Star Trek Voyager: Consequences

Star Trek Voyager: Consequences 6. Rejection

Pain shot up her spine and into her head as she was violently thrown down against a cold, hard surface. Ringing in her ears and the sound of her own pleading breaths almost but not quite drowning out the drunken arguments of the shadowed figures looming above her, relishing their power over the broken embodiment of their hatred… Suddenly a set of colourless eyes glared down at her, there was an animalistic gleam in them that instinctively made screams flee her chest until her lungs could withstand no more…

Seven jolted into consciousness as if she’d received an electric shock, the past screams still laying at wait in her mouth. Shuddering uncontrollably, her eyes scanned every corner but absorbed nothing so it was several minutes before she realised she hadn’t moved from the threshold at all in the intervening hours between Chakotay dropping her off and now… Tears rolled silently her cheeks, shaking her whole body, as she forced her numb, blood starved limbs into a standing position. 0534 hours, just over three hours before she was expected to return to work, act normal, indifferent… Sucking in air she grabbed the door handle to get out of this prison but her legs sagged, her chest collapsing in blind panic as if the oxygen had been kicked out. With a fearful, angered cry she sank against the door, I can’t even step outside, I’ll never leave…

A snarl laced with tears left her as she snatched up the bag of medication, pulling out pills as she staggered to the bathroom and mechanically gulping them down one after the other, not caring what they were or why they were prescribed. Only a strong gag reflex stopped her from endangering herself and as she looked up from the sink into the mirror the sight of undamaged skin where the night before there had been a gaping wound agonised her. It’s as if it never happened, no one will ever notice…why can’t I just forget it? My physical wounds are irrelevant, why does my mind refuse to let go? I’m tainted, imperfect, forever…

Thoughts thudded through her brain in tandem with the hot shower water. I…I fought in Tsunkatse, almost killed a Hirogen, why couldn’t I fight off some drunken louts? Why did I just take it? I should have been able to stop this… They’ll never be caught…Starfleet will think I, a Borg, deserve whatever I get… Suddenly she became aware that the water had stopped, the Computer’s voice echoing round her head, “Sonic shower malfunction, insufficient water supply. Please discontinue use immediately.” With a deadened sigh and a glance down at her bruised frame, the skin now raw from paranoid, incessant scrubbing, she stepped out into the clouds of steam and wrapped herself in a dressing gown, feverish chills gripping her as she sat on the damp floor and awaited relief.

The doorbell sliced the dead air, Seven shivered, as she had done with the previous nine rings. Whoever it was obviously getting impatient as it rang again, changed to a knock, then a voice, “Seven, if you’re in there let me in.” She stiffened but didn’t move, what would be the point? “For God’s sake Seven, I know you’re in there…” She was slightly tempted to tell him to go away but her voice refused to function. What would he say anyway? Why couldn’t you fight them off? Why didn’t you use that Borg skill of instilling fear? Even that was only if he believed her and to ask him to hide such a thing from the Admiral just wasn’t fair…

Chakotay rammed his fist against the door one final time and waited painfully for the longed for response, but the door remained unmoved and his ears could detect no sound behind it. “Seven…” The name came in a pleading near whisper now as he slowly admitted defeat. Maybe, he glanced at his watch, 9:02 am; she was miraculously at work, indifferent to his worries and concern. With an exasperated sigh, trying to expel the deep, gnawing doubts, he hoped to God that she was fine as he left.

Kathryn weaved through the tables of her favourite café to reach Chakotay, whom she was unsettled to notice, wasn’t looking out for her as usual but instead staring into a half drunk cup, a dark, sullen look firmly fixed on his face. Suddenly nervous, she reached forward and gave his cheek, unshaven for some reason, a quick peck as she sat down. “Hey…” She began affectionately, feeling needles of anger prickle her as she got little more than a distracted nod in response. “Okay, so what’s wrong?”