|
Admiral
Janeway followed Seven of Nine through a forest of medieval columns, past rows of ossified
pews and into the shadow of a great pillar situated opposite the Lady Chapel. The Admiral proceeded as though she were in charge
of this journey, while Kathryn, the longing lover, tried to keep up without appearing to
scurry. It was something of a schizophrenic
experience, but then such duality was commonplace for Kathryn Janeway. It was part of being a good commander after all.
“Let’s start this
again.”
Seven gave
the impression of scowling, without actually doing so and did not move. A gaggle of elderly ladies had to ungroup to walk
around her. She ignored them. They passed by
in a posse of dignified pique.
“Please?” She patted the chair next to her. “Communication is so much more effective when
we try to meet each other half way.”
The young
woman raised her eyebrow dismissively. “Why
would I want to do that?” The
colour in her cheeks was still strong as she turned her head rudely away from Janeway to
study a statue of the Madonna and Child at the far end of the little chapel.
“Because…you
do not have a complete picture of events? You may come to a different conclusion about things
if you allow me to supply new information?”
Seven assumed an air of sceptical boredom with just a tiny hint of contempt. Janeway sighed.
This could go better.
In the
distance a high male voice interrupted the choir with impatient instructions. There was a
sharp rap of twiggy baton on oak and the piece began anew. Bass profundo, chorus,
soprano.
“Please
hear me out, even if it changes nothing?” She
knew she was being pushed, challenged and that she must restrain the molten residue from
their row that was still running through her veins. She
could feel it looking for a trigger to release a new volley at Seven, but the older woman
also knew herself well enough to recognise a diversion in the making and refused the
temptation to snap. I’m so damn good
at avoiding myself. Not this time.
The Borg
inclined her head with curt grace though she sat in the pew in front of Janeway, turning
her body to face her with delicate precision. The
fight hung in the air between them and Kathryn knew it was imperative that she got to the
point quickly or Seven might just simply walk away.
Her mouth
was dry - for all the enemies in the Delta Quadrant combined into one were not as hard to
overcome as her inclination to keep her secrets safe.
To keep her heart unthreatened. She
cleared her throat and said a little officiously: "I
came here today, because this is the day when I think of you." Smoothing the fabric of her coat, she glanced up
at Seven.
"The
only day?" Seven sat with a straight
back. Hands folded in her lap. Head to one side.
She looks older and more… relaxed. She
thought irrelevantly. It irked and distracted
her.
"Well,
no -” said Kathryn.
“So you
think about me on other days?”
"Yes I
do, but -" Now her palm was pressing hotly down on the cloth.
"Therefore
you are thinking about me differently today?" Seven
was treating this as a scientific investigation.
"Yes
well …I am, but -”
“In
what way do your thoughts vary today, Admiral Janeway?
Did you think different thoughts about me yesterday and how will they change
tomorrow? I ask you again - why
today?”
Frustration
began to chafe at the Admiral. She raised her
hand, trying to cut the stream of questions off with a gesture. “Seven please let me finish - this is hard
enough without playing word games with you."
"I am
not playing games, Admiral.” Seven said
with impeccable Borg formality. “I am
attempting to rationalise your behaviour."
Her coolness
sparked Kathryn’s already heated nerves - no matter that her own behaviour had indeed
been flawed, the older woman was still ducking and weaving in her personal bout with love.
"My
behaviour? I see… That is rich coming from you!" Kathryn spluttered to her feet, her voice echoing
in the little chapel as she strode towards it.
"Elaborate! How have I been at fault?" Seven swivelled upright and marched after her, a
picture of outraged innocence.
“As if
you don’t know.”
“I do
not!”
Kathryn
laughed bitterly, one hand making its way to her brow, the other positioned firmly on a
hip. She stared down at the marble tiles
briefly, pursing her lips in a familiar statement of control and power and hiding her
belief that finally in this argument she had won the higher ground - Seven just didn't
know it yet.
On either
side of the gold and blue statue of the Madonna were iron-framed candle trees, spluttering
smoke and yellowish light to brush the jewelled chapel in animated shadows. Kathryn bent forward and retrieved a candle from a
box on the floor, idly considering where in the pattern of flames she would place it. She stepped towards the left tree.
