Chapter 6 added on 11 July 2000
Disclaimers are in part 1.
Rating: R
B'Elanna woke to an insistent calling of her name, slowly lifting her head off the helm. She was suffering from what must have been one of the worst headaches she ever had. Her right brow felt wet and swollen, after sweeping it gingerly with her hand. She concluded she had a cut there above her brow. She peered at the window, but it was covered with the orange dirt.
"Lieutenant," came the beckoning again.
B'Elanna fought through the haze, and swiveled the seat around in search of her crewmate. She staggered over to where Seven sat propped up against the bulkhead in the midsection of the shuttle. Seven was awake, though she looked a bit battered with her hair tousled up, and she wasn't moving.
"Seven, are you hurt?" asked B'Elanna, with a hint of fear creeping into her voice as she checked the Borg's neck pulse.
"I am damaged. I feel pain but it is minor." Her voice was shaky, and her breaths came in short pants. "However, I am finding it...difficult to move my left arm, mainly below the elbow, as well as my left hand and lower leg. My right upper arm is weak, but functional. And I am unable...to see through my left eye."
"Hold on," B'Elanna told her while she searched the interior of the wrecked shuttle, flipping the debris over.
All the consoles in the shuttle were dead, and it seemed the equipment as well. B'Elanna finally found the medkit and survival sack among the junk. The EM pulse shorted out everything the crash didn't take care of. Only one partially damaged tricorder was left functional, and B'Elanna used it to scan over Seven.
"It looks like the EM surge depolarized your Borg neural synapses, traveling from the periphery to the spinal column and ending at the base of your cranial matrix. Same goes for your ocular implant at the nerve level. The synapses aren't repolarizing like they should, at least for your affected limbs. We're lucky it didn't travel into your cortical implants." B'Elanna tried to appear calm, but her face was paling by the minute as she examined the limbs, frozen in their natural resting positions.
"A drone's neural network is reinforced with interneurons that allows for adaptability, especially when damaged, as well as with an insulated cranial casing," explained Seven. "It is why our minds are able to survive longer than our bodies, to prevent unnecessary dismantlement."
"I'm sorry, Seven. Even if I knew how to fix this, I don't have the equipment," B'Elanna apologized, placing a hand on her shoulder.
The ex-drone remained quiet, and B'Elanna was at a loss for words. She took that time to scan the area around the shuttle, noting the vessel that had attacked them had landed 45 km away from them. Three prominent life signs were also present, possibly more.
"One thing's for sure, we have to get out of here. I think our pursuers are going to come after us, and we don't have any working phasers. We need to find a better place to camp, and wait for Voyager to find us," B'Elanna remarked, wiping her injured brow with a scrap of cloth.
Seven struggled to sit up high, pushing off with her right arm. Her face was grim but determined. "You must go, then. I am damaged beyond repair, and I cannot make the journey. Please deactivate me before you leave."
"Don't be silly, Seven," B'Elanna chided.
"I am never silly! Do not dismiss my suffering so easily! I do not wish to be taken prisoner alive," Seven replied angrily, her eyes brimming with anguish.
"And I am NOT abandoning you, so you can forget about me 'deactivating' you!" she shot back, though regretting it immediately, knowing Seven was probably very frightened at this moment.
More gently this time, B'Elanna told her, "You're going to get through this. Have a little faith in me, Seven. I'm going to get us out of here, and back to Voyager." She took Seven's human hand in her own, squeezing slightly to emphasize her point, searching those big blue eyes for understanding.
"I cannot walk. I will only slow us down. You're chances of survival are greater if you go alone...," Seven argued, but squeezed back.
"Yeah, well, I need your brains, not your body in this case. Besides, you can use me as a crutch," B'Elanna pointed out, releasing her hand as she stood up to salvage what could be useful. After a brief moment's thought, she picked up the lump of dilithium and stuck it in the knapsack along with other items. She walked over to the hatch and lowered it gradually, letting in a hot blast of dry air and a chalky scent. A big gust of wind blew in a splattering of dust and sand over her boots.
Taking one look of the landscape, B'Elanna blurted, "Oh, ffffffuu--...."
~~~~~~~~
Seven watched curiously as B'Elanna stripped off her jacket and over-shirt down to her tank top. A minute ago, the Klingon had unceremoniously picked her up and carried her over to the chair. She adjusted the straps to the survival pack and placed it on Seven's back, pulling the Borg's arms through the straps. Next, B'Elanna slipped the jacket under her posterior, and began fashioning some sort of harness around the Borg's pelvis with her collar pips. The lieutenant turned around, and slowly eased the stiff knee around her hip, while Seven followed suit with her other leg. B'Elanna then tied the sleeves of her jacket around her waist, nestling Seven's pelvis against her own. Finally, the Klingon put her own arms through the sack straps and pulled the blonde snugly against her back, folding the arms over and around her shoulders.
