Requirements for J/7 Alcove Spring Challenge:
- Spring theme: rabbits, barbeques, kiddies, kite flying,
cleaning, flowers (all arbitrary associations, depending on what part of the
world you’re from)
- Rabbit: a hare, actually
- Flowers blooming: homegrown and from the hydroponics bay
- Something being born: love (simply stated)
- 1200 words: precisely, not including title and headers
The Hare
"Around that rock outcrop is another beautiful beach. Maybe later tonight
we can take a midnight stroll?" Jacob whispered impulsively into Kathryn’s
ear.
Janeway chuckled at his eagerness. What Jacob Rush lacked in decorum, he
made up for in enthusiasm. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to be walking with
someone she barely knew—even an ambassador—on a dark, deserted beach, so she
looked for a polite way to ignore him. "Everyone is having a great time," she
said, gesturing to various crewmembers dotting the landscape. And it was true;
everyone was enjoying shore leave, even Seven, who was apparently succumbing
to the idea of participating in inefficient activities—having actually
chosen to partake in leave, and even at this moment, was helping Naomi fly a
kite. The sight warmed her, and if Janeway hadn’t felt that joining them would
prove intrusive, she would have.
The Ambassador followed the Captain’s gaze. At the other end of the beach,
the drone, whom he had met earlier, was holding a kite in the air. At the
other end of the kite’s string was a little girl. Just as the kite was almost
airborne, Voyager’s EMH appeared next to the little girl and handed her a cup.
She dropped the ball of string and accepted the drink zealously.
From somewhere in the crowd, someone hollered, "Food’s on!"
Janeway watched Naomi grab Seven’s hand and tug her towards the crowd. The
EMH picked up the kite string, which lay discarded on the beach, and then
followed them quickly.
Jacob tracked them. "Interesting couple."
"Hmm . . . ?" Janeway asked quizzically.
"A hologram and his Borg," he explained.
Janeway eyed him. "Seven isn’t his Borg."
He misunderstood. "Oh, yes, human . . . but all those implants . . .
."
"Her implants make you uncomfortable?"
"Well, they’re Borg implants. Don’t they make you a tad?"
"No."
"They’re very intrusive," he commented.
A small, private smile graced her lips. "Oh, I don’t know. I find them
uniquely charming."
ΩΩΩΩ
Listening to the EMH chatter, Naomi, chewing happily on her hotdog, sat on
the picnic bench between him and Seven. "I don’t like him," she commented
off-handedly.
"Naomi, how do you know you don’t like him? You’ve never met him," the
Doctor rebuked.
"Doesn’t matter, I just know," she said smartly. "And, I hope the Captain
doesn’t go with him to the spring dance."
He pursed his lips. "Well, that’s not very nice. Don’t you think the
Captain should have fun, too?"
"She can have more fun with someone else."
"Like whom?" he asked skeptically.
"Seven," she said with an insistent nod at the tall blond.
The Tortoise
Down the corridor, Naomi spotted the very person she had been looking for.
Maybe Seven would help her read Aesop’s Fables. Hoisting her book under
her arm, she jostled around the corner. Her little legs doing double-time, she
trotted up alongside Seven.
Seven glanced to the side. "Naomi Wildman."
"Hi, Seven," she replied with as much maturity as she could muster. "I was
wondering if you could help me read my book."
"When I return."
In response, the little Ktarian grinned happily, hugged her book tighter to
her chest, and struggled to keep pace. "Whatcha doin’?"
"I am delivering this to the Captain," Seven said evenly, referring to the
clay pot in her hands.
Naomi, her eyes drawn to the pink flowers in the pot, strode purposefully
next to the ex-Borg. Unable to stifle her curiosity any longer, she burst out.
"What are they for?"
"For her quarters."
"Why?"
"There is not any reason."
"Oh," Naomi said, pausing to consider this new piece of information. Then
she grinned up at Seven. "You like her, don’t you?"
"To whom are you referring?" Seven asked with a brief smile of her own.
"The Captain, silly!" she huffed. Swinging her arms and legs energetically
to keep up, she waited for an answer. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Seven questioned with a lift of her brow as she came to an
abrupt halt in front of the turbolift.
"You like her," Naomi whispered conspiratorially. "I can tell."
ΩΩΩΩ
"Come." Janeway’s voice rang out.
The doors slid open and Seven strode into the captain’s quarters. Stopping
just inside the doors, she looked for Janeway.
"Who’s there?" Janeway called.
Seven turned towards the sound of the Captain’s voice and observed her
lying on the floor, the top half of her body buried in replicator innards.
Not hearing any reply, Janeway pulled her head out from behind the
replicator door. "Who’s—Seven!" Janeway exclaimed. Grabbing the magnaspanner
from inside the replicator, she mumbled, "Can’t leave this in there."
Coming up next to where Janeway crouched on the floor, Seven shifted the
pot to her left arm, and extended the right one, volunteering assistance to
the captain. Janeway clasped the offered hand and pulled herself up. Standing
face-to-face, Seven noticed the grease marks on Janeway’s nose. She had the
urge to wipe away the smudges, but she knew that would be too intimate a
gesture for the captain to accept gracefully.
"I was just doing a little spring cleaning. Not being very successful at
it, but I had to give it a go. My morning cup o’ joe has been stale lately,"
Janeway commented while wiping grease off the magnaspanner. Glancing up, she
finally noticed the flowers in Seven’s arms. She tossed an inquisitive look at
the ex-drone.
"I brought these for you," Seven said, handing the clay pot to Janeway.
A stunned look crossed the captain’s face. "For me?" she asked
disbelievingly.
The ex-Borg nodded.
"Seven, they’re beautiful!" Janeway warmed the other woman with her smile.
"Pink calla lilies?"
"Correct. Zantedeschia rehmannii," Seven responded. "I’ve been growing them
in hydroponics. . . . I thought they would brighten your quarters."
"How thoughtful of you," she said, gazing softly at the blond. "Thank you,
Seven. It’s been so long since someone brought me flowers."
Slow and Steady
"Here they come," Naomi said barely able to contain her excitement.
As the Captain and Ambassador Rush approached, Seven squeezed the little
girl’s hand as a tiny warning to lower her voice.
Not for the first time that night, Kathryn’s admiring gaze fell over the
beautiful Borg. "You look stunning, Seven."
"Thank you, Captain. You are looking beautiful as well," Seven
complemented.
"Seven is my escort tonight," Naomi piped in.
Kathryn bent over. "Is she now? Then you must be a very special young
woman."
Naomi giggled at that.
Just then the band started up, playing a slow jazz tune.
"Kathryn, shall we?" Rush asked, offering his arm.
Janeway nodded, linked her arm in his, and they made their way onto the
dance floor.
Naomi turned a confused look on Seven. "You should have asked her to dance
first," she stated emphatically.
"This endeavor requires patience," Seven remarked.
Naomi watched Rush put his arm around the Captain, pulling her closer. The
little girl twisted up her face in disgust and looked at Seven. "But he’s—"
"Naomi, do you recall Aesop’s fable, "The Hare and the Tortoise"?
The little girl scowled for a second, and then smiled mischievously. "Oh, I
get it . . . slow and steady wins the race."
Seven nodded in affirmation. "Indeed."
The End
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