Received: from [66.218.67.199] by n12.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 21 Jan 2004 08:59:53 -0000 X-Sender: sil@sileya.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 70719 invoked from network); 21 Jan 2004 08:59:52 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.216) by m6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 21 Jan 2004 08:59:52 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta1.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 21 Jan 2004 08:59:51 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d61-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.61]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i0L8xGJi017043 for ; Wed, 21 Jan 2004 03:59:17 -0500 Message-ID: <002d01c3dffc$e8238360$3de1453f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.50.4133.2400 X-MIMEOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 63.65.184.2 From: "Sileya" X-Yahoo-Profile: sileya MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Wed, 21 Jan 2004 02:59:40 -0600 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TNG/VOY "Illusions of Civility" (PG) 2/2 Reply-To: "Sileya" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Title: Illusions of Civility Series: TNG/VOY Author: Thomas Myers Rating: PG Spoilers: TNG--The Best of Both Worlds/I, Borg. VOY--The Gift/The Raven/Dark Frontiers/Endgame Summary: Seven of Nine and Jean-Luc Picard are about to make a Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount. No infringement is intended. The rest of the day passed in silence with the exception of one more course correction. Geordi and Bari were too uptight concerning the friction between Seven and the Captain to even try and lighten the mood. Picard didn't go back to the medical compartment, which was where Starfleet's corps of engineers had installed a specially designed regeneration module for Seven. It had been constructed to look like one of those pods that the medical division put people in for hours at a time to help their bodies adjust to new transplants and cybernetic implants. It was nowhere near as unnerving as the normal Borg regeneration alcove. The new day dawned with a lighter mood. At breakfast, Seven and Geordi had an animated discussion about various trivialities. In places there was some scientific discussion, but it was mostly personal tales about previous experiences in life. When Picard finally entered, Seven was telling Geordi of the time that Tom Paris' "Captain Proton" program, under unusual circumstances, had interacted with a layer of photonic space. "Captain Janeway was forced into the somewhat embarrassing situation of having to play as Queen Arachnia of the Spider People." As Seven recounted the tale of the folly of Lieutenant Paris' juvenile pursuits and their impact on Voyager, Picard ordered a cup of hot Earl Grey tea from the replicator. Picard sat and listened to Seven with mild amusement. Seven paused in the recount of her story and directly addressed Picard. "Shouldn't you eat something? Failing to eat for long hours can cause numerous physical disorders over time. In the immediate time, hunger can impair one's judgment and cause exhaustion." She sounded as annoying as Data. Picard winced inwardly at the thought. Data's sacrifice was still near enough that even the mere reminder of him caused distress. For the time being, Picard decided that Seven's question was not unreasonable. "I'll eat later. I usually skip breakfast." His tone indicated that he was not in the mood for a friendly discussion with Seven. She would have suspected that this was because of her history with the Borg, but it was more likely a result of their numerous heated exchanges from the previous day. "I have been told that breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Seven tried to sound as polite as possible. Picard gave her a sharp look and she expected another verbal reprimand. Instead he said, "Yes, that is what they say, isn't it? Skipping breakfast won't kill me. I'll be fine." "Of course, sir." Seven turned back to Geordi and finished her story. As Geordi turned the discussion to a topic of immediate concern, Bari announced his arrival with an enormous yawn. He ordered a simple glass of juice from the replicator. As Seven thought that this Andorian was going to skip his meal as well, he pulled an orange from a bag that he carried with him. Picard, who had been trying hard not to look at Seven, suddenly couldn't help it. The meaningful look that she was giving him reminded him of Beverly. Deanna used to give him that look, too. They were both gone now. Beverly had resumed her post as Director of Starfleet Medical, and Deanna had gone with Wil to the Titan. Data had been reduced to particles when he destroyed the Reman Warbird Scimitar. All that remained of Data was the potential that B-4 might eventually understand the memories that Data downloaded to his positronic matrix. Geordi turned to Bari. "Where's Carol? She should be up by now." Bari, who had just finished peeling his orange, inclined his head towards Geordi. "I just left her in the back. She was the first one up." Before Picard could stop himself, he said, "Tell us whether or not she had breakfast before Ms. Hanson implodes." Geordi was only partially successful in suppressing a laugh. It came out sounding like a snort coupled with a hiccup. Seven looked over to Geordi, who returned her gaze with a silent apology. Bari had stopped midway into a bite of orange. He held the orange in his mouth, apparently also trying to suppress a laugh. He took his bite of orange, swallowed and finally gave up his struggle, ultimately succumbing to a fit of silent laughter. They clearly were