The BLTS Archive- Warmth II: Scenes from a Mating
#2: Nanny
by J. A. Toner (jamelia116@aol.com)

---

This story actually was conceived almost two years ago,
when Kes was on Voyager and Seven was only a dream of
Brannon Braga's. While a lot of it has evolved, Nanny's
story is unchanged. If Nanny seems to remind you of a
certain talk show host who loves Kate Mulgrew from her
"Ryan's Hope" days, does commercials for K-Mart, and
talks with a Long Island accent, don't be surprised. That's
who I pictured when I wrote this.

Archive:  Yes to ASC, BLTS, PTF, PTCollective. All others,
please ask.

Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe and the Voyager characters
are the property of Paramount/Viacom. No claim of ownership
is being made. I will make no money from this--my only 
payment is the feedback I hope to get from readers (hint, hint).

Author's Note: In the spring and early summer of 1997, I wrote
a novel-length story called "Warmth." It was actually a set of
three stories. The first told a tale of B'Elanna Torres and Tom
Paris' acknowledging their passion for each other while
stranded on a planet with a harsh climate. They may have done
what they had to do to stay warm, but that was really more or
less an excuse. What they really did was show how warmly
they felt towards each other. "Meanwhile, back on Voyager,"
Harry Kim and Kes discover their own feelings for one
another and marry.

In the second story, taking place several weeks later, B'Elanna
broke off her relationship with Tom. Only afterwards did she
find out that she was unexpectedly pregnant and was to proud,
at first, to let him know. Kes has her "transformation" and is
lost to Harry. When Tom found out about the baby, he asked
B'Elanna to marry him. The final story described the wedding
on a holographic beach. The last sentences describe the couple
walking up the beach, holding each other up as their feet slip
in the sands. A fitting image for marriage, I thought.

And the end of the story, I thought.

Silly me. I underestimated the fervor of those who wanted to
see Tom cuddling his newborn daughter. The ones longing to
see B'Elanna holding her baby were less vocal, but I did hear
from some of them, too. I thought I'd said all I had to say and
dragged my feet about a sequel.

But something else happened. Both Roxann Dawson and
Robbie McNeill announced they were adding to their families.
Roxann's pregancy was not written into the storyline. So,
when people begged me to write a sequel, I thought that
maybe I could write an AU of the rest of the 4th season, and
how it would look if Roxann's pregnancy had been written
into the storyline of the series.

As a result "Warmth 2: Scenes from a Mating" was conceived,
a series of self-contained stories which, when taken together,
tell how Tom and B'Elanna forged a marriage from a rocky
beginning, as well as how Harry adjusted to the loss of Kes. In
this AU, all of the episodes would happen as they had in the
televised series. Obviously, some details would differ, but I
would not assume that all the events of any show failed to
occur. Many episodes would not be mentioned at all or if they
were, only in passing. In others, a great deal from the episodes
might be shown.

I expect to post a total of nine stories altogether. The first four
are being posted now, and the remaining ones will be put up
when they're finished.

I'll get the rest of the stories done and posted as soon as I can.
Thanks, in advance, for any comments about these stories you
feel you can make.

Thanks: to PTFever, especially Terri, pjinnh, pjs, Julie, and Ann
for their assistance with these stories.

January, 1999

---

::::Paris to Captain Janeway::::

"Yes, Tom?"

::::Our little "project" is done, Captain. Would you care to
come to Deck 5 to see it?::::

"I'll be there in a minute. Janeway out." Turning command
over to her first officer, Janeway strode off the bridge and
into the turbolift. This should prove interesting.

---

The small storage bay next to the medical lab on Deck 5
had never been much in use. It had been equipped with
holoemitters when Voyager was first built since,
technically, it was part of sickbay and the EMH might,
upon occasion, need to access supplies kept there. Items of
a medical nature had never been in sufficient quantity on
Voyager, however, for the storage space to be dedicated
solely to this purpose. Instead, it had come to be the
depository for items of a decidedly non-medical nature,
even though the EMH might have been involved in the
events that caused them to be stored there. The storage bay
had become the repository for the crates of personal
belongings of those who had lost their lives on Voyager
since the inception of its journey through the Delta
Quadrant. There had been plenty of those needing storage
there--until now.

As of three days before, the crates, now distressingly
numerous, had been relocated to a corner of Cargo Bay
One. The storage room was needed for a less morbid
purpose. The youngest crew member currently residing on
Voyager as an independently functioning organism now
required the space.

The room had been vastly altered in appearance by a newly
applied, colorful wall coating and with holographic
projections on the storage cabinet doors forming a diorama
of animals from several different worlds of the Federation.
Each animal was identified with a name tag beneath its
image. Other words in Federation Standard were
distributed on the walls in various areas, and a border
consisting of Federation Standard, Klingon, Bajoran, and
Vulcan alphabets was available for easy reference all along
the ceiling. After entering, the captain examined the walls
with approval before approaching the small knot of her
senior staff in the center of the room. Lieutenants Paris and
Torres, Ensign Kim, Seven of Nine and the EMH were
standing with one other individual that Janeway did not
immediately recognize, although she was well aware of her
identity.

While a new crew member's arrival on Voyager was an
extremely rare occurrence, it was even rarer for the captain
to come calling on the new addition, rather than vice versa.
In this case, it was perfectly understandable. The
holoemitters were the key factor.

"Captain," said the Doctor as the group separated to give
her room to join them. "I'd like to present Nanny to you."

"Hello, Nanny," the captain said.

The young woman who stood before her, hand extended in
welcome, was a pleasingly plump, twentyish woman with
dark brown hair, warm brown eyes, and an engaging grin.
She had a firm grip when she shook hands. "Captain
Kathryn Janeway. So pleased to make your acquaintance.
I'm sure our professional association will be long and
fruitful." A giggling Nanny took hold of the captain's hand
and shook it enthusiastically.

Well, perhaps it was not entirely a giggle. It might be better
characterized as a bubbling over of enthusiasm, always a
good sign in any newcomer, no matter how they happened
to come into an organization. Certainly, she had come to
Voyager under very unique circumstances, not at all unlike
the physician who was beaming by her side.

"Isn't she perfect, Captain? She's been progra . . . taught . . .
all of the information in our computer banks regarding the
tutoring of children of all ages. She's just about ready to
meet her new students," the Doctor stated.

"Students? Plural?"

"Why, yes, Captain. We have my son Jeffrey, of course. His
Klingon friends K'Kath and Larg . . . "

"Klingons. I see." The captain pursed her lips to keep from
smiling. "That should keep the class lively."

"And then, of course, there is our prime pupil. Naomi. She
and Ensign Wildman are on their way here now to meet
Nanny, too."

Hardly was this said than a small girl skipped into the
room. Thanks to the Ktarian half of her ancestry, she
looked more like a human five-year-old than one with only
two and a half years to her credit. Almost immediately, she
skidded to a stop, almost tripping her mother and Neelix,
who had been following closely behind her. "Oh, Doctor!
This place looks different!"

"Yes, it is, Naomi. This is your new schoolroom. Would
you like to have your teacher take you on a tour?"

"Yes, Doctor. Are you my teacher?"

"No, Naomi. I will give you the occasional biology lesson,
but my presence is required in sickbay, to take care of the
crew's medical needs. We have a new teacher for you who
can spend as much time with you as you need. Come along
and meet Miss Nanny."

The captain pursed her lips as the Doctor escorted Naomi
to the teacher, who squatted down to the child's level and
introduced herself as energetically to Naomi as she had to
the captain. There was a warmer, more nurturing overtone
in Nanny's voice as she spoke to Naomi, however. The
captain was glad to hear it.

Glancing at B'Elanna, the captain caught her chief engineer
rolling her eyes at her husband, who was smirking back at
her. The captain whispered, "Don't you approve of Miss
Nanny, B'Elanna? You are one of her creators, aren't you?"

"It's not the holographic teacher I mind. It's that dumb
name."

"We can help her choose a new name, B'Elanna," Tom
said, placatingly.

"Yeah. Like the Doctor has a name?"