“Do you
remember when we were working together to neutralise the omega molecules? Of course you
do, you have an eidetic memory. You described
all the stories about its existence - from countless cultures - as ‘creation
myths?”
Seven glared
at her, hand in pocket. The tapestry of
flickering light washing over her had the effect of stimulating Kathryn’s own shadowy
desires. She could feel it creeping over her. Get a grip.
Focus.
“I
remember.”
Janeway’s
hands moved to indicate the cathedral.
“Then
what is this, Seven, if not a creation myth? What
possessed you to… to… join up - to sign along the dotted line? It is simply not you.”
For the
first time the precious vulnerability which so characterised Seven in their Voyager days
formed like a veil about her. She looked away
from her ex-Captain, swallowing nervously. When
she finally spoke, her defiant tone belied the picture of fragility that she presented.
“I am
not answerable to you for my conscience.”
Janeway made
a disbelieving face. She was watching the
Borg pull the fight out from the very depths of her being, but moved to crush it anyway. “Sorry - I don’t buy it. You are a scientist, first and foremost. The most unique individual I have ever met. Open and questioning – it makes no sense to
me, Seven - why would you bury everything that you are - or were - in a way of life that
stifles your very nature? It is
nonsensical!” Her voice nearly cracked. To cover the very real distress threatening to
rise up and expose her, Kathryn turned back to the candle tree giving herself something to
do while she schooled her emotions. Heat washed around her hand as she dipped it in among
the flames to light the virgin wick.
Seven
rallied and hit her target with precision.
“It is
not necessary that you understand me, now. You
did not bother before. I spent all of my
human life on Voyager answerable to you, but when we came to Earth, when I needed your
assistance, you refused my request. I have
learnt to live without it and without the requirement to explain any part of myself to
you, Admiral.”
Kathryn
sighed. Three years of professional emotional containment were making this
conversation nearly impossible for her. Just
moments ago she had sat longing for this very opportunity and yet now it seemed so hard,
so far from any comfortable destination.
She was
trying not to think of who now held that intimate part of Seven: of Chakotay making
her forget everything but his touch; of that knowledge torturing her through the
longest and darkest nights. Of how, even now,
she believed that Seven might be able to love her. She
felt bludgeoned by disappointment, abused by the desire seeping through her body and by
the need to be loved by this most impossible of women. Ashamed of the few tears escaping
her rigid, practised control and rolling down her face she quickly scraped them away. Looking at Seven, Kathryn realised that she had
never wanted anything or anyone so much. Never. She hauled in a breath and clamped down on her
feelings, driving the candle firmly onto a spike as she did so.
Seven was
watching her with an impenetrable expression.
“Okay,
Seven.” She swallowed. Push the
images away, don’t think of his hands on her, don’t let her beauty hurt you. Smarten up. “Fair
enough. But I do have something to say - so -
can we sit down and I will try to express what has been in my heart and mind for over
three years?” Some of it at least.
Despite
herself, she could see intrigue hooking Seven of Nine, so they settled back into the same
seats they had occupied before, with Seven sitting swivelled to face her. A couple wandered into the chapel behind her to
light candles. Begin again, Kathryn.
"I come
here, Seven, to think about these very things -" suddenly her mind was filling with
speeches clamouring to all get out at once, so that it seemed that her jaw carried on
working without its assistance at all, “to
think about... the mistakes that I have made." She finished lamely.
"Have
you been here before? Since my wedding?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Last
year... same day... and the year before.... every anniversary of your wedding, in fact. This is the third time."
Seven was
silent for a few minutes, before she said. "Continue." She looked truly perplexed.
Kathryn
paused to check her emotional shielding.
"The
mistakes I have made." She repeated and
sighed. Her jaw now had become heavy.
"Concerning you. Concerning me." They weren’t mistakes! She looked at the Borg tentatively. Seven had turned further towards her and was
observing the little side chapel with its red velvet drapes. The couple were framed by candles. She made no comment turning instead to look
towards the main entrance apprehensively. The
movement panicked Kathryn. She’s
thinking about leaving!!!
"Seven,
I have to apologize to you. With all of my
heart I am sorry for how I treated you after we returned to Earth."
The eyes
swivelled back towards her.
