Promises, Promises

by
Darrel W. Beach
Mar. 1999

Chapter 1

	The regeneration interface completed its cycle with the usual
hum-and-click response.  As if some switch had been turned, Seven's eyes
snapped open.  She immediately detached herself from her receptacle and
exited the Borg alcove, heading straight for a computer console.
	"Computer, personal log, stardate 51358.2.  Today I will be
continuing modifications to the new astrometric sensors.  Based on my
observations of their performance, I have calculated that we can extend
their range by 2.76 percent by reconfiguring the EMP modulators.  Ensign
Kim has been assigned to assist me with the modifications.  End log."
	At the console, Seven began downloading her calculations into an
access PADD.  Harry arrived in the cargo bay a few moments later, as if the
mere mention of his name had been a summons.  "Good morning, Seven.  Sleep
well last night?"
	The former Borg drone did not look up from the console's display.
"If you are referring to my regeneration cycle, I did not experience any
difficulties.  I trust that you have familiarised yourself with my new
calculations."
	The ensign's lips drew a thin smile.  As much as he found himself
attracted to her, engaging Seven in polite conversation was akin to pulling
teeth.  "Yeah, of course."
	"Good.  I suggest we proceed directly to Deck 6 and begin
modifications," she finally looked up at him.
	"By all means, let's," he replied.  He turned on his heel and led
the way out.
	Seven noticed the inflection in Harry's response and quickly
deduced that he was frustrated, a condition she often observed in his
company.  He once explained that this frustration resulted from her
unwillingness to engage him in trivial conversation -- 'small talk' as he
called it.  Although such exchanges were irrelevant she had tried to
accommodate him.  She reflected upon their banter for a reason why Harry's
agitation was not alleviated.  It took her a few moments to realise that
she was staring at his posterior as she did so.  She diverted her gaze just
as they stopped in front of the turbolift doors, before Harry could see
what she was doing.
	Her actions confounded her completely.  She had no explanation for
what she had done, other than that she felt uncontrollably compelled to do
it.  Seven glanced at Harry, wondering what could have triggered her
aberrant behaviour.  Noticing her scrutiny, Harry gave her a friendly
smile.
	Seven felt her body temperature increase and she immediately looked
away.  Her implants were recording a variety of unusual changes: vascular
constriction, increased cardiopulmonary activity, pheromone secretion,
inhibited production of saliva, erratic neuronal and neurochemical
discharges.  The total mystery of these consequences vexed her.

			*	*	*

	Seven walked into Sickbay, more unsettled than before.  Finding the
room devoid of activity, she activated the Emergency Medical Holographic
program.  The air in front of her shimmered and coalesced into the form of
the Doctor.
	"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."  The Doctor's
brow creased with concern.  "Seven, what are you doing here?  Your check-up
isn't scheduled until tomorrow."
	"I think there is something wrong with me, Doctor.  I have not been
behaving normally this morning."
	At the mention of the word 'wrong' the Doctor instantly reached for
a medical tricorder and began passing the wand in front of her.  "I see.
How exactly have you been behaving?"
	Seven hesitated.  "I am not sure.  Obsessive might be the most
accurate description.  In the last 137 minutes I have counted eleven
different instances in which I have experienced unusual physiological
reactions while interacting with Ensign Kim, including increased heart rate
and body temperature and perspiration of the palms.  In that same time I
experienced another 32 instances in which I compulsively fixated upon the
male crew.  I am at a loss to explain these behaviours."
	The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the last comment, then looked back
at the readouts on the tricorder.  "Well, according to your readings, your
condition isn't serious."
	"What is it, Doctor?"
	"Along with your elevated temperature, your body is producing an
increased level of hormones.  To put it simply, you're in a state of
arousal.  It's perfectly normal."
	"It does not feel 'normal', Doctor."
	"Considering you grew up as a Borg, perhaps it doesn't.  However,
since you're no longer completely a Borg, your body is reasserting its
human characteristics.  You have absolutely nothing to worry about --
except maybe Mr. Paris."
	"Can you not give me something to correct this condition?"
	"This isn't a case of measles we're talking about, Seven.  The best
thing you can do is ride it out.  Given a little time your hormone levels
will return to normal on their own."  The Doctor returned the instruments.
"If you're interested, I could recommend a good text on the science of
sexual arousal.  I've read it myself; it's a fascinating study."
	"I'm sure it is," the former Borg answered flatly.  "Thank you,
Doctor."
	The Doctor replied with a grin.  "Always glad to be of assistance."

	Seven spent the afternoon back within the comfortable confines of
Cargo Bay 2, accessing as many references on the human body and its
hormonal drives as she could find.  She originally planned to overlook the
doctor's well-meaning suggestion.  However, when she yet again stared after
the male officers she passed in the hallways, she re-evaluated her
position.  Several hours of reading later, Seven had nothing to show for
her effort except an ill feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Those many
studies on intimate relationships seemed so barbaric, yet...strangely
fascinating....
	A reviling shiver ran down her spine.  These hormones were a
complete inconvenience, and there appeared to be no way to rid herself of
their effects.
	"Ensign Kim to Seven," her badge bleated.  "I hope I'm not
interrupting something; I know you told me you had another matter to take
care of."
	Just the sound of his voice made Seven's skin tingle.  "No...of
course not, Ensign.  How may I assist you?"
	"I'm having a little trouble stabilising the polaron emitters.  I
was wondering if you could give me a hand with them."
	"Certainly.  I will be there shortly," she said, although an
irrational part of her wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.  It
would be a strange irony considering the events of a month ago, when Ensign
Kim attempted to distance himself from her after his infatuation had been
exposed.  She dismissed the anxiety.  She was far too strong to fall victim
to such a human frailty.  The millions of Borg drones, the hive mind of the
Collective, had taught her the skill of discipline.
	Which, when coupled with a strip of latinum, amounted to a strip of
latinum.  Standing next to Harry Kim, all that support crumbled away under
the pressure of her raging hormones.  "Here, see what you can make of these
readings," he remarked, handing her a tricorder.
	Seven unavoidably brushed her hand against his as she took the
instrument.  She could tell that he still harboured strong feelings towards
her.  She only hoped that he couldn't tell how similar her own feelings for
him were just then.  She kept her eyes locked on the tricorder's data
display.  "Here is the problem: you are attempting to adjust the load
capacity's phase variance as it enters the emitter processor matrix.
However, you are neglecting to ramp down the signal frequency first.  This
is having a cascade effect on the phase conversion, since the signal is
being forced through the processor faster than it can handle.  It is a
simple correction."
	"Oh...yeah, of course," Harry replied, chagrined that she isolated
in less than a minute the problem he had been working on for over an hour.
	They finished the adjustments in short order, and decided to make a
quick test of the results in the astrometrics lab.
	"A bunch of us are going to Holodeck 2 later tonight to try out a
new program that Tom designed," Harry casually remarked.  "Would you like
to join us, Seven?"
	"Spending time in the holodeck would be an inefficient use of
time."
	"It's called 'having fun', Seven.  Now that you're becoming a human
again, you should try doing things you like to do.  You know, things that
make you feel good."
	Seven shifted uncomfortably.  "I have been Borg for as long as I
can remember, Ensign.  The Collective's only concern was reaching
perfection.  Everything else was considered irrelevant.  I do not know what
activities might make me 'feel good'."
	"Oh."  Harry felt a little guilty for making her feel awkward.
"Well, I'm sure if you tried hard enough, you could think of something
you'd like to do for fun."
	An image suddenly flashed through Seven's mind, catching her
completely off guard.
	She spun around and grabbed Harry by the shoulders.  On pure
instinct she roughly pulled him into an embrace, crushing her lips against
his.  She leaned into him, forcing the ensign up against the wall of the
turboelevator.
	The ensign initially struggled to free himself, but quickly stopped
as his own desire took control.  Harry's hands began to wander, gently
massaging her back and waist.  He returned her kiss with equal hunger,
finally satisfied with the experience of tasting her full lips.  Finally
concerned he might suffocate he tried to pull away.
	Seven fought his retreat, unaware that she was smothering him,
backing off only when her own lungs started to ache.  They gasped for air
and tore into each other again with reckless abandon.  Seven pressed her
body even closer to Harry's, enthralled with the myriad sensations as her
bosom flattened against his chest.  She could actually feel the heat of his
body through the layers of fabric between them.
	Unable to control himself further, Harry grasped what he could of
Seven's skin-tight outfit and pulled it apart.  The tearing fabric hissed
just like the sound of the turbolift doors opening....
	"Seven, are you all right?  You looked like you were a million
light years away."
	Snapped out her unbidden fantasy, Seven exited the turbolift.
Thankfully she still had enough control not to blush.  "I am fine.  I was
merely preoccupied with another problem.  I am unsure how to approach it."
	"Anything I can help you with?"
	Her agitation subsided, allowing her composure and rationale to
slip neatly back into place.  His offer had the appeal of convenience, but
she didn't know if he would be willing to provide the type of assistance
that she required.  She remembered how uncomfortable Ensign Kim had become
the last time the subject of copulation had been brought up.  She had since
come to the understanding that the topic of sexual encounters carried a
social stigma among several humanoid cultures.  "I do not think you have
the capacity to render me assistance at this time, Ensign Kim, but I will
consider your offer."

Chapter 2

	Seven stood in front of the entrance to Lt. Paris' quarters, poised
to summon him to the door.  She still couldn't decide whether or not she
really wanted to pursue this avenue of investigation.  Tom Paris wasn't
exactly the kind of person she felt she could trust with a personal
problem.  However, she reminded herself of the reason she had come here.
	Seven had overheard a pair of women chatting away at a nearby table
in the mess hall.  She hadn't eavesdropped on purpose, of course.  It
simply came to pass that the talking women became more interesting than her
dinner.
	"Did you hear what happened last night?  It sounds like Tom Paris
and Lieutenant Torres are going to break up."
	"Where'd you hear that?"
	"A friend of mine overheard Megan Delaney talking about it with
Wendy Gallagher.  Wendy was apparently repairing a plasma coolant leak when
she heard B'Elanna complaining about him to Nicoletti."
	The listener blew a raspberry of dismissal.  "Oh, big deal.  She's
always complaining about something."
	"Yeah, well, it seems she's getting frustrated with him."  The
Bajoran woman leaned in closer, trying to lower her voice.  Not low enough
to escape Seven's enhanced hearing, though.  "He's having trouble with his
landings, if you know what I mean."
	"No way!  Mel, either Wendy or your friend should get their ears
checked.  The Tom I know wouldn't have a problem like that.  He sure didn't
the last time I went out with him."
	"Linda, that was almost nine months ago!"
	"I don't care if it was nine months ago or nine years.  A guy like
Tom isn't capable of losing the ability to satisfy a woman."
	"This is B'Elanna Torres we're talking about, remember?  She's
half-Klingon; she's not exactly known to be easily satisfied with
anything."
	"Tom could give a *full-blooded* Klingon hot flashes, Mel.  The
man's a walking testosterone factory.  I bet you're just jealous because he
never got around to asking *you* out."
	"As if."  Mel blushed furiously and tried to act indignant.  Seven
could easily see that Linda's observation had been accurate.  Even Linda
wasn't fooled.
	"Admit it, you want to 'feel his pagh', don't you?"
	"I'd rather grab his ass than his ear."
	As Linda and Mel tittered and laughed, Seven got up and left the
dining area.  She had heard enough to give her an idea.
	All the pieces fell into place like a simple puzzle.  It wasn't
enough to simply read about love and sexual attraction from a databank.
The texts might provide extensive information about the physical and
physiological nature of sex, but the psychological and emotional aspects
were vague and confusing.  Seven needed to know more than a basic how-to;
the human equation to interpersonal relationships included romance and
intimacy.  If her information was at all accurate, who better to seek
advice from than Tom Paris?
	She touched the door chime and waited.  The doors parted a brief
moment later, but no one was there to greet her.
	"Come on in," Tom's voice called out from an adjoining room.  "I'll
be right out; I'm just about finished changing."
	Seven stepped into the room, taking a look about.  The main living
area was clean, yet cluttered.  Photo portraits, miniature spacecraft
models, and other various piloting paraphernalia decorated the available
table surfaces.  Stacks of data padds and holographic isolinear chips
littered the sofa.
	"Hey, Harry, what do you think of -" Tom walked out from his
bedroom wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, white knee-length shorts and
yachting cap.  He cut himself off when he saw he wasn't talking to his best
friend.  "Seven?  I'm sorry, I thought you were Harry.  We're going to try
out a new holodeck program -"
	"Yes, I am aware of your plans.  Ensign Kim informed me of them
earlier today."
	"I see.  I thought he was kind of early.  So, to what do I owe the
pleasure of your visit?"
	With the moment at hand, Seven fought back her reservations and
revealed her purpose.  "I wish to comprehend the concepts of love and
romance."

