DISCLAIMER: I disclaim any sanity here, and any right to actually write about these characters. I also disclaim any knowledge of nursery rhymes, even in my own language.
I just needed to get this out of my system, so read at your own risk.
Borg, Baby, Borg
By Carola "Ryûchan" Eriksson
Janey was not a happy Captain.
In fact, not even the Ultra Concentrated Super Strong And Slightly Sweetened Special Blend could make Janey a happy Captain today, despite valiant attempts that left Janey smelling somewhat like a coffee-grinding factory, and as she snarled and snapped her teeth in Tuvok's direction upon entering the Bridge, everyone knew it.
Finding Chakotay once again having the nerve to sit in _her_ chair, Janey pounced with a roar worthy of a lion... a small, overly coffeeinated lion, but a lion nonetheless. Between flying splinters and the sound of scratching and biting something wooden, Janey barked out an order.
"Harry, open a comm channel to the Borg! Now!"
While Harry hesitated, terrified that Janey would discover that he had been sitting in her chair during the gamma-lamma-bamma shift, the wooden remains of Chuckles were tossed across the Bridge with the invincible strength of a pissed-off coffee addict.
"Go commune with the pine cones of your ancestors!" Janey snapped, then turned to snarl at Harry. "Where is my comm channel, Harry?"
"Captain, I believe that Ensign Kim is unable to perform his duties, undoubtedly due to yet another sexually transmittable disease." Tuvok informed Janey, adding a level-two eyebrow twitch to indicate the frailty of humans and a blink to express the relief he was feeling over the fact that if he was only patient he would outlive them all.
Harry silently wondered why he always got the alien sexually transmittable diseases when he never managed to score with a female, then excused himself as he broke out in a bad case of rashes that looked suspiciously much like the egg noodles Neelix had given him for lunch.
"Well then, Tuvok, hail the Borg! It's 146-WANT-2-ASSIMILATE-U!" Janey muttered sourly to herself about not being able to get good help if the Quadrant depended on it, and that Queenie had certainly done it now.
Moments later, a misty green interior appeared on the viewscreen, with a closeup on a very bald, black-eyed face with metal implants.
"OH COFFEEBEANS, DARLING!" The Borg Queen cried, smiling a wide but clearly deranged smile. "IT HAD BEEN TOO LONG! I HAVE MISSED YOU SO!"
"Don't you Coffeebean me!" Janey snarled. "Have you any idea what you have done?"
"BUT BEANS MY LOVE, HAVE YOU NOT MISSED YOUR LITTLE HONEYBEE?" The Queen pouted while staring fixedly at Janey without blinking. "I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO CALL EVER SINCE OUR LAST ASSIMILATION. I HAVE EVEN KEPT SUBSPACE CLEAR SO THAT I WOULD NOT MISS YOUR CALL."
Janey looked a bit embarrassed at first, then snarled again. "Yeah? Yeah well, about that last assimilation..." She stood up to wave her fist at the screen. "You told me it was safe!"
"You Drones are all alike, with your tubules and smooth talk... get a girl to agree to be assimilated and tied to an alcove, never once mentioning the consequences!" Janey ranted. "Well I've got news for you missy! No more hanky-panky! I'm pregnant and you and your tubules can-"
"OH BEANS! ARE YOU DISCLOSING THAT YOU ARE CARRYING MY NANOPROBES? THAT WE ARE EXPECTING A LITTLE NEO-NATAL DRONE OF OUR OWN?" The insane smile was back with triple strength, and in the background Drones began dancing very stiffly. "OH MY BEANS, MY CARDIOVASCULAR ORGAN, I AM EXPERIENCING A SENSATION OF GREAT ELATION."
Janey seemed a little less peeved at that. "Yeah well..."
"I AM REDIRECTING MY VESSEL IMMEDIATELY, A TRANSWARP CONDUIT WILL TAKE ME TO YOUR LOCATION, MY COFFEA ARABICA."
"Permission to take Voyager off at warp 9, Captain?" Tom Paris spoke up but was ignored as he is, after all, quite irrelevant.
"WE WILL HAVE AN UNIMATRIX OF OUR OWN. OUR VERY OWN LITTLE COLLECTIVE – OH BEANS, WE WILL BE SO JOYOUS."
"Hmmm." Janey smiled. "I guess starting a family wouldn't be so bad, even if it was unplanned..."
"That's not what you said about our tadpoles!" Tom sniffled mournfully, looking at a small picture of three little slimy lizards in a mudpuddle. "You let that space salamander adopt them!" He sobbed some more. "And little George had my eyes too..."
"I'm not giving up my career though!" Janey was quite adamant. "If you want we could hire help to take care of the kids, but I'm not going to be a housewife while you go gallivanting around the Quadrant in your flashy Cubes."
"OH NO BEANS, I WILL GLADLY BE THE STATIONARY CARETAKER OF OUR NEO-NATAL DRONES, THE MAINTAINER OF OUR MATURATION CHAMBERS." The Queen was still smiling, and in the background a group of Drones were building a Borg baby crib. "I WILL ALSO SUPPLY ALL THE DRONE-SITTERS REQUIRED FOR WHEN WE WISH TO PLAY 'POLLINATE THE COFFEEPLANT'." Behind her another group of Drones began painting pink hearts with small green implants on all the alcoves.
Janey smiled widely, showing off severely coffee-stained teeth. "Allright, it's a deal. You're moving in with me, honeybee."
The Borg Queen leaned into the screen further and attempted a seductive look that was about as frightening and disturbing as Janey's own attempts at that kind of look. "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING UNDERNEATH YOUR UNIFORM?"
Janey blushed. "Starfleet regulation underwear for the busy Captain, beta-beta-zero-four."
"PURR."
---
Many months later, in Cargo Bay 2 which had been completely redecorated to accommodate two dozen baby cribs and maturation chambers, as Seven of Nine har been relocated to the Captain's quarters together with Lieutenant Torres.
On the edge of a huge, steel-reinforced bed decorated with a pattern of bees and coffeebeans, the Borg Queen sat rocking a portable baby alcove-crib in front of her.
"HUSH LITTLE DRONE, DO NOT CRY
QUEENIE WILL SING YOU A LULLABY
AND IF THAT LULLABY DO NOT RHYME
QUEENIE WILL GET YOU AN OMEGA RING SO FINE..."
The End