From drewry@roanoke.infi.net Mon Oct 06 16:48:22 1997 Path: Supernews70!Supernews60!supernews.com!news.he.net!news.dra.com!feed1.news.erols.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!208.131.160.208!news.infi.net!news.infi.net!not-for-mail From: Laura Taylor Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative,alt.fan.q Subject: NEW: Aspirations 1/? [PG-13] (VOY, 7/Q) Date: Mon, 06 Oct 1997 23:48:22 +0000 Organization: InfiNet Lines: 224 Message-ID: <343978C6.7498@roanoke.infi.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: pm4-187.roanoke.infi.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.02 (Macintosh; I; 68K) Xref: Supernews70 alt.startrek.creative:64327 alt.fan.q:6646 TITLE: Aspirations AUTHOR: Laura Taylor (drewry@roanoke.infi.net) PART: 1/? RATING: PG-13 SERIES/CODES: VOY, Q/7 SUMMARY: Q offers to assist in Seven's reintegration into humanity DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and all that it entails. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain from it is emotional satisfaction. This story is dreadfully noncanonical, but after Alara's plea for a Seven of Nine story, I had to try to fit Q in somehow. It certainly isn't my best work, but in some ways I think it's better than "Oasis." It is really meant to be more of a foundation - a means to establish a "relationship" between Seven and Q - and anyone who wishes to take this premise (once I'm finished) and run with it is more than welcome. This may be added to the ASC and AFQ archives; anyone else, ask first! All comments welcome at drewry@roanoke.infi.net Enjoy! Laura Taylor drewry@roanoke.infi.net ~~~~~ I beheld the wretch - the miserable monster whom I had created. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley _Frankenstein_ It was time. He had been dreading this moment since he first recognized its inevitability - which, one could argue, had been before the birth of Time. That was one of the few drawbacks of omniscience: the vague sensation that every act, every moment, every result that transpired from events he put into motion was inevitable. Now was not the time, however, to debate the metaphysics of omniscience with himself, or to curse the inevitability of consequence and blame himself for mistakes he could not sweep out of existence. Now was the time to claim responsibility. Now was the time to act. But before he intervened, he needed to observe, and to determine the best course of action. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Janeway was relaxing in her quarters amid stacks of padds reflecting the staggering diversity of Voyager's cultural database when her door chime rang. "Open, sesame!" she called out. The doors slid open to reveal her First Officer, a puzzled expression on his face. Janeway did not look up to confirm the expression; she knew it was there just by his uncharacteristic hesitation as Chakotay stood in the doorway. She finished the poem she was reading when he entered and placed the padd on the table, turning it so he could see what had engrossed her attention if his curiosity got the better of him. "What can I help you with, Chakotay?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. "'Open, sesame,' Captain?" he asked. "Scheherazade, from _The Arabian Nights_, it's --" "I know the reference, Captain, I'm just surprised to hear it from you." Janeway smiled and motioned for him to sit. "I'm not all science and Starfleet protocol, Chakotay," she said. "I do have an artistic side that manifests itself every now and then." Chakotay leaned back on his chair and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. "I always knew you had an artistic side, Kathryn, I just never knew you had much interest in classical literature and --" he leaned forward, scanning the padd she had been reading when he entered "-- poetry." He picked up the padd. "_Leaves of Grass_? Whitman? I would have imagined you to be more the Shakespeare type." She grimaced. "Ugh. I had enough Shakespeare in primary school to last me a lifetime. But you're right, I should probably re-acquaint myself with his work." Chakotay raised an eyebrow as he continued to read the padd. "'O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done//The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won...'" he quoted. Janeway leaned forward and reached for the padd. "I don't remember seeing that one," she said. "You haven't gotten that far. I was quoting it from memory. Appropriate to the circumstances, don't you think?" His grin faded. "Why all the sudden interest in literature?" "I just can't get anything past you, can I?" He shook his head. "I thought it might be good for Seven to become familiar with human means of self-expression. Her experience as a Borg has made it possible for her to solve problems accurately and efficiently, but she's lacking in creativity. Even Tuvok has suggested that her thought processes are too linear." Chakotay's eyebrows shot up. "Tuvok said that? *Our* Tuvok? Our Vulcan security chief thinks our resident ex-Borg is too...