DISCLAIMER: Jungian consciousness yes. Fiscal ownership no. Storytelling tradition yes. Television rights no.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer of the Federation Starship Voyager, entered the turbolift without truly paying attention to where she was going.
Fortunately for her, the turbolift floor was there for her feet. Unfortunately, it was about an inch lower from the door than it should have been.
And was caught before she could completely fall down.
Reflexively she said, "Thank you." That was when she registered a familiar scent. She began to pay more attention to her surroundings.
"You are welcome, Lieutenant Torres." Seven of Nine, the starfaring vessel's Astrometrics officer, spoke politely. She was taller than B'Elanna and so, she had bent a little in her haste to assist. Now they both righted themselves and B'Elanna had to look up at the the other woman.
Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine did not always get along. This was due to several reasons, but much of it simply cases of temperament and misunderstanding. Most of it, these days, had to do with habit.
It irked the half-Klingon to find herself in debt to the ex-Borg, even for something so tiny.
Not that Seven of Nine noticed the grimace. She had already turned and was facing the turbolift's doors. She was in her usual at rest stance.
"I'm all right," B'Elanna said grumpily, as if finishing part of a conversation.
Seven of Nine turned and arched her brow at the brunette. That lifted the cybernetic implant, a reminder of her time as a Borg, and once again her expression seemed to reek of superiority. "I did not note any particular damage to your person. Do you need to go to Sick Bay?"
B'Elanna growled a little. "No. Of course not."
Seven of Nine tilted her head in acknowledgment and then turned back to face the exit. "I am heading to Deck 8. Are you going in any particular direction?"
B'Elanna grunted at the less than subtle reminder. "Turbolift, Deck 9." Then she also faced the exit. "You could have asked if I was okay."
"It would have been redundant. I had already evaluated your physical state."
B'Elanna looked sideways at the blonde. "You can do that?"
"I can. I am Borg."
"Borg. I will always have cybernetic implants. I will always be Borg. However, I am an ex-drone. If you care to get specific."
"So, me saying 'Hey Drone,' to get your attention would be incorrect."
"Don't you get offended when I say that?"
"I was a Drone. I was part of a collective. Shall I deny who I am?"
There was quite in the turbolift for a few seconds.
"Seven of Nine?"
"Yes, B'Elanna Torres?"
"I'm sorry for calling you a Drone."
Seven of Nine considered the apology. Then, as the door to the turbolift opened, she said, "You are forgiven."
She walked to the edge of the turbolift and stepped up to the deck. There was no faltering, no hesitation.
"I've got to fix that," said B'Elanna Torres.
Seven of Nine turned to look back at the Klingon and said, with great confidence and just as the doors slid shut, "You will."
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