"Well, he does. He's, uh, . . . Kenneth, to Mrs. Kenneth,"
Tom responded, reasonably.

"We aren't allowed to call him that!" B'Elanna said, with
enough energy that both Tom and Harry hushed her
simultaneously.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant Torres, I will immediately begin
to research a new, appropriate name for our teacher. Once
she's reprogrammed, she won't even know she didn't always
have it." The Doctor stepped away from the earnestly
chatting Naomi and her teacher, who were busily touring
the schoolroom together.

"She'll never know? Doctor, doesn't she know she's a
hologram? Harry, Seven, Tom and B'Elanna spent so much
time working on that spare matrix. I thought the whole idea
of dedicating it to a use other than recreating your
diagnostic program was to permit our new teacher to be
self-aware?"

"The Doc doesn't think that's wise, Captain," Harry sighed.
Janeway noticed several exasperated looks being
exchanged between her three senior staff members and, to
a lesser extent, Seven of Nine.

"It appears that the human members of the design team are
not in agreement with your decision, Doctor," noted the
captain.

"I don't believe it advisable, Captain. Believe me, it isn't
easy being locked up in one small place during every
waking hour, knowing you can't move around the ship
freely. Trapped, in one location for all hours of the day, ad
infinitem . . ."

B'Elanna offered, in a relatively calm, only slightly
elevated tone of voice, "Doctor, the two of you could take
turns using the mobile emitter until we figure out how the
thing works so we can build another."

"But it could be damaged!"

"It could be damaged when you're wearing it, too!"
B'Elanna growled back, much louder this time.

The captain swiftly intervened to defuse the rapidly
escalating dialogue between B'Elanna and the EMH. "Now,
now, there's no need to argue here. I understand your desire
to be cautious about how much to tell Nanny about herself,
Doctor, but I wish you'd reconsider. She's not an ordinary
holographic representation like Naomi's classmates. If
there's an attack, she needs to be able to protect Naomi. For
that, she must fully recognize her own limitations, don't
you agree?"

With a self-satisfied smile, B'Elanna crossed her arms,
resting them upon the shelf of her protruding belly. "We've
been trying to tell the Doctor that since we began, Captain.
Nanny may be programmed with all the knowledge a child
needs to learn, but I'm not too sure if her personality matrix
will remain stable if she doesn't know what she really is."

"I assure you, Lieutenant, I thoroughly researched
everything that was incorporated into her program. I made
sure to include ALL kinds of governesses and teachers
available from the data banks. From Maria Von Trapp to
Mary Poppins. Henry Higgins to Mr. Rogers. Yoda, Obi-
Wan Kenobi, Indiana Jones, Anne Sullivan Macy,
Josephine March Bhaer, M'Gatlh, Anne Shirley, Captain
Kangaroo, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Lucille Davenport, Anna
Leonowens, Socrates . . . "

"You didn't put in the one from 'The Turn of the Screw,' did
you, Doc?" Tom asked.

"The problem governesses like that one have been edited or
deleted." The Doctor smiled beatifically as he turned his
attention back to his new portage. She had finished
circuiting the room with Naomi and was speaking briefly
with Samantha Wildman and Neelix.

"Glad to hear that," Tom replied.

"I still think you should have included the Flotter and
Trevis stories, Doctor. They're really fun--part of just about
every kid's background back home on Earth. Naomi should
get a chance to learn from them, too," Harry commented.

"There's plenty of time for that, Mr. Kim. For now, Naomi
will have the benefit of the best purveyors of education our
data base can provide. Later on, she'll be exposed to the
advanced logic of Vulcan philosophers, the . . . "

"I'm sure you've done your usual thorough job, Doctor.
Please think about that self-awareness element, however.
I'd prefer she knew."

"Captain, really . . ."

Any further discussion of the matter was curtailed by the
approach of the holoprogram in question and her young
charge. The captain asked Naomi, "Are you all ready for
your first day in school, Naomi?"

"Yes, Captain. Miss Nanny is nice."

Samantha shook her head. "I can hardly believe this day is
here already. Only a few months ago she was running
around grabbing things off tables before Tom and
B'Elanna's wedding. And now look at how she's sprouted!
She's going to school!"

"She's such a big girl. You must be very proud, Ensign
Wildman," said Nanny, smiling broadly. "I can't wait for
tomorrow when you can stay all morning for class. We're
going to have lots of fun."

Naomi nodded her head. Taking her mother's hand but
keeping as wide a berth from Seven as possible, Naomi
walked out of the schoolroom, waving goodbye to Miss
Nanny and the rest of the crew--except for Seven, whom
she ignored.

---

After the mother and her child left, Neelix bubbled, "Isn't
she wonderful? You're going to find she's the smartest little
girl you ever taught." Realizing what he just said, Neelix
added, "I mean . . . "

"Oh, I'm sure she will be," Nanny said. "I'm looking
forward to working with all of the children here. And the
ones who will soon be here, too, of course." She smiled
smugly at B'Elanna. "And when is your baby due,
Lieutenant Torres?"

"In about two, maybe two and a half months," B'Elanna
answered, grabbing the bottom front corners of her
engineering smock and giving it a tug before whipping her
head around towards her husband, who had mumbled
something simultaneously with his wife.

Tom's comment: "Not soon enough, Nanny. Not soon
enough."

"Not soon enough for WHAT?" B'Elanna demanded to
know.

"Oh, nothing," Tom grinned weakly, rubbing the arm that
had just been jabbed by his  irritated half-Klingon bride.

B'Elanna stared at Tom a moment more before turning
back to the captain. "I need to get back to engineering--
assuming everything is set here for tomorrow?"

Everyone agreed, all was set. After the captain's dismissal,
B'Elanna and Tom left the storage area, Tom muttering
something about pregnancy hormones under his breath.
Harry excused himself, too. Neelix moved off to listen to
Nanny's lecture about the characteristics of the animals
pictured on the walls. After the EMH began to follow them
around the room, observing them with a proud smile on his
countenance, Captain Janeway was left with Seven of Nine,
the woman who had been severed from the Borg Collective
some months before. Severed, but not yet back to being
human, not by a very wide margin. Her intent observation
of young Naomi had not escaped the captain's notice.

"You seem quite interested in our youngest crew member,
Seven."

"I have not had an earlier opportunity to evaluate such a
young child. The Borg educate newly assimilated children
by putting them in maturation chambers. It is a far more
efficient method of providing factual data to the young than
this . . . classroom."

"Perhaps. Even on a non-Borg vessel, computer programs
can educate a child at their own individual pace, but
learning facts isn't the only reason for schooling. "

"I fail to see why these individual computer programs are
not sufficient for this child, if they are available."

"That's not the purpose of this program. Naomi will receive
many lessons directly from the computer. Her afternoon
lessons will be given to her that way. But she also needs to
learn how to function in society, with other children. The
only way we can do that here is by the use of holographic
programming, since she's the only child on board. Yet."

"The child Lieutenant Torres has conceived by Lieutenant
Paris will also require educational programming."

"Yes, she'll need social skills training. And I'm thinking
she's not the only one." Captain Janeway looked
speculatively at Seven of Nine again. "You were
assimilated at age six, weren't you?"

"I was."

"In some ways, you're very like Naomi."

"That opinion is not supported by fact. I am Borg, and an
adult. She is a half-human, half-Ktarian child. We are not
at all alike."

"Now that you say that, I would have to agree. Naomi is
clearly your superior in social skills, even though she is
much younger than you are."

Seven regarded the captain coldly. "Explain."

"You haven't had the opportunity to learn how to interact
with other people in social settings any more than you've
had a chance to observe young children. I've attempted to
help you learn social interaction with recreational programs
on the holodeck, but you've resisted much of what I've tried
to teach you."

"What you have presented there is irrelevant. If I perform
my duties in Astrometrics efficiently, I have no need to
interact socially with other crew members."

"No, Seven, that's an incorrect assumption. You may have
performed your job function, but interacting with the rest of
the crew is also essential. Unpredictable things happen on a
Starfleet vessel. 'Weird is part of the job,' I once told Mr.
Kim, and it's vital for you to understand that. For truly
efficient functioning, everyone on Voyager must learn how
to work with every other so that in an emergency, we're
able to count on each other. It's a skill like any other, just as
easily learned--and far more enjoyably--in recreational
activities. Or in a setting like this one. A classroom."