	Tom's initial shock gave way to mirth.  "You almost had me there
for a minute.  Did Harry put you up to this?"
	Seven looked at him with a puzzled expression.  "No, I came to see
you of my own accord.  I have recently begun experiencing a
rather...disturbing change in my normal hormonal balance, which the Doctor
has attributed to the re-emergence of my human persona.  Lately I am
finding myself increasingly distracted whenever I am in close proximity to
men.  I have even begun experiencing...fantasies...of a prurient nature.
These experiences trouble me, yet I seem to have no recourse but to satisfy
them.  I have since learned that you have much experience in the areas of
romance and sexual gratification.  Thus, I have come to seek your
assistance.  You apparently do not suffer from the stigma of social
intimacy."
	Tom now realised that this was no joke.  "Whoa, wait a minute.  Let
me see if I've got this straight.  You're telling me that your hormones are
going berserk, you're thinking about having sex with every guy on the ship,
and you've come to *me* for help?"
	"Correct, Lieutenant."
	For the first time in his entire life, Tom felt apprehensive about
sex.  "Uh, why me?"
	"If you'll recall, during our encounter with the Caatati you
explicitly offered to help me assimilate into the lives of the crew.  Your
exact words were 'if there's any way that I can help you adjust to your
life on *Voyager*, please ask me.'  So I am asking you now."
	Tom began to sweat.  Leave it to a Borg -- even an ex-Borg -- to
recall precisely something he'd said nearly three months ago that even he
barely remembered.  "All right, maybe I did say that, but...but this isn't
just *anything* you're talking about."
	"I do not understand.  Why would you make such an offer if you did
not intend to uphold it?"
	"Well...it's very complicated, Seven.  Sometimes...sometimes when a
person says they'll do anything for a friend, they really mean anything
within reason.  I mean, if you asked me to kill the captain, do you think I
would do it?"
	"But I did not ask you to kill Captain Janeway."
	"That's not the point.  What I'm trying to say is that there are
some things I shouldn't help you with.  Do you understand now?"
	For a second she contemplated the meaning of his explanation, then
looked back at him with an even stare.  "No.  I fail to see the relevance
of your argument."
	Tom sighed.  "Seven, you don't know what you're asking me to do!
Have you forgotten about me and B'Elanna?"
	"It has been suggested that the status of your relationship with
Lieutenant Torres is currently unstable.  However, such information is
irrelevant.  If I am to adjust to this crew, I must understand all the
complexities associated with intimate relationships.  Since you have
promised to assist me with any necessary adjustments, and since you are
apparently well experienced in interpersonal relationships, you are the
ideal choice to instruct me."  Before Tom could respond, Seven had her arms
locked around his waist.  "Now, where do you wish to begin?"
	At that moment the door chime beeped.  "Come in!" Tom managed to
squawk, desperately pulling himself free of her grasp.
	"Hey, Tom, ready to go?"  The sentence trailed off as Harry saw
Seven standing next to a very rattled Tom Paris.
	"Harry!  Good to see ya!  How've you been, buddy?"
	"Uh, fine, Tom," he answered distractedly.  "Seven, what are you
doing here?"
	Not one vocalisation managed to escape her lips.  "What?  Oh,
nothing.  Seven just dropped by to talk about some possible changes to the
navigational control system," Tom babbled.  He put his arm around her
shoulder and started escorting her to the door.  "Thanks, Seven.  Those are
some very interesting ideas."
	"But I did not -"
	"- give me all of your suggestions?  That's all right, you can tell
me about them tomorrow.  Right now I'm on my way to the holodeck with
Harry.  Can't be late for that, you know?  All right, see you tomorrow!"
He gave her an extra push down the hallway, sweeping the motion into a wave
of the hand.  "Bye!"  Without stopping, Tom turned around and did the same
thing with Harry.  "Isn't she great, Harry?  You'd hardly even know she
used to be a Borg.  Hey, can't wait to try out that program.  I really
think you're going to like it...."

	"Yeah, can't wait."  Harry glanced over his shoulder back at Seven,
who was returning an equally disturbed expression.  He wondered if he
should accompany Tom to the holodeck or take him to Sickbay.

Chapter 3

	Tom left the holodeck just slightly less relaxed than when he had
entered.  Sailing the Caribbean waters with B'Elanna at his side helped put
that harrowing encounter with Seven out of his mind, at least for a little
while.  The tension returned, however, when Torres was called away to deal
with a problem in the engine room.  He knew Seven would be waiting for him
somewhere, and he would have preferred having a security blanket with him. 
Seven had a single-minded determination, yet another characteristic trait
of the Borg.  Tom knew she wouldn't let this matter drop for a second.
Seven would continue to confront him with her request until he relented.
	He didn't particularly relish the idea of schooling Seven in the
romantic arts.  For one thing, his best friend wanted to date the very
attractive and equally intelligent ex-Borg.  For another thing, he was
dating a woman notorious for her short fuse and superior strength.  
	Tom encountered Seven standing outside the entrance to his
quarters.  "Lieutenant Paris, may I speak with you?"
	He groaned to himself.  "All right, come on in."  He ushered her
in.
	"Lieutenant, I should thank you for your discretion earlier this
evening, and I apologise for putting you in such an awkward situation.  I
was not fully in control of myself at the time."
	"If I had a slip of latinum for every time a woman lost control of
herself around me, Seven, I'd be a rich man."  The joke, naturally,
received a dead pan expression.  "Ahem, right.  Now, before you say
anything, I know why you're here.  I also know that you won't leave me
alone until I agree to help you."
	"Does that mean you will assist me?"
	Tom paced a little.  Too many things could go wrong.  He turned
back to Seven.  "I don't know.  Maybe.  It depends.  Are you going to ask
me to, uh, you know...."
	"Engage in sexual intercourse?  If it is relevant to my
instruction, I...suppose so," she replied hesitantly, unable to look Tom in
the eyes, her body reacting to her fluctuating hormones again.
	"Wouldn't you rather do this with Harry instead?  I'm sure he'd be
much more willing to do this than I am."
	"I do not think it would be productive to ask him.  I am not
certain he would be receptive to such a proposal again after the last
time."
	That caught Tom's attention.  "Last time?"
	"It occurred a short time after you made your promise to help me,
while we were initially configuring the ship's sensors for the astrometrics
lab.  He attempted to create an environment that contradicted his purpose
for asking my assistance on a work-related task.  I then realised Ensign
Kim harboured emotional feelings toward me, but when I confronted him about
it he denied his motives.  By his agitated state I could tell my assumption
was correct.  Not only did he have feelings for me, he also possessed a
physical attraction, which I then attempted to facilitate."
	"Facilitate, how?"
	"I instructed him to remove his clothes.  He immediately became
defensive."
	Tom tried to keep a sober expression.  He remembered when Harry
first admitted to developing a crush on the former drone, but he never
mentioned anything like this happening.  If he ever worked his way out of
this current mess he's have to have a chat with Harry.  "Yeah, I can see
how that might happen.  People don't normally confront each other about sex
straight out like that."
	"Your social customs are more cumbersome than I first estimated.
It is difficult to understand which behaviours are appropriate at any given
time."
	Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  There was a chance he could help
Seven and have a high probability of keeping his limbs intact.  "You know,
if it's just a matter of learning the right romantic etiquette, I think
there might be a way I can help you do the 'wild thing' with Harry after
all."
	Seven looked at Tom evenly.  "Lieutenant, I find it curious.  I
have noticed that you share Ensign Kim's interest in me, yet you are making
so many attempts to avoid an encounter that would most likely lead to your
sexual gratification.  Your behaviour is most perplexing."
	"Yeah, well, let's just say there are things more important than
having sex with a really beautiful woman.  Friendship and breathing, to
name a couple."  The off-hand remark received a puzzled expression from
Seven, but she declined comment.  "Now, any idea when you want to start the
first lesson?"
	"I would prefer to begin immediately, but I can wait until tomorrow
if you wish to prepare an itinerary."
	"Yeah, that sounds good.  I can reserve a holodeck for private use
for a couple of hours.  Say, 1900 hours?"
	"That is acceptable."
	"Great! It's a date, then."
	Seven left Tom to plan his lesson.  At the turbolift she crossed
paths with Lt. Torres.  B'Elanna hesitated and looked back at her as the
lift doors closed, puzzled to see Seven on this deck at this time of night.
She quickly dismissed it and resumed her course to Tom's quarters.
	Tom tensed up at the sight of her.  She didn't look upset, so
apparently she hadn't seen Seven exit his room, but he couldn't help
feeling nervous.  Her arrival and Seven's departure had practically
coincided.  "B'Elanna?  What brings you here?"  He hoped he didn't sound as
frayed as he felt.
	B'Elanna took the question as an invitation inside.  She closed the
distance between them and snaked her arms around his waist.  "I just came
by to apologise for running out on you earlier.  Foster found some
anomalous power spikes in the EPS taps.  The conventional trouble-shooting
wasn't getting him anywhere, so he thought I should give it a try."
	"Apologise?  Don't be silly, B'Elanna.  You're the 'go-to' gal
around here when it comes to keeping the ship in one piece, especially
lately.  You've had a lot of things to deal with."
	She kissed him affectionately on the cheek.  "Still, I'd like to
make it up to you.  How would you feel about having a quiet dinner together
tomorrow night?"
	Tom's mouth fell open.  Of all the times for her to suggest a night
out.  "Uh, gee, B'Elanna, I'd really love to, but...I already made other
plans."
	"What?  Since when?"  She quirked a smile.  "You wouldn't be seeing
somebody behind my back, would you?"
	"Of course not!" Tom laughed anxiously, trying to think up a
believable excuse.  "I promised Ensign Taylor that I'd give her a few
flying lessons in the holodeck at 1900.  She's been thinking about getting
her third level and wanted me to be her instructor.  You know how it is,
nothing less than the best will do."
	Torres smirked.  "Is that a fact?  Well, I guess I'll have to
settle with having lunch with you instead.  I wouldn't want to deprive
Ensign Taylor of flying with the most egotistical pilot on the ship, now
would I?"
	"You got that right," Tom shot back playfully, relieved that he
hadn't blown his cover.
	"Well, now that we have that settled, I'll turn in for the night.
See you tomorrow."
	He managed to sneak in a quick kiss before she could leave.  "I'll
be holding you to that lunch tomorrow."
	"I wouldn't think of missing it.  And have fun on your 'date',
Tom."
	Tom felt fortunate she had turned her back when he grimaced at her
parting remark.  He sure hoped he wouldn't have much fun with Seven at all.