not accustomed to Picard making wise cracks of this nature. Seven looked over to Picard and said, "I am only trying to be helpful." "Oh, absolutely." Picard's tone was ridiculing and suppressive. He meant what he said as means of encompassing everything that he thought without actually sharing his thoughts. It spoke volumes. This polite banter that was so clearly hiding his irritation was even worse than the shouting matches they had had the previous day were. Seven forgot the fact that Bari and Geordi were present. "I do not like being patronized. I do not appreciate being treated like a child." Picard likewise forgot that they were not alone. "Then stop acting like one." The glare that Seven shot Picard could have cut stone. Geordi sighed deeply. "This is going to be a very long trip." Seven and Picard both glanced at him. Seven, deciding that rest of the morning could be better spent on other pursuits, stood and strode to the command area. Picard, well aware that he needed to be in there anyway, followed her. Seven went from console to console checking that everything was in order. She heard Picard enter and she turned to observe him checking over everything as well. "Our course has deviated by another five degrees to starboard. A four degree correction should put us back on the proper heading." Picard examined all of the stations before saying, "I agree. There is no need to bother Mr. Bari yet. I assume that you are perfectly capable of making a course correction." "I am." "Make it so." Seven input the proper sequence into the helm console. The runabout momentarily dropped from warp as Seven turned it four degrees to port and then returned to its previous speed. "Course corrected. Estimating time of arrival at twenty-three hours." Picard had been curious. "How long ago was it, Ms. Hanson?" "I'm sorry, Captain?" "When Voyager pulled you from the collective; how long ago was that?" Seven remained silent for a moment. She took her post at the science console before answering. "Approximately six years ago, sir." Seven had also been curious. "How did you deal with it, sir?" "Deal with what?" "The hatred. How did you deal with so many people blaming you for the death of their loved ones? How did you leave Wolfe 359? Did you forgive yourself for what happened?" Picard regarded this former drone for a moment. His question had clearly affected her, and her question had clearly taken something out of her. In truth, it had taken something him as well. He didn't really appreciate being asked, but fair was fair. He had asked her. "The truth? I haven't really figured out how to deal with it. I guess that means that I never did leave Wolfe 359. As for forgiving myself.how could I blame myself? It was the actions of the Borg through me." Seven seemed to be having difficulty speaking. "I wish that I could believe that." "Why is it so hard to believe, Ms. Hanson?" "Please stop calling me that. That is not my name." "I was under the impression that it was. Your profile-" "Screw my profile." Seven's speech was violent and tormented. "Annika Hanson died many years ago. She was murdered.by her parents." Seven stood and stormed to the back area of the ship. She nearly mowed down Geordi in the process and didn't stop as she muttered her apology. "What was the disagreement this time?" Geordi shook his head as he took his post. "There was no disagreement this time. I think that my topic of discussion was poorly selected." Picard rubbed the bridge of his nose. Seven seemed quite edgy and she clearly did not like him. He stood up and walked to the back. Bari remained silent as he passed, but it was clear from his expression that he was concerned by this new development. The Andorian stepped to the forward compartment as Picard continued to head aft. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you." Carol Saunders was at the door leading into the aft, which was home to the infirmary, impulse control and the warp reactor. "It isn't safe. I've never seen Seven sulk before, although I know that others have, but its clear that something's eating at her. You should see the bulkhead on the other side of this door. She hit it with her prosthetic hand, and put a dent in it like you wouldn't believe." Carol came closer to Picard. "Can't you just try to be nice to her?" "I am trying to be patient with her, but-" "But you just don't think before you open that big mouth of yours. The Borg assimilated her at the age of six. She spent eighteen years in the collective. When she was rescued, slowly but surely memories began to come back and everything that she knows about human interaction comes from those memories. Memories that end at the age of six. Starfleet has determined that she is competent for her line of work, and she can go far in her career. She was even offered a commission, but that doesn't change the fact that her head is really screwed up. That doesn't change the fact that the wrong word at the wrong time can reduce her to a self-pitying mass of resentment, crouched in a corner, hiding, ready lash out at anything that comes near her, which is what she is now." "She isn't capable of responding like an adult? Is that what you are saying?" "She is capable of responding like an adult, but she's only had six years to learn how; twelve if you count her childhood, but the damage has been done. It's gotten better for her and she has grown up, but there is still a child in there who had something terrible happen to her and I don't know of anyone who could ever fully recover from something like what she experienced. Don't think for an instant that what happened to you even remotely compares to what happened to her." "What did exactly happen to