Star Trek Voyager: The Loving Game

Star Trek Voyager: The Loving Game (Chapter 76)

Harry Kim felt an uncontrollable shiver run down his body as the transporter brought him to the almost pitch black confines of the Delta Flyer, only lit by faltering beams of that eerily penetrating green light unique to the Borg technology which had formed a cocoon around the small vessel. The unnaturally chilly air didn’t help him control the reflex as he forced himself to take several steadying deep breaths and stumble forward towards the main console. He peered through the viewport to try to get a measure of his surroundings as he groped around blindly for the button which would open the exit hatch, but what he saw, rather than give him a footing on his situation, filled him with horrified awe. This docking bay, if that was what it really was, was a cavernous space in the centre of the Cube, with deck after deck of stacked up around it as far as his eye could see. He glanced briefly down at the woefully small case of tools that he’d privately designated his “saboteur’s kit for beginners” and then back at the hopelessly complex maze looming around him. Even if B’Elanna’s scans proved correct and the command harmonics hub was directly above him, he’d need a ball of string worthy of the Minotaur’s labyrinth if he was going to have even a slim chance of finding it, setting it to explode and then getting back here to be beamed off before aforementioned explosion hit. Suddenly, his eyes fell on the deck of cards still laid out on the console as a reminder of that ill-fated poker game. Grinning as an idea struck him, he snatched them up. Since I don’t have any string, I’ll need to compromise…

“Is a component malfunctioning? Do you require assistance?”

Second’s perfunctory but still curious questions snapped Seven out of her state of mental paralysis with a jolt. “No!” she answered sharply as she hurriedly dismissed the illuminating but disturbing message away from the console, although she was quite certain the boy couldn’t have read it if he’d tried. She pursed her lips tightly as she was faced with the young drone’s piercing, but still noticeably bemused, stare. “It is irrelevant for now.” She assured him softly, suppressing the urge to flinch guiltily when he immediately nodded in acceptance of her words. “My work here is complete, we should return to the central plexus to decide the next task.” She continued, hoping the drone did not comprehend the slight nervous hitch in her voice.

Second paused for a moment. Seven could tell he was reporting her words to the others and awaiting their reply, a process which should have been as fast, if not faster, than an individual’s thoughts formulating, but in this tenuous situation took several long, painful, seconds. “That is an acceptable course of action.” He finally declared stoically, turning back the way they had come without another word. Seven automatically fell into step at his side, her mind on other things rather than keeping her guard up around this confused hybrid of a child. She kept turning the words “Vessel declared irrelevant” over and over in her mind, searching desperately for a meaning different from her initial conclusion, but she knew, as she looked around this accursed, dilapidated vessel, that it was pointless. Almost as pointless as First’s pursuit of Voyager’s deflector. If they were able to send a message to the Collective, it would be ignored. Even if they somehow managed to make this vessel remotely operational again and returned to the Collective they would not be welcomed back. Like all irrelevances, they would be ignored or obliterated without consideration or mercy. She knew she couldn’t let them run blindly to that cruel fate, but she couldn’t see a way to make them understand, let alone accept, what the Collective had done to them, not when she couldn’t truly do the same for herself. Coping with having your metal equilibrium, your very view of yourself and the universe, destroyed in an instant was hard enough without inflicting that same knowledge on others and she doubted she could do it. Being imperfect, wholly irrelevant, could these children deal with that? Or would they choose deactivation and, perhaps, take Voyager with them? Second’s monotone voice abruptly freed her from these torturous thoughts, “We are here.”