Chapter 4

	Seven's body trembled from several days of sexual frustration.  Her
situation was growing increasingly unmanageable.  She could feel her
composure and discipline buckle more and more with each surge of estrogens.
Something had to be done to resolve her predicament, and fast.  So far the
Doctor's assurances that her condition would sort itself out seemed
completely unfounded.  Hopefully Lt. Paris' tutorial on the holodeck would
be more effective.
	One last turn brought her to her terminus.  Tom was waiting for
her, exuding his normal laissez-faire attitude.  Seven slowed her rapid
pace and stopped in front of the lieutenant.  "Good evening, Seven.  I hope
you're ready."
	"I am prepared."  She quickly analysed Tom's posture and adrenaline
levels, then looked at him in puzzlement.  "Your emotional state is quite
different since our last meeting."
	"Well, I got to thinking last night.  Why should I be so worried
about what Harry or B'Elanna think?  I'm helping out two of my friends get
closer together, that's all.  How is that bad?"
	"I concur.  Your concerns were irrelevant.  There is no reason for
Ensign Kim or Lieutenant Torres to be concerned about your motives.  You
are here at my request in a professional capacity."
	"Absolutely.  How can they argue with that explanation?"  Tom keyed
in his access code and the holodeck doors slid open.  "Let the teaching
begin."  He offered Seven an arm with which to escort her into the
simulation.  She gave it a dismissive look and walked through the entrance.
Tom shook his head but smiled at her lack of etiquette.
	Tom's selected program resembled the interior of some type of
cottage.  The walls were constructed from irregularly shaped slabs of rock
and sealed with mortar.  The floors, planks of dense wood, were piled with
thick carpeted rugs and mismatched items of furniture.  A cobbled fireplace
warmed the room with a small fire.  Seven suppressed a shudder at the
numerous visible imperfections.  The place had a familiar feeling to it,
though she had never seen this place before.
	"Go sit down on the couch and make yourself comfortable, Seven, and
I'll get us something to drink to help set the mood."
	She did as instructed, although she would have been far more
comfortable standing.  The act of sitting had yet to feel natural for her.
The heat of the fire was more noticeable now, with the hearth being only
2.2 meters away.  For some inexplicable reason its close proximity felt
comforting, and she could sense herself slipping into a relaxed state.
	"A little wine to get the home fires burning," Tom remarked,
handing her a glass.  He sat down next to her and draped an arm across the
headrest behind her.
	"This is an inefficient use of time, Lieutenant.  If you are going
to instruct me on romance and social intimacy, please begin."
	"You prefer the direct approach, huh?  Okay.  The first and most
important step in initiating any romantic encounter is kissing.  It's a
complex art, really."
	"Kissing is merely the act of two people pressing their lips
together signifying an expression of affection.  How is that complicated?"
	"A kiss can be used to communicate many different kinds of messages
and moods, depending on the intent of the kisser.  It can convey
friendship, comfort, gratitude, affection, desire, even lust.  Here, I'll
show you.  Just relax and let me guide you."  Tom leaned closer to Seven
and cupped the back of her head.  She offered no resistance as he gently
drew her mouth to his.  The contact was at first slight, his lips lightly
brushing against hers.  He then applied more pressure, compelling her to
reciprocate.  An inner fire stirred to life within her as he softly sucked
and teased her lips.  An uncountable number of moments later he broke
contact, albeit reluctantly.  "See?  Not as simple as you thought, was it?"
	Seven looked a little bewildered.  Her heart rate and respiration
had increased slightly in reaction to this tactile contact.  The
capillaries in her skin dilated causing a momentary temperature increase of
her epidermis, then counteracted by the stimulation of her sweat glands. 
"I did not anticipate that a kiss could elicit such a strong physical
response.  I assume that was intended to convey lust?"
	The lieutenant grinned lasciviously.  "You catch on quick."
	"I know how to adapt."  Seven inched her way toward the lieutenant.
"However, I do so more efficiently when given an increased number of
samples from which to establish proper base lines."
	The movement did not escape him.  He smiled fiercely, the thought
of turning Seven into a sexual conquest giving his ego a major boost.
"Well, we could try it again, see if the same thing happens."
	"That is acceptable," she replied, moving in.  She immediately
initiated another kiss with a passion that surprised the lieutenant.  It
took a couple of seconds before he caught himself up in it.  Hearts
pounded, breathing synchronised, hands groped.  Seven shifted her weight,
pushed Tom onto his back and continued her tactile exploration.  The
tension in Tom's muscles as she worked over his shoulders and chest sent
her an irrational thrill, while her cybernetic implants registered the
significant biothermal increases in both their bodies.  Seven recognised
the early sign of sexual priming from her review of the Doctor's medical
texts and knew what to expect next.
	Without breaking concentration on osculating Tom, Seven noticed the
other succeeding symptoms: shortness of breath, pupil dilation, vascular
stimulation, and swelling of the sexual organs.  She sat up, eager to
collect a fresh supply of oxygen to her blood.  The extra tightness of her
unitard stretched across her hardened nipples added to her peaking arousal.
"I believe now would be a good time to proceed to the next lesson, would it
not?"
	Tom stared at her with glazed eyes.  He mumbled an incoherent
reply, but managed to convey enough of an answer by nodding his head.
	With cat-like dexterity Seven removed her clothing, quite to Tom's
fascination.  He moaned in painful ecstasy at the sight of Seven in her
naked splendour, her skin erotically vibrant.  The lieutenant fumbled in
his haste to remove his own uniform, unable to tear his eyes away from the
vision of perfection standing in front of him.
	"You should...you, uh...find a place to lie down, Seven.  I
know...you're probably not used to that, but...it makes it easier to,
uh...."
	"It facilitates the act of copulation, you mean?" she interpreted,
her voice husky.
	Tom's shirt finally came off.  "Uh, right.  Just...lie down there,
in front of the fire.  You should be comfortable there."
	Seven looked at the buckskin rug.  Since she had never engaged in
intercourse before, she couldn't say whether or not comfort would be a
relevant condition.  "I will comply, Lieutenant."
	"Please, Seven, don't address me by rank.  This is supposed to be a
very personal experience.  Use my name."  By now Tom's boots and trousers
had disappeared.
	Seven stepped over to the buckskin and stopped, contemplating what
mechanics were involved in lying down.  "Here, let me help," Tom said, clad
only in shorts.  He cradled her body and carefully eased her down onto the
floor.  The pelt rug was amazingly thick and soft.  Seven whimpered as the
fur tickled against her bare skin.  She could now feel the heat of the fire
penetrating her, sweat beading all over the surface of her body.  Her mind
swirled.  She had not been prepared for any of these reactions.  They were
so completely foreign to her existence, yet they felt natural, appropriate.
	Seven gasped in shock as Tom began to caress her.  She thought for
sure that her receptors would fail from stimulus overload.  He traced
delicate patterns with his index fingers, languishing when he reached her
breasts.  He smiled when Seven strained in choking breaths for more air as
he teased her erect nipples.  Satisfied, he slid his hands down her flat
stomach, her waist, her hips.
	Something exploded inside of Seven and she trembled.  She tried to
detach her conscious from Tom's ministrations for a moment to identify it,
found it difficult.  Suddenly a part of her realised that she was
experiencing emotion.  Emotion, a part of her long suppressed as a result
of assimilation, a part she thought she would never need or miss until
Captain Janeway had bestowed individuality upon her once more.  A part that
was now given the freedom to reassert itself and, as the Doctor had once
remarked, 'was doing so with a vengeance'.  Seven could see the tidal wave
of pleasure and lust descend upon her as something tangible.  It swept over
her, pulled her away from rational thought and threatened to plunge her
into an inescapable fathom of base human instinct.  For a brief instant she
panicked, realising that she was powerless to deter the onslaught of
intense emotions, then she relaxed and allowed it to guide her.  It seemed
so perfectly acceptable, as though it was meant to happen.
	She looked at Tom lustfully, every trace of her dispassionate,
analytical mind consumed by animalistic desire.  Her body ached with the
need for fulfilment.  "I must...have you...now."
	Tom was only happy to oblige.  He slowly pulled down his shorts to
his ankles, exposing his throbbing erect penis.  He stood there for a
pause, content to orchestrate the few final moments at the tempo of his own
heartbeat.  Seven looked at it wantonly, almost transfixed.  The sight
instantly triggered the production of her vaginal juices, anticipating
penetration.
	"Please," she panted.
	Tom smiled.  He had triumphed.  She could not resist.  He knelt
down over her, straddling her hips between his legs.  He pressed his member
against her belly and planted another sensuous kiss against her inflamed
lips.  She relished his taste for a lingering moment, then he slid down and
thrust himself into her.

	Seven startled awake, her heart racing, a thin sheet of
perspiration coating her face.  It had happened again.
	"Regeneration cycle incomplete," the computer needlessly pointed
out.  Seven did not need to be reminded.  This was the fourth time already
a nightmare had disrupted her sleep cycle.  By far the most vivid,
realistic one yet.  Regulating her heart rate and breathing, Seven cursed
her body.  Now it somehow had the ability to stimulate the neurochemicals
in her brain and manipulate the data she had assimilated into these
sickening fantasies.  The situation was steadily growing out of her
control.  Was there any limit to the depths of depravity she was sinking
in?
	Her olfactory system detected a mixture of musk and pheromones.
With a measure of disgust Seven looked down to discover a patch of moisture
soiling the crotch of her suit.  She sighed irritably.  Another suffusion
and change of clothing would be required.