*logical*?" She smothered a laugh. "He has a point. Seven is either unwilling or unable to consider alternative perspectives. She sees only one approach to any given situation, and more often than not it's the path of least resistance." Chakotay groaned. "Ouch. Bad pun." "That's exactly what I mean. Seven would never have recognized that as a pun, much less a bad one. She's unfamiliar with subterfuge and deceit --" "-- A good thing, if you ask me --" "-- and her idea of humor involves watching us muddle through our 'irrelevant and complex social customs' like a naturalist observing wildlife in the field. I thought that, if I could introduce her to more creative means of expression, such as satire, allegory and poetry, she might grow to appreciate and understand the complexities of human interaction." "A little learning is a dangerous thing, my dear Kathy." Janeway's head whipped around to the right to confront the unexpected arrival as Chakotay leaped to his feet. Q smirked at him. "Don't worry, Commander, I've withdrawn my name from competition for the hand of the fair Captain Janeway." He reached for her hand and bent to kiss it, his eyes never leaving Chakotay's face. Janeway yanked her hand back and used it to rub the muscles she pulled when Q made his presence known. "Q. What do you want this time?" Chakotay puffed out his chest, unconsciously trying to intimidate Q. "Yes, Q, what sort of mischief are you up to?" he growled. Q studied Chakotay, one corner of his mouth turning up in a sly grin. "At ease, Commander. Don't let *me* ruffle your feathers." He snapped his fingers, and Janeway gasped as her First Officer suddenly transformed into a peacock, its brilliant tailfeathers in full display. The bird strutted over to Q and started pecking at his boot. "My, my, aren't we territorial today? How utterly...animalistic." "Q, change him back!" Janeway snapped. Q rolled his eyes. "Oh, do stop mother henning him." At her persistent glare, though, he sighed and snapped his fingers again, and Chakotay reappeared on his knees at Q's feet. "Now *this* is a welcome change." Chakotay climbed to his feet and moved to stand on Janeway's other side. "All right, Q, you've had your fun, now why are you here?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, it's certainly not because you're all so glad to have me," he said. "Q --" "Since you insist on a reason, however, I'm here because of your guest." Janeway looked up at Chakotay, then turned back. "You mean Seven of Nine?" "I do indeed." "Why?" Q snorted. "Humans! You have to have a reason for everything! If you must know --" "-- I do --" "-- I'm here to help her become human." Now it was Chakotay's turn to snort. "*You*? Helping Seven adjust to humanity? I'd sooner ask Tuvok to school her in the art of emotional expression!" Q directed his attention to Janeway. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" She crossed one leg over the other, clasped her hands on her thigh, looked straight at Q and said, "He has a point. What could you possibly have to offer that we don't?" Q considered flinging Voyager back into the heart of Borg space, but decided to humor the audacity of these pathetic, self-righteous mortals for the time being. He did have a mission to accomplish, and sending the ship to almost certain assimilation would not help him achieve his purpose for being here. He stood, facing Janeway and Chakotay, and placed his hands on his hips, mocking her favored don't-mess-with-me-buster pose. "What do I have to offer for her education? How does millennia of observation sound? Not good enough? How about countless opportunities to witness the best *and* the worst that humanity has to offer?" "You mean all those pointless, inane tests you subjected the Enterprise crew to?" Chakotay interrupted. "Those tests were neither pointless nor inane. Picard and company believed they were God's gift to the universe. If they were, then God has a sick sense of humor. I was just trying to show them how small, how insignificant they were in the grand scheme of things, and then push them to strive for greatness, to see that, even in their utter insignificance, their actions produced consequences far beyond their puny imaginations. In short, Commander, I taught them about themselves." Chakotay clenched his jaw muscles, but did not respond. Janeway relaxed her pose, but did not back down. "I'll allow that your interactions with the Enterprise crew may have held some cosmic benefit, but you still haven't convinced me that you're the best person to guide Seven through her reintegration into