Story #12 - SWEET DREAMS

by Delta

Day 242

 

The daily incoming rays from the small yellow dwarf star were becoming longer in length and stay. On New Hope’s planet, long cold nights became shorter chilly ones that segued into days of growing warmth. Heavy snow became lighter rain, and a pale green glow wrapped its vernal cloak around the surrounding trees and field; spring was arriving in New Hope.

 

The outside weather wasn’t the only thing warming up in New Hope. Under Harry Kim’s almost-always patient guidance, the small communication crew had been working around the clock to learn more about the ghost ship hidden behind the larger of the planet’s two moons.

 

The magnetosphere of the planet still seemed to be in a state of reduced interference, as it had been over most of the colder months. A correlation of observed data between surface storms on the planet and the devastating magnetic storms of its upper atmosphere now showed an inverse relationship: the more of the inclement weather that the planet received, the fewer the debilitating magnetic fluxes from the surrounding space overhead disturbed them. The engineering group had learned to make good use of their rainy days in searching the surrounding space.

 

It had been on such a day two days earlier that they had launched a primitive probe towards the shadowed coordinates of Artemis’ parasitic ship. Susan Nicoletti was the lone attendant staffing astrometrics on the gamma shift when the signals began to come through. The scrambled static of recent days suddenly took on the clear, unmistakable audio-visual signal of a Starfleet vessel in distress. The familiar call brought the drowsy engineer to full attention, her hands flying for her comm badge as fast as her eyes focused on the incoming information.

 

"Uh… Captain… " she stammered, "I think I might have something here for you to see."

 

A sleepy voice at the other end responded. "Susan? Is that you?"

 

"Yes, ma’am. I think… I think I’ve found… the Legacy."

 

Janeway was awake now. She sat upright, throwing back her covers even as she was talking. "Are you sure?" she asked, quickly grabbing clothes.

 

"As sure as I’ve ever been," Nicoletti answered. "The signal is coming in as clear as a full moon on a cloudless night."

 

Janeway was on her way before Susan had finished.

 

~*~

 

The dreary early morning hours lengthened into a dreary midmorning. However, the continuing cold rain falling on New Hope did little to chill the enthusiasm of the group inside the engineering shelter. The buzz of their excitement had spread quickly to the rest of the community, and the ebb and flow of its other residents of the community enhanced the core group: an intact Federation ship had been found… New Hope may have found a new hope.

 

Throughout the storms of recent weeks, the survivors of New Hope had learned how to compensate for the magnetic fluctuations that previously prevented them from identifying the other ship. However, scans provided little additional information, other than to confirm that there were not any life forms aboard. The small colony became a beehive of rumor buzz as to possibilities for the discovery: perhaps they weren’t alone on this planet… maybe there was another surviving Starfleet colony; maybe some unknown disease had swept through the crew, and now, years later, no organic structures remained… or perhaps they had all fled in escape pods for some reason. Janeway knew that she had better find a real explanation soon, or the community would be feeding off fiction and fear. It was time to speed up the completion of Tom’s ship and get it to the far side of Artemis.

 

~*~

 

Teams worked around the clock to complete the small craft of the helmsman’s dream design. Many of the details of his original plan had to be omitted, much to his consternation. In addition to shelving technological support needed for warp flight, much of his innovative instrumentation was placed on low priority. Right now, just a means of safe transport to and from the located starship was the primary goal of the construction team.

 

~*~

 

Day 258

 

Sixteen days after Susan Nicoletti’s animated announcement, the small vessel was deemed flight worthy. Tom and Harry had led the dedicated team through this last day. Now, two hours after sunset, all but Tom, Harry and Phil Gennaro had headed off to try to catch up on much-needed rest. All systems had checked out after three grueling run-throughs; it was time for approval by their harshest critics – B’Elanna Torres and Kathryn Janeway.

 

Tom and Harry summoned the two women to the enlarged shelter where the Delta Flyer stretched out across the outer perimeters of the collective area. B’Elanna’s eyes gleamed with pride at the Herculean task that her husband had supervised and her former engineering group had accomplish; the vehicle looked to be as fine as any that Starfleet had ever constructed.

 

Tears came to her eyes. "Tom… it’s beautiful!" She smiled at him tenderly. "It looks like you’ve had your baby!"

 

He pulled his ever-growing wife to his side. "No, that’s yet to come. But this just might enable us to have that baby come a little bit closer to the Alpha Quadrant."

 

Janeway circled the exterior of the vessel several times and now was exploring its inner construction. Her head appeared in the entrance of the flying machine. "Well, Mr. Paris, it looks as if we just might have wings once more." The former captain lowered herself to the ground outside. "We will want to put it through a few paces and some problem scenarios before heading out into the space above and beyond."

 

"Yes, ma’am," Tom answered back. "I’ve already picked a team to do some test flights with me. Give me a few hours sleep, a clean go-ahead with the lull in magnetic storms and we’re on our way."