Chapter 5

	Tom changed into his regular off-duty apparel and began rehearsing
his part for the holodeck.  He wondered what kind of challenge teaching
Seven to behave in a more subtle manner would be, and hoped he wasn't
getting in over his head.  Maybe it wouldn't be as difficult as he feared
as long as Seven had a stake involved in changing her behaviour.
	He left at 1850 to set up the holodeck program.  It had been a
while since he had last accessed it, but Sandrine's would be the perfect
backdrop for this particular adventure.  Seven arrived at precisely 1900,
as he expected.  She did, however, appear agitated.  "You look like you've
had a rough day, Seven."
	"I have indeed, Lieutenant," she replied, her voice less than
rock-steady.  "My hormone levels have been increasing steadily over the
last eighteen hours.  My regeneration period was even disrupted."  She
recalled with distaste the dreams that had intruded upon her rest.  All of
them had involved rather explicit acts of gratification.  Most involved
Ensign Kim, others involved the lieutenant, a few even featured the both of
them together at the same time.  Her conviction to proceed with his
holodeck creation wavered as she remembered one particular dream.  What
could she expect from this instruction?  She concentrated on detaching her
mind from her wayward biological impulses.  Now, more than ever, she needed
the precision control of her Borg upbringing.  These lessons possibly meant
the key to overcoming her current problem, and she intended to learn them
as efficiently as possible.
	"Well, I guess the sooner we start, the sooner you can pay a visit
to dear old Harry."  Tom opened the holodeck entrance.  "Your lesson in
romance awaits."
	Seven found herself walking along a harbour with the lieutenant.
Dusk was already growing, and a light fog slowly rolled into the docks off
the water.  The street lamps, ineffectual under their own power, added to
the haze rather than cut through it.  However, the reduced visibility
proved no problem for her optical implant.  "What is this place?"
	"What you see here is a replica of the Marseilles waterfront, one
of the most romantic spots in all of France.  I thought it might help you
to fit in with the atmosphere."  He stopped in front of a weather-beaten
door, pausing for dramatic effect as he grasped the rust-proofed brass
handle.  "And here's where you'll be getting your instruction."
	Seven's nose reflexively wrinkled at the acrid smell of tobacco
smoke and hard liquor as he swung open the door, but said nothing.  She
looked from one end of the establishment to the other, absorbing the
details from every thing present.  "I fail to see how I will learn anything
of value in this artificial environment."
	"Trust me, you couldn't be in a better place to find out how people
interact with each other," Tom replied distractedly, searching the room for
something.  He fixed upon a target and pulled Seven toward a table occupied
by a raven-haired human female.  "There's someone I'd like you to meet,
Seven.  Ricki?"
	The hologram turned at the sound of her name, her face blooming
with a huge smile in recognition of the speaker.  She left her chair and
enveloped Tom with an embrace.  "Tommy, I'm so glad to see you.  What have
you been up to?  It feels like you haven't been here in ages."
	Tom smiled and returned the hug.  "You say that every time I leave
the room, Ricki.  Here, I have someone I want you to meet.  This is Seven,"
he said with a gesture.  "Seven, this is Ricki.  She'll be assisting me
with your lessons."
	Ricki finally diverted her attention to size up her pupil.  Her
eyes narrowed suspiciously while Seven returned a blank look at the
hologram.  Ricki kept her gaze fixed as she asked,  "Are you pulling my
leg, Tom?  I can't believe she needs any help catching a man."
	"Don't let appearances fool you, Ricki.  Seven's a blank slate when
it comes to the social graces.  We've got to teach her all the rules in the
game of love."
	"Is that so?"  Ricki still wasn't convinced.  She sidled up to
Seven and pointed to a nondescript character sitting at the bar.  "Okay,
Seven, show me what you've got.  See that guy over there?  I want you to go
over there and get him to ask you out on a date."
	Seven literally went to work.  She strode over to the man at the
bar and spun him around on his stool.  "I require that you attend me in a
social convenience at some future date.  Do you accept?"
	The barfly didn't get past his startled expression.  "Whoa, whoa,
hold it!  Seven, what on earth are you doing?"
	Seven looked back at an astonished Ricki.  "I am attempting to
secure this male into a private social engagement as you instructed.  Was I
in error?"
	"If you're referring to the way you're doing it, yes!"  Ricki
looked at Tom with undisguised wonderment.  "Is she for real?"
	Tom, for his part, managed not to laugh.  "I told you, Seven
doesn't have much understanding of social interaction."
	The hologram shook her head and sighed, then resumed her focus on
Seven.  "All right, let's try this again from the beginning.  First of all,
honey, you have to start acting the right part.  You're not asking for a
bowl of soup in a cafeteria, you know."
	"I do not understand."
	"Everything you do is stiff and direct," Tom interjected.  "What
you have to do is to try acting more subtle.  Loosen up a little.  Act like
you could care less about getting his attention, even if it's the most
important thing in the world to you."
	"Right, and there's no better way to do that than using the right
walk," Ricki added.
	"I am uncertain of your suggestion.  How can my manner of gait be
incorrect?  It is the most efficient."
	"If you're travelling from point A to point B, it is.  However,
that's the totally wrong way to walk if you're trying to attract someone of
the opposite sex.  Here, let me show you what I'm talking about.  Watch
carefully.  You walk one foot in front of the other, almost like you're
walking a tightrope."  Seven studied intently as Ricki sashayed up to the
bar and ordered a glass of champagne, then sauntered her way into Tom's
arms as a half-dozen male patrons looked on.  "Nothing capture's a man's
attention better than a little sway of the hips."
	"Interesting how a simple alteration of mechanics can produce such
an effect, but I am puzzled by how such a manoeuvre can so successfully
attract the attention of a male.  Is there some sort of cultural
significance to this mannerism?"
	"I don't know, but it works.  Why don't you try it, Seven?"
	For the longest time Seven simply stared at Ricki and Tom,
considering the relevance (or lack thereof) of executing Ricki's walk.
However, her body accentuated the futility of Borg philosophy by releasing
another surge of hormones.  "Very well.  I will adapt."  In her first few
steps she teetered and wobbled as she tried to find her centre of gravity,
but she quickly mastered the new walk.  Tom could feel his upper lip sweat
as he watched Seven slink across the tavern floor.  She worked her body
language like a professional.  He found it mesmerising.  Apparently so did
the male holograms.  The room had grown much quieter as nearly every head
in the room tracked her progress back to the bar.
	"Wow!  Very impressive, Seven," Ricki remarked.  "I think we can
move on to step two.  Let's find a seat at the bar, shall we?"  Seven
followed the hologram to the end of the bar and sat down.  Again, Ricki
pointed to the barfly.  "Now, I want you to get that guy's attention, but
this time do it subtly, as though you're not trying to get his attention at
all."
	Seven furrowed her brow and scowled.  "How is that accomplished?"
	"It's a technique known as flirting.  Try to establish eye contact
with your target, send him a few non-verbal cues to tell him that you want
him to come over here."
	"I am not familiar with that technique.  If I might observe such an
exchange, it would prove useful."
	Ricki sighed.  "All right, stay put.  Watch and learn."  She
quietly moved to the next stool to allow Seven a better perspective.  Seven
expanded her focus to her entire field of vision and watched intently as
Ricki attempted to engage a man sitting across the room.  Tom drifted off
to the side, also content to watch the hologram of his former companion in
action.  He smiled fondly as he recognised the very same mannerisms that
had first attracted his attention.  "The first step is always to get the
guy to look at you, and nothing is simpler than just staring in his
direction.  People always know when they're being watched.  Don't ask me
why, they just do.  Then when you make eye contact, that's when you can
send him the signals."  At that the man finally turned around to catch
Ricki's gaze.
	"You are equipped with a subdermal transceiver?"
	"No, just keep watching."  As instructed, Seven observed while
Ricki uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, teased her hair, and ran her
finger over the surface of her glass.  A short moment later the man got up,
walked over to the bar and introduced himself to Ricki.
	"I think I am beginning to understand.  Communication is
established implicitly through the use of physical cues."
	"Exactly.  I'm sorry, honey, maybe some other time," she said to
the visitor.  The man looked genuinely depressed to have been brushed off,
but returned to his former content the moment he sat back down at his
table.  "Women use all sorts of subtle indicators to tell a guy that she's
interested."
	"Show them to me."
	Tom laughed.  "That's a pretty tall order, Seven, even for her.
Ricki, maybe we should teach her about pick-up lines instead.  Seven isn't
well suited to that kind of subtlety."
	"Maybe you're right, Tommy," she grudgingly accepted.
	"What are pick-up lines?" Seven asked.
	"Pick-up lines, or ice breakers, are another means of initiating a
conversation, only the communication is direct instead of implied," Tom
answered.  "You typically express your desire to become acquainted with the
person you want to get close to.  Men typically use this device more than
women."
	Seven's brow wrinkled.  "By your explanation I have already
employed this approach at the beginning of this lesson, yet I was told that
I was in error."
	"That was different, Seven.  The point of an ice breaker is to make
the other aware of your presence, to let them know that you have an
interest in them, but it also gives you an opportunity to learn about your
target.  You might decide later that you weren't as interested in the
person as you first thought.  If you talk to the person first, find out
what kind of interests you share, you can avoid a lot of misunderstandings
and hurt feelings later."
	"This sounds a lot like the 'small talk' the Doctor has been
instructing me on."
	Tom thought about her analogy, then shrugged.  "It's essentially
the same thing, I guess, only it primarily involves just two people."
	Not long ago Seven had completely disavowed the relevance in
engaging in the Doctor's pointless exercise in social behaviour.  Now with
her blood running at a fever pitch she conceded that maybe small talk had
its practical uses after all.
	"People usually tend to select an pick-up line that reflects their
personalities, but we'll start you off with something simple.  Let's try
'Is this seat taken?'.  It's short and plainly announces your intention."
	"Very well.  What now?"
	"Pick somebody in the room and try it out.  If you're lucky they'll
ask you to sit down and talk."
	It sounded simple enough to Seven, despite how pointless she viewed
the exercise of making small talk.  The Doctor had given her enough lessons
that she could at least handle herself, she thought.  Steeled to her task,
Seven selected a figure at random and approached him.  "Is this seat
taken?"
	Carlo's features melted into a charming smile the moment he set
eyes on his sudden visitor.  The gigolo's heavy French accent exuded as
much sex appeal as his exotic appearance.  "Fohr you, ma chere, anyszing.
Please, siht."
	Tom looked a little uncomfortable at Seven's choice.  Leave it to
her to start wading in the deep end of the pool.

Chapter 6

	An hour later, Tom was actually beginning to feel sorry for Carlo.
The holographic Casanova had more than met his match in Seven.  Despite
assimilating the knowledge about the many forms of casual contact, Seven
continued to fumble through her attempts at conversation, and Carlo was
unfortunately made to suffer through the whole trial.  The gigolo was
getting quite frustrated with all the crossed communication.  He would have
given up on her but was helpless to deviate from Tom's programming.
	Seven finally put him out of his misery.  "Computer, remove this
character from the simulation."  Carlo's image evaporated around his suave
smile until nothing remained.
	Tom buried his head in his hands and sighed in exasperation. 
"Seven, what did you do that for?  I really think we were starting to make
some progress."
	"Do not patronise me, Lieutenant," she snapped back.  Her decorum
was finally on the verge of collapsing under her extended duress, despite
her concerted efforts to remain focused.  "These lessons are not optimally
productive.  I fail to see how I am to learn the proper rules of
conversation when my partners are all programmed to alter their behaviour
patterns to compliment my profile.  There is no independent thought
involved.  It is unrealistic and ultimately a waste of my time.  It is
irrelevant that I should have to engage in these exercises anyway; Ensign
Kim already knows me."
	She had him on that one.  Unfortunately, that meant having to skip
to the next stage of his instruction.  Even more unfortunately, he couldn't
think of any way to avoid getting personally involved in the instruction,
not now that she had voiced her displeasure in interacting with holograms.
"Uh...well...you have a point...I guess...."
	"Your hesitation would seem to indicate that it is time for your
instruction on sexual intercourse."  For a brief moment Seven experienced a
stab of anxiety, recalling fragments of her nightmare with him, before
subduing it.  She had to maintain a dispassionate perspective more so now
than ever.
	Tom broke into a cold sweat, quickly running out of options.  "Are
you sure you wouldn't rather do this with Harry?  He'd kill me if he ever
found out I...broke you in for him."
	Seven looked bemused at his arcane metaphor but chose not to
question it.  "My first attempt at this type of encounter with Ensign Kim,
while considered efficient at the time, was poorly conceived.  My
association with the ensign had not yet been clearly established.  Now we
are more familiar with each other's mode of behaviour.  It is evident that
Ensign Kim still possesses a desire for physical contact, but I still
intimidate him.  My present condition, while distressing, provides me an
opportunity to rectify that situation.  However, I cannot attempt to engage
him with my current level of inexperience.  My execution must be flawless;
I will settle for nothing less than perfection."
	"No.  No, no, no, no, no.  Computer, end program."  The tavern
dissolved around them.  Tom paced in front of Seven muttering to himself, a
hand pasted to his brow as if to deflect any additional stress.  "I can't
do this.  I won't do this.  Seven," he stopped and looked at her.  He
sighed wearily, the burden of this task weighing on him.  "Look, I know
that since you've been a drone for most of your life you don't quite
understand the complexities of human nature.  But this...what you're
suggesting...that's crossing the line.  Making love isn't something you
rehearse.  It's a spontaneous, unique expression of passion between two
people, a special, intimate gesture.  Given that it'll be your first time
makes it that much more special.  If Harry means that much, you won't deny
him sharing that moment, and neither will I.  You might have been raised as
Borg, Seven, but you are still a human being.  Procreation is ingrained in
our DNA; when the time comes, you'll know what to do."
	"Unacceptable.  Your opinion is irrelevant to my concerns, as is
Ensign Kim's.  I will conduct my affairs at my discretion.  I require you
to fulfil your obligation.  You will comply."
	"No!  I can't, not in good conscience."
	"You pledged your assistance.  You *will* comply."
	Tom really began to regret ever having made that promise.  He
wanted to yell at her, tell her she was crazy and insistently refuse to
help.  He doubted that would work, though, not as long as she kept waving
that promise in front of his face.  Seven had done some questionable things
already during her stay on *Voyager*, but despite all that she kept her
word.  Maybe it was her way of compensating for the Borg's treachery
following *Voyager*'s showdown with Species 8472.  They'd reneged on their
promise not to assimilate the crew, and as a result she lost her link to
the Collective.  With that kind of perspective, he might be hard pressed to
convince her that sometimes promises were made to be broken.  *Damn, why
did I ever agree to do this in the first place?*  The weight on his
shoulders suddenly got much, much heavier.  "Let's go to my quarters.
We'll have more privacy."  *Harry, I hope you'll understand that I didn't
have any choice in this.*

	"Care for some company, B'Elanna?"
	The engineer's wandering thoughts scattered.  She looked at the
interloper and smiled.  "Thanks, Harry.  I'd like that."
	Ensign Kim set down his dinner and sat opposite her.  "So, what you
were just thinking about?"
	"Everything and nothing."  She sighed.
	"Anything you want to talk about?"
	She grinned at the grain of concern planted in his question.  "I'm
fine, Harry.  It's just...I don't know.  Lately it's been a real task for
Tom and me to spend any time together.  When Tom wants to do something I'm
busy in engineering, and when I finally get some spare time he's already
made other commitments.  I'm worried that our relationship is falling
apart, but I don't know what to do about it."
	"I think if you guys really love each other, you'll find a way to
keep it going."
	"You really think so?"
	"I've seen how happy Tom makes you.  I don't think he'd risk doing
anything to put that in jeopardy."
	Harry's sentiment warmed her considerably.  She opened her mouth to
thank him for the encouragement when she noticed someone out of the corner
of her eye.  Ensign Taylor to be precise.  Harry noticed her puzzled
expression.  "What is it?"
	"I thought Tom was helping Ensign Taylor with her third level
piloting instruction."
	He looked over his shoulder at the ensign.  "Maybe the lesson ended
early."
	"Yeah, maybe."  B'Elanna had an uneasy feeling in her stomach,
though.  "Excuse me a minute, Harry."  She left the table and intercepted
Ensign Taylor at the galley counter.  "So, how was the lesson, Taylor?"
	Just the confused look on Taylor's face was enough to raise
suspicion.  "What?  What lesson?"
	"The flight training?  With Lieutenant Paris?  At 1900 hours?"
	"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I have no idea what you're talking about."
	"I see.  Sorry to bother you."  B'Elanna trudged back to the table
but didn't sit down.  "I don't like this, Harry."
	Harry activated a voice link to the computer through his badge.
"Computer, where is Lieutenant Paris?"
	"Lieutenant Paris is in Holodeck 1."
	He looked up at the engineer.  "Maybe you heard him wrong,
B'Elanna."
	"No, I clearly remember him saying Ensign Taylor.  I wonder what
he's up to?"

