Annika

Source Episodes: VOY 4x2 The Gift, 4x3 Day of Honor

The sterile smell of sickbay filled my nostrils as I sat up against the wall behind the biobed waiting for my test results. With my head leaned back and my eyes closed, I could let my mind wander freely, flitting from one thing to another like a hummingbird feasting on a vine of trumpet flowers.

In a few days, Harry and I would mark our first full month of marriage. Had it really only been one month? So much had happened in just the past week alone that it seemed like a lifetime ago. We had encountered a species from another dimension of space who was stronger even than the Borg, learned that they intended to destroy our galaxy, allied with the Federation's worst enemy to stop them, and helped to develop a bioweapon of mass destruction that could have annihilated them all.

I frowned at that thought.

It was enough to make me question just how far we would go to survive—how far I would go. Ultimately, I had been the one to push for that option, to persuade Captain Janeway that such a plan was the right one. Sure I had help, but I had championed it harder than anyone.

Me. Raised into the altruistic ideals of the Federation, drawn and given to service in peaceful Starfleet, trained to promote mental health and diplomacy among the farthest reaches of known space. Yet when faced with certain death, I'd advocated for murder. I told myself it was for the greater good, but it always seemed that my 'greater good' came at the price of someone else's destruction.

Was this what I'd become in the Maquis—a warmonger pushing for genocide? Was I no better than the Cardassians? At least they knew what they were. I had the gaul to call myself a freedom-fighter, but did I really have the right to such a title when that freedom came at such a high price? Was it evil to threaten an entire species with destruction when they had already threatened tens of thousands of species with the same?

I tried to shift topics again, but my mind had become fixated. Of course it would choose self-critical existentialism as its path to focus after such tireless wondering. I thought of Harry and our one month, but my mind replied with questions about how our violations of Starfleet ideals would build up over the years, unchecked because of our isolation.

Would there be anything good and pure left in our souls by the time we returned to Federation space?

"Talia?"

I peered through one eye and saw B'Elanna standing just inside the sickbay doors, clutching a plasma-burned hand and looking at me curiously.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she made her way to the bed next to mine.

In response, I held my left hand out in front on me, palm facing down, to demonstrate the near-constant tremor I had developed. Seeing her confused look, I explained, "Dopamine deficiency. It started when the Prophet left me and moved to Kes, but of course Dr. Skeptic had to perform a bunch of tests to rule out other explanations."

"Aha, I see. Is Kes in?"

I shook my head. "With Alixia. She'll be here later. Plasma conduit spring a leak on you?"

Her lip curled up in a subtle snarl. "Fucking things. They need a refit. Lucky it was just a small leak." She sighed. "I guess I'll just wait then."

"Join the party," I quipped. "How's the Balth Jaj holoprogram coming?"

"Great," she replied sarcastically. "My mother taught me all about it when I was little, but I honestly didn't listen. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have let Tom talk me into doing it."

"That bad?" I asked.

"It's a shit-show. Targh tlq, mot'lach, painstiks, a bat'leth match. And have you ever read about Gorath?"

"Read about it? I've been there. It's certainly no Risa."

"That's for damn sure. And, really, what's the fucking point of all this ritual anyway? Honor, courage, glory—what does that prove?"

I shrugged. "That you're a good Klingon."

"Well, I'm not a good Klingon."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "If it's any consolation, I'm not a great Bajoran."

Her voice softened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, yesterday I packed up all of my Bajoran relics and put them into storage... and I might have told the Prophets to fuck themselves as I did it."

She snorted. "Wow. Well, I can't really say that I blame you after everything that's happened." She fell silent for several seconds. When she spoke again, her words were quiet. "Talia? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She paused to gather her thoughts for a moment before verbalizing them. "Why is Tom being so insistent on me doing this Day of Honor thing? He's not Klingon. He has no reason to care."

I gave her a sympathetic smile. "He cares about you. He knows that you'll try to talk yourself out of it, and he doesn't want you to miss out on something that could be good for you. He doesn't want you to suffer from self-sabotage the way he does."

"Did he tell you that?"

I shook my head. "He doesn't have to. I know how he works. I've seen it before."

She set her jaw defiantly. "Well, maybe I don't need him trying to protect me from myself, or whatever the fuck he thinks he's doing."