"You intend to carry me through the desert," noted Seven with some disapproval. "As I said before, you will have a better chance of survival if you proceed alone. You are behaving irrationally."
"And you don't know me very well, do you? I'm NOT leaving you here," B'Elanna answered adamantly.
The ex-drone sighed in defeat, and rested her chin conveniently on a strong shoulder, snuggling her face next B'Elanna's.
"Comfy?" B'Elanna asked, amused, feeling a nod in response on her cheek. It was a moment she would remember for a long time, the way Seven's softness felt against her own, and she suppressed the urge to capture Seven's arms and hold them tightly to her.
B'Elanna stood up from where she knelt, surprised at how heavy the Borg was compared to her lithe appearance. She hooked her wrists under those slender knees for more support.
"Kahless, what do they feed you?" she commented.
Confused, Seven replied, "I ingest the same sustenance as the rest of the crew."
"That, my dear drone, was a rhetorical question."
~~~~~~~~
B'Elanna had been walking for close to an hour, across the rough, occasionally sinking, yellow-orange sand and over the rolling dunes. They headed towards a settlement about 75 km north of their crash site. Though Klingons tolerated higher temperatures well, even B'Elanna felt a little baked from the heat that emanated from the sand. Her skin glistened with her perspiration, and was already turning shades darker under the constant rays of the sun. Her muscles were beginning to strain. Seven did speak much during the whole time. She seemed to wilt from the oppressiveness of the heat, though her biosuit supposedly cooled her temperature. B'Elanna wondered if she had missed any other injuries when she scanned Seven. She decided it was best to stop for a rest, and squinted at the landscape, looking to find some sort of cover.
The low landscape was interrupted by the jutting peaks of a few rocky hills. She trudged them over to the nearest one, depositing her bundle safely in the shade of an overlying cliff. B'Elanna handed Seven a canteen of water and some Star Fleet rations, hoping food would rejuvenate the Borg. She rummage through the survival pack for items they'd need for the remainder of the hike.
Seven handed back the canteen, and B'Elanna took one much need, long guzzle of water, swallowing audibly. She noticed that Seven's cheeks began to look a bit red, and took out the salve to apply to their skin.
"You did not consume any nourishment, Lieutenant," Seven noted, as B'Elanna sat down, cross legged, next to her.
B'Elanna wiped her hands clean, and began massaging the salve into Seven's skin, wherever exposed, with surprising gentleness. Gone was the gruff and unreasonable bearing that Seven had been accustomed to. Seven wondered if it was B'Elanna who had changed her behavior or if it was her own perceptions that had changed.
"I'm not hungry. We have to move on soon. The attackers are less than a day behind us, but I want to find us adequate shelter before nightfall," explained the lieutenant. "I think we only have a couple of hours left."
Seven noticed how close B'Elanna's face was to her own, so absorbed in the task of applying the substance onto the skin of her neck. The Lieutenant normally preferred to keep her personal space like so many humans, so Seven took the opportunity to examine B'Elanna with her eye. After she was finished with herself, B'Elanna re-packed their supplies, leaving out two solar goggles to put on both of them. B'Elanna pulled back her dark, unruly hair and adjusted the goggles on her face. Both women peered through the spectacles at each other, biting back the laughter at their ridiculous appearance, and wondering if the sun hadn't already baked the sanity out of them.
~~~~~~~~
The trek was exhausting. B'Elanna thanked her lucky stars that she had spent so much time the past two weeks with Harry in the Holodeck, getting into shape. She was strong, but the hike proved almost too much of a challenge for her, as she struggled to stay alert and steady on her feet. She was breathing hard through her mouth and was beginning to see spots. The only thing that drove her to put one staggering foot in front of the other was the fact that Seven was depending on her. Seven made an effort to encourage her, even though the ex-drone had been falling in and out of sleep during the whole journey, going so far as to call her a "toDSaH," Klingon for simpering coward wanting to be rescued, at one point.
The lieutenant took out the tricorder and scanned the fifty meter tall rock formation ahead of her. At last, the tricorder confirmed they had reached the location of a few caves that B'Elanna had been hunting for. Dusk was fast approaching, as the horizon became a patchy painting of pink and red, and the temperature dropped continually. B'Elanna sniffed the air, observing that the night was going to be cold. She eased her way up a craggy path up the small cliff, and by then Seven was awake again, pointing out directions from the tricorder to her.