	Tom made doubly sure that the security lock on his quarters was
activated.  He didn't want to leave any chance of anyone accidentally
walking in by accident.  If only the bedroom had a door as well, maybe he
wouldn't feel quite as paranoid.  Maybe it wouldn't hurt to triple check
the lock.  "Computer, please verify security lock."
	"Confirmed.  Level 4 security has been initiated."
	"You are stalling, Lieutenant.  By my recollection of information
we could have completed the act of copulation in the time you spent
securing your quarters."
	"I guess you've never heard of foreplay, then," he muttered under
his breath.
	Seven still heard him, however.  His snide tone was lost on her.
"Foreplay: sexual excitation through tactile stimulation.  Is foreplay
considered a vital part of copulation?"
	A thought struck him in that moment.  Maybe she had just given him
a loophole; even if he had to rob his best friend of a unique experience,
he might still be able to avoid the ultimate betrayal.  A cunning grin let
loose.  "You bet it is."
	*As weird as it sounds, Harry's gonna thank me for this.*  Tom led
Seven into the bedroom, pleased with the plan that he had unintentionally
devised.  He'd prefer not to get involved in Harry's sexual relationship
with Seven at all, but since he had no choice in the matter, he'd settle
for the least compromising alternative.  Seven would more or less get what
she wanted, and he would avoid a conscionably reprehensible act -- sort of.
	"How do you wish to begin?"  Tom almost thought he detected
anxiousness in Seven's question.
	"Uh, well, I suppose the best way to start would be to just undress
and get into bed, then go from there."
	Seven quickly measured the scenario.  Assuming a horizontal
orientation troubled her, of course.  She still hadn't become comfortable
with the notion of sitting yet.  It was impractical; if ever an emergency
situation arose, time would be wasted in having to stand first before
taking further action.  However, this wasn't the appropriate time to argue
about efficiency.  She was here to learn the proper form of intimacy, no
matter how inefficacious it was.  "Very well."
	With a few expert moves her jumpsuit puddled to the floor around
her feet.  Tom had barely even removed his jacket, and what he saw promptly
froze him place.  He felt stupid about it -- he'd seen naked women before,
many of them just as beautiful as Seven -- but her nakedness still filled
him with awe.  Maybe it was so shocking because he never expected to see
her in this state, even though he had once, in a fleeting moment of lust,
tried to visualise it.  Maybe it was because that visualisation still
couldn't compare to seeing the real thing.  It hadn't registered to him
that in all the times she had interacted with other people on the ship, she
had not been wearing any kind of undergarments.
	Her skin, either due to the doctor's regenerator or her own Borg
nanoprobes, was absolutely flawless.  It stretched smooth across her flat
stomach and toned abdomen, puckered only by a perfectly shaped navel.  The
other vestiges of Borg corruption now visible didn't register as out of
place.  Rather, the skeletal looking gunmetal grey attachments seemed
exotically natural as they meshed with her skin.  Her breasts stood out
firm despite their size.  In fact, her small aureoles made them appear
larger than they were.  Tom's upper lip began to sweat.

	B'Elanna punched the holodeck control panel.  "He's not here."
	"I guess we just missed him then.  Any idea what program he was
running?"
	"Hang on."  She looked up the access log and growled.  "Computer,
where's Lieutenant Paris now?"
	"Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters."
	Torres strode off toward the turbolift, her fists clenched.
Startled, Harry glanced at the information on the panel.  Program
Paris-3-alpha-7.  He couldn't place the extension, but if he remembered
correctly, though, then this was the Sandrine's program.  He started after
B'Elanna.  What was Tom doing in Sandrine's that he didn't want B'Elanna to
know about?

	"You find my appearance pleasing," Seven observed more than asked.
The lieutenant had stood inert staring at her for 7.8 seconds already
without saying a word.  It was very clear to see his arousal.
	Tom tried and failed to tear his gaze away from her body.
"It's...uh, wow."
	"I will take your colloquialism as an affirmative.  Please commence
your instruction."  She skewed her head in question.  "Does foreplay
require only one individual to be in a state of undress?"
	"Huh?  Oh, sorry."  In his distraction Tom had stopped the removal
of his tunic.  Now reminded, he forced his attention back to it.  His
fingers continually slipped on the fasteners of his clothes, though.  He
definitely felt some anticipation in lying naked next to her; he was
already painfully erect.  This only made him feel guiltier; he couldn't
shake the fact that he was corrupting a moment meant for his best friend.
Faster than he would have liked he was clad only in his underwear, tented
by his erection.  "OK, I guess we're ready to start."
	"You have not finished unclothing."
	Tom blushed involuntarily.  "It's called modesty, Seven, something
you obviously don't have a problem with -- not that you should."  He pulled
down the sheets on his bed.  "After you."
	"I am puzzled.  We remove our clothes, only to cover ourselves
again?  Where is the efficiency in that?"
	"To do what we're going to do, wearing clothes would be
inconvenient.  Don't worry, the sheets will trap our body heat so we won't
get cold."
	"I am not affected by relative changes in ambient temperature."
	"Then we'll use the sheets so *I* won't get cold.  Do you need any
help getting in?"
	"Your assistance will not be required."  She sat stiffly on the
edge of the mattress, then with precision swung her legs over and
underneath the covers.  Finally she laid her head on the pillow.  She
shifted uncomfortably for a moment as her feet were awkwardly pressed flat
against the tucked-in sheets.  Tom crawled in from the other side, kicking
the fold loose in the process.  Seven instantly pointed her toes upward.
The mattress seemed to resist her normal standing posture, though.  She did
not look comfortable, if comfort mattered.
	Tom observed how she rested there, seemingly at attention, and
furrowed his brow.  Some of his earlier anticipation evaporated.  She
looked completely dispassionate.  Harry really wanted this?  Not knowing if
there was anything appropriate to say, Tom instead cozied up beside her.
Palming her cheek, he turned her face to his and inched his mouth over
hers.  He poured all his concentration onto her lips, drumming up the
courage to kiss them.  They certainly did look inviting....
	"Is kissing a common requisite in foreplay?" Seven asked in a low
voice.
	"Save your questions for later, Seven."  He cut off her opportunity
to reply by smothering her mouth.  He was pleasantly surprised how well she
responded, as though she had plenty of experience kissing people.  He
opened his eyes for a moment, squinting when a bit of light glinted off one
of her implants.  Curious, he traced a delicate outline of the metal with a
fingertip.  The transition between organic and synthetic was almost
seamless.  Even in her partially restored state, Seven probably made no
distinction between both aspects of her physiology.  The awareness both
amazed and worried him.

	In itself, the lieutenant's actions left no impression on Seven.
She catalogued the effects of varying pressure and surface contact involved
and the fluidic exchanges that took place.  Trivial, she thought.  She
sensed when he began stroking one of her transceivers, but completely
ignored the touch.  She also failed to react when he sensually slid his
hand down her neck, across her collarbone, and down her torso.  His hand
then moved back up to her right breast.  Finding purchase, Tom began
kneading the ample flesh between his fingers.  Seven registered this
tactile sensation as oddly disparate.  Her brain attempted to identify the
experience as painful, yet it was not wholly unpleasant.  She recalled from
the medical information she had recently assimilated that breasts were the
female's most prominent sexual organs and easily susceptible to physical
stimulation.  This had been referenced under the section of "erogenous
zones".  Almost as an afterthought, she remembered an addendum to that
section of text regarding the sensitivity of the nipples.  At that same
moment Tom found the nub of skin on her right breast and pinched it between
his thumb and forefinger.

	B'Elanna stopped at the entrance to Tom's quarters and touched the
chime button.  She then started ticking off the seconds until he answered.

	Seven's body tensed in response to the jolting electrical impulse
that ripped through her nervous system.  Her back arched reflexively and
she inhaled sharply, caught unprepared.  Her body then relaxed as the
feeling dissipated.  Tom grinned slightly, feeling her body melt into the
contours of the mattress while the nipple clutched between his fingers
stiffened.  Now that she had let her mind escape into the realm of physical
sensation, her body relaxed.  He'd have to remember to tell her this
afterwards.  Right now he was determined to conclude this liaison as
quickly as possible, and there was one sure fire way to accomplish that.
	Careful not to disrupt the flow of the moment, Tom grabbed her
other breast and planted it in his mouth.  He sucked and nibbled.  He
allowed his tongue to work over her nipple and aureole, hoping the roughly
textured muscle could elicit another distracted reaction.  It didn't appear
to be working, but after a moment he heard a soft, low moan of pleasure.
Of course, he now realised that Seven would not be a noisy lover.
Alternating breasts, Tom's free hand slithered down Seven's belly in search
of her pussy.  He met with her snatch of pubic hair with interest; due to
his shock he hadn't noticed it before, but he now felt the considerable
tangle of growth that had occurred in the three months since Seven had most
of her Borg prostheses removed.  He doubted the Doctor would have been that
pervasive during Seven's initial treatments.  Impressive.

	It was now obvious to B'Elanna that he wasn't responding.  Any
number of reasons could have explained why, but she suspected that he was
ignoring the call.  She pressed the button again, this time a little
harder.  Harry chewed his lip nervously.

	Seven felt his hand's descent.  The further it went, she noticed
how the response threshold of her epidermis decreased.  A likely
explanation was that he was reaching another erogenous zone.  He reached
her vagina and began probing it with his fingers.  Oddly, she felt the
release of bodily fluid lubricate her orifice.  She failed to explain why
that would occur.

	Tom choked out a laugh amid a mouthful of breast flesh.  He was
obviously doing something right; she was wet and ready to receive his cock.
Well, that wouldn't happen, but she'd get the second-best thing.  He spread
apart her labia and softly stroked her vulva, coaxing her clitoris out of
hiding.  Seven cried out a little more urgently, a cross between a moan and
a whine.  He could only guess what she might be thinking.

	Seven was beyond rational explanation when the first wave of
ecstasy emanated from Tom's manipulation of her clitoris.  There was no
other way to define it.  There was no other it way it could be defined.
She had very little experience with emotional states, but somehow she just
knew that this experience fit into the context of ecstasy.  A memory of her
childhood came to her from out of nowhere to help her place the sensation.
Almost like tickling, but...more, different.  It felt unique.  Further to
her surprise she welcomed it.  It felt...pleasurable.  Something about that
bothered her, but she couldn't pinpoint the reason.  Her ability to think
was being clouded.  Even more disconcerting, she really didn't seem to mind
right at that moment.  She just wanted the experience to continue.
	Tom stopped suckling and looked up at Seven's flushed face with an
arrogant smile.  "So, you like that, huh?"
	She returned the look with glazed eyes.  "This is...inconceivable."
	"I haven't even begun yet."  With that, Tom inserted a pair of
fingers into her orifice.