Seven stared again at the captain for several seconds before
saying, "Since I am not a child, it would be inappropriate to
learn in a classroom. Students are children."

"Oh, it's never too late to learn," Neelix commented, as his
tour of the class ended next to where the captain and Seven
were conversing. "I'm a perfect example of that. I'm
constantly learning new things on Voyager."

The EMH added, "Mr. Neelix is correct, Seven. Many
people who attend classes at universities are adults who
have decided to change professions. Some wish to acquire
knowledge for its own sake after their primary careers are
done. Why, despite the very complete programming
provided to me by Dr. Zimmerman, once I was activated I
learned there was much more to living than merely
performing my duties. I developed interests and hobbies,
such as studying opera; and professionally, I found I had
much to learn about subjects such as 'bedside manner.'
Some of it came from Mr. Paris, unfortunately, but we can't
always choose our sources. Our sources choose . . . "

"Yes, thank you, Doctor," interrupted the captain. Tom
bashing had become something of a habit with the EMH,
which the captain tolerated only because she doubted he
meant it. Turning back to Seven, she said, "The Doctor and
Neelix are quite right, Seven. While we can't always
control the way we learn information, when we are able to
do it, we should seize the opportunity. This may be the
perfect place for you to learn a few skills you haven't
realized you need yet. Nanny, would you mind if I assigned
Seven of Nine as an assistant to you? She has an amazing
store of knowledge in her brain from her time with the
Borg that will supplement your . . . um . . . your extensive
training in education."

"That would be wonderful, Captain. I look forward to
working with her. Shall we spend some time this afternoon
comparing notes about lesson planning, Seven of Nine?"

The Borg woman's expression became somewhat twisted
about the mouth as she said, "I must return to Astrometrics
to complete my unfinished assignments first."

As Seven turned to go, Janeway said pointedly, "You will
appear here again tomorrow at 0800 hours for your
teacher's assistant assignment, however, Seven."

Seven halted on her heels and looked back over her
shoulder at the captain. After a brief hesitation, she
responded, "I will comply."

"Good. Dismissed."

The captain excused herself a moment later. As she was
leaving the classroom, she stifled a smile as she heard
Nanny say, "I'm delighted to have Seven as an assistant,
Doctor. I could use additional information about the
education of Klingon students. I haven't any personal
experience tutoring them. I'd like your advice about that,
too. Perhaps we could meet over dinner to discuss this and
some other matters . . ."

Once in the corridor, Janeway allowed herself a throaty
chuckle. This was going to be a most interesting
experiment.

---

At precisely 0755, Seven entered the schoolroom on Deck
Five. Had anyone dared to ask her how she felt (and if she
had been willing to answer), she would have admitted to
feeling a certain amount of apprehension at being assigned
to the ship's classroom. Today was the first time Seven
would be present at a class when any student other than
herself was in attendance.

When she had lived with her parents on *The Raven*,
Annika Hansen had rarely encountered other children.
Except for the occasional Deep Space Station stop or even
less frequent planetfall, the family had been cut off from
any other humans for prolonged periods of time. Her
parents preferred it this way. They wanted no interference
with their work, especially from Federation officials who
might inquire about the nature of their experiments in
advanced propulsion systems.

Their work with propulsion systems was so advanced, in
fact, that upon the spectacular success of one of their
experiments, they would quite literally leave their fellow
theoreticians of the Alpha Quadrant far behind in the
interstellar dust. Their experimentation ended in the Delta
Quadrant when Annika was six years old. End was the
appropriate term, for their lives as individual entities would
cease as well. To the great misfortune of the Hansens, their
successful flight would attract the attention of a race as yet
unknown to the rest of the Alpha Quadrant.

The Borg could recognize advanced technological
achievement when they saw it. The technological
distinctiveness that was contained within the brains of the
Hansen family quickly was added to that of the Borg--very
much against the Hansen family's will.

While her parents immediately became drones, such was
not the case with the daughter. For the next twenty-one
cycles, all of young Annika Hansen's needs would be
provided within the confines of maturation chamber
12805600473. Until she attained sufficient growth for
permanent implants to be installed, the future drone was
attached by a neural transceiver to the rest of the Hive.

During this time of physical transformation from child to
adult, the knowledge gained by the rest of the Borg was fed
to her via neural link. She even "participated" in the
assimilations of other races cybernetically, though her
immature humanoid body was divorced from the physical
process, housed as it was in the maturation chamber. That
did not matter. Her youthful consciousness had been
present at the birth of every new drone to join their cube.
She was fully aware of every terrified individual who was
absorbed into the vast conglomerate entity that was the
Borg, even though she was not yet Seven of Nine. Only
when a fully grown Annika stepped out of her chamber to
have her left arm fitted with a prosthetic, her left eyeball
roughly popped out and replaced by an ocular implant, and
the full complement of circuitry installed was Seven of
Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One, truly born.

Thus, Seven's entire education had taken place via some
form of cybernetic link. She'd had no access to other
children with whom to interact--for most of the time, no
other people at all. Only during those rare times in her early
childhood when her mother or father could spare the time
from research to join her at the computer screen for a
learning game or two had she even had company.

Seven was perceptive enough to note the supreme irony of
the day. The teacher and seven of the eight students
scheduled to be present in the schoolroom on this first day
of school were also cybernetic in nature. It was the one
who was not cybernetic, the three-year old human/Ktarian
child, who single-handedly transformed this into an entirely
new experience for Seven of Nine.

After leaving Astrometrics the previous evening, Seven had
spent precisely forty-three standard minutes obtaining a
nutritional supplement in the mess hall. Six hours and
twenty-two minutes had been required for regeneration.
Forty-seven minutes had been allotted to a visit to the
schoolroom to consult with Nanny about lesson plans for
the students (all holographic) which Seven was assigned to
teach. The remaining hours and minutes had been passed in
front of her computer screen in Cargo Bay Two, accessing
Voyager's data banks and absorbing all she could
concerning classrooms, educational philosophies, and
instructional techniques within the time available. Because
of her eidetic memory, what Seven perused in the files,
Seven remembered.

It did not matter. Seven was still terrified she would fail.

No one must know a Borg--or former Borg, to be more
accurate--was terrified of failure. So, Seven of Nine walked
into the classroom, shoulders thrown back, bosom thrust
out, abdominal muscles sucked into supporting her rigidly
upright posture. Confidence and Borg were to be
synonymous, if Seven had any control over the matter.

The first eyes to light upon her were the dark brown, fierce
orbs of Larg and K'Kath. Jeffrey turned his head in her
direction a moment later. The pupils of all three males
immediately dilated. One trait shared by Klingon and
human alike was that visible sign of sexual arousal. Seven
stared coldly at them to dissuade them from making any
comment to her. The males, after several more seconds of
staring, turned away from her and resumed the
conversation that had been interrupted by her entrance.

In another corner, two younger children were present.
Seven estimated that these two females were both
equivalent to seven or eight-year old humans. One, in
appearance, was all human. The other was a Klingon
female. These were holographic representations, just as
Jeffrey, Larg, and K'Kath were.

When Seven moved farther into the room, three other
children materialized behind her. One was a Ktarian male,
about the same age as the two female holographic children.
The other two were female teenagers, a Klingon and a
human in appearance. Seven observed the three teenage
males stand up straighter, preening for the "girls." Seven
looked for a third teenage female to appear, but none did.
The lack of another girl meant that this program contained
the potential for a significant amount of adolescent
hormone-induced rivalry among the males. Seven
wondered if she should blame Mr. Paris or the Doctor for
this particular development in the program.

A moment later, Nanny shimmered into existence. "Seven!"
she called out. "Welcome! It's good to see you. And who do
we have here, arriving now?"

Clinging to the hand of her mother, the intended
beneficiary of this holographic wizardry, Naomi Wildman,
walked into the classroom to begin her first day of this
most seminal of experiences--for her, and for Seven of
Nine.

