After I relieved Chakotay of duty, I made up my mind to off that bastard Lessing once and for all. No one would stop me.

He was still in his cargo bay, probably restrained in the chair where I’d left him.

I rushed to the bridge control panels, seething. My temples pulsed with something like rage. I tapped in the necessary combination, and the ship jolted.

“Captain! Someone just lifted the cargobay doors! All the air is blowing out into space.”

“Whoops,” Janeway said with a wry grin. “My bad. I must’ve pressed the wrong button. Casualties?”

“There is one lifesign outside of the ship,” Harry Kim said grimly. He tapped a few buttons, and the view screen picture showed Seven of Nine floating listlessly through space.

Shit, shit shit shit. Wrong cargobay! “Mr. Paris, beam her back to the ship!”

“I can’t get a transporter lock!” Tom replied, voice rough with sorrow.

Just then, Seven’s body exploded due to the vaccums of space. It fell outward to all sides like the pinnacles of a crown, the rays of a sun.

We all stared.

“My God... have you ever seen anything like that,” Harry whispered from the conn. The explosion of her body was as beautiful as the formation of a new star, the sunrise of a new world.

“It’s beautiful,” Torres whispered, then smiled at me. “Let’s find some more Borg and do it again!”

And thus, a bad thing was made into something beautiful.,

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