 

Janeway head shook, as her hand signaled a halt to his words. "Not so fast, Tom. While I have every confidence in your design and the thorough tests and simulations you’ve gone through, I don’t think that you’re in a position to take any risks by participating in the initial test flights."

 

"But, Capta… Kathryn…"

 

"No ‘buts’, Tom; you’ve got to think of B’Elanna and your baby. I know that this is your dream, but we’re going to have to have some others put their necks on the line for a few test flights."

 

Paris began to protest again, but cut short his protest as he realized that she was right. Besides, if he did open his mouth again, his right arm was going to be twisted off – B’Elanna was using her silent Klingon influence on him. He steeled his chin, hiding his expression of disappointment. "Yes, ma’am; understood. However, I would like to ask that Notah Baytart and Harry be allowed to be part of the crew; I had… um… sort of promised them…"

 

"And I think they should be. Notah is probably our best pilot next to you. However, gentlemen, I think we need another person on board. Any suggestions?"

 

"Well, I know his record isn’t the best with shuttlecraft, but I think Commander Chakotay would be the best to come with us," Gennaro volunteered.

 

Turning to the shorter ensign standing next to Harry, Janeway laughed. "Phil, I thought I was the only one who could get away with comments like that – good thing Chakotay isn’t here!" Her laughter continued. "And that will teach him to miss staff meetings. All right, let’s get these trial runs set up. "That I think we can risk you with, Mr. Paris. Let’s everyone get a good night’s sleep, for tomorrow we fly."

 

"Shouldn’t we let Chakotay know that he’s drawn the short straw?" Tom asked.

 

"I’ll tell him," Janeway answered with a secret grin.

 

~*~

 

Days 259– 266

 

Janeway’s Irish luck rubbed off on the test runs of the Flyer. Minor problems with the on-board computer interfacing with communications in New Hope were solved by further compensation for the magnetic fluxes in the upper atmosphere. After a rather distressing first landing of the craft, in which two of the habitats closest to the landing area were dislodged from their frames, it was decided that a larger landing area was needed. A small circle was cleared about two hundred meters further away from the encampment and the completion of the second sortie finished with near perfection. A third day and third try, this time with an ecstatic Tom Paris at the helm. The vehicle buffeted through the unseen particles of the magnetic rings of the planet, all the way to Artemis and back, flown with the loving precise touch of the former head helmsman. The brief journey also provided a glimpse of the long-awaited ship locked into its immovable niche. A very excited team debarked back in New Hope, for the ship was indeed the long-missing Legacy… a ship larger than Voyager, but, for all practical purposes, a ghost ship… a ship without life.

 

It was time to try a docking procedure with the ill-fated Legacy.

 

~*~

 

Day 268

 

A day of preparation preceded the anticipated mission. A crew of six was selected to make the trip: Tom would pilot again; Chakotay, Seven, Baytart, Mike Ayala and Tuvok would round out the group. Their primary goal was to dock with the ship and make a preliminary scan for any indication of the missing crew and an assessment of its operating capabilities. Based on these findings, many decisions would have to be made… hopefully including a plan to formulate a new future for the former Voyagers.

 

The final trip took them a brief twenty-seven minutes – a trip that two months earlier might as well have been in light years. The muffled clank of the docking devices, followed by a vacuum of silence, announced their arrival with Legacy. Silently, the team lined up for their departure from the Flyer – Tom would stay aboard his ‘baby’ and act as liaison between the team and Voyager. Notah Baytart led the quintet who would board the long-vacant ship. Even though the team wore cooled environmental suits, telltale perspiration prickled the necks of all of them, including the ever-calm Tuvok and Seven.

 

The group inched its way through the boarding dock and stepped into the Jeffries tube adjoining the larger of the ship’s two shuttlebays. Baytart opened the door of the tube and they scrambled to their feet in the dimmed silence of the shuttlebay. In front of them was an area at the ready with four shuttles, seemingly suspended in a dream world; all was intact. However, there were no indications of any crew.

 

Seven and Tuvok began to make wide-sweep scans of the area. "My instruments do not convey any readings indicating recent inhabitation in this area," Tuvok reported dourly. "Microscopic particles remain from past presences, but all date as to being at least five years old."

 

"Let’s break into two teams and look at other parts of the ship," Chakotay suggested. "Tuvok, why don’t you and Seven start on the bridge and activity levels; Baytart, Ayala and I can begin with the engineering and the science levels."

 

"May I remind everyone that we may be dealing with a hostile situation, Commander; everyone should have weapons available at all times," Tuvok interjected.

 

"Agreed. Let’s meet back here in an hour, with checks every ten minutes," Chakotay continued. "And… although we hadn’t planned on bringing anything back, if you do come across anything that is indicative of what happened to the Legacy’s crew, place it in one of your safe-field containers for analysis aboard Voyager."