humanity. Why are you so interested in helping her, considering that she's just as puny, just as limited, just as mortal as the rest of humanity?" Q paced as he spoke. "I presume you're familiar with all my 'interactions,' as you phrased it, with the Enterprise crew?" Janeway nodded. "Then you know that it was I who first introduced them to the Borg?" Janeway watched him, thinking she knew where this conversation was going. "The Borg were already well on their way to Federation space when I orchestrated that meeting; in fact, as you may know by now, they had been making preliminary incursions into the Alpha Quadrant years before Picard ever heard of me. Without the foreknowledge of Borg technology and assimilation practices, the Federation might still have survived the battle at Wolf 359, but it would have subsequently fallen to another power - the Cardassians, perhaps, or maybe the Romulans." "So you're claiming credit for the victory at Wolf 359?" Chakotay asked. Janeway raised her arm and placed a hand on his arm. "'So you're claiming credit for the victory at Wolf 359?'" Q echoed in a sing-song voice. He looked at Janeway. "Is there some unwritten Starfleet rule requiring first officers to be obtuse? I thought Riker was bad, but this clod....No, I'm *not* claiming credit, because the Continuum expressly forbids active involvement in historical events, and that victory was a hollow one, at best. *If* I had engineered a victory for Starfleet, you can be sure it would have been a decisive one, and not the debacle that actually took place." "Then why did you give the Federation foreknowledge of the Borg threat?" Janeway asked. Q stopped his pacing and stared at Janeway. "I want to see her." Janeway stood and approached him. "You haven't answered my question, Q." She sensed Chakotay's movement, and knew that he had positioned himself directly behind her, supporting her unspoken challenge, futile though the effort may be. Q raised his hand, his fingers poised to snap. "I could go directly to her," he said, "but I'd rather you come along." "Stop avoiding the issue, Q." "Or what? Don't threaten me, little lady." "How could I possibly threaten an immortal, omnipotent being? That would be the epitome of arrogance." Q stepped closer to Janeway, leering down at her, but she did not flinch or shrink back. "True. But you've always been a feisty little filly, haven't you? No wonder Squanto is so enamored with you." He took one step back. "If you take me to her, I will show you what you want to know. Otherwise, you'll have to figure it out for yourself." Janeway took a deep breath and turned to look at Chakotay, her eyebrows raised in a silent question. His eyes shifted back and forth between her face and Q's, then he nodded his agreement. TBC... From drewry@roanoke.infi.net Tue Oct 07 17:41:00 1997 Path: Supernews70!Supernews60!supernews.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news-sea-19.sprintlink.net!news-in-west.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!208.131.160.208!news.infi.net!news.infi.net!not-for-mail From: Laura Taylor Newsgroups: alt.fan.q,alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: Aspirations 2/? [PG-13] (VOY, Q/7) Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 00:41:00 +0000 Organization: InfiNet Lines: 168 Message-ID: <343AD69C.24B4@roanoke.infi.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: pm3-145.roanoke.infi.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.02 (Macintosh; I; 68K) Xref: Supernews70 alt.fan.q:6651 alt.startrek.creative:64402 TITLE: Aspirations AUTHOR: Laura Taylor (drewry@roanoke.infi.net) PART: 2/? RATING: PG-13 SERIES/CODES: VOY, Q/7 SUMMARY: Q offers to assist in Seven's reintegration into humanity DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and all that it entails. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain from it is emotional satisfaction. This story is dreadfully noncanonical, but after Alara's plea for a Seven of Nine story, I had to try to fit Q in somehow. It certainly isn't my best work, but in some ways I think it's better than "Oasis." It is really meant to be more of a foundation - a means to establish a "relationship" between Seven and Q - and anyone who wishes to take this premise (once I'm finished) and run with it is more than welcome. This may be added to the ASC and AFQ archives; anyone else, ask first! All comments welcome at drewry@roanoke.infi.net Enjoy! Laura Taylor drewry@roanoke.infi.net ~~~~~ I beheld the wretch - the miserable monster whom I had created. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley _Frankenstein_ Seven of Nine was regenerating in her alcove after what had been, all things considered, a productive day. Commander Chakotay, aware of Lieutenant Torres' ambivalence toward Seven, had assigned her to work in Engineering, and she had spent several hours reconfiguring the plasma conduit bypass protocols. Lieutenant Torres appeared to be satisfied with the quality of Seven's work, and impressed with the speed and efficiency of her work, but Seven was displeased that she had not been able to accomplish more. As a Borg, she had been accustomed to working in short spurts, maximizing the use of her stored energy, then returning frequently to her alcove to regenerate. Humans, on the other hand, tended to work for extended periods of time, stopping only when biological need forced them to rest. Seven's efforts to adapt to this rigorous and ultimately unproductive pace left her feeling weak and drained, and it often took her several hours to achieve the peace and stillness of mind she required in order for regeneration to fulfill her needs. As she rested in her alcove, Seven pondered the strange habits of the humans that had adopted her into their Collective. Lieutenant Torres was particularly driven, and Seven often wondered at the efficacy of working without food or sleep for so long when doing so affected the quality of her work. In that respect, Seven thought Lieutenant Torres' relationship with Lieutenant Paris was beneficial, both to her and to Voyager. It was but one of the many examples of the baffling complexity of human social structures, and Seven despaired of ever understanding how they functioned, much less how they managed to succeed. There were too many variables. Seven heard the doors to Cargo Bay Two open, and leaned forward just enough to observe the intruders. She recognized Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay from their silhouettes, but the man who accompanied them was unfamiliar to her. He was wearing a uniform like theirs, but she had memorized the crew manifest and his face was not included in it. Was he, like her, a recent addition to the Voyager Collective? If so, by what right was he permitted to dress like the others? As the humans approached, Seven stepped out of her alcove to greet them. "Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay," she said, acknowledging each with a slight dip of her head. "Have we interrupted your regeneration, Seven?" Chakotay asked. "B'Elanna tells me you worked quite hard today." "I am sufficiently regenerated, Commander....Thank you for asking." As if human social structure was not confusing enough, linguistic customs were even more so. "Is there something you require of me?" Janeway stepped forward. "There is someone here who wishes to meet you," she said, indicating the man standing next to her. "He came on board just for this purpose." Seven studied the man through her ocular implant. There was something...different about him. Just beneath the surface of his skin, she could see swirls of light and energy, the sparks of trillions of microcosmic nuclear explosions jumping free of his corporeal form like oil splattering a hot griddle. His eyes were dark, darker even than the singularity at the heart of the galaxy, but behind that darkness burned a brightness that outshone the birth of the cosmos. "You are not human," Seven said. He smiled and held out his hand to assist her down from the platform. Without understanding why, she accepted his help. "No, I'm not," he said. "Why do you appear to be human?" He gestured toward Janeway and Chakotay. "I do it for their sake. They cannot fathom me in my natural state." "What are you?" He reached out a finger and stroked her cheek. Seven did not recoil from his touch, but an unexpected humming sensation from her remaining implants made her flinch involuntarily. He just smiled and said, "Do you remember me?" "Q --" Janeway said, maneuvering herself between him and Seven. Seven recognized the designation. "You are a member of the Continuum," she said, aware of the startled looks Janeway and Chakotay gave her. "I have memories of our attempted assimilation of your species, although that was long before my existence." Q shouldered past Janeway and walked behind Seven, who craned her neck to keep him within sight. "Very good, child, but not quite good enough," he purred. "Your Borg memories of me go far beyond that unpleasant experience. Listen to the echoes of the Collective still within your mind." "Q, what the hell is all this about?" Janeway demanded. Q's breath caressed Seven's neck as he responded, "All in good time, my dear Captain, all in good time. Can you hear the voices?" he asked. Seven closed her eyes against the emptiness, the inky black silence that had once been the endless hum of the Collective. "No. The voices are gone." "The voices are never gone. Listen for them." "Q, her link to the Collective has been severed," Chakotay said. Q sighed in exasperation. "I *know* that, Commander. As you should know, however, the voices remain lodged