"You
said you would help me adjust. You said we
were-" her face contorted, "-family!"
"I know
I did and I meant it, Seven, I really did." Kathryn's
heart started to race, she was close to revealing official secrets. What do I tell her? How?
"Oh
God." For a moment Admiral Janeway
rested her face in her hands. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Begin
by answering this question: why do you come here on my wedding anniversary?
“Because
on that day, three years ago, I realised something.”
She glanced at Seven who continued to intensely scrutinise her. No help there.
She ploughed on. “Something
which in hindsight I realise I should have long been aware of - and perhaps I was - but
you see it was such an exceptional situation in the Delta Quadrant and I had to cast
myself into a repeating pattern that was all about staving off the hoards of dangers that
lay behind every blessed asteroid. I became
an ideal configuration of a Starfleet Captain - somewhere between a judge, a machine, a
parent, a field commander and … well … a ah
..God. At least internally. But the fact is, to do that I had to exist outside
of my feelings - oh I acted on them all the time of course - I mean that I did not allow
them any consciousness, in case they should undermine my role… So I remained deliberately unaware.”
Janeway
stopped confused and saw this feeling perfectly mirrored in Seven’s mystified
expression. Before she could try again, Seven
interrupted her, though she still glanced nervously at the exit.
“What
did you realise, Admiral Janeway, at my wedding?”
Nothing
like Borg single-mindedness to keep you focused, even if she is thinking of leaving. Oh God - here we go. She cleared her throat. Why does it feel like my heart is going to jump
out of my mouth?
“I
realised… Seven… that I am in love with you.”
Her words
unexpectedly ran out, all that was left were Seven’s eyes and her own heart beating
fragments of much better-expressed explanations imagined on so many different occasions
through her veins. Silence stretched out
between them, punctuated by Kathryn’s stilted breath and flexing fingers on the rail
between them. The constriction was back in
her chest, but it was joined by threads of desire snaking out to make every part of her
stand on end. She felt like she had run an
assault course just to get to this point and now all she could do was wait for the result.
The Borg
seemed to be doing numerous calculations of her own.
Head to one side, her gaze focused simultaneously on The Admiral and on her inner
thought process. When she eventually spoke
her voice was careful, almost disbelieving.
"You
are sexually attracted to me?" But her
eyes were vivid. Thrills shot through
Kathryn.
"Well...
ah... yes. Seven I -"
"You
harbour romantic feelings for me?" Seven's
face was incredulous.
"Yes,
Seven I do. I am in love with you. I
know it seems sudden -" She started to reach out, to touch the younger woman, but
Seven stood abruptly. She was blushing.
"You
will please wait here." She instructed,
straightening her coat.
Kathryn
looked up, bemused. "Alright."
Seven walked
away from her former Captain, gaining speed as she headed back towards the altar.
****************************
Kathryn
watched her go; the Borg’s familiar poise and grace returning like a dream to taunt
her further into a heightened state of arousal. Sweet
heaven she is stunning! Why did I not see this on Voyager? Okay, maybe I did notice, but
God I swear I never felt like this. She
craned her neck to see what the young woman was doing and all the while questions
bombarded her. How did that go? What
should I tell her about Starfleet? Why is she
here anyway? Is she offended, interested,
angry - what? And where is Chakotay?
Seven became
part of the crowds and for the first time in a while, Kathryn was aware again of the vast
cathedral around her. Of its significance to
Seven and of her own biting loneliness. You
don’t really think that anything is actually going to change do you? Yet here was hope making her fidget in
her seat. Nothing could be worse than the
recent years of duty and obedience. “You
are the automaton, not I.” “Going
through the motions, Seven, that is what I have been doing.
Going through the motions.”
Now, with
the object of her longing so close by, with more to be said, carefully explained,
and with her ridiculous heart squeezing the very life out of her in anticipation of
Seven’s reaction to her confession, the very last thing that Admiral Kathryn Janeway
wanted to do was sit still on a bench and simply wait.
It was aberrant to her. She
fiddled with the leather strap of her bag, checked her pockets for the flask and smoothed
her ruffled hair, folding her lacy veil to place it pointlessly back on the bench. It had amused her to dress in the Italian style of
Catholicism. The irony of black lace veiling
her frustration and the implication of ritual mourning all neatly tied into one. She loved the ambiguity of it: a disguise masking her celebrity and a public
statement, which no one could decipher, but herself.