"He's trying to love you, B'Elanna," I blurted without thinking. Instantly, I regretted revealing something that would undoubtedly make him upset.

Her eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"Well, it's just a guess," I said, trying to backpedal. "I mean, he hasn't told me anything. But, I haven't seen him wound up like this since he fell for my first roommate, Susie. She broke his heart, and after that I think he decided it wasn't worth the risk to fall in love." I smiled. "Until now."

"He loves me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrugged. "He's never been good at showing others how he feels about them. And, as I said, it's just a guess. But, I'd like to think that I know him well enough to tell." As I watched B'Elanna process my revelation, the look on her face revealed her own feelings to me. "You love him, too, don't you?"

When her terrified eyes met mine, it was all the confirmation I needed.

Counselor's Log: Supplemental

Unable to find any other explanation for my dopamine deficiency, Dr. Schmullis was forced to concede that it was likely the result of the Prophet's departure from my brain, just as I suspected. Thankfully, he doesn't believe I'll need surgery. I've been placed on a stimulant and approved to return to duty, though my symptoms—particularly my difficulties with attentiveness, mood, and decision-making—may persist for a while longer.

I've had to push back several patients on my schedule so that I have time to do research on Seven of Nine. I'll need most of the day to get my work done, and I've already lost half the morning in sickbay. Thankfully, Chakotay convinced Captain Janeway to push the time of our meeting back until later this afternoon. By then, hopefully, I'll find some answers for her about our newest crewman.

"Her name is Annika Hansen," I informed the group as I called up the holoimage of a blonde-haired Terran girl on the briefing room console.

Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, and Schmullis all sat around the table, listening intently as I introduced them to our newest crew member's past life.

"She was born at the Tendara colony on stardate 25479. Her parents, Erin and Magnus Hansen, were civilian exobiologists who studied cybernetically-augmented species. In 2353, they received Federation approval to study the Borg based on information from the El-Aurian reports. Their last recorded whereabouts were at a remote outpost in the Omega Sector, where they refused to file a flight plan for their vessel, the USS Raven. Annika was four years old. Accounting for her claim that she has spent eighteen years with the Collective, she was likely assimilated around age seven."

"So she was raised by the Borg," Chakotay concluded.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Although, to 'raise' a child generally implies a hands-on process, whereas the Borg leave their young inside maturation chambers to develop. It's not as if she had any kind of a childhood with the Collective."

"Do you believe it is possible to integrate her into the crew?" Tuvok asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "All of the former drones Chakotay and I met in the Nekrit Expanse had been assimilated as adults. I've never heard of assimilated children being liberated, but I can't imagine it's easy. I mean," I gestured to Janeway and Chakotay, "how much do either of you remember about being seven years old?"

Chakotay stroked his chin. "Honestly, not much."

"There must be something we can do to help her reclaim her individuality," Janeway insisted.

"It's hard to know exactly what she needs while she's still under sedation in sickbay," I pointed out. "Drones function as they do due to the massive neuroelectric field generated by each cube, which circulates a constant stream of thought and regenerative energy between them all. Once that residual energy fades entirely from her brain, she will become whatever is left behind. She could wake up acting like a scared seven-year-old Terran girl. Or, given nearly two decades of memories carried over from the Collective, she could come out fully committed to Borg ideals on her own."

"Are there any clear answers you can give us, Commander?" Tuvok asked.

"Well, the good news for us is that drones are not prone to resistance. They depend upon the Collective will, not their own. As long as she can't assimilate us or contact the Borg, I think it's likely that she'll simply adapt to our lifestyle. But, regardless of who she is when she wakes up, I don't doubt that the first human memories to resurface will be deeply traumatic ones from her assimilation. Fear-based memories tend to be the strongest, and she will likely suffer psychologically from this. The crew will need to follow some guidelines for interacting with her."

Janeway leaned forward. "Such as?"

"Don't bring up her past. Don't hold the actions of the Collective against her. Don't make assumptions about her unconscious motives. Don't expect her to think or act like us. Also, if any of the crew experience upsetting emotions in regards to her presence, then they should speak with me about it rather than confronting her."

Janeway nodded. Next to her, Chakotay cleared his throat. "Thank you, Talia."

I deactivated the screen and took my seat.

With that discussion over, Janeway turned her attention to Schmullis. "Doctor, what updates can you give us on her medical condition?"

