Worlds Without End, Part XXIV

Major Delric Taar was looking over the flight reports in his new office. Less than a week before the Emperor had assigned the Vendetta -an Executor-class star destroyer- to participate in Grand Admiral Thrawn's anti-Borg campaign, and getting things situated on the new flagship was proving a full time job for everyone, especially with Thrawn himself off on a diplomatic function back at Earth.

One of the squadron leaders stopped by with the latest numbers. "Thank you, captain," Taar said, taking the datapad and putting it on a pile to be looked at later. So many reports... could he even remember the last time he'd been in a cockpit?

"Major," the captain said after a few seconds of silence, "we were wondering if you'd like to watch the Tsunkatse match tonight."

Taar had known about the matches; they'd been a popular bit of local color for months now, and many of the Imperials enjoyed placing bets on the participants. Taar wasn't one of them. "Thank you, captain," Taar said, not looking up from his datapad, "but I'm not really the bloodsport type."

"We thought you might make an exception for this, sir," the captain said with a wry smile. "A very special participant tonight." Taar looked up, his curiosity piqued. "A Borg."

"What?" Taar needed a few seconds to properly cope with what sounded so absurd. "What kind of drone could possibly compete in a gladiatorial game?"

"An ex-drone, apparently," the captain said. "But a Borg all the same. We saw someone mop the floor with her earlier this week, we thought you might want to catch her before someone put her out of her misery."

Taar had to admit he was intrigued at the idea. If nothing else, it was a chance to see the physical augmentation of a drone without being held back by the Collective's will. "Save me a seat, captain," he said.

The captain nodded. "Of course, sir."

Garak got himself into a seated position in the cell on Bossk's ship. He looked around; there was a security sensor in place, but with no crew besides the lone Trandoshan, it was doubtful he was even being watched. Still, Garak was cautious. He carefully untucked the back of his shirt and reached up it, taking a steadying breath.

Bossk may not have been up to Garak's standards but obviously he knew a passing thing about dealing with dangerous people. He'd removed all of Garak's tools, including the ones stitched into the lining of his clothes. Points on that, Garak admitted. But he reached up to his spinal ridge and, trying his best to concentrate despite the pain, pulled a pin out of his flesh. He let out a breath of relief as it was finally clear and maneuvered it around to begin work picking the lock. Soon the binders slid open. He kept his hands there and looked at the next stage of the plan. Yes, he thought, this shouldn't be a problem.

Seven reeled under the blow. Her teacher wasn't happy. "You only have hours!" he rebuked her. He charged at her and she blocked, but missed her counterstrike. He punched her in the stomach, then grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up level to his face. "Stop holding back!"

"I'm not!" Seven protested. He shoved her away, and she came up and tried to plant her foot in his face, but he grabbed the ankle and kicked her supporting leg out. She caught herself as she hit the deck and twisted her body, bringing her foot around to catch him on the side of the face. He lost his grip and she arched her back and flipped back onto her feet and punched him solidly in the face. He staggered back and grabbed where the blow had landed, his eye swelling. Seven paused and went to check his injury, and suffered a hard right hook to her jaw for the trouble.

"What do you see when you enter the arena?" he demanded.

"My prey," Seven rumbled.

"What do you do with your prey?"

"Hunt it down and kill it," she said, her words sounding as if they could do the job by themselves.

"Yes," he said, stepping forward and holding a finger up to her face. "Never, ever, feel sorry for it!" He gave her a vicious backhand; she failed to react in time. The Hunter gave a growl of frustration. "You are still holding back!" he barked.

"I am trying," Seven said with a little frustration of her own, touching the sore spot on her face.

"Trying isn't good enough!" the Hunter said. "Trying isn't going to save your life! You have to go all the way, Borg, or you will die, do you understand?!"

"Yes."

"What?!"

"Yes!" The Hunter swung and Seven caught the limb, pivoted, and drove him into the wall. She drew back her fist... and hesitated. The Hirogen's blow lifted her off her feet and deposited her a couple meters away.

"No," he spat, "you don't!" He stormed off.

Seven wiped at her lips and saw the blood. She got to her feet to check on Travis. "Maybe we should rethink this," he said as she came up.