How much of the veil do I let down, Seven?
She snorted. You just told the
woman that you are in with love her! But
there was more. Much more.
Once again,
the Borg had confounded her. It has always
been like this. I think I have the measure of
Seven of Nine and she leaves me baffled. And
it was thrilling too of course. A half-smile
played on her lips. Something close to excitement was coursing through her veins along
with impatience and anxiety. She craned her
neck to see what the younger woman was doing.
Seven was
still standing in front of the altar, unmoving. The
cathedral was filling up with worshippers around them in advance of the late afternoon
service while monks, nuns, priests and altar children swept along the aisles banging in
and out of tiny ancient doors as they prepared to go to work. Kathryn shifted in her seat considering whether to
go down and suggest they continue this conversation elsewhere. A café, maybe.
With good wine. It’s about
time I got out of this miserable place. Chakotay
can’t object to his old Captain taking his wife out for a -
Kathryn
flushed hot red - her heart nearly stopping dead for the second time in the day.
“Holy-!!!”
She sat bolt
upright, grappling with her bag, stood up and then sat down again.
Seven
hadn’t been wearing a ring!
In all the
drama, it had just not registered with her. Was
she wrong? Admiral Janeway sat embedded to
her seat, scouring her immediate memory of their encounter: Seven flying out of the porch
at her; Seven with hand in pocket; Seven with her hands folded in her lap – not once
had she seen the fat gold band that Chakotay had ostentatiously placed upon her finger.
She was sure of it.
Well
now…
Speculation
barged into her mind and started shouting: had Seven lost the ring at the altar and that
was why she had been kneeling, to look for it? Or
had she split up with Chakotay and been placing the ring on the altar steps? Maybe it was just uncomfortable and she rarely
wore it?? I’m wrong. This is just wishful thinking. My memory - She jumped -
“Admiral
Janeway, you state that you are in love with me. I
find this unlikely. You have not once tried
to communicate this alleged fact to me. You
are in error.”
Seven was
standing to one side of the pew. Hands in pockets, damn it! Kathryn hoped she had
not noticed her searching look in their direction. She
looked up, feeling something nearer to freedom washing into her heart and smiled.
“I can
assure you I am not. I just didn’t
realise until it was too late. There’s
an old saying, Seven, ‘You don’t miss your water till your well runs dry’? Well I can honestly say that the day you got
married my well ran dry. My existence became
arid. I have missed you so much. So very much.
Perhaps this is all… irrelevant to you, but I am grateful for this
opportunity to at least put the record straight.”
Seven sat
back down in front of her - swivelling again to turn and face her. She appeared tired, achingly beautiful and
strangely contained. Her eyes examined her
hands carefully, but her ring finger remained meticulously covered. The organist started
the pre-mass warm-up playing sweeping, repetitive patterns on the highest part of the
scale. It seemed to stretch both the vaulting
space vertically and Kathryn’s heart reaching out towards Seven along with it. When
Seven answered, it was quietly, in acknowledgement of the congregation flooding in.
“It is
not irrelevant, Admiral. Yet there are more
important concerns. Questions I must know the
answers to.”
Kathryn
leaned forward. “Go on.”
“How
can you love me if I am a ‘lobotomised automaton’ to you?”
Damn. Right between the eyes.
She wanted
to touch her, but instead answered almost eagerly, “I shouldn’t have said that,
I’m sorry.”
“But
you did.”
“Yes,
but I didn’t mean it.“
“I
think that you did.”
“Okay.”
She let out a breath, “In that moment, I expressed the most negative part of me. It was wrong of me to do so and those words say
more about how lost I have been feeling. How
unhappy and how very confused by your choices…. And mine… I hit out at you with words as weapons… It
was… rash of me… but I… it was - look you are - I don’t think that you
are -”
Seven
interrupted her coolly. “What were you
going to say - ‘it was’ - what?”
Kathryn
closed her eyes. This encounter feels like
a crash landing. She linked her fingers
together on the pew in front, letting the force of the descent take her. Her voice was low.
