"Come," Kathryn Janeway answered to the electrical entry petition of her ready room door. She straightened herself in her chair, seeming to desire added height -- and courage -- knowing who would appear momentarily.

The doors swooshed open, framing the tall firm figure of Seven. She took three steps into the captain’s office, standing in her usual slightly askew stance of not quite being in the requisite attention pose, like an adolescent who was always trying to irritate a parent.

"You wished to see me?" she said formally to Voyager’s senior officer.

Janeway sighed. This was going to be a difficult request to make. Using her best administrative style, she lifted her weary eyes to meet the icy gray of Seven’s. She would rather take the younger woman over to her sofa, into a more candid and informal environment. But she knew that the Borg woman would feel less at ease there. No, might as well just get on with it; time was of the essence in this matter.

"Yes, Seven." She sighed again. "I have just had a lengthy discussion with the doctor regarding a problem that he is having. After much deliberation into how to resolve the situation, it seems that you just might provide us with a solution."

Seven remained silent, waiting for the captain to continue; but she tilted her headed inquisitively, the metal implant above her left eye allowing a momentarily nervous twitch.

Janeway cleared her throat, suddenly deciding to take the coward’s way out. She continued. "Since this involves a thorough physiological explanation, perhaps I should allow the doctor to explain it to you, rather than my making a feeble attempt but not being able to provide you with answers to the many questions I know you will have. But I do want you to know, Seven, that I concur with the recommended procedure that he will discuss with you." She knew that this wasn’t the right way to handle this situation and that Seven would still have questions. Which she did.

"Captain, may I at least know something about this... problem? Has the doctor discovered something wrong with me?"

A slight smile appeared on Janeway’s face. "Not in the least. Quite the other way around, in fact. Seven, you are *very* healthy and normal in all aspects of your merged human and Borg physiologies. Because of this, the doctor thinks that you may be able to help him with a very young patient of his who is currently struggling to survive."

Seven’s eyes widened and her posture lost its poised structure as she realized to whom the captain was referring. "There are problems... with the Borg infant," she stated softly.

Janeway leaned forward. "Yes, there are. She does not seem to be thriving as she should, in spite of the doctor’s many efforts. Seven, I know I have asked you to stretch yourself in calling up your maternal instincts in working with the Borg children -- which you have done admirably, I must say -- but I’m asking you to go a little bit further for us. The doctor is waiting for you in sickbay, as we speak. Please. Do whatever you can to help him out."

"I do not understand how I can help; the infant still has not matured enough for me to teach it anything. But I will do what I can," answered Seven.

Janeway was obviously relieved. "Thank you, Seven. I wish all of you the best. We want this little one to grow up, too."