---

It had been a long first day for Seven. Although Jeffrey and
his Klingon friends acted like Klingons, as expected,
Nanny did quite well controlling their most rambunctious
behavior during the classes held jointly for all the children,
regardless of their ages. Most of the time, however, Nanny
stayed with Naomi and the youngest three holochildren.
Seven was in charge of the teenagers.

"Have you completed your exercises in the differential
analysis of quantum particles, Larg?" Seven asked
pointedly when the holographic Klingon's lack of attention
to task became particularly noticeable.

"Yes, Miss Nine," he replied. Nanny had insisted Seven be
called that, despite the Borg's protests, citing the need to
maintain the "necessary degree of classroom decorum."

"There is a substantial error in the results of the fourth
problem which would be catastrophic if you were to utilize
these calculations in a practical application. Can you find
it?" Seven countered severely, after a quick perusal of his
PADD.

"I will," he growled angrily.

"If you spent less time contemplating my mammary tissues
and more examining the problem at hand, you would meet
with more success," Seven stated emphatically to the
deflated Larg as guffaws issued from K'Kath and Jeffrey.
Fixing the other two males with her intense gaze, Seven
added, "From the degree of pupil dilation in your eyes, I
surmise your work may be similarly marred by excessive
amounts of time wasted ogling my torso. Would you care to
show me your PADDs so that I may test this hypothesis?"

K'Kath and Jeffrey both decided their own PADDs needed
a bit more work before any hypotheses were tested. The
accompanying tittering from the female teenagers was just
as quickly quelled by another severe stare from Seven.
Afterwards, Seven noted that the exchange had achieved
the desired effect of improving the concentration of all five
holographic adolescents for the remainder of the lesson.
This was to hold for subsequent lessons as well. Whenever
her anatomy came to be subject to the regard of the male
students, a tilted eyebrow was generally sufficient to return
them to the task at hand.

---

During the following days, whenever the older students'
attention was directed to independent learning activities at
the computer, or if the production of research projects
required the students to interact among themselves rather
than their teacher, Seven spent her free time observing
"Miss Nanny's" handling of Naomi and her young
classmates. She found it instructive, finding many of the
techniques equally applicable to the older students.

One morning, several days after the first day of school,
Seven required that her charges produce individually
prepared documents to evaluate their absorption of material
covered in the lesson concerned with Klingon cultural
traditions (the data base had called this type of document a
"pop quiz"). With the students engaged on their assignment,
Seven was permitted a badly needed "breather," as Nanny
had described it during a lesson planning session the
previous day. It also afforded Seven another opportunity to
watch Nanny working with Naomi and the other three
students. Every time a particularly challenging question
was answered, Naomi or her classmate received a warm
hug from Miss Nanny along with a cheery, "Good job."

//Nanny's personality is well suited to teaching younger
children, but hugs would not be a successful technique for
me to use with Larg,// thought Seven, her lips twitching
slightly to one side. Nanny chose that moment to look in
Seven's direction, smiling broadly at her. Seven
acknowledged her smile with a nod.

Another head turned around to look in Seven's direction.
After a shudder, Naomi turned away. "Naomi, what's
wrong?" asked Nanny.

"I don't want to be assimilated by the Borg Lady," Naomi
whispered, loudly enough for Seven's aural implant to catch
the message.

"Oh, Naomi, Seven isn't going to assimilate you. She's one
of us now. It's like we're all part of the Voyager Collective,
isn't it, Seven?"

Seven nodded her head. "That is an accurate assessment.
While I had not considered such a view of the Voyager
crew previously, we do function together, much like a
Collective." Seven forbore to omit the rest of what came
into her mind. //Only in a much less efficient manner than
the Borg.//

Naomi shuffled her feet but said nothing. Nanny
admonished, "Naomi, you don't have to worry about Seven,
you understand that, don't you?"

The child shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes did not
leave the floor. At Nanny's sigh, Seven walked back to
supervise the teenaged contingent, whose restlessness
signaled that the pop quizzes had been completed.

While the quizzes were reviewed and the next topic of
discussion undertaken, Seven had no opportunity to think
about what had transpired between Naomi and herself.
That afternoon, while completing her regular work in
Astrometrics, the subject never occurred to her, either.
Later, however, when she was alone in her alcove,
preparing herself for her regeneration cycle, Seven had
sufficient time to consider the incident. The child was
afraid of Seven, and for some reason, Seven found this to
be disturbing.

And she had no idea why.

---

". . . so, Seven is turning out to be a surprisingly good
teacher. Her ability to maintain discipline is especially
notable."

"How interesting, Doctor." The captain bit her lower lip;
Seven's ability to maintain iron discipline wasn't exactly a
surprise to her.

"It was an inspiration to include her, Captain."

"I'm glad things are working out. I had hoped that Seven
would get the opportunity to interact more directly with
Naomi, however. Couldn't Nanny allow Seven to teach the
younger children upon occasion?"

"Naomi is still somewhat nervous around Seven. It's
probably best that Nanny continue with her direct lessons
for the time being. They're all together in the same
classroom, and as time goes by, I'm sure their paths will
cross in a natural way."

"In other words, you're counseling patience," the captain
replied, with an off-kilter smile.

"Precisely." The EMH agreed.

"So noted," Janeway said. "Is there anything else you want
to report about our experiment?"

"Just that I'm also extremely pleased at the way it's turning
out. There's one tiny little problem. Nanny feels someone is
always watching her in class, other than the students."

"Reassure her, Doctor. I'm sure she's subliminally aware of
the log cameras recording her. By the way, have you done
that bit of reprogramming I suggested?"

"Not yet, Captain. She's not ready."

"I hope there aren't any problems because of this, Doctor.
I'm willing to defer to your judgment for now, but if there's
a red alert while Naomi is with her, Nanny has to know she
must stay with Naomi. Seven won't be able to. She has her
own duty station in Astrometrics during red alerts."

"Don't worry. We've added a new protocol to the program
to address your concerns. Both Nanny and Naomi know to
go to the designated area between sickbay and the
classroom if there's a red alert. That's the most protected
area of the ship, and I can easily check on them from
sickbay to make sure they're all right."

"We'll see how that works during the next shipwide drill--if
something real doesn't happen first. Anything else to
report? How is your 'new nurse' doing?"

"Trust Mr. Paris to call himself a nurse. Just the sort of
flippant comment he's always making during his duty shifts
in sickbay."

"He's not working out, then?" Janeway asked, a wrinkle of
worry appearing between her brows.

"Oh, no, I don't mean to imply that, Captain. He's actually
coming along . . . adequately. He's shown a special aptitude
for gynecology and obstetrics--no surprise there."

Janeway laughed. "That's Tom. If he's interested in a
subject, there's no better student. And I guess we can't fault
him if that's a subject that's been on his mind a lot lately."

"Hmm. That subject seems to have been on his mind as
long as I've known him. Be that as it may, he has absorbed
the essentials of the childbirth process and has been a great
help to B'Elanna during her labor and delivery exercise
classes. He should manage to be a help, not a hindrance,
when her time finally comes."

"Glad to hear that, Doctor."

"Oh, and Captain? Please don't tell him I complimented
him. Too much praise and I fear Mr. Paris will believe he
doesn't require more instruction. He needs to spend a lot
more time absorbing the material to be as good as Kes was
as an assistant."

An awkward, silent moment passed. Kes. She hadn't been
much in Janeway's thoughts for many weeks. So much had
happened. A transwarp experiment had gone bad, throwing
the ship almost ten years journey forward, well out of Borg
territory, but almost killing Tom and B'Elanna in the
process. Seven's temporary regression into Borgdom had
thrown the crew into an uproar when she stole away in a
shuttle and discovered the wreck of her parents' ship, *The
Raven*. Aliens had tortured the crew with an array of
medical conditions and cost the life of Ensign Mallon, all
in the name of research.

So much had gone on lately, it was difficult to just sit back
and "smell the coffee." There was seldom time to consider
where they'd been because of the need to face the crisis of
the week. Add to that the amount of guidance and attention
Seven needed at virtually every turn, and it was no wonder
that the Ocampan's memory had been too long ignored,
even though Janeway missed Kes terribly.

