Archive of Our Own

Seven of Nine sat patiently at the helm of her ship, the Cyrene, and carefully watched the approach of another ship: the Spirit. It was an older Federation vessel the size of a runabout. It had just come out of warp and was approaching the unnamed planetoid the Cyrene was circling in a geosynchronous orbit, at the edge of Federation space in the Beta quadrant. As the Spirit entered orbit alongside Seven's ship, a notification popped up on the holographic display with a soft ding. The Spirit was hailing her. With practiced hands, Seven opened a channel. A male xB with dark hair appeared on the holo display. His eyes focused on her and a soft smile spread across his face.

"Hello, Seven," he said, in an easy, friendly tone.

Seven's mouth quirked into a half smile. "Hello, Hugh," she returned, her voice coloured by the pleasure she felt at seeing him. "You're early," she noted.

Hugh shrugged affably. "I made good time."

Seven glanced at the chronometer on her display. "This puts us a few hours ahead of schedule," she observed.

Hugh raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," Seven replied. She had been running a diagnostic on the Cyrene's backup systems while she waited on Hugh, but the computer had completed that task. "Now we have ample time to kill. If you're ready, you can beam over now and have a drink."

Hugh nodded at the suggestion. "Please." He glanced down and appeared to punch in commands on his helm's 2D dash, likely putting the old ship on auto to maintain orbit. When he was finished he stood, stepped back, and smiled. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Seven deftly worked the Cyrene's holo controls and locked onto Hugh's lifesigns, activating the transporter. She watched as Hugh was enveloped in shimmering light and disappeared from the Spirit's bridge. She turned quickly enough to see him reappear on the small transporter pad on the Cyrene's bridge.

Seven set her own ship to auto, then strode over to the transporter pad to meet Hugh. He stepped down and held his arms out as he approached. Although Seven was not known for her hugs, she wrapped her arms around Hugh and allowed him to hug her back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, Seven," Hugh said, his voice muffled as he spoke into Seven's shoulder.

"Likewise," Seven replied. She meant it. Seven was not accustomed to dissembling or lying, and Hugh was a good friend and a sweet man. She was always happy to see him.

After a long hug, Seven stepped backward and gestured aftward, to an open doorway which led to a small galley. "Do you want something to drink? I have bourbon. Or I can replicate you something non alcoholic."

Hugh chuckled softly. "Oh, please, no synthehol. I'll try the bourbon."

Seven couldn't blame him. Synthehol disagreed with Borg physiology. "One bourbon, right this way." Seven led Hugh through the open doorway toward the small galley where Hugh took a seat at an equally small, square table. The Cyrene was not a Sovereign- or Realm-class starship transporting diplomats and scientists; it was a small, scrappy fighter designed for one to three people, and as such, the galley was not particularly impressive. However, there was a hot plate, replicator, cold storage, a sink, and some counter space. Seven opened the cabinet above the sink and withdrew the bourbon and two of the glasses she had stored there. It was not a particularly expensive bourbon, nor was it the best tasting, but Seven considered it sufficient. She eyed the bourbon carefully as she poured approximately two ounces of the brown liquid into each glass.

Hugh sat patiently at the table, watching Seven move about and took a glass from Seven's outstretched hand. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Hugh replied. Seven walked around the table to the replicator and pulled up the menu, which displayed her most commonly-chosen items. Some were snacks the computer claimed complemented bourbon. Seven made her selection and watched as a plate of brie and crackers appeared.

Seven set the plate on the small table and took a seat across from Hugh. She studied his face as he examined bourbon. Hugh was a handsome man, with an honest and earnest face. In the galley's poor lighting, the scars from Hugh's facial reconstruction made him look tired, but he had an intense gaze. His eyes - one brown, one blue - met Seven's and he held up his glass.

"Cheers," he said. Seven followed Hugh's direction and their glasses clinked.

"Cheers." Seven took a small sip of her bourbon. She could have easily downed it all, but then she'd just pour another glass, and she still had to pilot the ship. Instead, she picked up a cracker and nursed her drink.

Hugh took a modest drink of the bourbon himself, then set his glass down. "So," he said, in a business-like tone. "You said you had charted a new course to the Artifact."