"At the moment, she's stable, but her body is entirely dependent on implants to function, and those implants need energy. Without a regeneration unit to replenish that energy, she will die. What's more, even if we were to build a unit for her, those implants also rely on the Borg neuroelectric field to maintain them. Without the energy from the hive mind, many of the implants will break down over time, and some of them will put her life in danger."

"How long?" Janeway asked.

"Weeks for some, months or years for most."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

"I'm facing a bit of an ethical dilemma. Obviously, in order to ensure the safety of the crew, certain of her systems will have to be deactivated before I bring her out of sedation—biofield, assimilation tubules, neural transceiver. But if she stays with us, I'll eventually have to start removing implants for her survival."

"Which is something she may not want," Janeway finished.

Schmullis nodded, hesitating for a beat before offering the alternative option. "Conversely, we could build her a regeneration unit, give her a subspace transmitter, and leave her on a planet for the Borg to retrieve. She'd remain a Borg, but she'd be alive, and for all we know, that's the life she'll want. But, one way or another, we must make a decision on the matter soon. I can't keep her sedated indefinitely."

Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and sighed heavily. "How soon do you need the regeneration unit, Doctor?"

"Her systems will begin to shut down in approximately three days without energy."

She dropped her hand and turned to her first officer. "Chakotay, have B'Elanna work with Dr. Schmullis to build something suitable for our guest to use."

He nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"Doctor," she continued, "I want you to do only what is necessary for the safety of this ship and crew. She needs to be informed of what's happened, and we can't risk her trying to take the ship again. Besides, she may have been raised by Borg, but underneath all of that technology, she is a human being. She deserves, for once, to be treated like one."

"Aye, Captain," the doctor replied.

"If there's nothing else, you're all dismissed." With that, Tuvok and Chakotay stood to leave, and Schmullis transferred his program back to sickbay. I, however, stayed put. Janeway glanced at me. "Something else you want to discuss, Commander?"

"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about Crewman Ghemor. I was wondering if you might consider giving her some kind of positive, tangible reward for her actions on the bridge yesterday." I looked down at my hands and resisted the urge to fidget with their scars. "I have to confess, Captain, that it surprised me at first, what she did. She risked her life for us, without a second thought. I keep going over it in my head, and I'm starting to wonder if it's my own prejudice that keeps me from bringing this up, rather than her character."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked, her voice soft with compassion.

Clearing my throat, I met her eyes once more. "I wonder if it's time to loosen the leash. I'm not saying she should get free run of the place, but I do think she's earned some degree of trust and respect. And, given her unique knowledge and skill sets, I've been wondering if it might be in our interests to have her on the bridge. The problem is—"

"Chakotay."

I nodded. "I can talk with him, if you'd like—"

She held up a hand to silence my offer. "Thank you, Talia, but no. I think it should come from me."

Within three days, Seven of Nine's surgeries were complete, her regeneration unit built, and her energy replenished. She was ready to be revived. Captain Janeway, Tuvok, and I all stood just outside of the force field enclosing the surgical bay. Dr. Schmullis stood next to the drone's biobed, setting the dose on the hypospray, while Dr. Kes stood behind us to monitor the console. Janeway nodded to Schmullis, and he pressed the hypo against his patient's neck.

Slowly, the drone opened her eye and looked around the bay before coming to a sitting position on the biobed. Her gaze fixed on Janeway, turning into an icy glare. "Captain Janeway."

"Hello, Seven of Nine," Janeway said calmly. "As I'm sure you are aware, your link to the Collective has been severed. You will also find that some of your implants have been deactivated for security purposes. Now it's time we update you on our current situation."

The drone slid to her feet and stepped towards the forcefield until she stood directly in front of the captain. "You will return this drone to the Borg."

"It's not that simple," Janeway explained. "After the non-corporeal creature severed you from the hive mind, she opened a wormhole and brought us ten thousand light years closer to the Alpha Quadrant. There are no Borg within sensor range."

"State our location," Seven of Nine demanded.

Janeway had anticipated this question. She nodded at Tuvok, who released the forcefield separating her from the drone. Offering a PADD to Seven of Nine, she asked, "Are you familiar with this region?"

The drone glanced over the PADD, then returned her gaze to Janeway. "We are about to enter spacial grid 005, the Krenim Imperium."