“It was
an expression of how much pain I have been in… When I am near you like this, the
world feels soft. Sweet. I want to lose myself in that softness. I want to fly in the intimate spaces between
us.” She was blushing, heat flooding her
senses, but she refused the warning in her head to apply the brakes. “I have thought about you many times. It’s as if, in your embrace, I would find the
perfect counterpoint to all the world’s hardness.
The harshness I feel. I long for it so
much that it hurts me and I let my own misery rise up and attack you. This is not your fault, Seven, it is mine, and I
am sorry for it. Please believe me.” She raised a placating hand, “It’s
alright. I do not expect anything from you... I’m just trying to explain why I said
something so hurtful.” I wish I could caress you with more than just my gaze.
“But
you did mean those words. You think that I
have been acting mechanically, without thought. You
are critical of that. Of me”
Kathryn felt
the hurt in Seven’s voice as though it were her own, remembering too late how vital
her reassurance had been to the young Borg. Of
course she had hurt her and she had known just how to too, for the one thing Captain
Janeway had never done was treat Seven as anything less than human. Even when Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Kim had
tried to handle her differently because of her Borg nature.
Seven’s words in the chapel earlier played in her mind.
“I
spent all of my human life on Voyager answerable to you.
When we came to Earth, when I needed your assistance, you refused my request. I learnt to live without it and without the
requirement to explain any part of myself to you.”
And what, she
wondered, could provoke me to demand an
explanation more than converting to Christianity, marrying an old-fashioned man and living
a virtually domestic life? Christ! Perhaps
it had been a rebellion of sorts, because nothing else would quite push Kathryn
Janeway’s buttons as the abandonment of potential, and of independence and,
ordinarily, nothing would have prevented her from demanding an explanation.
“Can’t
we get out of here? Talk about this somewhere
else?” Kathryn’s longing to escape
the intransigent confines of the Cathedral with its cold, hard benches and its pious
statues in their dusty alcoves was making her feel twitchy.
“You
have a problem with this environment, Admiral?”
Obstinate coolness indicated that Seven wasn’t going anywhere.
“Don’t
you? I mean, history and culture are fine as
far as it goes, but this place is just so… so… lifeless. Spiritual matters aside, what would make anyone
want to stay for long? It is just so… so
peculiarly… sexless here. Even
now, the ‘evolved’ church underrates the importance of sex, of bodily
expression. It is all higher-self awareness -
out of body consciousness - and you can just feel it in the atmosphere here. After a while I begin to feel all dried up and
lifeless too.” She shuddered. “It’s unnatural to live in a state of
physical absence for very long.” I
should know too, damn it.
When she
looked up Seven was blushing - clearly uncomfortable.
Her ring hand was now rammed firmly in her pocket.
The Borg smartly changed the subject to ease both their discomfort, with an
elucidation of her own. “Human history
is long and… cumbersome. It is obscure
because of humanity’s confusion about its identity and purpose. A building as old as this, which goes back
millennia, holds that confusion in its physical composition.”
I’m
talking about the act of creation and she responds with construction. Nonetheless, Kathryn
discovered a familiar pang of pleasure from being so close to this high-minded, beautiful
woman and it comforted her in its own way. This
will do, Seven of Nine, simply talking as we used to.
“Such
as?” Her voice was warm and intimate
– she would contend with her unease all night if they would just continue to talk
like this.
“This
column, for example, does more than secure the roof.
It was the first time in human history that the mathematical problem of squaring
the circle was resolved. As a pillar it is a
perfect circle at each end, but unroll it and its dimensions create the perfect square
– for medieval scholars this represented bringing heaven down to earth. A simple equation for the Borg, but a development
of sorts in crude spatial geometry for humans.”
She gestured with her hand, “The
architectural footprint of the cathedral is based upon the Vesisca Pisces, two interlinked
circles which also symbolise heaven and earth and the concept of spirit and matter merging
here by design. However, then there are the
doorways.”
“The
doorways?” Kathryn wondered briefly
about trans-dimensional portals and whether she had missed a class in her ancient history
lessons.
Seven
gestured again, this time towards the main entrance, “They are arched to symbolise
reaching towards God and godliness, but they are very narrow.”
“Narrow?” Bemused, Kathryn scrutinized the doors in
question.
