi was singing. And rather well, actually.
“It was just my imagination
Runnin’ away with me…”
Seven smiled. She had rarely taken time to stop and simply appreciate the entire Raffi package; the warm eyes, the sincere smile, the long, muscular frame that looked so very enticing in leather pants… and apparently, a voice like molasses and whiskey that could sing a love song so evocatively that even in astral projection form or whatever this was, Seven felt a little wave of goosebumps.
Genuine Raffi, not performing for anyone, just casually lying there singing for her own enjoyment. She looked … inviting. She wondered if Raffi would feel her presence if she were to try to touch her.
Thump thump thump.
Hm, that wasn’t right. Seven couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
Thump, thump, thump, thump…
Seven looked around. There was nothing in Raffi’s space that should be making this sound.
Shhh, just get ready to run! Once you disconnect it, they’ll all wake up!
Ah, they’re not gonna do anything. Look at them, they’re like babies.
Those were voices and they were not in Raffi’s space. Seven, much as she wanted to stay and enjoy listening to Raffi sing classical music, began trying to will herself back into her body. Her instincts were screaming that something was very wrong and that she was likely the only one in the room who would be able to defend the H’mok if it was about to come to that.
What about that one, she looks like XB.
So what? She’s not armed. What’s she going to do?
She thought of anything other than Raffi; harsh things, unpleasant, awful things, bloody things. Anything to force herself back into her right alignment and get a look at things.
Suddenly, she gasped for air, one of hundreds of voices gasping for air, surprised to be breathing again, struggling to reorient to their bodies after being free from them. She looked up and saw a truly unwelcome sight: two Ferengi, armed with phasers, placing the object carefully into a tritanium carrying case of some kind.
The giant ears twitched at the sound of everyone waking up suddenly. “Close it up and let’s go, Drotz!” one of them snarled through his pointed teeth.
“No!” one of the younger H’mok protested. “You cannot take that!”
“Watch us!” Drotz sneered.
When the youth stood up, Drotz took aim with his phaser. Without thinking about it, Seven leapt up and sprang at the kid, knocking him down and letting the phaser blast make a hole in the cushion he’d been sitting on.
“Oh, a hero!” the first one complained.
But Drotz had what they came for, clearly, and didn’t want to be bothered with more work than they’d signed up for. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go!”
They ran out the tall doorway. Seven stood up and offered the kid a hand. “You ok?”
He nodded.
The H’mok all looked around, unsure of what to do.
Seven sighed. “What was that thing they took?”
“It powers our temple!” Kivani cried.
Seven ran outside in time to see a D’Kora class transport ship taking off from hover position in front of the temple. Her heart raced as she watched the grasses bow in the wake of its considerable exhaust. The white lights on its undercarriage flashed, and then grew smaller and smaller as the ship ascended.
Seven cursed under her breath. She looked at the H’mok crowded around outside, all shivering, mostly out of shock, she imagined. She locked eyes with Iktoh. “What’s the fastest way to get me to my ship?”
****
The holograms all sprang to life as Seven dashed onto the bridge of La Sirena, still in her meditation clothes and barefoot.
“Nice togs,” Ian commented.
“Yeah yeah,” she snapped. “Just get us in the air. I’m gonna find that Ferengi ship and let’s see if we can’t make them regret what they just did.”
From somewhere behind her, Emmet yelled a bunch of things in Spanish that sounded pretty excited. Good.
The engines rumbled for a moment and then made that slow whooshing sound as the ship ditched gravity like a hot potato and shot up through the atmosphere. She patted the arm of her chair as if to say, Good girl. She was going to miss this ship a little bit if Starfleet indeed decided to give her a real commission.
A quick sensor sweep revealed a D’Kora class ship moving away from Revoth -- fast, but not at warp. Arrogantly, they probably had assumed they had enough of a head start that they didn’t need to jump to warp. She called out the heading to Ian. “Full impulse! Let’s play catch-up!”
She didn’t need to tell Emmett to get on guns.
She opened up comms and used the Rangers’ frequency. There was a slim chance that there’d be a few hanging around this way, but you never knew. Ranger work could take you anywhere. “This is Fenris Ranger ship La Sirena, breaking orbit from Revoth in sector 77Alpha5, requesting backup. I’ve got a Ferengi fighter with a stolen artifact on board and I’m expecting pushback. If anyone’s in the neighborhood, the vessel is D’Kora class, heading is 244330 Mark 3, and… they’re assholes. I wouldn’t mind a hand.”