"Yes." Seven reached for the padd that sat on the counter and pulled up the flight app. "I've managed to cut travel time by two hours, while avoiding Sesar territory in the former neutral zone." She handed the pad to Hugh, who picked it up and examined it carefully.

"Much more efficient," Hugh observed. "Thank you."

Seven nodded in reply, then leaned back in her chair. "May I ask you a serious question?"

Hugh looked up from the padd, curiosity written on his face. "Of course."

"Are you prepared to step back onto a Borg cube?"

That made Hugh blanch. He sighed heavily and set down the padd. "Honestly? I don't know."

Seven looked down into her glass. "The times I have been on Borg vessels as an individual have not always been pleasant."

"I won't lie, I'm anxious," Hugh said. "But given the cube has suffered submatrix collapse, I'm not as anxious as I could be."

Seven shook her head. "I was referring more to the possible emotional response. You were assimilated, your individuality stolen. You assisted in the assimilation of countless species."

"Not countless," Hugh said quietly. "I know how many."

"I don't mean to upset you," Seven said. "I just want you to be prepared. You suffered a trauma, and returning to a Borg cube might trigger a response."

Hugh rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're talking about post-traumatic dysphoria. I've never been diagnosed with that."

Seven raised her eyebrow. "Have you ever seen a psychiatrist or therapist?"

Hugh snorted into his drink. "Well, you've got me there."

"I haven't seen a psychiatrist either," Seven confided. "But that doesn't mean I don't have it."

Hugh paused to spread some brie over a cracker. After a long moment he said, "I can't say what my reaction will be. But this is something I have to do."

"Why?"

Hugh leaned back in surprise, his eyes wide. "Seven, there are people there to help. People like us."

Seven shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Why is it something you have to do?"

"Who else should it be?" asked Hugh. His usually soft voice went up in volume a little. "Who knows more about de-assimilating Borg than me? Well, except for you perhaps."

"Perhaps," Seven said. "But I do not have the temperament for the job, Hugh. You do."

"Well, there you go."

Seven grimaced. She couldn't argue with Hugh on that point. But while Seven had expressed concern over his possible reaction to being on the Artifact, Seven was indeed worried about his safety. Hugh, who was dear to Seven, was not someone she wanted to lose.

Hugh seemed to understand what Seven couldn't say. He reached out and put his hand over Seven's. "I'll be safe. I promise."

Seven felt her chest tighten. Icheb had made almost the exact same promise to her when he told her he wanted to help the Fenris Rangers. Seven pulled her hand away to pick up her bourbon and take a drink.

Hugh frowned. "You don't believe me."

Seven sighed heavily. "It's not that. I just don't think working on a Borg cube in Romulan space is the safest of vocations, submatrix collapse or not."

"Neither is being a Fenris Ranger," Hugh said, wincing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I'm so sorry, Seven. I didn't mean it that way, I - "

"It's okay, Hugh." Seven knew Hugh well, and he would never try to hurt someone that way. "But you understand why I worry, don't you? The Romulans have little regard for xBs. Even ones that are Federation citizens, like us." She gestured toward the wall, where a viewscreen showed the Spirit in orbit. "They wouldn't even send an escort for you."

Hugh's mouth turned down a little at that. "I know," he said with a heavy voice. "And I appreciate your concern, Seven. But I want to give the Borg on that cube what we have. They need someone who cares about them, that doesn't fear or hate them."

Seven frowned, but nodded slowly. "I know they do. And I know this is something you have to do."

"It is," Hugh agreed. He chewed carefully on a cracker and took a sip of his bourbon to wash it down. After several seconds he spoke. "Thank you for the ride."

"Of course," Seven said. Truthfully, she would not have trusted anyone else to escort her friend to the Artifact. The Romulan Empire had been scattered across the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and while they were picking up their lives (without much help from the Federation), the former neutral zone was filled with bad actors of all kinds. The only way to the Artifact was to traverse that space. When Hugh had asked the Federation for transport, they offered Hugh the Spirit, but nothing else. The Federation's treaty with the Romulans allowed him to operate on the Artifact, but offered little in the way of help. The Federation, Seven had realised long ago, was far less noble than the crew of Voyager had led her to believe.

"So," Hugh said after several moments of silence, clearly trying to change the subject. He leaned in with his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hand. "How is Seven of Nine?"