The captain sighed deeply, then caught the look on the
holographic physician's face. His expression mirrored hers.
Once again Janeway marveled that a hologram could have
developed such a vivid and full personality.

"Thank you for your report, Doctor. And think about
Nanny's program. Just look how much you've evolved since
you first came on line. Doesn't Nanny have the right to
enrich her own personality, too?"

"Don't you think Nanny has enough personality, Captain? If
you don't, we could do some more research and . . ."

"You've done a marvelous job creating Nanny; that's not
what I meant. Now she needs to have a chance to discover
her own self, Doctor, just as you have."

"I don't want her to be hurt, Captain."

"Being hurt is inevitable. All beings experience pain. Isn't it
one of the things that helps one grow and mature?"

The Doctor reluctantly shrugged his shoulders. "I think
there's plenty of time for that, Captain. There isn't any
hurry."

"I'll defer to your professional judgment--for now. We'll
give her a little more time to settle in."

"Thank you, Captain. If we're done here . . ."

"Of course. Dismissed."

As the EMH walked out of the door of her ready room,
freed from the confines of his pleasant sickbay prison by a
piece of 29th century technology, Janeway couldn't help
thinking about the imperious, sarcastic being who first had
inhabited the psyche of the Doctor.

Becoming virtually a full-time crew member instead of an
"extra hand" in a crisis had changed him irrevocably. The
EMH's ability to function on the holodeck had permitted
him to rescue Harry Kim from a Beowulf program gone
awry. He'd experienced compassion and love for Denara
Pel, the Vidiian doctor whose life he'd saved. His horizons
had been expanded by opera lessons and recreational
activities taken with the rest of the crew. He'd accepted the
responsibility of family life and had, in the process, been
taught the passionate fulfillment of marital love, the joys of
parenthood, and the tragedy of loss. Thanks to the
acquisition of his mobile transmitter, he'd been able to
successfully complete away missions. In every conceivable
arena, the EMH had exceeded all expectations about what a
hologram could accomplish.

Now here was Nanny, imprisoned in a pleasant
holoemitter-equipped classroom/prison of her own. Her
existence was as limited as that of any other holographic
character on the holodeck, despite the potential for growth
inherent in her sophisticated holomatrix. What a waste!

//He's being rather overprotective of his holographic
protogee,// thought the captain with a sigh. //Much too
overprotective! Hopefully, Nanny will get a chance to
experience growth of her own, for her sake, as well as for
the Doctor's. He needs the company!//

---

From the moment she stepped out of her regeneration
alcove each morning, her days were full. Classes in the
morning. A quick meal in the mess hall. Afternoons and
early evenings in Astrometrics, broken up by another
ingestion of nutritional supplements. Study of Voyager's
data base before slipping into her alcove to regenerate for a
few hours before the cycle began all over again.

In truth, Seven appreciated her busy schedule. Routines
were comforting to one who had lived as a Borg. Despite
her many and varied tasks, there was plenty of time for her
to meditate about what was transpiring around her. Behind
her seemingly impassive humanoid forehead, the agile
brain of Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix
Zero-One, was always cogitating.

Most of the time, these thoughts were hers alone, unshared
by any other being. Captain Janeway or Commander Tuvok
sometimes sought her out to find out what she was
thinking. Ensign Kim was frequently assigned to tasks with
Seven, and she found his intelligent conversation bearable.
Neelix and Lieutenant Paris occasionally asked her how
she was feeling, and she would reply, succinctly and
efficiently.

And then there was Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres. Voyager's
chief engineer made it clear that she found Seven of Nine
to be a constant irritant. When forced to cooperate on a
project, as they had with the creation of the holographic
teacher's holomatrix, they did manage to complete their
tasks with only a bare minimum of sarcastic remarks,
however. On Seven's part. Lieutenant Torres was quite
efficient at uttering sarcastic remarks and needed no
assistance from Seven of Nine in that area.

Although Seven would never divulge it to her, there was
one aspect of her contacts with Lieutenant Torres that
fascinated Seven. The chief engineer's burgeoning form
supplied an abundance of topics of inquiry. What was it
like to have another being inside your body, yet have no
actual neurological link with it--or her, since the child
growing inside Lieutenant Torres was of the female
gender? Lieutenant Paris mentioned once that the child
moved inside the uterus. What would that feel like?

Since the engineer's bare tolerance of "that Borg" was so
obvious, Seven did not ask many of the questions she
wished to ask about this most basic of bodily functions,
even though, in this instance, the information in Voyager's
data base was inadequate for what Seven wished to know.

The chain of life was a profound concept. The child
gestating within Lieutenant Torres was merely a repetition
of what had occurred previously with Lieutenant Torres
within her own mother. Seven had been carried within her
own mother's body. It had occurred with every other
biological being on Voyager, with only minor variations.
When she was Borg, Seven had been fully cognizant of the
process, of course, but to see it in operation at close hand
was compelling. When she was alone in her alcove,
regenerating or merely resting, contemplating the
ramifications occupied a fair amount of Seven's time. It
seemed so different from Borg reproduction, yet was it,
really?

The Borg assimilated already created beings. It was more
efficient that way. Since those beings had been conceived,
gestated, and birthed in the manner of the races that were
later assimilated by the Borg, however, the Borg ultimately
depended upon the same, old-fashioned, single-cell
fertilization process. It was simply one step they allowed
others to do for them. If the Borg truly succeeded in their
goal of assimilating all the races whose technology they
desired, and there were no more assimilatable beings for
the completion of the Borg reproductive cycle, would the
biological components of the Collective eventually wear
out, dooming the Hive to the assimilation of inferior
species--or extinction?

Perfection might be even more impossible to achieve than
Seven thought.

Contemplating gestation also meant contemplating
conception and its precursor, courtship.

Now that she was no longer linked to the Collective, single-
cell fertilization could become relevant to her personally.
Inevitably, Seven found herself considering which males on
Voyager would meet her specifications for DNA of
sufficient quality to contribute to the creation of a child of
Seven's. Should Seven ever decide to reproduce, of course.
Only those males who could meet her specifications would
be appropriate candidates for the performing of the various
courtship rituals she had studied--including those that were
on view before her every day in the schoolroom.

After spending a significant amount of time evaluating her
choices, she found there were few who were suitable, and
some of these, such as Mr. Paris, were unavailable. (The
idea that Lieutenant Torres would consider sharing him
with Seven was obviously out of the question.) Of those
who were available, the one whose qualities seemed the
best match for Seven of Nine was Ensign Kim.

Seven knew the story of Ensign Kim's late wife Kes,
although she had barely gotten a chance to meet the
Ocampan woman before the latter was transformed into
another, noncorporeal sort of being. Because Kes' expected
life span of nine years had been truncated to less than four,
her desire to perpetuate her memory on this corporeal plane
of existence by leaving behind children with whom her
husband could share his life had been thwarted.

Even Seven, with her meager experience with humanoid
emotions, could see that this was a source of great sorrow
for Ensign Kim. Indeed, of all those who dwelled upon
Voyager, Ensign Kim was one of the few whose pupils did
*not* dilate when Seven's body came within view. He was
still undergoing the process of mourning, she understood
from the captain and the Doctor. Mr. Kim was always
polite and helpful, though--almost suffocatingly so at times.
He was always trying to teach her the social conventions,
just as the Doctor and the captain were; but somehow, his
lessons engendered a much different reaction in Seven of
Nine than those given her by the Doctor and Captain
Janeway.

It was by studying her students that Seven realized what it
was. Hormones. Her own body was responding to Ensign
Kim's presence by producing an overabundance of female
reproductive hormones.

Although it had become much more surreptitious in
execution, Jeffrey, K'Kath, and Larg continued to evince
interest in her body. Seven noticed them look at the two
teenaged girls, who whispered to each other or giggled
annoyingly, in a similar fashion. At shuch times, blood
flushed all five teenaged faces. Their widely opened eyes
began to shine brightly. When she consulted the Doctor
about it, he curtly dismissed the topic. "Hormones.
Reproductive hormones, to be precise. Just ignore them.
They'll work it all out on their own if you let them."
Because the equation of three into two did not result in a
whole number, however, Seven felt the numbers did not
promise so easy a resolution.