	B'Elanna stabbed at the touchpad yet again.  She knew he was in
there, so why wasn't he answering?  If Tom Paris thought he was in trouble
before....  "Computer, override door lock, authority
Torres-Delta-Five-Two-Two."
	The computer beeped sourly in response.  "Access denied.
Insufficient security clearance."
	"*What*?"
	Harry checked a nearby wall panel.  "I don't know how he did it,
but Tom put a Level 4 lock on his quarters.  You know, B'Elanna, maybe
you're jumping to conclusions."  She fired a menacing stare at the ensign.
Harry shrunk back reflexively.  "Maybe he's planning a surprise for you or
something."
	"Not likely.  My birthday was five months ago, there are no
important holidays occurring, either Klingon or Federation, and our six
month anniversary isn't for another month, although I doubt he'll make it
that far.  He's hiding something, and I'm going to find out what it is."
She pulled open an access panel, exposing a circuit junction.  "So, are you
going to help me or not?"
	This could land them in serious trouble if she was wrong, but he
couldn't say he wasn't interested in finding out what was going on.  "Is
that an order, Lieutenant?"
	B'Elanna looked up at him wryly.  She understood.  She would accept
full responsibility for this invasion of privacy.  "It most definitely is,
Ensign...and, thanks."
	"Yeah, yeah, I know," he replied dismissively, knowing that he
probably would have helped her anyway.  "Let's just see if we can reroute
the command pathways for the door."

	Seven gripped Tom's back more tightly as she lost her grasp of
reality.  Her brain was now constantly buffeted with raw, intense emotions.
A part of her mind feared it; her body reacted independently and
unpredictably, betraying everything she thought she stood for.  It cried
out frantically, desperately trying to warn her of the chaos that
threatened to tear her apart, but it was too weak.  The plea drowned in a
bath of endorphins.  She could only concentrate on the sensations coursing
through her body, feeling the ebb and flow as the lieutenant rhythmically
pistoned his fingers into her vagina.  A throaty growl of lustful pleasure
escaped her.  For the moment, Seven of Nine did not exist.

	Tom was also struggling to keep control of himself.  Hearing
Seven's moans of desire aroused him greatly and he was tempted to put
himself inside her.  There had always been something special about having
sex with virgins.  However, he had to remember who this was and the people
involved in this convoluted arrangement.  Harry was a straight-laced guy,
and very modest.  While Tom didn't doubt the guy had experience, he
probably hadn't been the amorous type.  Harry wouldn't have had these kinds
of opportunities often, so he wasn't about to take one away from him now.
He pumped his fingers faster and harder, feeling a strange sense of
urgency.

	Seven felt the pressure building inside her caused by the
lieutenant's fervently increased actions.  Panic began to set in.  Each
time she thought the sensations couldn't get any more intense they would
get stronger.  She thought either her body or her mind would explode from
too much feedback.  She dug her nails into Tom's back to brace herself,
piercing his skin.  The lieutenant grunted in pain and stepped up his
efforts, and the pressure climbed even higher, escalating out of control.
The voice of protest returned, finally able to overcome her hedonistic
thoughts, telling her that what was happening wasn't right.  It was
happening too fast to be averted, though.  Seven gasped in shock as the
sensation suddenly peaked.  Every muscle in her body tensed.  Then, all at
once, she felt all the stored up energy released through her vagina while
her limbs spasmed uncontrollably.

	Tom grinned in triumph the moment he felt Seven's pussy clench
around his fingers, followed shortly by a gush of hot, sticky fluid.  He
had to wait a few moments before he could extract them, though.  She had
quite a grip.
	Then the moment of nirvana was blown apart by a hard-edged voice.

	"There," B'Elanna announced proudly as the doors finally gave way.
She dusted her hands on her pant legs and vaulted herself up from her
crouched position in front of the access panel.  "Now to get to the bottom
of this."  She strode purposefully into the room.  Harry followed.
	She didn't spot him in the main room, which left only one place he
could be.  Without breaking pace B'Elanna headed for the bedroom.  "Tom
Paris, you've got some explaining to...."
	Harry looked over Torres' shoulder, annoyed that she had stopped in
the middle of the doorway.  What he saw knocked the breath out of him.
"Oh, my God," he wheezed out.

Chapter 7

	Tom's short yet flamboyant life flashed before his eyes.  He was
certain that it would be coming to an end very soon.  "This is not what it
looks like," he immediately stammered, turning around.  He pulled his hand
free and wiped it off on his shorts under the obscurity of the bed sheet.
"Just let me...explain."  *Oh, shit.*  Harry was hyperventilating in the
doorway behind B'Elanna, who herself was quivering with barely contained
rage.  This was bad, very bad.
	"S-Seven?  What...what are you...doing?" the ensign in a strangled
voice.
	Seven's composure returned as quickly as her breath.  "I was
receiving instruction on sexual confrontation from Lieutenant Paris.  That
was a most educating experience, Lieutenant.  May I get up now?"
	Tom screwed his eyes shut in pain, ready to accept death now.  She
couldn't have said anything more inappropriate than that.
	"You...you bastard!  I'll kill you!"  B'Elanna lunged for his
throat, shrieking a Klingon death cry.
	Tom's eyes snapped open at the sound.  He barely ducked underneath
the pair of rapidly approaching hands in time and rolled his way off the
bed.  "I can explain!  I can explain!"
	"So this is flying shuttles with Ensign Taylor, is it?  When I get
my hands on you, you'll never lift off again!"
	Tom yelped and dodged another attack.  "Please, B'Elanna, calm
down!"
	"Why should I calm down?  You stood me up to boff a *Borg*!"
	"I didn't, I swear!" Tom made a dash for the door, sprinting past a
paralytic Harry Kim.  "Seven, tell them!"
	"Come back here and take your death like a man!" growled the irate
engineer as she chased him into the lounge area.

	"Boff? I am not familiar with that word."  Seven arched an eyebrow
quizzically at the proceedings.  This was quite an unexpected and chaotic
turn of events.  It was times like these that she reconsidered the value of
individuality.  Now that the argument between Lieutenants Paris and Torres
had moved to a new venue, she extricated herself from her horizontal
alignment and retrieved her suit from off the floor.  Re-clothing herself,
she started for the door but stopped when she saw Ensign Kim blanch.
Lieutenant Paris had asked that she speak to both Lieutenant Torres and
Ensign Kim concerning the nature of their rendezvous, but Ensign Kim looked
to require dire medical attention.  His explanation could wait for a more
convenient time.  "Ensign Kim, you do not look well.  I would recommend you
pay a visit to the Doctor, he is quite proficient in treating physical
ailments."
	Harry stumbled backwards, somewhat startled by the direct address.
"I...I've got to get out of here," he muttered weakly.  He back-pedalled
halfway across the room before turning on his heel and bolting out of Tom's
quarters.
	Satisfied that he had taken her advice, Seven resumed to complete
her other task.  Lieutenant Torres had Mr. Paris pinned to the floor in
what looked like a quite uncomfortable position.  He had a fresh contusion
on one side of his face and his nose had apparently been broken.  He was
presently being subjected to a formidable chokehold.  Lieutenant Torres was
either attempting to decapitate him or to sever his spine at the base of
his lower vertebra.
	"Hrrgk...Seven...aagh...help me," he strangled out, helplessly
trying to pry his head free of the engineer's grasp.
	"Stay out of this, *Borg*, if you know what's good for you,"
B'Elanna grunted.
	"I am afraid I must intervene, Lieutenant.  Given *Voyager*'s
present circumstances, killing Lieutenant Paris would be an inappropriate
course of action.  Our limited manpower makes him an indispensable member
of the crew."
	B'Elanna slammed Tom's head into the deck plate, much to his agony,
and stood up.  She took two steps toward Seven and glared menacingly.
"Have you got a hearing problem?  I said stay out of this."
	"My auditory systems are functioning perfectly, Lieutenant.  I must
point out, though, that you yourself are guilty of a misperception of
data."
	"Oh, really?  So I didn't just catch him screwing you?"
	A look of mild frustration crossed Seven's brow.  "Your use of
human vernacular is most perplexing, Lieutenant.  Does 'screwing' have a
similar contextual meaning as that of 'boffing'?"
	"They're both slang terms, Seven," Tom grunted from the floor,
gingerly protecting his broken nose with one hand.  "They both refer to
having sex."
	"Ah.  Thank you, Lieutenant.  In that case, Lieutenant Torres was
not entirely incorrect in her assessment."
	"*What*?"
	"Lieutenant, you yourself indicated that foreplay was considered a
vital part of copulation."
	Seven heard the beginnings of an angry growl and suddenly found her
line of sight shifted to the ceiling of Lieutenant Paris' quarters.  She
experienced an undiluted moment of human expression for the first time
since childhood: Lieutenant Torres' forceful tackle had surprised her.  Her
body impacted with the floor with a dull thud, forcing a grimace of pain to
surface on her normally stoic visage.  Quickly recovering, though, Seven
grappled the lieutenant's arms and proceeded to engage in a lengthy
wrestling match across the cabin floor.  Lieutenant Paris did as best he
could to scramble out of the way to avoid further injury.  "This assault
is unnecessary, Lieutenant," she grunted, counterbalancing each change of
weight and momentum in B'Elanna's attack.
	"The hell it isn't.  I catch you having sex with Tom and you think
it's unnecessary that I beat you to a bloody pulp?"
	Seven concluded that, irrelevant or not, it wasn't a very good idea
to interfere in the personal affairs of even a half-blooded Klingon.
Apparently Lieutenant Torres' possessiveness extended to more than just the
engine room.  "If you feel threatened by the prospect of me attempting a
personal relationship with Lieutenant Paris, do not.  I do not possess
those feelings for him.  My decision to engage in physical intercourse with
the lieutenant was in large part influenced by pragmatics."
	Lieutenant Torres snarled and immediately redoubled her efforts to
place her hands around Seven's neck, but her advance was again effectively
stalled.  Realising that she wouldn't succeed in strangling her opponent,
the lieutenant instead pushed herself off Seven in disgust.  The aggression
ceased almost as quickly as it had begun.  "Ugh, forget it.  You're not
worth it.  But *you*," she said, whipping around to face Lieutenant Paris,
"how could you even *think* of doing this?"
	His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he nursed his wounds from the
relative safety of an armchair.  Seven picked herself up off the floor and
observed the exchange with detached interest, as if nothing unusual had
just taken place.  "I didn't have a choice, B'Elanna; she made me do it!"
	"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Tom," she snapped.  "You've been
dying to get her in the sack for weeks.  Don't think I haven't noticed how
your eyes wander every time she walks into a room."
	"Okay, so she's attractive, I admit it.  That doesn't mean I want
to have sex with her!"
	"Then did I imagine what I just saw?  It sure looked like you were
having sex to me!"  Seven thought it both peculiar and fascinating that
they were discussing her as if she were no longer present in the room with
them.
	"Please, you've got to believe me, I didn't!  You know you're the
only one for me, B'Elanna."
	"You --" B'Elanna abruptly stopped her tirade, throwing her hands
up in defeat.  "Never mind, forget it.  Forget the whole thing.  I hope you
enjoy your little fling with the Borg Queen, you pig, because as far as I'm
concerned, we're through."  She stormed out of the room.
	A stunned Lieutenant Paris watched her leave, his mouth open in
silent protest until the doors closed behind her.  With a weak sigh he
carefully collapsed into the chair.  "Gee, that went well," he muttered
sarcastically.
	"I believe a trip to Sickbay would be in order, Lieutenant," Seven
suggested.  She was still confused over Lieutenant Torres' last remark.
She resembled nothing like the Borg Queen.  How could the lieutenant make
an error like that?