"There's no other option," Seven said. "The overseer will send you in in my place."

Travis was quiet for a while. "You never had formal Starfleet training," he began.

"I am as much an officer as you are," Seven shot back. Her beating had greatly unnerved her.

"Without a doubt," Travis said. "What I was going to say is that there are a couple of things you did miss out on as a result of your lateral move into Starfleet."

"None of it is relevant," Seven said.

"Yes it is," Travis said. "In Starfleet, you have to learn how to be a soldier... and that's something that never happened to you."

"I am skilled in many forms of combat," Seven said. "And my lessons with the Hirogen-"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Travis said. "People have a natural aversion to killing other sentient beings... that's a good thing. But when you're in a hostile situation, you have to be mentally prepared to take the final step... to find the part of you that's willing to take the life of another to preserve your own, or to ensure the success of your mission. Firing a phaser at someone can be hard... killing someone with your bare hands is even harder."

"I am aware of the pragmatism of the situation," Seven said irritably.

"You've learned a great deal about the human ideal," Travis said. "You should feel proud... but you've got to also look at this situation objectively. You are the only person in the Federation who knows about the weapon that destroyed DS9; that means that it is a mission imperative that you stay alive. If that means that you have to kill someone else, then it's not only in your best interest, it's your duty."

"It's my duty to become a murderer?" Seven demanded.

"Is there another way?" Travis said, raising his voice. Seven didn't answer. "Is there another way?!"

"No!" Seven said.

"Then it's your duty, lieutenant! You are bound by oath to preserve your life, even if you have to kill another, do you understand me?!" Seven covered her eyes with her right hand. "Lieutenant-"

"I understand," Seven said, her voice saturated with exhaustion. "But... that doesn't mean I can do it."

Travis patted her on the shoulder. "It won't be easy... what you have to do is find the part of yourself that can do it. As distasteful as it is, find the part of yourself that can kill. That's what you need."

A small sob escaped from Seven's throat. "I can't."

"You have to," Travis said. "Just-"

"If I let it out, can I put it back?"

"What?" Travis said in confusion.

"If I go there, I'm afraid..." Seven's shoulders shook with the tears, then stopped and she straightened up. "But it is what needs to be done," 7 of 9 said, her voice completely devoid of the pain that had saturated it a moment before. "You are correct, lieutenant, I must kill to stay alive... morality is irrelevant."

During the Dominion War, Picard had found himself spending a bit more time with Counselor Troi than he usually did. He had faced many things in his long career, but the brutality of war was starting to get to him in his mature age... instead of being more jaded, he just became more exhausted. With the alpha quadrant descending into full-blown war, he found himself back in that old habit.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Lieutenant of Nine," Troi observed during their latest session.

"Yes," Picard said. He was caught a bit off guard by the remark. He was expecting to talk about Deep Space 9 or the war in general, not his personal relations with his officers.

"Are you attracted to her?" Troi asked.

"No, not at all," he said, then paused. "That sounded too much like an overeager denial," he said. "Don't misconstrue it, I mean that..." He seemed to be grasping for the words.

"Take your time," Troi said, "I'm not here to judge you."

"I've heard the rumor is going around on this," Picard said. "Let's be clear: first off, even if I did, I could never allow myself to do that. I've been trying to get her to open up more to other people. If I then tried to initiate a romantic relationship, well, I'd be taking advantage of her, betraying her trust. But really, I do feel a closeness to her, but not in that sort of way."

"A paternal one?"

"Somewhat," he said. "Deanna, she's the only one who's experienced what I have... being assimilated and then returned."

"You feel she knows what you went through?"

"No, I feel that I know what she's been through," Picard said. "I was very fortunate by comparison... I had family and friends to turn to, people who could help me cope with the violation. But Seven came out of the Collective and had no one. I'm sure Janeway and her crew tried their best, but they didn't understand her, didn't understand what the Borg do to you. Seven needed someone and she had no one." He shook his head. "She lived every day listening to the thoughts of others, and then one day she is cut off from them all, and on every side are people in their social circles, and they just don't understand her. Can you imagine how lonely that must feel? To have so much to offer and have no one trust you?"

Deanna nodded. "This goes back to what happened in the brig, yes?"