“An
effective defensive feature to prevent armed invaders from riding on horses into the
‘House of God’ in order to attack the worshippers. A consideration which is both practical and
spiritual yet inconsistent with the mystical power accredited to God or the to the
tenements of a peaceful religion.”
Janeway
laughed. Well it doesn’t sound like
you’re stuck on it.
“I see,
so even while blindly following the precepts of a contradictory religion, human beings
were advancing both mathematically and defensively, albeit with muddled
ideology.” Janeway smiled, her eyes
warm. Philosophical talk always turned her
on, especially with Seven of Nine.
“Precisely,
Admiral, and the contradictions between belief and behaviour demonstrate human nature perfectly.” Seven arched an eyebrow imperiously at Janeway. It was loaded with meaning.
‘Behaviour.’ That word again.
Never one to walk away from a challenge, Kathryn picked up the semantic
gauntlet Seven had flung at her feet. Besides
it also offered her an opportunity.
“Ah… But what, Seven, of the behaviour of a Borg with
the knowledge of thousands of species in her head and the experience not just of different
galaxies and quadrants, but even different types of space, who then casts all of that
aside to instead observe the archaic tenements of such an illogical religion?” She leaned forward, her hands balanced on the
prayer rail, her head tilted affectionately to look up at that very Borg.
“Perhaps
my humanity re-asserted itself.” Seven
was suddenly doing a good impression of the rebellious young Borg who had first questioned
her authority on Voyager. Irritation flashed
through Kathryn. She narrowed her eyes and a
hint of danger coloured her voice.
“Well
I’m human, Seven, and it doesn’t make sense to me.” Three years of doubt and guilt were welling up
inside her again.
Seven faced
her down. “Perhaps the consistency of
your human upbringing meant you did not have a reason to experiment with this lifestyle,
Admiral?”
‘Consistency’. The word snagged Kathryn’s attention. She hadn’t really considered her Traditional
background in terms of Seven of Nine’s extraordinary decisions. All her of life she had been too busy trying to
get into space and follow in her father’s footsteps.
Winded by the new picture unfolding in her mind, Kathryn sat absolutely still
allowing her thoughts free rein. Borg
uniformity versus human inconsistency. Borg
certainty versus human irrational and hurtful behaviour – my hurtful behaviour to be
precise. This hasn’t been about
teenage rebellion at all, but depression – Borg depression. What do you do when all the questions are
metaphysical and unanswerable? Why do you
reject me? Why abandon me? Better not to feel at all, better to stop asking
‘why?’ and focus with all your power on denying your body, denying your heart
and instead consider the journey of the soul. I
abandoned her. Oh hell and so I abandoned
myself. And she ‘found’ God. I was wrong: this is the perfect place for us.
Kathryn
stared at Seven, her heart aching. She had
never even considered this. Not this. Seven had been happy hadn’t she? Married to a devoted man and exploring a simple
life. She had been so angry and jealous and
so trapped by duty that anything else hadn’t really occurred to her, except in
fantasy and that she had quickly shut down.
“Oh
Seven.” Her voice was laced with
pain. There was apprehension in the young
woman’s demeanour, but she could only continue with her train of thought. Stop thinking; give up scientific pursuits
because nothing could explain the abandonment of her friend and mentor? Was that it?
What good would thinking do except rub that wound raw? Her new collective dissolved to be absorbed back
into their families and Starfleet hovering over her like an indulgent parasite and I long
gone, posted off-planet without a word. Oh
I did my job well, but it backfired - on all of us.
“What
are you thinking Admiral Janeway?” She
could tell by the slightly tremulous tone that her silence was disturbing the young Borg.
Kathryn sat
examining her hands. She couldn’t bring
herself to look at Seven and face the intense beauty which made her feel so defenceless. Just the scent of her and the warmth of her body
nearby seemed to pierce her, but Seven was waiting for an answer so she chose her words
with great care.
“Will
you tell me what lead to your conversion? To
your refusal to work for any scientific institution?”
She noticed
that the benches were filling up around them, but the flow of communication was too
powerful to suggest moving elsewhere. The
choir were quietly singing a piece by Taverner.
“I was
unhappy.” The soft voice interrupted her
thought.
“Yes?” She rested on the handrail.