			*	*	*

	"My, Mr. Paris, it certainly looks like you've had an interesting
day," the Doctor satirically observed as Seven escorted Tom through the
doors of Sickbay.  "Care to explain what happened?"
	"B'Elanna and I had a bit of a disagreement," Tom generically
replied.
	"Hm, another lover's quarrel, eh?  So what did you do this time,
Lieutenant?"
	Tom glared at the hologram.  "Nothing you need to be concerned
about, Doctor."
	The Doctor glared right back.  "Well, no need to be rude,
Lieutenant."  He completed his triage.  "Let's see...you have a broken
nose, multiple contusions, torn ligaments in the neck, shoulders and
abdominal regions, and a stress fracture of the fifth rib.  That must have
been quite a disagreement.  You wouldn't happen to know anything about
this, would you, Seven?"
	Seven gauged the stern glance from the lieutenant and thought
better of being completely forthright.  "I am not in a position to comment,
Doctor."
	"Oh.  Well, Mr. Paris, the good news is that I can treat your
injuries and have you out of here within the hour.  I would recommend that
you avoid strenuous activity for a few days, however, to allow them to heal
properly."
	"Not a problem, Doc."
	"Since you no longer require my assistance, Lieutenant, I will take
my leave.  I still must speak to Ensign Kim."  Seven made a motion to
leave, but Tom stopped her.
	"Hold on a minute, Seven.  Doctor, would you mind giving us a few
minutes in private?"
	The Doctor sighed insufferably.  "Very well.  When you finally
decide you can live without the pain, Lieutenant, give me a call."  Tom
watched him depart into the CMO's office and waited for the Doctor to busy
himself before addressing Seven.  "You're going to talk to Harry about what
just happened, aren't you?"
	"That is what you requested."
	"Seven, not to criticise here, but I think you should try another
approach to explaining what happened."
	Seven regarded Lieutenant Torres' poor reaction earlier.  "I
believe you are correct.  I assume you have a suggestion?"
	"Yes, I do.  Seven, if this mess is ever going to be cleaned up
you're going to have to tell them everything.  Your recent problem, that
promise I made, the holodeck, everything that happened.  Coming from you
they're more likely to accept the truth."
	"I must confess, I did not expect Lieutenant Torres to be so
unwilling to view that incident objectively.  There is still much to learn
about the inconsistent behaviours associated with individuality.  I will
proceed with your strategy."
	"Thanks, Seven.  Oh, and it might be better to wait until tomorrow
to talk to B'Elanna.  If I know her, she won't exactly be interested in
talking to either one of right now."
	"I would incline to agree, Lieutenant.  Your advice will be most
helpful."

	Harry stared blankly at the music score in front of him.
Practising the clarinet usually helped him relax and think out his personal
problems, but today he just couldn't concentrate.  He couldn't shake the
unsettling image of Seven in Tom's bedroom, acting as if nothing unusual
had occurred.  It forced him to recall when she had propositioned him in
the mess hall.  It had been an unfortunate case of Seven doing the wrong
thing at the wrong time, although it was his own fault for trying to sway
her into a romantic relationship.  She had connected the precondition with
the goal without giving thought to the steps that went in between.  He
realised then how foolish it was to let his emotions run rampant like that.
Seven was still learning how to interact with people as an individual, with
no clear sense of what was appropriate behaviour.  As humiliating an
experience it was for him, he had helped her define one of those limits.
	Harry shook his head.  If that was true, why had she climbed into
bed with Tom?  He didn't think Seven would make that mistake again.  She
had been familiarising herself with the ship and the people on board, and
vice versa.  Both she and Tom would have known the kind of person they'd be
dealing with.  So, if it hadn't been an accident or misunderstanding....
	The conclusion made him physically ill.  What could possibly
motivate Seven to instigate such an experiment, and with Tom?  She had to
know of his relationship with B'Elanna.  And what would possess Tom to
accept her proposal?  Didn't he care about B'Elanna at all?  Harry knew
that the lieutenant had a cavalier attitude toward life, but he thought Tom
was a better person than that.  Did he like the idea of having sex with no
strings attached and couldn't resist taking advantage of Seven's
opportunity?  Harry set down his clarinet before he broke it in half.
	Seven arrived at his quarters at approximately that time and
announced her presence.  Harry glowered at the doorway, oblivious to the
identity behind it.  He wasn't in much of a mood to entertain a visitor.
"Whoever you are, this had better be good," he muttered.  When Seven
appeared in the door frame he jumped from anger to apprehension.  His
memory of her nudity was still too recent.  "Seven!  I, uh...I didn't know
it was you."
	Seven took a step inside, and Harry reflexively moved back.  "We
must talk, Ensign."
	His eyes skittered across the room, trying to look for an escape.
None were forthcoming.  "T-talk?  What about?"
	"Your apparent discomfort would suggest you already know what it is
I wish to discuss."
	Harry's eyes grew wider.  "Um, I'm not sure if that's...uh, if
that's a good idea...."
	"I assure you, Ensign, my objective here is to eliminate your
discomfort, not contribute to it.  If you would feel more at ease, we could
sit down."
	"Um...."  Harry wasn't sure what to make of this.  He doubted that
Seven would ordinarily volunteer to sit for the sake of someone else's
comfort.  However, the circumstances were far from ordinary, and he
couldn't help but wonder what sort of explanation she had planned.  "Okay,
I guess."
	"Your open-mindedness is most satisfactory, Ensign."  Seven allowed
him to show her to the sofa.  She poised herself rigidly on the edge of the
cushion and ignored how much she disliked her posture.  "Earlier this
evening you walked in on me and Lieutenant Paris performing acts of a
sexual nature."
	Harry blushed and fidgeted.  "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that.
It's just that B'Elanna was upset about Tom lying to her about Ensign
Taylor, and, well, there's no stopping her once she's set her mind on
something...."
	"Apologies are irrelevant, Ensign, although it is clearly against
regulations to enter a crewman's quarters without proper authorisation.
That is another matter, however.  Lieutenant Paris and I were not engaged
in sexual intercourse."
	"You weren't," he echoed hesitantly.
	"No.  Although I did reach climax, it was not achieved through
explicit copulation.  The lieutenant utilised a technique referred to as
'foreplay'."
	That was extravagantly more information than what Harry wanted to
hear.  He would have actually preferred that the whole evening be erased
from his memory.  The knot in his throat twisted even tighter as he
wrestled with the crumbling reality that his best friend had betrayed him.
"Why...why?  I can't believe Tom would do this."
	"He would not," Seven answered plainly.  "I had to enforce his
participation."
	"Wh-what?"  Harry reeled from the impact of her statement.  She
initiated it?  "Seven, what the hell is going on?"
	"On stardate 51075.8 Lieutenant Paris volunteered to help me adapt
to life on *Voyager* in any way possible.  Two days ago I began
experiencing a change in my biochemistry, specifically linked to the
production of hormones.  The behavioural side effects resulting from that
change were unexpected and unpredictable, prompting me to seek out the
Doctor's advice.  The Doctor informed me that my condition would correct
itself on its own.  However, I was not content to wait an undetermined
amount to time.  I did not know how extreme my condition would become.
Given Lieutenant Paris' reputation of experience in the sphere of sexual
relationships I concluded that he would be the person most qualified to
guide me through this situation, and his promise to assist me provided the
assurance of his co-operation."
	Harry shook his head.  "And Tom went along with it?"
	"Lieutenant Paris was initially quite hesitant to accede to my
request.  He was slow to accept the ubiquity of his oath.  We eventually
reached a compromise in which the lieutenant would supply instruction on
casual interpersonal communication on the holodeck.  While it did prove
informative in some respects, it did not address my difficulties
adequately.  The remainder of the events that occurred you already know."
	Harry didn't hide his disappointment as Seven's story unfolded.  He
couldn't help thinking that he had eliminated himself from contention two
months ago in the mess hall.  Admittedly, Seven had scared the hell out of
him back then.  She still intimidated him, really.  She was overwhelmingly
smart, attractive and confident.  She also had eidetic memory.  What
happened then certainly would have coloured her decision now.  He didn't
know if he would have had the nerve to follow through if she had asked him,
but he felt slighted that she probably hadn't even considered asking him.
"I see.  Well, I hope you're feeling better now."
	"For the moment my hormonal levels appear to have stabilised.
Thank you for your concern.  I hope I have cleared up any misunderstandings
you may have had."
	"Oh, yeah...yeah, no problem."
	"Very well."  Seven was relieved to stand up again.  "I will let
you return to your evening activities."
	"Uh, thanks."  He saw Seven out and crumpled back into the couch.
He had a lot of serious thinking to do.

Chapter 8

	Tom plunked himself into a chair in the mess hall after a long day
on duty.  He expected it, of course.  Strained relationships always had the
effect of making your day less enjoyable, and he had two of them to contend
with at the same time.  B'Elanna wasn't speaking to him and Harry was
behaving as though his dog had just died, and Tom knew that both of their
behaviours had the same source.  Leave it to Murphy's Law to allow the
worst possible outcome to happen when he least wanted it.
	He looked toward the galley as Neelix's chipper voice drifted
within earshot.  Harry had walked in, still looking forlorn, and Neelix was
making it his business as morale officer to lift his spirits.  Tom didn't
think he'd get very far.  Sure enough, Harry shuffled off into a subdued
area of the dining room not looking any brighter.  It ate Tom up to see his
best friend wallowing in self-pity.  He got up and quietly worked his way
to Harry's table.  "So how's the souffle?"
	"Don't know.  I'm not very hungry."
	Tom sat down and was encouraged that Harry didn't ask him to leave.
"I really didn't want to do it, you know."
	"I know.  Seven told me."  Harry let that hang in the air for a
moment.  Tom waited, hoping to draw him out.  Finally the ensign looked up.
"It's kind of incredible, though.  You really had no say in it?  I'd think
you'd have found a way out if you really wanted."
	"Have you ever known a Borg to take 'no' for an answer?"
	Harry's stare got a little harder.  "She's not Borg anymore,
remember?"
	"Harry, she still thinks and acts like one.  She may not be part of
the Collective or go around assimilating people, but in the ways that count
she's still Borg.  Her way of thinking is different from ours.  You can't
deny that."
	"Well, maybe you're right."  Harry left it at that.  To admit that
Tom was right would be like letting him off the hook, and he wasn't sure if
he was ready to forgive him yet.
	"You're mad at me because Seven asked me instead of you, aren't
you?  No, don't answer that.  Of course you are.  I'd be mad at me, too."
Tom nervously shifted.  "I really tried to convince her that you were a
better choice, honest I did.  She just didn't want to scare you
off...again."
	Harry noticed the long break and suddenly realised the implication.
He sunk a little deeper into his chair.  "She told you."
	"Um, yeah, she did.  Don't worry, this will just be our little
secret, I promise."
	"Yeah, until Seven decides to tell someone else," Harry muttered.
"I think now's a good time to forget about her. I haven't got a chance of
getting her to feel the same way about me anyway."
	Tom laughed nervously.  "Funny you should mention that, Harry...."
	"Is this seat taken?"
	Harry and Tom both looked up in surprise at Seven.  "Uh, how long
have you been standing there, Seven?" Harry asked meekly.
	"If you are concerned about the privacy of your discussion with
Lieutenant Paris, do not worry.  I just arrived.  I only heard the
lieutenant's last utterance."  She sat down beside the ensign with a plate
of nutritional supplements.  Tom breathed a silent sigh of relief.
	The conversation remained dormant for a long moment, however.
Neither Tom nor Harry wanted to pick up their discussion with Seven in
attendance.  Seven, similarly, still felt awkward about engaging anyone in
social parlance.  Her previous attempts already that day had not fared much
success.  She simply stared in consternation at the meal in front of her.
	Harry noticed it but was reluctant to ask what was bothering her.
He shifted a glance at Tom, who was trying hard to look elsewhere other
than at the two occupants at his table.  He'd get no out from the
lieutenant.  Bearing down, Harry forged ahead.  "You look troubled, Seven.
Got a problem you can't figure out?"
	"You are correct, Ensign.  I have tried talking to Lieutenant
Torres several times today about the prior evening, but so far I have
failed miserably.  She has repeatedly refused to grant me audience."
	"That's B'Elanna all right; stubborn as a mule," Tom sighed.
	Seven looked up at the lieutenant.  "Are you certain she will not
speak to you instead?"
	Tom snorted.  "I highly doubt it, Seven.  Whatever she feels about
you will be five times worse for me.  I bet she still feels like bashing my
head in."
	Harry twisted his napkin into a knot.  "Look, let me try talking to
her, okay?"
	Tom looked at him as if he'd just sprouted antennae.  "Harry?"
	"You would do this for us, Ensign," Seven stated more than asked.
"Why?"
	"None of this should have happened."  He looked at Tom.  "I know
you lied to B'Elanna about the flying lessons, but we had no right to break
into your quarters.  Neither of us were thinking.  One quick call over the
comm line could have prevented all of this.  I should have known better."
	Tom couldn't keep his mouth from hanging open.  "Gosh, Harry, I
don't know what to say."
	Seven, however, had that covered.  Hesitantly she leaned over and
placed a light kiss on Harry's cheek. Tom gasped in amused disbelief.
	She broke the kiss and placed a hand on one of Harry's.  "Thank
you, Ensign.  Your assistance is greatly appreciated."
	Harry was completely flustered.  Tom imagined his infatuation with
her was returning in full force.  The ensign nervously cleared his throat.
"Any-anytime."  He got up and left, leaving his half-eaten dinner at the
table.
	Seven ate.  Tom stared incredulously as Harry walked out of the
mess hall, inattentive of everyone he passed along the way.  "Where'd you
learn to do that?" he asked.
	"I read that a kiss, when applied correctly, can be used to convey
gratitude."  She looked at Tom with concern.  "I hope I did not do it
wrong."
	"I doubt that Harry would have noticed the difference anyway if you
had."