"You know me, Hugh," Seven said lightly, reaching for the knife and a cracker. "I'm fine.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Hugh asked.

Seven made a face. "'Seeing?' No." Seven did not date, and had not in a long time. "You know I find romantic entanglements…"

Hugh smiled ironically. "Futile?"

Seven made a face at that. "Unproductive." She picked up her glass and threw back the last of her bourbon, then picked up a cracker.

"Well," Hugh said, his face adopting a mischievous expression. "Have you fucked anyone lately?"

Seven choked on her cracker as Hugh laughed. "Computer," he said, turning to the replicator. He was still chuckling as he asked for ice water. A glass materialized, and Hugh handed it to Seven. He waited patiently as she took several small sips. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I was being funny."

"It's okay," Seven said. And it was; Hugh was just so rarely crass.

"You don't have to answer," Hugh said.

Seven laughed. "It doesn't matter," she said. "The answer is no." Seven was extraordinarily careful about who she allowed into her life, even for brief sexual encounters. She supposed a therapist would have something to say about that, but Seven wasn't eager to find out. She nodded in Hugh's direction. "What about you?"

"Me?" Hugh shrugged, then rolled his eyes. "Same old Hugh. Although, I was set up on a blind date while on Deep Space 7."

"And?"

"It was a Starfleet friend who set us up. Jess Freeman, the engineer on the Yousafzai?"

Seven nodded. "I know of the ship."

Hugh made a face. "They didn't tell my date I was ex-Borg." Hugh swallowed the last of his bourbon. "Her communicator went off a half hour into the date and she had an 'emergency.'" Seven could hear the sarcasm in Hugh's voice as he made air quotes with his fingers. "It was awkward."

By Hugh's tone, Seven knew the blind date was more than awkward; that Hugh was hurt. He concealed it well and was too nice to call anyone names or use invective. While Seven had become more short-tempered over the years, Hugh had become calmer, more patient. It was one reason Hugh would be a wonderful asset to the Borg Reclamation Project, although Seven still worried for him. Regardless, Seven thought Hugh had a right to be angry. Ex-Borg were treated like shit, and she knew this wasn't the first time Hugh had been mistreated by someone in the allegedly tolerant Federation.

Seven's sense of humour was seriously lacking, but she still asked, "Did you dump your drink in her lap at least?" She hoped Hugh remembered her favourite method of dealing with rude dinner companions.

Hugh did chuckle, and shook his head. "Now that you've suggested it, I wish I had. We were drinking Merlot and she was in a white suit." Hugh grinned and Seven joined him in laughter.

Still chuckling, Seven glanced at her padd. They were still ahead of schedule, but if they arrived at the Artifact early, Seven could look around the cube and vet it herself. Hugh was an adult individual, and could surely do that himself, but seeing the cube would make Seven feel better. When she voiced that thought, Seven was certain Hugh would object and was ready to try to convince him. However, to her surprise, Hugh glanced at his wrist computer and agreed.

"We can leave now, if that works for you," Hugh offered. He winked. "Provided you've adequately processed that bourbon."

Seven smiled at the joke. Having both been Borg, and being in possession of livers that were not entirely organic, a single serving of alcohol was not enough to intoxicate either of them. "I'm fine; what about my copilot?"

"Copilot? I was planning on playing kal-toh while the computer flew," Hugh joked.

Seven popped one last cracker into her mouth and grinned while chewing, "I'll happily beat you at kal-toh while the computer flies. While we're in Federation space at least." She stood. "Let's get a tractor beam on that thing you call a ship and program the computer."

"You're on," Hugh laughed. He stood and followed Seven on the short trip to the bridge.

Sitting down at the helm, Seven pulled up their flight plan. She glanced over at Hugh, who had taken over a station and appeared to be pulling up the Spirit's remote piloting system to prepare the little ship for towing. Seven cleared her throat. "Ready?"

Hugh nodded, still facing the display . "Ready for tractor beam. Shall I engage?"

"Affirmative," Seven answered. She kept her eyes on the viewscreen as the tractor beam was activated and connected with the Spirit.

After several moments Hugh turned his head toward Seven. "The Spirit is prepared for towing."

"Thank you," Seven said. She quickly ran through the pre-flight sequence. "Leaving orbit at one half impulse…" Seven paused as she navigated the Cyrene away from the planetoid. "...and going to warp."