 

With military precision, the group headed to their assigned tasks.

 

~*~

 

The first check-in of the teams yielded no explanations – only a ship without a crew. Tuvok and Seven were on the bridge and Chakotay and his team were in main engineering. A scan and quick survey of operating functions indicated that ship had incurred some damage in its past, as there were several scars from hull breeches that had been automatically repaired by the built-in force field systems in the Olympic class vessel. The computer was off-line; however, with a few adjustments, Chakotay ascertained that it was fully functional. He left it in stand-by mode for the time being. By the end of the second survey period, both teams had arrived at a similar conclusion – from the appearance of the ship, its crew had been interrupted in the midst of activities. Personal items, as PADDs, carrying cases and a couple of drinking mugs with a dark layer indicating long-evaporated contents, were found at duty stations.

 

The electromagnetic interference that had erased the ship’s records also seemed to have expunged all data from the screens at the stations; they were devoid of any valid information, only a jumble of nonsensical patterns and squiggles. An access to the ship’s logs gave them nothing but static for the final thirty-three minutes of Legacy’s life – a missing record of the most important facts. However, most notably, Chakotay’s team found open doors in the arsenal, with weapons scattered around the room. They followed a trail of dropped phasers and photon rifles to the lower shuttlebay on deck 17, with no indication of why the weapons were so strewn. It was in the ship’s sickbay where they found the most harrowing evidence of all – the mummified remains of a lone humanoid body with metallic adornments. The discovery confirmed their worst suspicions – the Borg had visited the Legacy.

 

Hoping to calm the shiver in his voice, Chakotay contacted Tuvok and Seven. "You’d better come down here; I think we have found an answer to our missing crew."

 

While the duo made their way to the lower deck, Chakotay contacted Tom and asked if the Flyer were capable of making a tachyon scan.

 

"Sure," Tom responded. "Find something interesting?"

 

"Make the scan and you tell me," Chakotay said.

 

A few seconds later, just as Tuvok and Seven entered the area, Tom responded in controlled panic. "The last indications of life on the ship – if you want to call it that – are life signs of a mixture of Federation races and of…” there was a slight hesitancy in his voice “… the Borg."

 

Tuvok and Seven appeared just as Tom spoke. Tuvok’s eyes remained calm and dispassionate, but Seven’s gray eyes widened with forgotten fears.

 

"How can this be? We have not received any indication of their presence in our scans from New Hope," she stammered upon hearing Tom’s response.

 

Tuvok provided the answer. "Our systems have been primitive at the least on the planet, further hampered by the ionic and magnetic interferences. Here, with the improvements we have incorporated on the Flyer and without the interference, the residual traces are evident. I do not think we have anything to fear from them now; my readings indicate that it has been over five years since their appearance. While I have no hypothesis as to why this individual was left behind, I would suggest that we attempt to download as many files as possible from the computer. Perhaps their logs will indicate when and why the Legacy ended up in the Delta Quadrant and why it was of interest to the Borg."

 

"Agreed," nodded Chakotay. "Mike… Notah… you and Seven see what all you can salvage of the ship’s records. Tuvok, you and I can see what more we can detect from our friend here."

 

Seven, overcoming her initial horror of finding the defunct drone, knelt down to look at him more closely. Suddenly, she fell backwards, losing her balance. Tuvok steadied her and pulled her to her feet. Her pale face was ashen and her eyes wandering in disjointed jerks. Her lips were quivering.

 

Chakotay bolted to her, just as Tuvok lost his grip on her and she slid to the floor, her breathing shallow and labored. He hit his comm badge.

 

"Tom! We’ve got an emergency; something’s wrong with Seven. Beam her back to the Flyer and see what you can do."

 

"I’m on it," Tom answered, as Seven’s limp form glittered into transporter subspace.

 

Chakotay looked at the other three men; even Tuvok’s eyes registered a shocked puzzled expression.

 

"All right," Chakotay barked. "Let’s see what we can find. I’ll try to encase our ‘friend’ here in some sort of a transferable force field containment so that we can take him with us, then we need to get Seven back to the surface as soon as possible."

 

Without any other words being spoken, the group proceeded with their tasks. Even when Tom contacted them, saying that Seven was stabilized and seemed to be recovering from her strange seizure, they were certain that they wanted to get off the Legacy as quickly as possible. There were no complaints when Chakotay suggested that they find what they could in an hour and then make their way back to New Hope.

 

~*~

 

As soon as the Flyer could contact New Hope, they requested that the doctor prepare for two patients. Although Seven’s strange symptoms had disappeared and she was stating, with her usual ‘diplomacy’ that she was fine, it went unsaid that she would need a thorough medical examination. However, preparations for the less lively of the two "patients" would take a little longer.