Seven turned and began her journey to sickbay.

~~~~

The EMH looked up from the small figure in the enclosed bed in front of him as the doors to sickbay activated. Obvious relief showed on his face when he saw Seven.

"Ah, Seven, always good to see you..."

"The Captain said that you wanted to see me about a problem with the Borg baby," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes; yes, I did," he answered. He looked at her quizzically. "Didn’t she tell you why?"

"She just said that the baby was showing some symptoms of failure to thrive, and that you thought I might be able to help."

"Hmm," he muttered. "Left everything else up to me, did she?" He was now the one sighing deeply. "Come over here, Seven. I want you to look at this little one."

Seven walked over to the isolette and leaned down to observe the small infant in front of her. "It seems that you have succeeded in removing the few Borg implants which she had."

"Yes, that part was easy. Her immature tissues yielded readily to extraction, and they have healed over quickly. However, it’s her internal structures that still have some Borg configuration that are causing the problems. Although I alternate between having her in this human isolette and in the Borg maturation chamber, some of her systems have hybridized to the point where they aren’t responding properly to either Borg or humanoid growth stimuli. She appears to be unable to absorb any nutrient materials, and is showing signs of tissue and structural degeneration. I’m afraid we’re going to loose her if we can’t rectify the situation... and the sooner the better!"

Seven looked up at her mentor and friend. "Do you mean.. that she will cease to exist... that she will die?" she asked uneasily, her eyes bright with horror.

The EMH nodded affirmatively. "That’s exactly what I mean. Additionally, her immune system appears to be loosing its integrity, and that means that she will be prone to multiple infections, even if she continues to live. It’s not a pretty picture. But this is where I think you might be able to help us, Seven."

An instinctive emotion surfaced in the young woman, her face flushed with the remnants of assimilated feelings of females from a thousand different species. She reached over to the infant, who looked smaller and more delicate than when they brought her aboard Voyager six weeks ago. Her fingers traced the dwindling curves of the slumbering face, and unsummoned tears filled her eyes.

She looked back at the doctor, whose own eyes sought an answer from her. "What can I do to help? We cannot let her die!"

The doctor smiled with relief. He took Seven’s arm and pulled her back from the little one. "Seven, we’ve got to talk." He looked at his small charge. "She’s sleeping now; let’s go into my office." He guided her suddenly emotionally numbed form over to the enclosure and actually got her to sit down. He pulled a chair over to her side and sat down himself.

"Seven, over these years, you have grown so much as an individual, and have added to us collectively. And you have learned to trust me... and know me… as a friend. Now, however, what I’m going to say to you is from a strictly objective, doctor/patient relationship."

She looked up at him. "Ye..yes; all right;" she murmured tentatively.

He leaned into her and said softly, "Seven, I need your breasts."

She recoiled in horror at his obscene request and jumped out the chair, firmly placing the piece of furniture between them. She had heard the stories of his manipulating his own programs and producing baser sides of his "personality".

"Doctor! I am not here for your physical pleasure. The captain said..."

He stood up. "No, no!" he pleaded. "That’s not what I meant! What I really mean is... I need your breasts... and your Borg physiology... to produce milk for the baby! That’s how I think we can help her!"

Seven blinked incredulously. "You... you... WHAT?" she stammered.

The doctor sighed. "Let me explain. It’s like this --- the baby needs nourishment, and yet I can’t seem to replicate a synthetic nutritive for her. As she is more humanoid than Borg now, the maturation chamber is becoming of less value to her. Over the eons, it has been known that the best thing for an infant’s early nutrition is milk from its mother. Now, since this little one obviously doesn’t have a mother, we are going to have to find... I believe the old human term for this is... a ‘wet nurse’ for her... a female who can provide milk for her."

Seven was trembling in a frenzied pace. "Are you saying that you want… me? How can this be? Doctor, if I recall from my studies, a woman does not produce this... milk... unless she has given birth! I have not given birth... and furthermore, I have not participated in any activities which would lead to this!"

The doctor continued. "A minor detail, for which we can compensate."

"But... but... why me? There are many other females aboard Voyager who..."

"...who have never been a Borg drone. You see, Seven, this is why we need you. Our little patient, like you, still has circulating nanoprobes in her bloodstream. She needs the nanoprobe antibodies which you now have to prevent damage by the nanoprobes to her developing human parts during this crucial maturation stage. Just like protecting antibodies provided by a humanoid mother, these antibodies would be transferred through breast milk from the mother to the infant. They would provide the infant with a passive acquired immunity until her immune system is developed enough to produce its own antibodies. And this, my dear Seven, is why you are so important to this plan. You are the only one who can provide this unique combination of life-saving elements for our little one here."

The tall woman was in a daze. "But... but... how can I..."

The EMH’s patience was wearing thin. "Seven, this is your opportunity to prove to everyone why you have those enormous... and quite luscious, I might add... mammaries spread across your torso. Breasts of females in thousands of species were created for just this purpose! I know that the men on Voyager, myself included, I’ll admit --- and who knows how many billions of others in time and space? --- have lusted over that part of your anatomy. But male desire is secondary to the primary reason for their existence. Breasts are organs of nourishment and comfort to infants. Not only do they provide sustenance, but the physical act of a female nursing its young bonds the infant to the species.