A quick examination of the parameters of the schoolroom
program, which had not been her area of responsibility in
the preparation of the program, showed that initially,
Nanny was to provide the education for both groups of
students. There were supposed to be three females and
three males in the older group, apparently so that Naomi
could be exposed both to beings from differing cultural
backgrounds as well as to the ways adolescents interacted,
to prepare her for the days when her own hormone level
increased dramatically (and erratically, according to the
data base) during puberty.

Seven's inclusion as an aide in the classroom was having
unexpected repercussions. Apparently Seven had been
interpreted by the program as the third "adolescent" female,
an uncomfortable situation for Seven. This appeared to be
what Mr. Paris referred to as a "glitch" in the program.
Seven resolved to speak to him about it when she had the
chance.

Another repercussion seemed to be this unfortunate
reaction she was having to Ensign Kim whenever he tried
to assist her in adjusting to being a member of Voyager's
crew complement.

The most serious repercussion, however, was that Seven of
Nine began to experience visions, many of them similar to
those she had experienced when she'd fled to *The
Raven's* wreckage. Incidents from her life before her
assimilation emerged into her consciousness. Feelings were
reawakened as the memories were awakened:

Hugs from her parents, flooding her with the sense of being
loved, and loving them back in return.

Happiness at receiving praise from them, when she'd
completed her lessons well, or if she'd been a very good girl
when she'd visited a planet and quietly listened while her
parents talked with people who knew many very important
things they needed to learn.

Warm feelings of acceptance, when she remembered the
station master who thought her such a smart, clever little
girl--so smart that he gave her the most beautiful red
flowers twisted into a coronet to rest upon her brow. "They
look so pretty on your golden hair." The station master had
said that. She remembered it vividly.

Excitement, when the very important invention Daddy was
working on worked so well! So well! Can you believe how
far we've gone! The conduit theory is right! We will
revolutionize warp theory! Travel across the galaxy will be
possible! Those Federation scientists don't have a clue, do
they, Annika?

So many strange things that she hadn't understood at the
time, although somehow, on some level, she understood
what her parents had accomplished--and what the Borg had
stolen from them.

Stolen from her parents. What a strange thing to think
about. All the Borg owned everything together. How could
anything be stolen from one Borg to be given to another?

But wait. Something could be taken from you by the Borg
if you weren't one of them. Yet.

Agonizing fear. Fright, terror, welling up from her psyche
as she remembered racing down a corridor, tall black-clad
men walking past her as her mother and father screamed at
her to run, run away. Hide, Annika. Hide away.

Hiding, until the tall black-clad men found her, and yanked
her out of her hiding place, and locked her away in a tiny
cubicle, with only the voices in her head for company. All
the voices, none of them familiar. None of them Mommy
and Daddy, not really.

Only the strange, faint echo of their voices, in her mind? Or
buried in with the other voices? Annika Hansen never
could be sure if she'd ever heard them again or not. She
only knew that she was alone, in the dark, hidden away for
such a long time, with no arms to hug her, no voice to
praise her, and no hands to hand her a gift of red flowers,
plaited into a crown to rest on her hair.

But in that lonely dark place, the voices were always there.
Whispering at her. Shouting at her. Screaming in terror at
her.

And then, one day, when the dark lonely chrysalis had
become too small a space for her to inhabit without pain,
Annika had emerged and been transformed into Seven of
Nine. Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One. A drone,
one of the mighty Borg, whose individual existence
mattered not, dedicated as each must be to the
advancement of the Borg Collective itself. Individual
components had no importance. Only the Hive did.

She remembered something about that time. Feelings.
Strange feelings. Angry feelings. Seven of Nine found
herself feeling rage, directed towards her own people. The
Borg.

Why should she feel that way? Were Naomi's fears about
Borg assimilation infecting Seven?

Or was she feeling this way because of her contact with the
hormone-flooded youths who confronted her each day?

As Seven stood alone in her alcove at the end of the day,
she thought about the child she had been, who had never
existed in a classroom such as the one created for Naomi.
She thought about the students she saw every day, who
interacted with one another and learned things in an open
room--a place where the computer screen was in front of
your body instead of attached to your skull; where every
discovery was an individual achievement, capable of
engendering great pleasure from the accomplishment of a
goal, not simply a tiny, insignificant bit of data acquired by
a collective consciousness.

If things had been different, she might have been one of
these students who preened and ogled and flirted with each
other, instead of the one boxed away until she was ready to
be assigned a niche within the great consciousness of the
Borg.

After many nights of such ruminations, Seven realized she
did have an inkling about what it had been like to live the
childhood that Naomi was living. She had had a chance to
experience that herself, for the first six years of her life.
What she had no idea of, however, was of later childhood
and adolescence. She had lived those years locked away.
What would she have been like if she had never become
Borg?

On Voyager, when one is curious about something, there is
a way to find out if one wishes. A quick lesson from
Lieutenant Paris about holodeck programming, some
research into the holocharacter data base that yielded up a
female which had once been part of a program the Doctor
still visited, and a short session identifying programs about
adolescent behavior was all she needed to begin a journey
into what might have been.

---

"Oh, hello, Lieutenant Paris. How are you today?"

"I'm fine, Nanny."

"And how is your lovely wife doing?"

Tom looked up from the tray of instruments that the EMH
had set him to sorting. "B'Elanna's doing great, too. Thanks
for asking. "

"Good. Excellent." The hologram hovered expectantly in
the doorway connecting sickbay to the schoolroom.

"Is there something I can help you with, Nanny? Anybody
need any 'doctoring'?"

"Oh, no. Everything's fine. The children are all on their way
home. Miss Nine is off taking care of her astrometrical
duties. I was just, uh . . . wondering . . . is the Doctor free at
the moment?"

Tom suppressed a smile. "He's due back any minute. He
had something to take care of on the holodeck."

"Ah. I see. Let him know I was asking after him."

"I will, Nan . . ."

Before Tom could finish his reply, the EMH swept into
sickbay, calling out cheerily, "Hello, there! Is there
something I can do for you? Any bumps and bruises from
our rambunctious charges in school?"

Nanny giggled and repeated what she'd told Tom. ". . . but
what I really need is a little of your guidance, Doctor. With
such a wide gap in ages, planning lessons for the entire
group can be quite challenging. I wanted to run some of my
recent ideas by you, to see what you think. Over dinner,
perhaps?" Tom rolled his eyes. That was as bad as a lot of
the lines he used to use, before B'Elanna. Well, maybe he
even used something like it *on* B'Elanna. Unsuccessfully.

The Doctor walked into his office to consult his schedule
before replying, "I don't think I'm free tonight."

"Another time then, Lord Burleigh?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know you prefer to be called by your title .
. . *Doctor*."

"Yes, of course I do," huffed the Doctor, looking perplexed.

"Well, I guess I'll be off then. I don't want to overstay my
welcome. I want to remain on good terms with my
employer! There are already just so many dangerous
situations and people about, if you know what I mean."
Nanny looked over her shoulder furtively, as if someone
was lurking behind her.

"Dangerous people lurking about? I don't believe so,
Nanny." The Doctor smiled to reassure her.

"If only that were true! There's always someone watching
out to take advantage of you! I know! But as long as you
keep watching out for me, I'm sure it will all turn out well."
Nanny leaned close and fluttered her eyelashes at the EMH.
"And if there's anything you want to tell me," her voice got
lower, more seductive, ". . . or anything you want me to do,
Lord Burl . . . I mean, Doctor . . . you let me know, now!
Toodle-oo!" With a sudden happy chirp and a quick
gargoyle of a smile, Nanny skipped back into her own area.

Tom had ceased his sorting to watch this unexpected
wrinkle in the program develop. While Tom knew he
should know who Lord Burly was, he couldn't place him
just then. One thing he did know: Nanny shouldn't be
calling the Doctor Lord Burly, not to mention fluttering her
eyelashes at him.