The D’Kora class vessels looked and moved like sharks, and the little glimpse she’d gotten of it suggested that it had been modded to kingdom come and back. A quick scan of its weapons revealed the usual complements of torpedos and phaser banks, but also a subspace weapon of some kind, and what looked an awful lot like a bootlegged cloaking device. If she didn’t catch up with them immediately, they stood a good chance of getting away.
La Sirena whipped through the starfield in pursuit, and Seven tried to cook up a strategy as they bore down. Her only advantage was that they probably weren’t expecting any kind of serious pursuit. They didn’t have their shields up.
“Emmet, we get one shot to disable their engines… without blowing up the ship.” He looked disappointed. “If you use the target lock, they’ll pick it up immediately, put their shields up and then probably cloak themselves.”
“So you want him to eyeball it?” Ian demanded incredulously.
“No. I want him to do the math.” She pulled up a schematic of the ship and pointed to one of the nacelles. “We’re gonna fly over…here.” She punched in some numbers. “This distance, this speed, this angle. So calculate our current trajectory, factor in their velocity, calculate it for a dead drop. Not a launch. No target lockers. By the time they realize it’s coming, it’ll be too late.”
“So, throw an armed torpedo at them out the window as we pass and hope for the best?”
But Emmet was cackling with glee. He could be a pain in the ass, but more than any of the other holos, he appreciated her stones. He sat chuckling and muttering something about “cajones” as he made the calculations she’d asked for.
The math was absurd, but not impossible. By her calculations, the plan was sound. “Enoch,” she ordered, “go down to the bay, arm the torpedo, and wait for my mark.”
Enoch disappeared, grumbling.
They had enough distance that they should not arouse suspicion from the Ferengi ship. Seven sat and watched the proximity numbers dwindle as Ian brought them closer. Enoch’s voice came over the comm: “I’m in place!”
“All right, just wait. Keep your foot on the gas and hit it on my mark.”
The geometry of it was precise. They had to pull a little ahead and then do the drop so that it would hit their stern as they passed underneath them. She could see the angles dropping into place as La Sirena passed over the Ferengi ship’s stern at a good enough distance to seem non threatening.
“Okay, on my mark, we’re gonna drop, and then come about.”
Silence had settled on the bridge as Seven and her holographic crew watched the numbers coming closer to alignment with the calculations they had made. She couldn’t even sweat as the tension built.
“Steady… steady… almost there…”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m gonna call the drop and then we’re going to come about.”
The numbers ticked down.
“Three…”
They all sat coiled, ready to react to her word.
“Two…”
Just a couple seconds more and they’d be within zone for the drop.
The comms crackled. “Ferengi ship, this is Fenris Ranger ship Mustang, cut your engines and prepare to be boarded or you will be fired upon.”
“What the fuck?!” Seven shouted. “Dammit, Enoch, drop! Drop!”
But it was too late. The warning message had caused the Ferengi ship to barrel roll off its course, activate its cloaking device, and vanish into the ether. Enoch’s drop sent a perfectly good torpedo tumbling away into the black nothingness of space. Seven swore again and pounded her fist on the arm of her chair.
“La Sirena, you all right?” came the voice over the comms.
Seven couldn’t help feeling there was something about the captain’s voice that was familiar. “Yeah, we’re fine, Mustang, but you put them off course right as we were about to dead-drop a torpedo onto their propulsion systems. They’re cloaked and they’re in the wind now.”
She looked at the ship on the display. It was an old Z97X Raider that looked like it had been fixed up several times over.
“Dead drop?” the Mustang captain responded, chuckling. “That takes some balls.”
“Yeah well, I’d say we have that in abundance.”
A pause. The captain was requesting a video hail. Sighing, she accepted it and waited to see what this idiot looked like.
What popped up on screen was a surprise, though it probably shouldn’t be.
“Seven??”
He was a good deal older than he’d been when they’d last seen each other. He had a beard and a little bit of a paunch. But there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eye, the mischief in his half-smirk. She stared for a moment before responding. “Tom Goddamn Paris?”
“Yeah,” he said cheerfully. He squinted at her for a moment. “Hey Seven… What the heck are you wearing?”