All eyes went to Kes, but I quickly looked back at the drone. "You look… disappointed."

Her eye slid over to me. "It appears that your crew is already aware of the species that claims this space."

"It's a long story," I said. "Why is our arrival in Krenim space so disturbing to you?"

She lifted her chin. "It is a long story."

Janeway stepped closer to the drone. "It wouldn't happen to have something to do with their temporal weapons technology, would it?"

"Your vessel is not capable of withstanding the kind of technology they possess," Seven of Nine said. "You will fail."

Janeway crossed her arms. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that. We can be quite innovative when we need to be. Although, if there is information you can share with us about the Krenim that might help us, it will increase our chances of survival."

Seven of Nine turned on her heel and retreated back into the surgical bay, pacing to release her rapidly increasing anxiety. "My help is irrelevant. You will fail. The Krenim possess a vessel unlike any other in the galaxy. It houses a powerful weapon that can create temporal incursions which remove its target entirely from the spacetime continuum, creating a new timeline. The Borg have lost many vessels to this technology, and have deemed it too great a risk."

Tuvok frowned. "How is it that the Borg have retained this knowledge if the vessels that attacked the Krenim were removed from the spacetime continuum?"

"The Borg have assimilated species who possess the ability to detect entropic shifts in spacetime," she replied, returning to stand in front of us. "They have informed the Collective's decision not to enter this region of space." She paused in her pacing, and the faltering tone with which she spoke her next words made my pagh ache for scared little girl inside of her. "The Borg will not come for us here. We are alone."

"You're not alone," Janeway insisted, her voice suddenly full of compassion. "You're part of a human collective now, made up of individuals who live and work together."

Seven of Nine narrowed her eye at the captain. "You wish to assimilate me into your collective."

"Not exactly. We wish to help you. We can't give you the unity you had in the Collective, but we can offer you freedom and community here on Voyager if you're willing to help us. And we'll do everything we can to make the transition easier for you."

The drone paused for a moment, almost as if she was waiting for the Collective's voice to tell her how to proceed. When no such order arrived, she looked deeply unsettled.

"You have nothing to fear from these people," Kes said, her voice gentle and soothing. "They won't harm you."

When Seven of Nine's eye met Kes', her mounting anxiety seemed to dissipate. For almost a minute, their gazes remained fixed on each other until, with a deep breath, the drone shifted her gaze back to Captain Janeway. "If we are assimilated into your collective, we will be an individual? Autonomous? Independent?"

Janeway smiled hopefully. "Yes."

"If, at that time, we choose to return to the Borg Collective, will you permit it?"

Janeway's smile shifted to a frown, and I thought she might refuse Seven of Nine's request. Instead, she said, "If that truly is what you want, I won't force you to stay. But know that freedom of choice isn't all there is to being an individual. Because we don't share thoughts collectively, we rely on trust to function as a crew. If I have reason to suspect you might harm this crew, your freedom will be restricted just like any other crewman. Do you understand?"

Seven of Nine nodded. "We—I—understand. It is no longer my intention to betray you." She then turned to face Schmullis. "You may proceed."

His expression became confused. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"You will assimilate me into your collective."

I smiled. "We don't force people to become like us. Part of being an individual is learning to value our differences, using them to collaborate together and make things better for all of us. There will be times when our doctors may have to remove implants that are malfunctioning, but the rest is up to you. You don't have to lose who you are to join us."

She frowned. "I do not understand. Your crew will fear me as a Borg. They will not trust me. I should become Terran."

"They'll adapt," Janeway asserted. "The question is, do you want to become Terran?"

Seven of Nine thought about the captain's question for several seconds before she made up her mind. "You may remove my exoplating and ocular implant, and make cosmetic alterations that will aid my assimilation into your crew. I would prefer to retain the remaining implants, if that is acceptable."

"Certainly," Schmullis said. "Are there any particular cosmetic changes that you would like to have?"

The drone looked again at Kes, considering the question for several beats before answering softly, "Hair. I remember being fond... of hair."

Captain Janeway smiled. "While you're here, would you like us to continue calling you Seven of Nine? Or would you rather choose another name?"

"I have been Seven of Nine for a significant length of time. However, the designation no longer applies." She paused for a moment before responding, "My Terran name was Annika Hansen. You may refer to me as Annika."