Tom's reverie was interrupted by the Doctor's casual, "You
may pick your mandible off the floor, Mr. Paris. This is
nothing new. Nanny's been pestering me 'to stay on good
terms' by  'going to tea' or 'having dinner' with her all
week."

Concerned though he was, Tom couldn't help grinning.
"You're the one who didn't want to let her know that for her
dinner, is optional. Sounds like 'just desserts' to me."

"Hrumph."

"Does she always call you Lord Burly?"

"Not always. The last couple of days it's happened a bit
more often. Why?"

"I was just wondering. It wasn't anything I programmed her
to do. Did you add it in?"

"No."

"I don't recall putting that flirtatiousness into her program,
either. Must be you, Doc. If she thinks of you as her 'lord
and master,' you must've made a conquest."

The Doctor glared with narrowed eyes at his assistant.

In a conciliatory tone of voice Tom added, "But you know,
Doc, it's not surprising she wants a little more attention.
Seven isn't exactly the greatest company for Nanny. I think
our teacher gets pretty lonely in there until the program hits
the automatic shut off point each afternoon."

"You don't have to tell me about how lonely it can be for a
hologram, Mr. Paris."

A smile that never quite reached Tom's eyes flickered over
his face, as he answered in an even softer tone of voice,
"No, I guess I don't."

They held each other's gaze for a moment before Tom said,
"And I guess I'd better get back to work."

"That would be a refreshing change."

---

"You'll never guess what program she's in, B'Elanna. It's
Neelix's Resort!" chortled Harry in amazement.

"Seven? In the Resort? Alone? Are you sure? Computer,
which crew members are currently on Holodeck Two?"

::::Seven of Nine is the only crew member present on
Holodeck Two:::: replied the calm female voice.

Harry and B'Elanna exchanged bemused glances.
"B'Elanna, maybe we should signal her first. Seven is off-
duty. Our question about the Astrometrics power relays
isn't so vital that it can't wait a little while."

"Aren't you at all curious to see what sorts of activities in
the Resort our Miss Nine would find 'relevant'? Maybe
she's assimilating the waiters. And this *is* an open
program; she'd better not be having an orgy in there when
just anybody could waltz in on her."

"B'Elanna . . ." cautioned Harry, even as the arch opened to
admit them, on B'Elanna's command.

Initially, nothing in view was out of the ordinary--certainly,
nothing suggestive of an orgy. The holographic waiters and
dancers were moving around purposefully, setting up for
the influx of visitors expected during and after dinnertime.
Harry and B'Elanna had to move well into the program
before they caught sight of Seven. She was sitting in one of
the far booths which overlooked the Resort's beach.

Seven was not alone. A blonde-haired girl who looked to
be in her early teens was sitting with her. The girl was
chatting animatedly to an entranced Seven. It crossed
Harry's mind that "lecturing to" the woman who had once
been Borg might be a more accurate description, for Seven
spoke only a few words during the time that Harry and
B'Elanna were observing them from across the room.

Involved as he was in watching the two in the booth, Harry
did not notice his companion stiffen in shock. When
B'Elanna suddenly moved across the room as fast as she her
pregnancy-swollen body would permit her, however, Harry
hastened to follow. It was only when they reached the
booth and B'Elanna faced him that Harry realized the chief
engineer's face was flushed with rage. "How dare you!"
B'Elanna hissed. "Of all the characters to use, how dare you
use this one!"

"Computer, freeze program," Seven stated calmly. The
teenager froze obligingly, her surprised face uptilted
towards B'Elanna. "Lieutenant Torres, why do you object to
my utilization of this character? Her template was in the
data banks for general use, was it not?"

"No, she was not for general use! No one's used her since
the Doctor did!"

"B'Elanna, I don't see what your problem is about this
either."

"Harry, don't you know who this is? It's Belle!"

Harry's eyes flashed down to the still face of the girl. Belle,
the Doctor's daughter from his family program. Now he
knew her. With chagrin, Harry replied, "No, B'Elanna. I
didn't recognize her. I think you and Kes were the only ones
to see her alive. The rest of us only saw her at the memorial
service."

"Kes and I--and the Doctor! How do you think he'd feel if
he saw her memory being desecrated in this way?"

"Lieutenant Torres, the Doctor is a hologram. Why do you
speak of his 'feelings'?"

B'Elanna turned back to Seven with both fists clenched and
shaking with rage. "That shows just how little you know
about him! Yes, he has feelings! And for you to . . ."

Harry quickly slipped between Seven and B'Elanna,
grabbing the half-Klingon's upper arms to steady her and
block her from doing something she might regret later--or
worse, might *not* regret. "B'Elanna, you've got to calm
yourself. It can't be good for the baby for you to get so
worked up over this."

"Leave my baby out of this, Harry Kim," she growled
through clenched teeth.

"I think you're a little too close to the situation to be
objective. Let me talk to Seven about this, all right?"

B'Elanna seethed in righteous indignation, but Harry's
message seemed to be getting through. After taking a deep,
calming breath, B'Elanna replied, "Okay, Harry. I'll go back
to engineering. But you straighten out the Borg about this. I
don't want the Doctor blundering in here and getting upset.
You know how he was at the funeral."

"I know how he was. I'll take care of it. It'll be fine. Really.
Just let Captain Janeway know what I'm doing here, okay?
My shift is over in a few minutes anyway." As Harry's
soothing words took effect, B'Elanna nodded briefly before
shaking herself out of his hold. After shooting a poisonous
glance at Seven, B'Elanna marched off the holodeck as
crisply as her baby-filled belly would permit.

Only when B'Elanna was safely through the arch was Harry
comfortable enough to return his attention to Seven. She
was gazing at him solemnly, not with the belligerence he'd
seen from her at other times. The motionless holographic
teenager was also still staring at him, as were several of the
other frozen holocharacters whose attention must have
been captured by B'Elanna's outburst.

Seven broke the eerie silence by saying, "I fail to see why
Lieutenant Torres is so agitated by my choice. Borrowing a
character from another program is a common practice,
according to Lieutenant Paris."

"Normally, it wouldn't be a problem. This is different."

"In what way? According to the holodeck logs, the Doctor
borrowed her from an earlier program of the captain's. Why
shouldn't I be able to utilize this same hologram for my
purposes?"

"Seven, this character was the Doctor's daughter. She died
in a tragic accident. He almost gave up his family program
after it happened. Tom talked the Doctor into carrying it
through to the end, to mourn her, just like he would have
done in real life. It wasn't easy for the Doctor. It brought
him tremendous pain, so nobody's felt comfortable using
this character in their programs since that occurred."

"Why wasn't the character deleted from the data banks if
she was not to be utilized?"

"I don't know. Maybe it seemed to be a good idea for her to
be available in case the Doc wanted to use her again
himself. Modify her into another daughter, or something.
I'm not sure of the reason; I just know there's been sort of
an unspoken agreement by the entire crew not to use her
for anything else."

"I was unaware of this. I will find another face for my
character. Computer . . . "

Before Seven could delete the character, Harry stopped her.
"Wait, before you do that, could you let me in on what you
were doing with her?"

"I am merely exploring courtship rituals--to better
understand my students' behavior."

"If that's the case, why don't you have a boy in here, too, so
you can talk to both and watch them together?"

"I have ample opportunity to watch the boys and girls
interacting in the schoolroom. In this program I am
obtaining background data about the life of a girl at this
stage of her development."

"I see." Harry noted that the usually phlegmatic Borg
became considerably less so during this explanation. "Have
you programmed a boy to get an idea about what his life is
like, too?"

"I have not."

Harry was on the verge of asking her why she wasn't
interested in a boy's life at this stage of development when
he thought of a better way to find out what was going on.
Clearly, there was more to this than what Seven had
admitted. "Maybe it would be better if you ran a little of the
program, so I can understand you better."

"You would not be offended by the use of this
holocharacter? The Doctor might enter the holodeck and
become upset, if Lieutenant Torres is correct," Seven
remarked, her right eyebrow arched.