“All of
my conscious existence has been ordered, rational. Based
on knowledge and certainty and then we came to Earth and I could not make those skills
work for me. I wanted to talk to you about
it. Everyone else’s opinion just seemed
to reflect their agenda. What use I could be
to them.”
She paused. Even Chakotay.
Thought Janeway. Even me. A nun was making her way down the central
aisle handing out service leaflets. I really, really want to get out of here.
“Starfleet
had a variety of experts organised to ‘help’ me, but they were no
different. I have spent my life in scientific
pursuit, in asking questions and in researching solutions, but I found myself the object
of subtle examination and I found that my needs were denied. I attended 341 appointments regarding social
integration, psychology, physical threat assessments, tactical seminars, cybernetics,
neurology, family reconciliation, astronomy, and spiritual discourse. All the time, they were examining me, I was asking
different questions of myself. During the 342nd
appointment, Monsignor James Chung said something that I found illogical yet intriguing. He said, ‘The state of being without
answers should be seen for what it is: a liberation.
In that space we learn to trust something greater than ourselves and that is where
we find God.’ It is the converse of
Borg reality so I decided to experiment with this approach.
That is all.” She looked at
Janeway defiantly.
“I
see.” And Kathryn did see. As if spiritual painting-by-numbers can fill in
the pain and uncertainty of our messy human lives. Oh
Seven - if hands upon the soul were possible we would all be angels. There would be no need for doctors. Churches and temples would find suddenly
that worshippers celebrated life in all its stages, including death, including sex. They would be rule-free places with no
articles of faith because lovers embody the very knowledge of the universe. Of creation indeed.
Kathryn sighed. Yet here
I sit, certain that you cannot love me, knowing my dreams are impossible and aching for
your touch. Hopelessly. Stupidly.
Wanting the laying on of hands, as a sexual act, as a sacred act. One that glorifies life. My life – and yours. Janeway wanted desperately to ask about Chakotay,
but she knew that she had to make this safe for Seven.
She pulled herself away from her thoughts and back to the subject at hand. She would not dwell on the touch she craved - for
it was the touch of the loveless lover. She
ran her hand along the cool rail.
“And
what conclusions have you drawn?” Part
of her didn’t want to know the answer.
“It is… unsatisfactory to my nature. I have completed a three-year trial in
Traditionalism: in investigating the premises of James Chung; in a life based purely on
the simplicity of living and engaged only in the building blocks of human life.” She paused. There
was a tinge of the serious innocent who first stepped on Voyagers decks seven years ago
about her.
Oh, thought
Janeway, if only it were so simple. Stop
thinking, deny your past and hope that life finds you. A new thought occurred to her. Well I found you and I’ll keep finding
you. That I swear.
Seven,
having regained her composure, carried on.
“I established that accepting the state of
being without answers was imprecisely comforting for only arbitrary periods of
time. It was problematical because it was not
controllable and therefore extremely inefficient. Accepting,
however, that the state of being without answers does not correspond at all to having many
questions, was more challenging. I have
failed to accomplish this task, Admiral.” Seven
looked at her rebelliously.
Despite
herself, Kathryn found laughter rising to the surface.
She tried not to give in to it, but the image of Seven of Nine attempting to let
questions float around in her amazing mind without hunting down and nailing the solutions
made her sides hurt. She could just see the
Borg solemnly and deliberately ignoring her own innate curiosity, her own marvellous mind. The admiral found herself giggling like a
teenager, eyes watering with the agonising effort to stop laughing. It was a battle she was losing.
“My
failure amuses you?” Seven deadpanned,
surprised by this response.
“Noo…
No… The attempt… It’s so
funny! Oh!
Ah… Sorry…” Tears of
mirth were threatening to follow the tears of pain from earlier. She rocked forwards again putting her hand out to
cover Seven’s wrist reassuringly.
Seven's eyes
widened, alarm making her whole body stiffen like a wild animal and then she was gone:
hunkered down low beneath the level of the pew to scuttle towards the Lady Chapel. Kathryn watched her astounded. The Borg appeared to be hiding. From who?
From me? Kathryn turned to
search the direction Seven had been looking in - towards the main entrance - and froze.
Her heart
stopped again.
Oh my
God!!! Chakotay!!!
*************************
|