 

The news from the away team about their find of the mummified structural remains of a Borg drone spread throughout New Hope at warp speed, and the engineering staff quickly put a containing force field in place within the medical station. Harry was making a final check of the system in the medical area.

 

"I certainly hope that our Borg friend is completely deactivated," the EMH groaned. "We don’t need any more surprises."

 

"Well, we haven’t detected any signs of connection to any collective or cube," Harry reassured him. "I’m sure that if there had been any danger, they would have detected it and Chakotay and Tuvok would have vetoed any possibility of transfer. Really, Doc, there’s no telling what we might learn from the remains… just think, this time we might assimilate something from the Borg!"

 

"Humph. I just wish people would ask for my opinion before jeopardizing my sickbay. Very well, Mr. Kim. But if anything happens, I’m holding you responsible!"

 

Within moments, the first of the doctor’s two patients arrived.

 

"Do you need any help, doc? Shall I call Tom?" Harry inquired.

 

"I think I can manage, Mr. Kim," the doctor responded, noting that the young man was uncomfortable in the medical setting, especially with the languid form of Seven of Nine stretched out on the biobed. "Why don’t you run along and see what can be done to help the rest of our investigative crew?"

 

Harry smiled and practically ran to the door. "Thanks, Doc. Let us know if you do need some…" His eyes brightened, watching as the tall blonde woman suddenly twisted into a seated position. "Seven! You’re all right!" he called out, waving cheerily as he backed out of the room. "Welcome back!"

 

The EMH turned, and went over to his now somewhat alert patient, beginning a scan of her even as he was moving. "I am satisfactory," Seven insisted weakly.

 

"Let me be the judge of that," the doctor stated firmly. "And please… lie down so that I may examine you properly."

 

Seven reluctantly assumed a prone position.

 

As the scan progressed, the doctor began questioning the woman. "What exactly happened? When did you first appear ill?"

 

Seven closed her eyes, trying to recall the events aboard Legacy. "I… I was all right until Mr. Tuvok and I arrived in the sickbay, where they found… the Borg remains."

 

"Was being close to the Borg what caused your weakness?"

 

"Yes," she continued. "But then… I did sense some… unpleasantness a few seconds after arriving in the area; I hadn’t even seen the form yet."

 

"Mmm," he mused. "I’m beginning to wonder…"

 

As he was concentrating on her, the remains of the Borg drone materialized within the containment area. Tom came through the doors of the medical facility area, anxious to check up on both the living and the dead patients.

 

"Well, Seven," he exclaimed, "you look a hell of a lot better than you did a little while ago."

 

 

"I have recovered sufficiently, Mr. Paris."

 

"Yeah; well, I’d feel better if I knew what had triggered your problem."

 

The doctor had finished with his battery of tests. "I can’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary, Seven. Maybe it was just you hadn’t flown for awhile, and you were experiencing some flight sickness. I’d like you to remain here while I check our other arrival."

 

"But I must help with the data downloads brought back from the Legacy," she insisted, sliding to an upright position.

 

"Not now!" the EMH said with as much force as one dared to the Borg/human. "Lie back down and rest a bit longer. And then, I want you to regenerate for at least eight hours."

 

"Four hours", she rebutted.

 

"Six, Seven… and that’s final!" the doctor said.

 

"As you wish," agreed Seven… but her eyes held a different answer.

 

"Well, unless you two need me to stay and act as referee," chuckled Tom. "I guess I’ll head on home and face the woman in my life. You think Seven’s tough, doc? Just try twenty-four hours with B’Elanna! But… don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t have it any other way," he winked as he left.

 

Shaking his head, the doctor went over to his other ‘patient’. As he crossed through the protective force field, the EMH briefly disappeared only to swiftly reappear next to the find from the Legacy. The transferred Borg carcass looked quite a bit worse for the wear, but a cursory macroscopic examination and scan indicated nothing unusual – or active – about the remains. What little ‘skin’ remained adhered tautly to the skeletal form. Scans indicated that the former inhabitant had been a male humanoid from Earth. More peculiar than the form itself was the question it posed: why had this drone alone been left behind on the ship, with the rest of the ship’s crew gone? The mystery of Legacy became deeper and deeper.

 

As he began to examine the cadaver more closely, he sensed the presence of someone at the periphery of the force field. He turned and sighed as he saw Seven standing immediately outside of the containment area, watching him.

 

"Seven," he said, irascibly, "I thought I told you to rest!"

 

"I have come to assist you in your examination. Perhaps there will be some additional findings with which I can help," she responded.

 

"You know that you’re welcome here anytime. Of course, your insight in all things Borg is appreciated; but I don’t know if you should come within the force field area…"

 

"Doctor, you forget that I have nanoprobe antibodies in my bloodstream. Because of this protection, I, of anyone else aboard, should be able to help you."

 

The doctor sighed. "All right; but if I see any indication of problems, you are to leave immediately."