The Cyrene easily shifted into warp speed. The ship wasn't the fanciest, but she flew smoothly, moved quickly, and could fight. Seven checked their course. "We have six hours and forty-five minutes until we reach the neutral zone. And 17 hours until we reach the Artifact."

"All systems optimal," Hugh reported. He turned in his seat to face Seven and grinned. "Are you ready to lose at kal-toh?"

Seven chuckled. "Brave words, Hugh. Particularly because you're the one who is going to lose."

Hugh smiled wider at that teasing statement. "You know, we've never played each other in kal-toh before. We'll find out who has the better understanding of spatial harmonics. Hint: it's me."

Seven laughed harder. "Oh, you're asking for it. Fetch the game, Hugh, and prepare to lose."

***

In the end, they tied in four games before approaching what used to be the Romulan neutral zone. They had a thankfully uneventful trip to the Artifact, and after Hugh insisted, the Romulans allowed Seven to board the cube with Hugh.

After a brief tour of the Artifact, Seven was not satisfied the cube was entirely safe, but she supposed she never would be. Hugh seemed comforted by the Romulans' security measures, and Seven had to admit they were being careful. Still, they received a lot of long stares as they were guided around key parts of the cube by a Romulan named Terralok, which worried Seven, as soon there would be a lot more xBs on the Artifact.

Terralok followed behind Seven and Hugh as they slowly made their way back the way they came. Hugh did not seem to have an adverse reaction to being on a Borg cube again. More than anything, he seemed excited at the prospect of starting to work to free the many Borg who were still alive and in regenestasis. He carried a tricorder as they toured the cube and used it to take scans of the occasional drone in their alcove. He had questions for all the Romulan scientists they encountered and as they walked, Hugh told Seven about the experts he was in communication with and recruiting to join the Borg Reclamation Project.

Eventually they made it back to the bay where the Cyrene was docked. The Spirit would be staying on the cube should Hugh need it. Although the Spirit was underpowered with little firepower, Seven was glad they had gone to the trouble of towing it to the Artifact. It could not fly as fast as Cyrene, but Seven didn't like the idea of Hugh depending on anyone else for transportation.

"Well," Hugh said, as Seven used her wrist computer to open the Cyrene's hatch. "Here we are."

"Here we are," Seven agreed.

Hugh turned to Terralok. "May we have a few minutes alone?"

The Romulan stared at them for a prolonged moment. "I have orders to keep my eye on the ex-Borg designated Seven of Nine," he finally said.

"You can observe her just as easily a few metres away," Hugh pointed out. After a pause, Terralok walked backward to stand against a bulkhead, keeping his eyes on Seven. If it weren't a Borg cube, and if Hugh weren't depending on her to not get kicked off the cube, Seven might have said something. She had not been allowed to bring a phaser onto the Artifact, leaving her feeling naked and on edge.

"Your reputation precedes you," noted Hugh. He lowered his voice. "He's a little creepy, don't you think?"

Seven lowered her own voice. "Would you like me to stay nearby for awhile?" While Seven was satisfied that the cube was indeed damaged and had definitely suffered submatrix collapse, the armed Romulans made her uneasy, despite the treaty.

"I appreciate that, I really do. But I'll be okay. And you're needed elsewhere," Hugh said. He spoke softly, but Seven could hear the conviction in his voice. He glanced toward Terralok before adding, "I wish I could calm your fears."

"I think I'll always be a little worried for you," Seven said. It was hard for Seven to admit that. Over the years she had adapted to living as an individual and with the full range of human emotions, but Icheb's death had led Seven to guard her feelings carefully lest they be exploited.

Hugh was much more open with his feelings. He smiled a little after Seventh spoke. "It's appreciated," he said. "I worry about you too."

"Don't," Seven said. "I'll be fine."

"You fly around the quadrant, getting into firefights with all types of dangerous people," Hugh pointed out. "You also got stabbed in a bar fight ten months ago."

"It wasn't that bad of a wound and I'm fine now," Seven argued. She sighed as soon as she heard herself say it, though. "It's what I have to do, Hugh. I would never be able to live with myself if I did nothing to help the people it's within my power to help."

"Neither could I, Seven."