Picard looked down and nodded a little. "I'm ashamed of myself," he said quietly.

"We all make mistakes," Deanna said. "But you've worked very, very hard to atone for this, Jean-luc. It's true you weren't there for her then, but you've been there ever since."

"I, of all people, should have known better," Picard said. "I let what she was influence my judgment of her."

"It was wrong," Deanna admitted. "But Seven forgives you... I've seen her, she does look up to you, captain... she respects you, and not just because your her commanding officer."

"And that's part of why I feel as I do," Picard said. "Because I believe that she can be not only a great officer... I believe she can be a great human being. That she can so easily forgive tells me there's a better person than I under all that Borg-induced fear." He paused. "Maybe it is paternal. Maybe I feel like she's my daughter, and I can have her reach beyond my own failings. 'I trust in your judgment.'" He shook his head at the words. "What do you think?"

Troi lounged back. "Well," she said as she mulled it over. "I think you're right, she can become a fine person with guidance. But I think more than that, it's a chance for you to work through some of your own issues with the Borg. If you can heal her, restore her to a healthy young woman, maybe you can heal yourself as well."

The door opened, and the din of the crowd was overpowering. 7 of 9 walked out the entryway into the arena, glancing up at them. They weren't real, of course; the fight was being broadcast all over the sector. But some of the fighters liked to hear the sound of the crowd and the overseer was kind enough to put the cheering multitudes there when it was asked. It wasn't by her request, of course; no one cheered the villain, and there were few villains more despised than a Borg. But it was irrelevant; she would fight because of the logic of the situation, not because of their cheering.

7 of 9 crossed the arena and looked back at her challenger. Unexpectedly, it was the Hunter himself. He must have known... after all, he had been there when the overseer had announced their match, even though she had been unconscious. Yet he had trained her... She quickly analyzed the possibilities. One was that he hoped to discover her weaknesses, but that seemed unlikely. Her techniques had been primitive; if the previous combatant could defeat her, the Hirogen would have had little problem. The other, more likely explanation, was that he simply wished to die, that after nineteen years of gladiatorial combat, he just wanted an end. Irrational, but it provided 7 of 9 an advantage if it proved true.

The Hunter nodded to her from across the arena. "Do what you have to," he told her.

"I intend to," 7 of 9 said.

The buzzer sounded, and the Hunter advanced quickly. His strikes were fast and controlled, but 7 of 9 parried and ducked, striking the sensor on his torso and sending him flying backwards. Even though he was prone, she knew he was agile, and could trip her up if she got too close, so she hung back. He returned to his feet and she stood ready. He rushed at her; she swung around with a reverse crescent. He ducked under it, but she continued her momentum, this time sweeping his legs out. He dropped, and she tried delivering a blow to his chest, but he caught the limb in both hands and drove his feet up, tossing her over his head and across the arena. She drove her foot up into his stomach as he closed in, then pulled his foot out from under him.

The Hunter and 7 of 9 got back to their feet and circled each other warily. He advanced sending two rapid punches that she deflected, but it was all a distraction for the kick that came. Surprisingly, she caught it, and with a half spin forward drove the flat of her hand against the side of his knee, snapping it. She twisted the now broken limb, knowing the pain would be an overwhelming distraction, and punched him with all her strength in the face. He hit the floor and skidded across the arena. 7 of 9 approached cautiously, but he was obviously badly beaten. He coughed. "You... are a true hunter."

7 of 9 towered over him. "No. I am Borg."

"Can you..." he coughed. "Can you finish it?"

7 of 9 raised her foot. "Yes," she said as the simple statement of fact that it was, and crushed his skull.

Things had gone absolutely quiet in the rec center on board the Vendetta. "Sithspawn," someone said under his breath. "She's a Borg all right. As cold as a Wampa's cave, and just as dangerous."

"Let her go against the major," someone said good-naturedly. "Killing Borg's all in a day's work for him." There was some laughter, but Taar was still staring at the hologram.

"Isn't there a Federation shuttle that's supposed to be meeting us?" he asked finally.

There was an officer from the docking bay on hand for the fight. "Yes... we listed them as overdue, actually, a couple days ago."

Taar looked at the hologram some more. "I think we've found them."

Go To Part XXV
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