 

He briefly deactivated the force field and she walked to the area where he was working. "I do not wish to be a hindrance to your work," she said uncharacteristically. "But I… enjoy working with you."

 

The doctor’s gaze had been on her almost continuously since she came into the room, but he suddenly felt somewhat uncomfortable with the personal level that her tone seemed to be taking. Or was it his imagination… hoping that her conversation could be something more candid than her usual communication? Was there a hint of a blush in her cheeks as she saw behind his stare? For the briefest of moments, there seemed to be something more. But that was nonsense; she could never… would never. Ah, if only the photons and force fields that gave him entity could be warm and real… real human flesh and blood…

 

"Doctor, there is something here…" he heard Seven’s voice address, pulling him out of his trance. He turned his head and saw that the tall woman on the opposite side of the examining table from him was leaning over the once-human specimen. Her hands were gently pulling back some of the hardened leathery tissue of one arm.

 

"Seven," he said, reaching for her hands, "you really shouldn’t be touching the specimen with your hands…"

 

"Oooo!" she cried out before he could finish his warning. As she pulled her right hand back, a Borg implant, hidden beneath the mummified tissue folds, had somehow been triggered and latched onto her unprotected, bare hand. A dull glow emitted from the implant, which quickly faded into an inert darkness. She pulled at the implant, jerking it away from her hand, but not before she realized that it had imbedded several minute probes into the soft tissue below her thumb. At almost the same moment, she began loosing her balance, her head and eyes in an uncontrolled rolling motion. Her body began to sway as she began to lose her equilibrium.

 

"Let’s get you out of here… now!" he shouted, lowering the force field and, gently supporting her sagging body, pulled her outside of the area. He quickly contained the area again. He reached for her injured hand and immediately extracted the small needle-like protrusions. Her hand continued slight bleeding from the trauma of pulling out the probes, so he momentarily cradled the wounded hand between his hands.

 

"I’m sure it’s all right, Seven," he said comfortingly, scanning her once more. "I cannot detect any activity. It was probably just a benign protective measure of the implant when you grabbed it. I recall such reactions when I removed your Borg implants." She seemed to be regaining her composure; he slowly and reluctantly dropped her hand.

 

She took a deep breath and seemed to regain some of her composure. "I… I am all right now. Perhaps it was the sight of the drone… or the fear of the invasion of my flesh." She looked at him, her eyes lessening with fear. "But when you removed my implants, you were not damaged," she responded childlike, rubbing the injured area.

 

He scanned her hand again. "No, but then, I don’t have any flesh to be injured," he stated with just a tinge of sarcasm. "There now; your hand will be all right. A pass of the tissue regenerator and you’ll be good as new," he said, reaching for the device as he spoke. A quick swipe of the instrument healed the area, but Seven rubbed it again, obviously still disturbed by the injury.

 

He sighed for a moment, musing at how such a slight injury could be causing her so much discomfort. "Hmm. Maybe some old fashioned ‘TLC’ will help," he finally smiled. He gently took her now-healed hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing the formerly injured area.

 

Her mind told her to recoil from the gesture, but she found it comforting and reassuring. He continued to cup her slim hand within his larger ones. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What is this ‘TLC’?" she inquired innocently.

 

"The letters are an acronym for ‘tender loving care’," he answered. "A treatment reserved for very special patients."

 

Her eyes remained fixed on him, her questions not completed. "I am… a very special patient?" she asked.

 

"Very much so," he replied slowly, as her expression took on a look of new understanding.

 

He backed away from her before either of them could say anything that might be said too soon. It was time to get back to the business at hand; they both sensed the need to focus on duty.

 

"Um… I think I’ll save these microprobes for further study," he commented, looking around for the appropriate storage container. He made the transfer and added a polyesterase buffer, covering the retrieved probes.

 

"Yes," responded Seven. "Perhaps we can find out some more information… about the drone’s host’s structure."

 

Her pale face was still wan from the earlier fright. The EMH sensed that she was concerned about repercussions of her interfacing with the implant. "Seven," he said softly, "would you feel better if I kept a monitor on you to detect any reactivation with the collective?"

 

"Yes," she answered. "That would be… desirable."

 

"Perhaps we should transport your regeneration cubicle here to sickbay. I can continue my studies while being able to watch over you. Would this make you feel more secure?"

 

"Yes, that is a good suggestion," she answered. "I shall ask Chakotay if this can be done."

 

~*~

 

Word of Seven’s ‘injury’ spread swiftly throughout the community. An unspoken panic gripped the group, a primordial apprehension of their most feared enemy; but the doctor and Janeway quickly quelled the rising apprehensions and Seven’s regeneration enclosure was moved to the medical area where she could be under the EMH’s constant vigil.

 

Further examination of the remains of the Borg found no more retrievable implants or other useful information.