Seven knew that was that. She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a comm chip on a chain, the kind the Fenris Rangers used. She handed it to Hugh and watched as he examined it.

"If you need anything and can't contact me on subspace, use this. For anything," Seven emphasized.

Hugh held the chip tightly in his clasped hand. "I will. I promise."

"You're doing a good thing, Hugh," Seven said. Her eyes began to burn and she fought back tears.

"Oh, Seven," Hugh said. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "I love you, my friend."

Seven returned the hug as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. "I…," started.

"You don't have to say it," Hugh said, rubbing Seven's back.

"You're my best friend," Seven said. "I do love you. Please know that."

Hugh pulled away and wiped at his own watery eyes. "We'll see each other again, Seven. And there will be xBs who will want to hear how you've adapted to life as an individual."

Seven wiped her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. "When that time comes, I'll be here."

"We'll toast to our fellow ex-Borg," Hugh promised.

"That reminds me," Seven said. "I have something for you." She briskly walked through the hatch and into the Cyrene. In the galley there was an unopened bottle of bourbon; the good kind. When she stepped back out Hugh spotted the bottle.

"Ah, you've been holding out on me," Hugh said jokingly.

Seven simply handed the bottle of bourbon to Hugh. "In case you have a bad day," she said. "Or a good one."

Hugh examined the bottle and smiled. "Thank you, Seven. I'll think of you when I open it."

"You're welcome."

Hugh used his free hand to grasp Seven's and gave it a squeeze. "I hope you have a safe journey."

Seven squeezed back and smiled. "Thank you. Please stay safe." Thinking about all the doctors and scientists who would start arriving in just a few days and would answer to Hugh, she added, "Don't be afraid to throw your weight around."

"I will adapt," Hugh assured Seven.

Seven nodded. "Good." She lowered her voice further. "Watch your back. Please."

"I will," Hugh promised. He leaned in and kissed Seven on the cheek. "Please fly safely."

"Of course," Seven said.

Seven stepped through the Cyrene's open hatch. She turned to wave to Hugh, who clutched the bottle of bourbon with one hand and held up the other. The hatch slid shut, leaving Seven alone. She walked through the ship, to the bridge, took her seat at the helm and started up the impulse engines.

The docking control system came over audio. Human vessel, you are clear to disengage. Seven released the docking clamps and carefully backed the ship up. She slowly turned the Cyrene around and began to navigate away from the damaged cube at one quarter impulse. She had a sick feeling in her stomach that she could not explain, except that she feared it might be some time before she saw Hugh again. The feeling persisted as she started up the warp drive and shot away at warp five.

Stop worrying , she told herself. Hugh was so amiable, he'd surely win over the Romulans and the Federation workers. The next time she'd see him he'd likely be thrilled to tell her about his position and all the xBs he'd been able to liberate. He was also capable of taking care of himself.

At that moment, Seven's holo display lit up with a notification. She was being hailed on a frequency the Fenris Rangers used.

Seven of Nine, do you register? Seven recognized the voice as Letitia Rosenblum, a former Maquis and fellow Ranger.

"I register, Letitia. What do you need?"

We received a distress signal from a Romulan civilian vessel just outside the neutral zone. They were attacked and they're dead in the water. Can you rendezvous with the Loki and provide aid?

"I can," Seven responded. The coordinates showed up on the holo display and Seven quickly plotted a new course and increased her speed to warp eight.

Worrying about Hugh would have to wait for now, as Seven navigated toward the distressed ship. While traveling through this region of space her attention had to be on sensors. There were a lot of Romulan ships with cloaking devices that had fallen into non-Romulan hands post-supernova, and while not all people in possession of a Romulan cloaking device were problematic, some definitely were. Seven resolved to send Hugh a message asking how things were on the Artifact - after she made it to the stranded ship and offered whatever aid she could.

While she scanned for cloaked vessels, Seven opened her personal log and began to record.

Seven of Nine, personal log. I have just delivered my friend Hugh to the Borg cube in the Beta quadrant known as the "Artifact" where Hugh will start his tenure as the executive director of the Borg Reclamation Project. When I see him again he will likely have many stories about the ex-Borg he will have liberated. There is no one better for the job than Hugh, and I look forward to hearing from him and learning how the project is going...