"You are wondering, I’m sure, how you, not ever having had a baby, can produce breast milk. Milk production can be artificially stimulated by my giving you a regimen of injections of prolactin, a lactation-stimulating hormone that will initiate luteotropic activity in non-lactating females."

Seven stopped her panicked motion. "But.. even... even if I agreed to such a... a ... preposterous idea, I could not do my normal duties and the ship would suffer. I would always have to be... providing nourishment to an immature..."

"Now... I realize that this would impose tremendously on your time," the doctor interrupted. "However, after several days of... um... dedicated duty, we can mechanically extract the milk at periods convenient for you and store it for consumption as the baby needs it. But... the baby *would* thrive better with your physical presence and touch, too. And, before you say anything else, Captain Janeway concurs with me 100%; she has already stated that your duty schedule can be adjusted to allow you to pursue this priority assignment. Seven... we’re counting on you; only you can do this for us."

An uncharacteristic silence hung in the air between them. Seven’s nervous motions ceased as the EMH froze in anticipation of her assimilation of his words.

Her eyelashes broke the spell with three quick blinks. She raised her head, her chin jutting forward a weak defense. "And you... you... would be the only one present with me if I agreed to do this?"

"That is correct. We would consider this a... closed procedure of medical necessity." "Mr. Paris would not be around..."

"Never. If he were needed in sickbay at any time when you are here doing... your duty, we would provide you and the baby with privacy."

"Although I have remnants of assimilated knowledge of the function, I am unsure as to how it... is done."

"I can help you there," the doctor answered kindly.

"Would you have to... touch me... there?" she asked.

"Probably," he nodded. "But... I promise that it will be solely of a strictly instructive nature." His face reddened with a very non holographic-like blush. "And I’ll be gentle."

She looked at him, her expression mixed with fear and indecision.

He smiled at her. "Really, Seven; there isn’t anything to fear. It is a very normal, natural function. And the infant likewise has an instinctive desire to suckle. Why, her very actions will further stimulate you and help you in your part."

Again, there was silence.

"If I agree to this, how frequently would the infant require my presence?" she inquired.

"Initially, probably about six times in a daily cycle. She would nurse for about twenty minutes each time. You would offer her milk from one breast at one sitting, and then the other breast at the next, alternating breasts between feedings."

Her look became quite sullen. "I may have difficulty with that frequency. You should know, doctor, for you designed my... attire. It takes me almost twenty minutes to divest myself for a change of clothing with my... uniform. If I were to feed the baby six times per cycle, I would be spending twice as much time undressing and dressing again."

The doctor suddenly stepped back, distraught by this unplanned variable in his wonderful solution. "Oh, my. You’re right about that. Hmmm. You have all that transitioning accouterment built into your garment." He stroked his chin. "Now.. you *have* gone without your.. uniform... for short periods of time, while wearing other attire. Perhaps I could adapt the necessary circuitry into a more compact enclosure that you could wear under a looser garment that would better suit... er... mothering needs." His face brightened. "Yes, yes! That’s what we can do!"

He looked at Seven, as the impact of her question registered with him. "Does this mean that you’ll do it, Seven?"

"I shall... try," she answered, her face already softening with a Madonna-like glow. "When would you like to begin?"

The EMH was ecstatic and her grabbed and hugged the very surprised woman. "Oh, my dear Seven; I knew that we could count on you! I knew that deep within that dour external look of yours was a heart of great maternal compassion. We will start now, if you would like. I have already prepared the luteinizing stimulating hormone to give you. It will probably take about 48 hours to bring you to a point where you can begin. But, in that time, I can work on a more appropriate garb for you... and you and the baby can get to know one another. Come."

They went back into the sickbay area. As if on cue, the little Borg bundle started whimpering. Seven went over to the awakening infant and looked at the doctor, who was making last preparations to his hypospray. He answered her silent question, "Yes; you may pick her up. Careful of her neck; remember to support it."

Seven cautiously reached down and cradled the baby with her hands. She gently lifted her up, peering into the now-opened eyes of the infant. The little one focused on the strange face, at first with fear of the unknown person in her world. But mewing cries ceased, as tightened muscles relaxed and the tiniest of smiles came across her lips.

"Oh!" exclaimed Seven. "I think that she is showing emotion of accepting me!"

The doctor came over to her and looked down at the contented baby. "Why, Seven, I do believe that you have made a new conquest."

Seven didn’t even notice the hypospray injection, so entranced was she with the baby. She shifted her hold, and brought the baby’s snuggling body close to her own. The little one seemed to understand already that this person would help her. The little form cuddled up to the firmness of the breast cradling her.

The doctor stood back, rapt with the scene unfolding in front of him. Seven may have never given birth, but she was going to be a wonderful mother... he knew that for certain.

~~ FINIS ~~

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