B'Elanna stepped into the largest cave, empty except for several stalagmites in the center, and no signs of a current tenant. She sat Seven down against the slope of the deeper wall of the cave, on the other side of the stalagmites, and proceeded to set up a simple camp, after prowling the perimeter. There was no wood for a fire, even though she had the flint. She resigned herself to inflating the insulated sleeping bag, and helped Seven over onto its cushiony surface. By then, the darkness was quickly descending, and she activated a glow lantern, their only light source, made from a chemical reaction of two substances. B'Elanna unpacked the rations, and this time she ate some herself, famished after a hard day of exertion. She was about to line the entrance to the cave completely with rock towers as a primitive alarm system for the night, when Seven interrupted her.
"Lt. Torres."
B'Elanna dropped what she was doing and scampered over to the reclining woman. Seven had sat herself up by the time the lieutenant reach her. The ex-drone started to say something but hesitated, not looking her crewmate.
"Is there something you wanted, Seven?" B'Elanna inquired carefully.
Seven sighed pensively. "I do not need to do it often,...but I require a moment to eliminate body fluid," she said with some distaste and apprehension. "I believe I will need assistance."
"Oh.... Well, everyone's got to do it sometime. Frankly, I was running out of excuses to disappear for a few minutes now and then," replied B'Elanna, trying to put the Borg at ease.
She helped Seven to a nice secluded location outside the cave, and undressed her partially, trying not to catch a glimpse of the skin revealed. B'Elanna turned her back politely, while Seven hung onto the waistband of the lieutenant's uniform to do her business, balanced on one leg. B'Elanna decided to hum one of the Doctor's favorite ditties, though badly, perhaps trading one embarrassing moment for another. She was never good with comfort words.
At last, they settled down for the night, each woman taking her side of the sleeping bag, quietly struggling within her own thoughts, and wondering why Voyager had not reached them by now. B'Elanna felt a keen sense of responsibility to protect Seven. Janeway would shove her out the airlock before she could say "Starfleet," if she didn't get Seven back in one piece. She knew how fond of Seven the Captain had become over the years. What their relationship was, B'Elanna tried not to speculate, but what she couldn't do was drown out the idle talk she overheard in Engineering frequently. She felt the Borg shift for the third time, and turned over immediate to see if the woman was comfortable.
"Can't sleep, Seven?" B'Elanna asked as she propped herself up on her elbow, and peered at the beautiful, but obviously troubled face.
"I can't stop thinking about my own predicament," replied Seven, resolving for a supine position. "As a result, I am having feelings of anxiety."
"I'm sorry. I wish I could help you in some way," B'Elanna sympathized.
"You have, Lieutenant. You have carried me through the desert, tended to my needs, and shown me much patience."
"I must say, you've handled it well. Much better than I would have," commented B'Elanna, admiring Seven's bravery despite the circumstances. "You'll be fine, once Voyager rescues us, and the Doctor has a look at you."
"I'm surprised your nanoprobes aren't repairing some of the synapses by now," she questioned, taking out the tricorder, and scanning Seven one more time.
"My nanoprobes are able to repair injuries, however, their ability is boosted by my periods of regeneration. The damage may be too extensive this time.... I must also tell you there is a possibility that the depolarization will continue, and eventually overwhelm the safeguards of my cortical matrix as well. My cognitive function will most likely be affected," Seven added, the normal confidence with which she spoke absent.
"I won't let that happen. I'll do everything in my power to prevent that," B'Elanna swore with quiet intensity.
"What will Captain Janeway do, if I am damaged beyond repair?" Seven asked, suddenly afraid.
"She'll have everyone working day and night for a cure. And we'll all do it willingly. And if the Doctor can't find a solution, then we'll ask every person we meet in the Delta Quadrant until we do, even if it means knocking on Borg Queen's backdoor."
"Will...will you deactivate me, when the time comes, when there's nothing left of me to save?"
"No, because I would never give up on you," B'Elanna asserted. "I mean, Captain Janeway would never give up on you, Seven, you know that."
Seven did not respond, but B'Elanna could see the hint of tears in her eyes, before she turned back onto her side, facing away from the half-Klingon. The freezing chill was creeping upon them. B'Elanna could see it the way her breath misted. She shivered under the cover, mentally cursing it was not a good time to be Klingon.
"You are cold." A statement more than a question.
"SSSSssssss...a little," B'Elanna admitted.
Slowly, she felt Seven slide closer to her until B'Elanna felt the Borg's warm back pressing into her arms and chest.
"What are you doing?" she asked a bit panicky.
"Conserving body heat."
All of a sudden it didn't seem so cold anymore. The Lieutenant's body temperature was definitely on the rise, and if she didn't do an adequate job before, she really cursed her Klingon physiology now. Hesitantly, she placed an arm around Seven, wondering if it was appropriate. She waited but heard no objections. Finally exhausted by the day's events, she promptly fell sleep.
To be continued....