 

Despite the doctor’s protestations, Seven began working on the database files brought back from Legacy, hoping to find more information on their ill-fated journey. After several hours, she still had nothing but impenetrable codes. Her earlier experience had taken a toll and she was tiring, becoming more and more irritable in her infrequent verbal exchanges with the doctor.

 

Finally he confronted her. "Seven, I think it’s time for you to regenerate. After a rest period, you will be able to think more clearly. I’m certain that you will find answers, but you do need to rest."

 

"But time is of the essence," she retorted.

 

"Not if you become less productive," he recounted. "Now… enough of this. Time for you to rest."

 

She sighed. "As you wish. But just for four hours. I will have rested sufficiently after four hours…" she tried again.

 

The EMH was resolute with his earlier agreement. "Six hours," he stated firmly. "I’m the doctor, you know. Besides, it’s the dead of night. Everyone else is asleep – you might as well be also," he said, gently leading her over to the alcove in a darkened area of the medical center. "Do you need any help getting settled?" he asked, pausing as they got to the raised platform of the regenerator.

 

"No, thank you; I have always tended to myself," the tall woman answered.

 

"Then I guess it’s time to say good night… and wish you sweet dreams," he responded, turning and walking back towards his work area.

 

"Doctor…"

 

"Yes?"

 

"This phrase… ‘good night; sweet dreams’… what does it mean?"

 

"Well, I really can’t say for certain, as I have never had the experience of sleeping or dreaming… but I suppose it’s a way of expressing love and care, hoping that a person is refreshed and rejuvenated by a good rest."

 

"Do you love and care for me?" she asked innocently.

 

Startled into rare silence, he looked at her, , realizing what he had said and her response to him. He turned and walked back to her.

 

"Well… um… yes, I do care for you, Seven," he stammered. "It’s a doctor’s duty to empathize with his…um… patients."

 

Her eyes were bright, alert and inquisitive, not quite ready for her regenerating time. She stepped away from the platform and walked towards him.

 

"I have seen others wish each other a ‘good night’, as you say," she continued. "Others… who ‘care’ for each other, like Tom and B’Elanna and Harry and Sarah. They… they also do something else, in addition to speaking these words…"

 

The doctor’s eyes opened wide, seeing where this conversation was leading, wanting it and yet fearing its consequences. The closest thing he had ever had to a dream… thinking, wishing, wanting… was Seven walking towards him like she was… reaching for him like she was… and kissing him like she was. His arms encircled her, pulling her close, hoping not to awake from this holographic dream.

 

"That is how they say ‘good night’," she said matter-of-factly, turning and going back to her alcove. "I believe it could be considered… ‘TLC’."

 

The EMH stood motionless, not believing what had just happened. Finally, he found utterance. "Um… yes, I do believe you’re correct. Uh… Seven… what you did…"

 

"…was to show you I love you and care for you, too" she responded. "Good night, doctor. May you have sweet dreams."  She activated her alcove and soon was in the somnolent state of regeneration.

 

A very disturbed and confused EMH remained a few meters away from her poised, quiescent form. An aura surrounded her that gave her an ethereal quality, her pale features luminescent and angelic. He sought answers that couldn’t be found in the thousands and thousands of terabits of programming that made him who he was. For months, he had hoped upon hope for such a scene as had just transpired… of her coming willingly to him… him, above all of the more desirable younger men among the community of New Hope. Him… she had… touched him… and kissed him… and told him that… well, that she loved and cared for him. Yet, with all the human characteristics programmed into him, he was unable to actually feel the gossamer touch of those fingers, or taste the succulent sweetness of those lips. Photons and force fields would never have the sensing capabilities of real flesh and blood; programmed warmth could never have the heat of passionate blood.

 

This would never work; as much as he loved her… had wanted her for so long… it could never be. After all, he was a hologram and she was a human. She needed human responses to the humanity in her. Tomorrow… they had to talk tomorrow… to stop things before neither of them could turn back.

 

He walked over to the container holding the microscopic nanoprobes. He noticed that the enzymatic fluid in which they were immersed seemed to have hemolyzed the adhering blood cells from Seven’s injury. A slight cloudiness further told him that there had been a proteolytic breakdown of some of the Borg tissue that clung to the implant when it was placed in the container. What he didn’t see was what had happened… was happening… at the microscopic level, the sub-molecular level… a rupturing of cell walls, releasing millions of strands of DNA into the surrounding solution. The enzyme split these strands further into fragments laden with genetic code… fragments now free-floating throughout the liquid, presenting miniature templates upon which life could be built. All that remained was the briefest burst of electromagnetic energy, at just the right time, to give birth to spark of new life.