her. Were her parents serving on a starship that were attacked by the Borg?" "Worse. Her parents owned a private yacht that they used as a science ship. Husband and wife only; they pursued the Borg so that they could study them, and they took their daughter with them. Seven remembers that at the age of four her parents took her with them on their adventure. They caught up to a Borg cube. They studied it for a year, keeping no farther than a light-year from it. They usually stayed as close as fifty kilometers. Seven says that the Borg assimilated them on the very day of her sixth birthday." Picard closed his eyes. He had really put his foot in his mouth this time. The pain that she must have felt at her parents neglect and lack of concern was unimaginable. "No wonder she accused her parents of murdering her." "She hates the Borg, Captain. The thing is that they were the only life she ever knew, and with the memory of her parents, I'm not sure there is an Annika Hanson anymore. Her childhood memories and her memories of the Borg have molded her into completely different person. The Borg drone is gone too. If Annika Hanson is gone, then what does she have left? When Janeway freed her from the collective, it created a completely new identity, based on the old one. The reason for all of this is because she obsessed with ridding her life of something." "And what is that?" "Her past. She doesn't want any part of it. Violent tendencies were never mentioned in her profile, but if you go in there, do so with the understanding that she has been hurt and she will respond to pain the same way that any living being would. In our department, we never call her Annika, or Ms. Hanson. Even all the admirals we deal with know better than to call her that, and they trust her. There are plenty of more experienced scientists in our department but the admirals feel that if they need answers, she's first one to go to." Picard proceeded to the aft. As he reached the doorway leading to the rear compartment, he turned and asked, "Why didn't you join Starfleet?" "I didn't want to have anything to do with the military. Oh, I know. Starfleet is an organization of peaceful exploration and scientific discovery. The fact is that you're still soldiers. You still do as much fighting as you do exploring, and as honorable as all of you are, that is one form of honor that I don't wish to be associated with in any respect. If it makes you feel better, we still work for Starfleet; just not as members." Picard simply smiled and entered into the rear compartment. Seven was sitting in a chair, by the only viewing port in the room. Picard pulled up another chair and sat a few feet away from her. If she noticed him at all, she gave no indication. "I think that I have been being extremely unfair to you. Well, actually I've been acting like a horse's ass." Seven's stoic expression was replaced by one of puzzlement. "I can recall that my grandfather had horses. I remember that he would put me on top of one of them and lead the horse around the field. I do not recall the rear of the animal being capable of engaging in any form of behavior that did not include the rest of the animal. I do recall that most of the horses were, in general, extremely ill tempered and stubborn creatures." Seven's expression of stoicism returned. "You and I are extremely ill tempered and stubborn creatures." Picard smiled slightly. "At our vineyard in France, we had a pair of palomino's that my parents would use to cart grapes to the wine shed. I remember asking them that with all of this amazing technology, why did they still use a horse and buggy. They said that the reason was tradition. Tradition seems to be the main reason that we make our lives harder than they have to be." "Grandfather's horses were not native to Sweden. Two of them were Tennessee Walkers, and three others were Clydesdales. Two of them were Mustangs. He wouldn't let me ride them." "I should think not. That breed of horse is among the fastest, and they are also among the most difficult to tame. What part of Sweden was your family from?" "I do not remember. My aunt lives in Stockholm now. She says that she preferred the country to the city, but living in the city is easier for her. She says that it is close to everything. I know that she is still in possession of the property where grandpa used to live, and that she has a caretaker looking after it, but I don't know if the horses are still there. I will have to ask her where it is." "Starfleet has a metallurgy lab in Stockholm. I went to Stockholm once while on shore leave. At the time, they were studying a method of augmenting titanium armor with photonic generators. The result was the ablative armor that we use today. I would like to know how Voyager acquired such an advanced version of the system." Seven still leaned against the viewing port, her dismal stoicism still in place. "That is classified information. Grandfather used to talk about the lab in Stockholm. It's one of the reasons that mom and dad would not let me stay with him when they left. They hated the Federation in general and my grandfather was an influence that they felt I did not need." This territory was familiar to Picard. It had resulted in Seven storming out of the command area and into here. He looked over to the door. She did a number on the paneling next to it. He could almost make out the imprint of her fist. He wouldn't be surprised if her prosthetic arm was as strong as the arm of an android. He wondered if it would be acceptable to try and steer her out of unfriendly territory. He decided to give it a shot. "In France, I used to sneak out at night and ride our horses. It took me some time to