in the subconscious long after the link has been severed. She just hasn't been able to access her subconscious." "What good could it do her to rediscover the comfort of the voices? It would hamper her reintegration into humanity." Q's eyes glittered with restrained malice. "'Beware the fury of a patient man,' Angry Warrior. *I* know what I'm doing. You don't." He ignored Chakotay's grumbling and returned his attention to Seven. Her eyes were closed so tight tears were being squeezed out, and her lips were trembling. Q took a moment to examine her, before proceeding. She was quite lovely, even for a human, and especially for a Borg. The enlarged mammaries were a bit excessive - Q remembered the controversy that had ensued when one of his renegade sisters was discovered tinkering with human phenotypes, and the Continuum's subsequent decision to submit all proposals for species renovation to the Executive Subcommittee for Matter and Material - but, all in all, she was well-formed. He leaned toward her ear and whispered hoarsely, "We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile." Seven opened her eyes and studied Q. "Your voice...I have heard your voice with the others." "Very good, my dear." "But you are not Borg." "Not in the sense you mean." "I do not understand your meaning." "Nor do I, Q," Janeway interrupted. "You said the Borg failed to assimilate the Continuum, so how could your voice be part of the Collective?" Q straightened and stepped away from Seven, his hands clasped behind his back. "You said you've heard my voice with the others. Can you separate it out?" he addressed Seven. "That is impossible. No one voice is distinct from the others." "Yet my voice was distinct enough for you to recognize it. Try to separate your memory of my voice from the others." Seven lowered her head, her eyes focusing inwards as she concentrated on the task at hand. As she did so, Q prowled around until he was standing next to Janeway, who looked up at him in expectation. She was astonished at the expression on his face, which seemed to reveal an air of compassion and...regret? She must be mistaken, but there was an indefinable sadness in his eyes that she had never before seen. "Q? Are you all right?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm. Q gazed at Janeway, about to respond, when Seven returned to reality, nearly pouncing as she strode toward Q. "You were there," she accused with wonder, "at the beginning. Your voice is the foundation of the Collective." Janeway's hand jerked away from Q, as if she had been burned, and Chakotay took another step closer. "Q? What is she talking about?" Q's eyes never left Seven's as he answered, "What she means is that I created the Borg." TBC... From drewry@roanoke.infi.net Wed Oct 08 18:45:37 1997 Path: Supernews70!Supernews60!supernews.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news-in-east.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!208.131.160.208!news.infi.net!news.infi.net!not-for-mail From: Laura Taylor Newsgroups: alt.fan.q,alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: Aspirations 3/3 [PG-13] (VOY, Q/7) Date: Thu, 09 Oct 1997 01:45:37 +0000 Organization: InfiNet Lines: 211 Message-ID: <343C3741.3163@roanoke.infi.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: pm2-98.roanoke.infi.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.02 (Macintosh; I; 68K) Xref: Supernews70 alt.fan.q:6664 alt.startrek.creative:64521 TITLE: Aspirations AUTHOR: Laura Taylor (drewry@roanoke.infi.net) PART: 3/3 RATING: PG-13 SERIES/CODES: VOY, Q/7 SUMMARY: Q offers to assist in Seven's reintegration into humanity DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and all that it entails. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain from it is emotional satisfaction. This story is dreadfully noncanonical, but after Alara's plea for a Seven of Nine story, I had to try to fit Q in somehow. It certainly isn't my best work, but in some ways I think it's better than "Oasis." It is really meant to be more of a foundation - a means to establish a "relationship" between Seven and Q - and anyone who wishes to take this premise (once I'm finished) and run with it is more than welcome. This may be added to the ASC and AFQ archives; anyone else, ask first! All comments welcome at drewry@roanoke.infi.net Enjoy! Laura Taylor drewry@roanoke.infi.net ~~~~~ I beheld the wretch - the miserable monster whom I had created. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley _Frankenstein_ "Ow! Let go, Kathy, that hurts!" Q was in pain. He was not unfamiliar with the sensation, but he had never before experienced it in quite such a ridiculous manner, with a tiny mortal female twisting his left ear and yanking him down to her height like a mother disciplining an unruly adolescent. It was ridiculous indeed, but it still hurt. He jerked free of Janeway's grasp and rubbed his ear, glaring at her with as much ferocity as she was glaring at him. "You should be grateful I'm not a Ferengi, or I'd have you charged with attempted rape," he snapped. Janeway ignored Q's bluster. "What do you mean, you created the Borg?" she snarled. Q was momentarily taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, and debated teasing her about the sore nerve he had undoubtedly touched, but he knew her anger was justified, if perhaps a bit misguided. As much as he hated admitting it, he was responsible for the suffering inflicted by the Borg on thousands of worlds. If only he could make these intellectually challenged creatures understand that he had never intended for this to happen. Seven interrupted his reverie. "I do not understand. The Borg assimilate; we do not create or procreate. How can the Borg *be* created?" Chakotay was almost amused by her question, but he respected the sincerity of her innocence. "Most cultures have myths and legends of their origins that continue to fascinate long after those stories have been proven false." "Stories are irrelevant." Q had to choke on his laughter. "Myth and truth have far more in common than your people were ever able to accept," he said. A shadow fell over Seven's face as she considered this. "The Borg have no myths." "Yes, you do. You have the myth of your creation, which is the driving force behind the truth of your assimilation." Janeway was finally beginning to understand the meaning behind Q's visit, and she was grateful for all the reading she had done recently. "Q, did you intend to create the Borg in your image?" she asked softly. Human perceptive abilities, even in the face of such debilitating naivete, never failed to amaze Q, and he swallowed noisily to mask his surprise at Janeway's question. "They were my...first attempt at creation. I wanted to make a race modeled on the Continuum." "But you couldn't quite pull it off," Chakotay said. Q sneered at Chakotay. "That's not where I went wrong." "What happened, Q? The Borg Collective is nothing like what I've seen and heard of the Continuum." Seven had been observing this exchange in silence, her head tilted at a slight angle as if she were trying to hear what was not being said. As Q approached her, she reached out her hand and stroked his face in imitation of his earlier action. "You were - are - too well known to us. We never learned that the myth of our creation was irrelevant." "Q?" Janeway asked. "She's right. When I created the Borg, I forgot - or neglected - to disguise myself. When the first Borg looked at themselves in comparision to the Continuum, they saw only how...flawed...they were. And they despised themselves." His eyes were closed, and Janeway thought she saw a deep sigh heave in his chest. "Most creation myths are based on the creature's aspirations to be perfect in the image of its creator," Chakotay said. "That's the basis for nearly every religious tradition, the belief that one is created in the image and likeness of a chosen deity." "Religion is irrelevant, Commander," Q said. "I didn't create the Borg so they could worship me; the Q aren't interested in that type of devotion." "Aspiration for perfection is not irrelevant," Janeway said, again placing her hand on his arm. "Isn't that the purpose of evolution - continuous improvement of the species?" "The Borg aren't interested in improvement for improvement's sake. They assimilate because they are striving for the perfection of the Continuum - a perfection they can never possibly attain." "Perfection is *not* irrelevant," Seven said. Q looked at her fondly. "No, it isn't." "But it is relevant only in its impossibility," Janeway said. "'The indefatigable pursuit of an unattainable perfection, even though it consist in nothing more than in the pounding of an old piano, is what alone gives a meaning to our life on this unavailing star'," Chakotay quoted. "Logan Pearsall Smith. My grandmother had a placard with that saying hanging in her kitchen. I never really understood it until now." Q rolled his eyes. "How profound." Chakotay ignored him. "What is the purpose of aspiring to what you cannot achieve?" Seven asked. "Why do you think the Borg assimilate other worlds?" "To acquire the biology and technology of those worlds." "Why? What purpose do thousands of biological and technological adaptations serve?" Seven was at a loss for words. "If there is no point to assimilation, then why do we exist? What is our purpose? Are the Borg - am I - irrelevant?" She was on the brink of tears, and Janeway moved to place an arm around her, noticing as she did so the look of distress that flashed across Q's face. His behavior was even more mercurial than usual, and she wondered at his true