 

It was then that it happened. With the container lightly balanced in his hands, and his mind and thoughts still lost in a dreamy haze about Seven’s words and actions, he stumbled into the invisible containment force field surrounding the Borg drone. Under normal circumstances, the field would have done nothing to disrupt the billions of photons in his matrix. However, the superconductivity of the ionized liquid he was carrying acted like a hyper-magnet to the force field, concentrating it into a narrow beam a million times stronger than normal. The concentrated beam immediately broke his matrix into subatomic fragments of energy. All of his ‘physical’ characteristics that had been there a fraction of a second earlier were now bits of sparks and light and energy, skittering and scattering, dancing along his former matrix. The hands that once were there disappeared, and the contents of the container spewed into the air, sizzling in the heated energy fluxes, then clinging to the ghostly matrix of the doctor’s human form, shimmering in iridescent colors never produced by a prism. With silent speed as fast as light, the infinitesimal strands of primordial life traveled and affixed themselves to the only hold they could find – the glowing framework of energy that defined Voyager’s EMH.

 

Sparks and zaps… sizzles and shadows… particles of partial life grasping and reaching for one another… meeting and meshing, molding and melding. Differentiation of primal patterns into genetic histories, multiplying and copying and emulating; cells emerging and combining and coalescing; instantaneous growth into fibers and tissues and organs… eyes and hands and heart and lungs, shifting and settling into designated place and form. Layer upon layer, fabricating and forming faster than eye or mind could comprehend.

 

As quickly as the incident began, it was over. No more than five seconds had elapsed from the first spark until the restoration of a visible form of the doctor. His eyes blinked open momentarily as he sensed something he had never known before – a feeling of heaviness; muscles in his legs and back and arms, stretching and reaching and pulling. His hands reached towards each other, grasping each other in welcoming touch. Fingers flew to his face, marveling in the feel of differences of flesh and features.

 

His nose twitched in response to a lingering pungent smell attacking his nasal passages; his tongue darted out to parched lips, moistening them but tasting an acrid residue on their dry surface. The overwhelming bombardment of a myriad sensations suddenly disappeared as he slipped into unconsciousness. His form quickly succumbed to gravity, sinking and slumping towards the floor, and finally hitting it with a heavy, solid dull… thump.

 

~*~

 

Exactly five point seven hours later, Seven awoke from her regeneration period. As her eyes opened and she adjusted to the unknown surroundings, she looked around for her friend. In the pale early morning light, the room was shadowy, with its artificial light lowered for the night hours. Suddenly, she saw his slouched form on the floor. She quickly disengaged herself from the alcove and ran over to him. How could this be? A holographic form should not be in such a human-like position…

 

She knelt down beside him. He was on his stomach, with his head lying in profile. His legs were flayed, skewed to either side. One arm was trapped underneath him, and the other extended outwards. She picked up the extended hand and took it between hers. It felt different from the way it had last night. Last night, it had been there, but it hadn’t felt so solid… so firm… so warm. She pulled the hand to her lips and kissed it the way he had hers yesterday. She heard a muffled groan, and gently rolled him onto his back.

 

His eyes were still closed while his body remained motionless. She put two fingers under his nose and was further shocked – he was exhaling warm, moist air! She moved her fingers to his lips. They were dry, but opened slightly at her touch, revealing a warm, moist, fleshy interior… issuing a silent, sensuous invitation. She leaned down further and repeated her action of the previous night by kissing him. She backed away and saw his lips now close and curl every so slightly into a smile. She kissed him again, and drew back more slowly, her eyes now closed.

 

"Seven…" came his muted words, warm wisps of a whisper. His eyes opened, blinking at the soft brightness of the day. Her eyes met his in response. He reached up and touched her cheek, starting with the sudden sensation of feeling her warmth and softness. What had happened?

 

"Seven… something has happened…" he murmured, attempting to pull himself into a seated position.

 

"Yes, it has," she answered. "I do not know why… or how… but, Doctor, I do not believe that you are a hologram anymore. I… I… believe that you have assumed true human form. You are… firm and solid, not like your photonic state." Her hands unconsciously roamed his form, wanting to confirm her theory.

 

He completed pulling himself up, smiling at her, and sat next to her kneeling position. "Pinch me, so that I know I’m not dreaming."

 

Her eyes opened wide. "You wish me to harm you?"

 

"Just think of it as a test," he nodded back at her.

 

She reached out and grasped a bit of his arm flesh, covered by his tunic sleeve… and pinched him as only she could.

 

"Ouch!" he responded. "I guess this proves it. But now… I’d like to try some more tests," he said softly, pulling her towards him.

 

"What sort of tests?" she asked.

 

"You’ll see, my dear; but they’re nothing to be afraid of. They all involve a little… ‘TLC’," he answered, as he pulled her into his arms.

 

~*~

 

Harry Kim also worked long into the night. He and Seven had divided the sections of the database search, and, like her, he was most interested in trying to discover clues as to the disappearance of the Legacy crew and possible answers as to why they had found the lone Borg aboard. His eyelids were having a difficult time remaining open, as a constant barrage of static-filled images passed before him. Just as his lids appeared to be headed to a complete closure, a slight change in the pattern brought him to full attention. It was a subspace code, buried under layers and layers of gibberish. But there was something there; he was certain. He just had to keep adjusting the frequencies until it came through.