figure out how to put a saddle on. When the horses started trying to bite me, I asked my brother why they were so agitated. Oh, he was as arrogant as always, but I didn't want my parents to find out what I was doing. He called me some insulting name (I can't remember what) and told me that I needed to put a blanket underneath the saddle so that the horse's back wasn't rubbed raw." "I never had any siblings. I have some distant cousins, but I haven't met them. I remember wild flowers grew in the field that my grandfather used to let me ride in. I would pick them and my grandmother would tie them in my hair. I get the feeling that there was something else, but my memories are returning slowly. I sometimes wonder if I will recover them all. The Doctor has been helping me, but there are some things that I simply cannot remember. There are some things that I wish were among them." "Doctor Saunders?" "No, Voyager's EMH." "Oh." He had heard quite a bit about the holographic doctor that was left online for seven years, developed self-awareness, and couldn't decide on a name for himself. Seven finally turned to look at him. An anguish and contempt that Picard had never before encountered replaced the stoicism. "Do you know what it is to lose everything that you are? Do you know what it is to never be able to reclaim what you once were? When you were rescued from the Borg, your old life was still there waiting for you. It's been six years and I still have to find mine. I have been called childish, but the child truly understands the meaning of lost. My life is mine and I want it back." Picard interlaced his hands, held his knuckles to his knees and looked down into them. "There is no way I could ever adequately apologize to you for my behavior. I just couldn't get past the implants." This seemed to make Seven even angrier. "Nobody seems to be able to. How many people have you met that can't get past Locutus? Your face is smooth and unblemished. You have only your memories to remind you. Look at me. In nightmares and in the mirror I must see my past. What of Hugh? Do you remember him in the same light that you perceive me?" It hadn't occurred to Picard that Seven would have read some of Enterprise's official logs. The fact that she even knew about Hugh had taken him by surprise. "My perception is muddied by the established patterns that come with age. It clears with time, but until it does, I'm an unbearable ass. The light that I perceive you in is not as dark as you suspect. I simply become irritated by reminders of a past that I would much rather forget. Now that I see clearly, I see that you are quite different from what I expected." Seven looked down, fighting back tears. "When Captain Janeway first liberated me, she asked me what my favorite color was. Can you imagine? I was a fully functional Borg drone, much stronger than her. She walked into the compartment with me even after I threatened her and she asked me what my favorite color was. I couldn't bare what was happening to me and I lunged and fell. I don't know if I fell on purpose or not, but she caught me and she held me. I stayed there, not wanting to leave. I didn't want her to let go. I couldn't remember ever knowing what it was to have someone hold me as mother holds her child. She held me for as long as she could, but I could tell that I was beginning to weigh her down, so I sat, and she sat with me." "Admiral Janeway is a remarkable woman. That sounds right on par with her." "I was in cargo bay two when I finally answered her question. Captain Janeway wanted to put me someplace more comfortable, but the regeneration alcoves were in there and I needed them to maintain my implants. It was always dark in the cargo bay. I was afraid of the dark, but somehow I felt comfortable. The crew was nervous around me and nobody bothered me in there. Imagine living with millions of voices all of your life, suddenly finding yourself alone, and wanting nothing more than to be left alone. After some time, Captain Janeway lost patience. She didn't want me to be alone. "When she began assigning me duties, she found that I was confrontational, and quite insubordinate. She would confine me to cargo bay for my more serious infractions, but after awhile, she realized that that wasn't much of a punishment as I preferred to be in the cargo bay. She would lecture me on the duties of a Starfleet officer, and that she was at a loss on how to deal with my confrontational and insubordinate behavior. I'm not exactly certain that we reached a compromise, but I eventually began to interact more effectively. "With the way I always behaved, which was due largely to the fact that I didn't know how to cope with my new situation, I wondered if she would even care if I left Voyager. She did. She fought hard to keep me onboard. A Borg homing signal activated and began to reactivate my implants, and she came after me. In exchange for Voyager's safety the Borg Queen made me return to the collective. With our minds linked, I knew for certain that it was this rare occasion when the Queen intended to keep her word. Voyager could have went on without having to fear the Borg ever again, and Captain Janeway came for me." Seven was crying now and Picard finally realized that this poor, broken girl was simply trying do the best she could under the most unreasonable circumstances. "Not everyone's demons are as horrible as the ones that you have faced, and I have seen that in truth, civilization is at best an illusion. It's the people like you that are the better part of us all." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Xi Yung landed gently on the soil of Deneb V. It was less than a kilometer from the crashed sphere. Picard, Geordi, Bari, Carol and Seven trudged on to the coordinates of the sphere. When they got there, they saw wreckage strewn across the landscape. Geordi held out his tricorder and scanned the wreckage piece by piece. There were only eight drones. All of them had been killed. After about an hour, Geordi's tricorder hummed to life. "Seven, I think I've found something." That was the first piece of good news since they had arrived. The cube had been completely destroyed in the crash. Not a single piece of it was functional. She only hoped that Geordi hadn't found some drill arm prosthetic. If he had, she would be really annoyed by this waste of time. She arrived at his side within moments. Picard and Bari followed closely behind. They moved a piece of titanium that covered whatever it was that Geordi was registering. It was in a sealed container. Geordi scrutinized the container. Though the tricorders could not determine the safety of the container, his eyes could. "It's safe to open. It looks like there's some kind of transceiver inside." Bari and Seven both pried the container open. The extracted the component from it's wiring harness and observed it. Seven identified it immediately. "This will indeed cause a stir in research and development. This is a temporal transceiver." "A what?" Picard answered Geordi's somewhat vague question. "It allows the Borg to communicate through time. It was never very effective though." Seven looked at Picard. "The Borg acquired this technology from the Torik. They are a species from the Magellanic Clouds." Seven decided that it would not be prudent to use Borg designations. Even though she did not state the designations, Picard heard them. He afforded her an understanding smile. Old habits die hard. He was a bit surprised to hear to hear that the Borg were in other galaxies. During the time that he spent in the collective, he never knew. Geordi resealed the container. "Is anything else here?" Seven accepted the case from Geordi. "I located a transwarp coil, but it was demolished in the crash. Anything else was destroyed by the Borg's emergency programs, which prevent people such as ourselves from acquiring their technology." "So this is it." "Not necessarily. There are literally trillions of functional nano- probes that could be used in medical and engineering research." "How would we collect them?" "The various components scattered across the landscape would contain quite a few of them. Unfortunately, we don't have enough room in the runabout. It took us forty hours to come here so that we could spend an hour sifting through the wreckage. At least it was not a complete waste of time. The truth is, they should have sent a starship." Carol was almost to the other side of the crash site. She shouted across the field to the others. She was so far away it would probably have been better to call them on her commbadge. "I've got a life sign!" They all ran over to where Carol was. With all five of them working, they were able to uncover an unconscious female drone from a large pile of scrape. Seven recognized her species as Eoian. They were a species that Voyager encountered in the Delta Quadrant. She looked to be nineteen. She was severely injured and a quick scan showed that her link to the collective had been severed. Seven pitied her that she would have to suffer as well. Picard, for all of his hatred for the Borg, still cared for the life of one. "Do we have the equipment necessary to hold her should she regenerate? If we don't then we'll have to keep her sedated." Carol looked up at him in surprise. "Are you kidding? She's so badly injured she might not even survive the trip to the runabout." Seven knelt beside the injured drone. "She will survive. Her regenerative capabilities are able to repair damage far more severe than this. We do have the equipment necessary to contain her. Starfleet sent us out fully prepared for anything that we might encounter here." Carol exhaled heavily. "We should use the transporter to move her at any rate." Seven looked up. "Captain Picard and I should stay. Everybody else, return the runabout." Seven noted Carol's look of protest and pressed on. "Should she awaken before the equipment is prepared, she will not be so alarmed by the presence of myself and the Captain. We will be familiar to her." Carol was going to voice her protest anyway, but as she looked, she saw one of the drones wounds heal instantly without leaving a scar. Carol simply nodded, clearly feeling a sudden sense of self-preservation. The other three called the runabout for automated transport, and Seven and Picard waited for them to prepare the equipment for the drone's transport. "What is it that you're thinking?" Picard asked the question gently. "What do you want?" "I want her to have a normal life. I want to her to have a mother and a father and a husband and a child. I want her to heal from this. I know that she never will." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Just north of Sundsvall, Sweden, Seven and Picard stood in a beautiful field of wild flowers. There weren't many warm days like this left. Winter was almost upon them. Most meteorologists would call it fall but they've never been in northern Sweden during "fall". Temperatures got down to freezing almost daily. The months of November, December, and January were the worst, as temperatures dropped to well below freezing. Seven could recall that when she was a child, the only thing she liked about Sweden during the winter was the snow. Now at the age of thirty-two, she didn't even like that. Spending most of her childhood hopping from starbase to starbase, Seven knew that the precious few times that she had come here were the truly happy days of her childhood. She remembered her grandfather's thick accent. Her father didn't have that accent. He hadn't lived in Sweden since he was eight. For all the resentment that Seven harbored towards her parents, she found herself missing them very much. She took the time to feel the air. It was still the warmth of summer but it had that winter chill to it. This was the first time that she stood in this field since she was little girl. Her aunt was happy to tell her where it was. A brisk wind whipped at her suddenly, blowing her hair so hard that when it hit her face, it stung. Seven was glad that she brought a coat. She was glad that she advised Picard to do the same. Even though they were still in summer, it could still get chilly. As they approached the Tudor style house, Seven's thoughts turned to the Borg drone that they had recovered. She was responding to her situation far less violently than Seven had. Her most recent conversation with Echeb, who had just graduated the academy, had indicated that the drone was positively friendly. Echeb had said that she was quite inquisitive and in no way behaved in a threatening manner. Picard said that Hugh had behaved in very much the same manner. They reached the door and Seven pulled out the old-fashioned key that the caretaker, Mr. Svendi had given to her. She put the key in the lock, which clicked with the turning of the tumblers. Inside was the house that Seven remembered from her dreams and her sessions with the Doctor that in time had become recovered memories. The foyer was bare with the exception of a sea-scape painting on one wall and an entry table on the other. There was no couch in the living room, but there were four armchairs, each sitting on their on rug. They were positioned around a coffee table. The room was brightly decorated with curios and paintings. They went into the kitchen, which had an old-fashioned gas stove and refrigerator. Seven was fairly certain that stove wasn't actually gas, but designed to simulate it. It probably had plasma based energy source. For some reason, Seven was afraid to go upstairs. She had no memory of what was up there, but she went anyway. There were three bedrooms and a bath. There was also a playroom that Seven recognized from numerous memories. She had no idea that it had been here. She left the playroom and went into a far bedroom. She suddenly had an image of a terrible argument between her parents and her grandfather in this room. She remembered now. The last time she saw this room was the day that her parents had taken her away from here. She quickly darted out of the room, shaken by the sudden memory. She went back downstairs. Picard was waiting patiently in the living room. She wished it were Chakotay standing there, but she felt comfortable sharing this time with a person whom at least had a hint of what her life had really been. Chakotay wasn't going to be there for several months, at any rate. Starfleet had still intended to punish the Maquis for their actions, but in light of the events surrounding Voyager, Chakotay had been allowed to take responsibility for all of them. Eight months ago, he was sentenced to Federation penal facility. The sentence was short, considering that he had been the leader of a Maquis cell. Even more surprising, upon completion of his sentence, Starfleet promised to reinstate him, but as a Commander. He would have to re-earn his captaincy. B'Elanna had been the only other Maquis interested in a Starfleet career. With a good word from Admiral Janeway, B'Elanna was considered. They didn't put her back through the Academy, even though they were fairly certain that she would not drop out this time. Instead, they tested her endlessly. She had a perfect score on almost every test, and they still weren't finished with her. Seven understood that a captain (she didn't know the name) had successfully fought to secure B'Elanna as chief engineer, to be instated when Starfleet was finally finished with her. Picard followed Seven through a door that lead to the stable. The caretaker had told her that the Mustangs and the Tennessee Walkers had been sent to a ranch in America. They had all eventually died. He told her that her grandfather had kept the Clydesdales. One of them was still alive, though too old to ride. They had two offspring, and for two years they had been old enough to ride. Seven went to end of the stable where the three horses were kept. "My word." Picard's sudden exclamation startled Seven. She turned to see that he was admiring the elder horse. "He must eight hands at the very least." "Mr. Svendi said that he was nine hands. The other two are each eight." Seven heard the lethargic tone of her voice. Picard smiled. "Well, they are Clydesdales after all." He looked out into the field from the stable doors, which were open. It was chilly, but not cold. The wind only gusted occasionally. "It's good riding weather." Seven realized what Picard was about to suggest. "I've never actually ridden before. My grandfather only ever put me on the horse and led him around the field." Picard regarded Seven with the affection of a father and said, "I could teach you." Seven decided that she would like to learn how to ride a horse. Finis [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Wed Jan 21 21:07:53 2004 Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n33.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.101]) by skylark (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aJees4y23NZFjw0 for ; Wed, 21 Jan 2004 01:01:03 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-7759-1074675630-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com