			*	*	*

	Harry walked into Engineering and carefully looked around for
Lieutenant Torres.  The engine room was almost deserted.  He wondered what
kind of maintenance was being performed at this time of night.  He stopped
in front of the warp drive assembly, watching the incandescent swirls of
energy create kaleidoscopic patterns.  Of all things, he was feeling
guilty.  He and B'Elanna were nearly as responsible for this mess as Tom
and Seven were.  They had broken into Tom's cabin on the spur of B'Elanna's
mistrust and quick temper.  Had they contacted him over the comm instead of
chasing him around the ship the situation would probably not have escalated
to such an extreme disaster.  And here he was in the unlikely role as
mediator, about to confront a person he'd prefer to avoid right now.
	Lieutenant Carey spotted the ensign from the chief engineer's
station.  "Can I help you, Harry?"
	Harry looked to his left and smiled as Carey approached.  "Oh, hi,
Joe.  I just came down to see B'Elanna.  Know where she is?"
	A sharp clatter of metal and a hail of Klingon profanities cut off
Joe's answer.  He grinned sheepishly a chucked a thumb in the direction of
the profanity.  "Over there.  Good luck."
	Harry sighed.  He would have preferred to talk to B'Elanna in a
better mood, but he had to resign himself to the fact that sour moods were
practically her natural condition.  "Thanks...I think."  He walked over to
an open access hatch.  He heard Torres curse again, confirming her location
within the Jefferies Tube.  He knelt down and poked his head through the
entrance.  "Hey, how's it going in there?"
	"Oh, just peachy, Harry," she grumbled, frowning as she analysed
the readings on her tricorder.  She grabbed a tool and thrust her arm back
into the maze of conduits, connectors and relays.
	"Working late, huh?"
	"The ship isn't going to fix itself."
	"Need a hand?"
	"Not really, but I suppose it would speed things up."
	Harry crawled into the access tunnel with the uneasy feeling of
approaching a cornered animal.  Sidling up to her, he looked at the type of
repairs she was working on and frowned.  "These only look like minor
problems, B'Elanna.  I'm sure someone from one of the relief crews could
have handled this."
	Torres stopped her repairs and stared coolly at the ensign.  The
animal was preparing to defend itself.  "Does this conversation have a
point?"
	"This is what you've been doing with Seven, isn't it?  Creating
busywork for yourself so you wouldn't have to talk to her."
	She stiffened.  "Tom convinced you to speak for them, didn't he?  I
thought you'd have known better after what happened last night."
	"Tom didn't have to convince me of anything.  We broke into his
quarters, remember?  Last time I remember that was still considered against
regulations, not to mention an invasion of privacy."
	"You ought to know that two people in a relationship can't keep
secrets from each other."
	"That doesn't excuse what you did."
	B'Elanna slammed the instrument in her hand onto the deck plate
with a resounding thump.  "Harry, he cheated on me and lied to me about it. 
I was stupid to think he'd ever be serious about a committed relationship;
he lets his dick make all his decisions for him."
	Harry rankled a bit at her vulgarity and stubbornness.  "If you
could stop for a minute and take the time to hear them out, you'd find out
that Tom didn't do any of the things you're accusing him of.  In fact, Tom
didn't have a choice in what happened; it was all Seven's idea."
	"And you bought that?  Harry, of all the excuses Tom could have
come up with, that has got to be the lamest."
	"I didn't find out from Tom, B'Elanna.  Seven told me."
	B'Elanna switched off the harmonic phase adjuster in her hand.
Doubt worked its way into her ridged brow.  "Seven told you that?"
	"Tom made some kind of promise a while back to help her adjust to
her new life.  That's who she went to see when her hormonal drive began
reasserting themselves.  He tried to back out of it but she wouldn't let
him.  Ask her yourself if you don't believe me."
	She huddled there quietly, obviously trying to come to grips with
the information presented.  Harry wondered just how much of a battle it was
for her to integrate it into her own perception of events, if she even
accepted it.  It was true that B'Elanna usually had firmly set ideas on the
way that things should be.  Changing her opinion about anything required a
lot of patience and proof.  She suddenly turned back to the jumble of
circuitry and cables and resumed her work.  For a moment Harry thought she
was ignoring him.  "On second thought, Harry, I won't need your help after
all.  I've got things under control here."
	Harry couldn't tell by her reaction what she had decided, but he
wasn't about to press.  "Sure, okay.  I'll see you tomorrow then."
	"Hm," she mumbled in reply.

			*	*	*

	For the first time in several days, the dreams did not invade
Seven's consciousness.  While the last 33 hours had been wildly
unpredictable and distressing, a benefit had been achieved.  Lieutenant
Paris' unorthodox bedding session had helped stabilise her condition.  A
quick recovery now seemed imminent.  She would remember to thank him for
fulfilling his promise...away from the company of Lieutenant Torres, of
course.
	Her regeneration was suddenly and unpleasantly terminated by an
external input command.  Seven opened her eyes to view the culprit.  The
stern visage of Lieutenant Torres looked back at her.  "Is it true, what
Harry said?"
	"That would depend entirely upon what Ensign Kim reported.  I have
not spoken to him since the last meal period."
	The lieutenant looked slightly annoyed.  "You were the one to
propose getting intimate with Tom?"
	"Yes."
	"Because of some lame promise he made a while back?"
	"I believe Lieutenant Paris' sincerity was genuine at the time he
made the promise, but it is clear that he was not prepared for the full
implications of that act."
	"So he really tried to decline your proposal, but you wouldn't let
him?"
	"Yes.  In retrospect I should not have enforced his participation
so stringently.  I did not anticipate the level of irrationality of the
persons involved."
	Lieutenant Torres dug her nails into her palms, struggling to avoid
making a rude remark.  For someone with such a volatile disposition the
feat was indeed impressive.  Of equal concern to Seven, though, was how
quickly she ired in the first place.  Lieutenant Torres always seemed to
become agitated rather quickly when she conversed with her, but then the
lieutenant had quite openly declared her contempt of her in their prior
meetings.  "Well, the next time you feel like balling someone's brains out,
try masturbating.  We'll all be better off."  Without waiting for a reply,
the lieutenant turned around and stomped out of the cargo bay.
	The bluntness of the suggestion set Seven back a little as she
watched the engineer leave.  She comprehended the definition of
masturbation, though honestly what it meant deeply troubled her.  She
didn't know if the lieutenant was supportive of her plight or simply
hostile and vindictive.  Either way, it appeared that the issue had been
resolved between them.  Seven could now concentrate on other matters with
more efficiency.  She also made a mental note to invest some time into
researching more about masturbation.

Epilogue

	Seven continued categorising blocks of data from the latest set of
logs created by the improved astrometric sensors.  Many humans would have
considered it a chore, but she found it a rewarding result of her
abilities.  She also didn't consider herself to be human, either, at least
in the comparison to those around her.  The individuals that comprised the
crew of *Voyager* -- some a great deal more than others -- still defied
comprehension.  However, at least with Captain Janeway's tutelage she knew
how to tolerate their bizarre behaviours, even if she couldn't understand
them.
	The hiss of compressed air forced her to stop work and look over at
the entrance.  "Ensign Kim, your presence was not expected.  Why are you
here?"
	The ensign smiled timidly.  "Neelix wanted me check up on you.  He
got worried when you didn't show up for dinner."
	"An unintentional delay, I assure you.  I was deeply immersed in my
current activities."
	"'Time flies when you're having fun', huh?"
	"I suppose that is one way of putting it."
	"Well, Neelix will have a fit if I don't return to the mess hall
without you.  Feel like taking a break?"
	How she felt was irrelevant.  The break would be necessary, though,
now that her body was becoming more accustomed to processing the nutrients
of real food.  She did not want to risk upsetting the Doctor again after
the last time he'd caught her skipping meals.  She saved the data and
turned off the console.  "I am ready."  In an act of chivalry the ensign
allowed her passage into the corridor first.
	The walk was quiet.  Seven was content to bear it out, but Ensign
Kim likely found it difficult.  The Doctor's lessons in socialising suited
the situation well.  She detested doing it.  Unfortunately, the Doctor
stressed the importance of employing as often as she could to get
accustomed to the behaviour and develop a rapport with the crew.  It would
be easier with the ensign, though, considering the numerous times they had
already worked together.  "Have Lieutenants Torres and Paris made a
reconciliation yet?  I have not had the occasion to speak to either of them
about it in the last two days."
	Ensign Kim did not look any more comfortable.  "Uh, not exactly.
B'Elanna's still a little sore with Tom about the whole thing.  I'm not
really sure when it'll blow over.  Tom's got his work cut out for him."
	"Lieutenant Paris is a persistent individual.  As long as he views
the situation as not impossible to overcome, he will not give up."  They
stepped inside a turbolift and headed toward the mess hall.  Seven watched
Ensign Kim.  He still looked to be in distress.  "Is there something
further you want to discuss, Ensign?"
	"Uh," he swallowed.  "How's that problem of yours coming?"
	"I have fully recovered.  The Doctor gave me a positive report of
health during my check-up yesterday."
	"That's...good to hear, Seven."
	Seven looked at him quizzically.  "You do not sound all that glad,
Ensign.  It is obvious that you are still physically attracted to me.
Perhaps you wish I had not stabilised so quickly."
	He blushed and stammered.  "No, really, I'm glad you're okay."  A
few seconds passed awkwardly.  "If...if it happens again, though, I'd be
willing to, uh...help...you."
	"That is kind of you to offer, but that will no longer be
necessary."
	"Uh, it isn't?"
	"That's correct.  During my discussion with Lieutenant Torres she
suggested I try masturbation to curb my sexual impulses.  After researching
the technique I have discovered it to be vastly more efficient than
intercourse."
	The turbolift stopped, the doors opening on Deck 2.  Seven took
three steps out and realised the ensign was not accompanying her.  She
looked back into the turbolift, where Ensign Kim, once again looking sickly
pallid, leaned against the wall of the car.  "Are you feeling all right,
Ensign?  I could escort you to Sickbay if you would like.  It is not that
far away from the mess hall."
	"N-no, that's...that's okay.  I think I just need to lie down in my
quarters for a while."  With a shaking hand, Ensign Kim pressed a button,
and the turbolift doors mercifully closed shut.

En