motivations. Q ran his hands through his hair, then studied his fingers where several gray strands clung, having escaped their moorings. "No. Life is not irrelevant. The Borg are not irrelevant, or they would have died out eons ago. The Borg exist to assimilate because...I made them that way." He began pacing again, revelling in the sound of his corporeal feet as they struck the metallic floor. For all its conveniences, life as an energy being was remarkably intangible, which was why Q enjoyed taking corporeal form so much. He especially loved the tactile senses, and took every opportunity to touch objects, to feel that infinitesimal current that took place just before contact. He ran his hand down his arm as he thought. "You see, the Borg were my first attempt at creation. I had all the mechanics down perfectly; in their original form, the Borg were biologically and physically flawless. They were, after all, made in my own image." He grinned, somewhat shyly, as a bark of laughter came from Chakotay. "But I miscalculated the ratio of their racial morality to their creative consciousness." Janeway gave him a puzzled frown. "You what?" "Think back on the different creation myths from Earth, Kathy. Even in the most anthropomorphic versions, the creator is distinctly and indefinably *other* from the creature. Even when evolutionary science replaced creation myth, there was a certain mystery to the origin of life, because there was no conscious memory of that event." Janeway nodded, still not sure she understood, but willing, for the moment, to go along with what he said. "The Borg never had that chance; there was no mystery. They knew the society of the Continuum on which they were based, and they knew just how deeply flawed their society was in comparison." "The Collective is their attempt to achieve the perfection of the Continuum," Chakotay said. Q clapped. "Bra-*vo*, o wise one," he said. "And assimilation is our - their - means of aspiring to that perfection," Seven said. "The Borg seek to acquire and become the best that creation has to offer." "But the Borg cannot possibly achieve that goal," Janeway said. "Because the Continuum is too far beyond their capacities, even with the biological and technological distinctiveness of thousands of species. They didn't just try to assimilate the Continuum; they tried to join it." "And it's all my fault. All because I forgot to carry the four. I always hated long division." Q waggled his eyebrows at Seven. "And now I'm here to make up for it." "How?" Janeway asked. "She still can't aspire to the *supposed* perfection of the Continuum, and we all know that humanity has nothing in common with the Q." "Don't be so hard on yourself, Kathy dear. Humanity has much more in common with the Q than you might think." "Oh, joy," mumbled Chakotay. Q growled and snapped his fingers, and Chakotay disappeared in a flash of light. Seven cried out in surprise as Janeway barked, "Q! What did you do with him?" "Tsk, tsk, Kathy, you know I would never hurt your dearest Chakotay. He's in his room, sound asleep, probably dreaming of you." He grinned at Seven as Janeway confirmed Chakotay's location with the computer. "See? What did I tell you?" "Q, that was uncalled for." "To-may-to, to-mah-to," Q sang. "Q..." "Oh, all right, Kathy, you're right, there isn't much I can do to help this poor child become more human per se. But I *do* know infinitely more than your feeble databanks about the nature of the Borg and what motivates them, and there is *no* way she's going to be able to embrace her humanity until she comes to term with what she is, which, whether you want to admit it or not, is Borg. As a Borg, she was created in *my* image, however flawed that image might be. You seek to re-create her in *your* flawed image. I'm suggesting that we work *together*, that we create her in *her own* image, to aspire to her own perfection. Capiche?" "Q, I don't --" "Yes." Janeway's irritated frown was the reverse of Q's broad, genuine smile of delight at Seven's response. "Yes...Father...I wish you to help me become human." Q draped one arm around Seven's shoulders and the other around Janeway's. Winking at Janeway, he said, "Seven, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship." ~~~~~ Well, this turned out to be much more allegorical that I originally intended. Sorry if you don't much care for allegory, but all my stories seem to turn out that way (if you don't believe me, go read "Oasis" or "Facilis Descensus Averno" ). Must be a result of all those years of studying Christian history & theology :-) In any case, here's my contribution to Alara's craving for Seven fic. Hope you liked it, dear. And as I said before, anyone who wishes to adopt the premise I have suggested here and create their own stories is more than welcome to do so. Laura