 

By morning, he had a framework for some answers. All of the information had been entered from a terminal in the sickbay of Legacy, where they had found their deceased Borg drone "friend". He labored on, forming a template for deciphering the information. Slowly… surely… the code began falling into place. As the morning sunlight began filling the room and the lighting sensors turned off, he knew that he had some long-awaited answers. Weary beyond comprehension, he hit his comm badge.

 

"Chakotay, this is Harry. Can you come over to the engineering area? I think I’ve found some answers to the Legacy mystery."

 

"Care to share them with me instead, Harry?" Kathryn Janeway’s sleepy voice answered. "I’m afraid that… um… Chakotay is… um… indisposed at the moment."

 

"Uh… Kathryn? Why are you answering Chakotay’s…" Harry began, only to choke on his words. "Oh. Uh… sorry; I didn’t mean to…"

 

Kathryn was laughing at the poor young man’s embarrassment. "No, no; it’s all right, Harry; I shouldn’t have startled you in such a way. Chakotay is… um… here at my place." She could just imagine how chagrined the young man was – it was as if she could hear it over the comm badge. She paused briefly for him to compose himself. "Seriously, Harry, we’ll be over as soon as possible. What have you found?."

 

"Uh… well," he began, somewhat recovered from his faux pas. "It seems that when the Legacy crew sensed trouble with the Borg, they placed information into encrypted subspace messages buried within the medical databanks. And within their reports, they state that they had developed a certain band of EM energy that proved fatal to the Borg, but only when placed upon encryption code. They apparently had only enough time to attach it to the databanks in the medical files. The closest I can figure out, the fatal EM bandwidth was specifically attracted to Borg implants. When this particular drone attempted to access these files, the contaminated code entered the Borg drone through that specific venue. In Seven’s case, I think that there was still enough of the residual weakened energy there to affect anything connected to the Borg. Since she still has a few implants, when she leaned down to examine the dead drone, the toxic energy decided to jump ship, so to speak. She was really lucky not to be seriously affected."

 

"Well… that is certainly an interesting theory. We will definitely want to follow through on it. Have you found out anything more about the crew?"

 

Harry shook his head sadly. "No, not really. Maybe as I get further into this encryption, we’ll find out more. In the meantime, I’m assuming that the crew were all assimilated by the Borg, and our ‘friend’ here was found to be ‘poisoned’, so he was left behind. You certainly wouldn’t want to take a tainted body back into a hive."

 

"Hmmm. I really wish they had; maybe it would have started a chain reaction. Too bad our Borg friends can adapt to avoiding danger so quickly," she said.

 

"Sort of like a Trojan horse virus, huh? That would sure be nice," Harry sighed. "There’s a lot more in this subspace information node," he continued. "I hope that we can find out a lot more about the Legacy."

 

"So do I, Harry; so do I. But, most of all, I’m hoping we can find a way to revitalize the ship and…" There was a muffled pause on her end. "Oh… here’s Chakotay now. Do you still want to talk to him?"

 

"Uh… no. I’m sure you can fill him in," Harry mumbled back. Raising his voice, as if feeling that he wouldn’t be heard otherwise, he continued, "Uh… sorry for the interruption, Chakotay. I… hope that I didn’t interfere with anything…"

 

Chakotay laughed. "No, Harry; it’s fine. We were… uh… just getting up."

 

"And we’ll be over as soon as we can. Have you contacted Seven? I think she should be there, too," Janeway continued.

 

"Right. I’ll see if she’s finished her regeneration period. I know that she was working late into the night, too. She needed to get some rest; I’m hoping that the doc finally got her to settle down," he answered.

 

It was Janeway’s turn to laugh. "I’m sure that our doctor knew what to say to her to get her to rest. His ‘bedside manner’ really has been improving, you know. You might as well contact him, too." She continued with a sigh. "It must be nice to be a hologram and never need any sleep,"

 

Chakotay’s voice chimed in again. "Yes, but just think of some of the other things he misses out on by not being… uh…‘real’."

 

"Well, I’m not a hologram… and my very real body tells me that I’m tired. After we look at things, with your permission, I’d like to sleep a few hours," said the weary young man.

 

"By all means, Harry; you deserve it. Just show us what we can do to follow through on your work, and then I don’t want to see you until tomorrow morning. Understood?" Janeway spoke with her old command voice.

 

"Yes, ma’am!" he answered with an unseen smile.

 

"Now," she concluded, "let’s show New Hope some new surprises."

 

Ah, yes; the inhabitants of the little community were going to be treated to a lot of surprises today, on this two-hundred and sixty-ninth day of their stay on an unknown planet revolving around a small yellow dwarf star somewhere in the Delta Quadrant… a lot of surprises!