"Maybe we can change her a little bit so that wouldn't
happen. Computer, change the hair color of . . . what did
you say the name of this character is?"

"I did not say. Her name is Belinda."

"Computer, change Belinda's hair color to light red. Make
her eyes green. And lets give her a whole bunch of freckles,
all over her face."  In an eye-blink, the still-motionless girl's
coloring was altered. "There, that's better. If the Doc does
walk in now, she'll seem like another girl at first glance.
You can change her face later. Let's unfreeze her now and
continue the conversation B'Elanna and I disrupted."

Seven nodded slowly, and Harry called out, "Computer,
resume program."


"Oh, hi!" Belinda said, looking around. "Where's the other
lady?"

"She had to leave. I'm Harry."

"Hi, Harry. Are you going to be leaving, too?"

"No, I was going to join Seven and you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, okay." Belinda giggled nervously, flicking a glance at
Seven as Harry took a seat next to his crewmate, across
from the teenager.

"Seven, Belinda, can I get you anything? A soda, perhaps?"

At Belinda's eager agreement and Seven's cool assent,
Harry called over one of the waiters and ordered two
"giant" colas and a medium ginger ale for Seven. Once the
drinks had been ordered, Belinda asked, "What are we
going to talk about?"

"What you were talking about before. Don't mind me."

Belinda giggled again. "I don't think we should."

"Why not? Is it a big secret?"

"No, it's not a secret. But we were talking about school,
music, holodeck programs, and sports. And boyfriends."
She giggled again. "I don't think you'd be interested in all
*that.* Boys usually aren't. Well, maybe you wouldn't mind
the sports or music part."

"But I'm not a boy anymore, so I am interested in all that.
Just forget I'm here and go on the way you were before I
got here."

Belinda looked over at Seven for confirmation. Seven
responded, "It is acceptable. Continue. Please."

Harry sat back against the bench of the booth and listened.
It actually *was* pretty interesting. He'd never had a sister
or brother, and he'd been so serious about his classes at this
age that a lot of what Belinda had to say about her daily life
was a revelation.

But it wasn't as much of a revelation to him as it seemed to
be to Seven. He'd never seen the former Borg so absorbed
by anything other than the building of the Astrometrics lab,
the project the captain had assigned to Harry and Seven
after Kes left Voyager. Busy work, he'd thought at the time,
although he'd been grateful enough then to be kept busy.

As he watched the subtle changes in Seven's expressions
now, he decided he was right about one thing. This
program's agenda consisted of something more than Seven's
desire to learn about teenage courtship rituals, although
certainly that was a large part of it.

After over an hour of the hologram discussing her life with
only minimal interruption, mostly requests for clarification
from the two adults, Belinda said, "Oh, gee! Look at the
time! I've got to go! The parental units will really get sore if
I don't get home in time! I don't want to get grounded!"

"Grounded? What is that?" asked Seven quickly.

"I can explain what grounded means," Harry replied,
bemused. "I've had experience with that. We don't want to
get Belinda in trouble, Seven. She needs to go now."
Reluctantly, Seven shrugged her shoulders in agreement.

Belinda jumped out of the booth. "Thanks, Harry. I'll see
you again soon, Seven. Bye!"  Waving in farewell, she
vanished as she headed out of the exit arch.

Once Belinda had disappeared, Harry moved around to take
her vacated place in the booth. "About getting grounded?"
he said amiably. "That's what happens when you do
something wrong and your parents discipline you by taking
away all your privileges. Like talking to your friends over
the comm system, or going out to sporting events, or going
on dates. All the things that Belinda likes to do."

"I see." A shadow crossed Seven's face at this, and Harry
wished he felt comfortable enough to ask her why being
"grounded" had such obvious resonance for someone who
had lived so much of her life as a Borg.

Instead, he asked, "So, did talking to Belinda teach you
what you wanted to know about being a teenager?"

"It served its purpose," she said evasively.

"I, uh, noticed that you had a lot of questions about what
Belinda's life was like with her parents. That doesn't seem
to have much to do with teenage courtship rituals."

Seven looked away, then answered, "All of my questions
were relevant to my investigations."

"That's . . . intriguing."

After a moment's hesitation, Seven commented, "Ensign
Kim. I noted that this program made your face change in
the way I have learned transmits to others that a subject is
painful. One of those times was when Belinda mentioned
being on the Parrises Squares team at school. Why would
this subject bring you pain?"

"That's how Belle died, Seven. She damaged her brain in a
fall playing Parrises Squares. The Doctor couldn't save her.
So even though Belinda looked different, I couldn't help
thinking of Belle and feeling bad about it. I remembered
her funeral."

"I understand. I thought at first that you had been damaged
in the past playing this sport," Seven said quietly.

"No, it made me think of mourning. And thinking about
that always makes me think about losing Kes."

Seven stared over Harry's shoulders for a moment. "I have
lost everything I have ever known, also. I have lost the
Collective." She paused. "I believe I have felt pain from
this."

//And maybe not just the Collective,// thought Harry.
"Seven, all those questions about Belinda's parents . . . are
you thinking about your parents, too? Mourning their loss?"

Her expression changed, and she hesitated again before
answering. "I do sometimes wonder what my life would
have been like if I had not become Borg."

"That's what this program is really all about, isn't it? Not
about courtship rituals at all."

"No," Seven responded, with conviction. "I must
comprehend humanoid courtship rituals. The Borg did not
practice single-cell fertilization themselves, but now that I
am an individual, I need to understand this process. There
is a high probability of its being relevant to my future."

The cool equanimity Seven usually projected returned.
Harry could recognize someone in denial. He'd seen it up
close with B'Elanna and Tom. Maybe sometimes when he'd
looked into a mirror, too. She wasn't ready to admit to
mourning her lost parents, her lost childhood. Maybe it was
enough, for now, for her to admit she even wondered about
what it might have been like if she'd never encountered the
Borg.

There was plenty of time for further revelations. Rather
than push her any further about her parents, Harry decided
to ask her about the topic she did seem willing to discuss.
"So, are you interested in learning about dating, then? Like
Belinda was talking about?"

"Going out for a 'slice of pizza' does not appeal to me."

"Depends on how good the pizza is! Neelix's isn't very
good. There's other kinds of dates, too, though. There are
some holonovels you could try. There's places you can
visit, too, like the Ktarian moonrise simulation. It's
beautiful. Would you like to try something like that
sometime?"

"Would copulation occur during these simulations?"

Harry, aghast, cried, "No! Dating and copulation don't
mean the same thing!"

"They are related."

"Sometimes they are, but not always."

"You would not be interested in copulating with me?"

Gasping, Harry replied, "I'm not saying that. But I'm not
asking you to copulate when I'm inviting you to experience
a simulation together. Sometimes dating leads to
copulation, but usually not right off the bat. It takes time
for two people to learn how to trust each other . . . to
develop mutual feelings for one another. Friendship really
should come first."

"I understand that you and Kes did not have many dates
before your marriage."

"That's true, but we'd known each other for three years as
friends. And because we knew she wouldn't live very long,
we decided not to wait once we knew we wanted to get
married. I guess that was a good decision, the way things
turned out. We didn't have as much time together as we
expected. A lot less, in fact." Harry looked down at the
table, at his hands. Reflexively, he had clenched them at
Seven's mention of Kes.

"Does speaking of this bring you pain, Ensign Kim?"

"Some," Harry answered honestly. "But it's good for me to
talk about her, too. I have to accept I've lost her so I can
move on with my life." Seven was drinking in all of what
he had to say as intently as she had Belinda's recitation, he
saw, and he continued, "That's the way it is with any kind
of loss. Talking about it makes it better, somehow. So,
what you were doing here with Belinda wasn't really a bad
thing."

"I simply chose an unacceptable character."

"Maybe you didn't. I'm not sure how the Doc would
respond if he knew what you were talking about with her.
I'm sorry B'Elanna got so upset about it. But maybe . . . "

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Talking with one of the crew instead of a holodeck
character would be an even better idea. That way, B'Elanna
can't get upset again because you picked the wrong
character."

"Not many on this vessel wish to speak with me."

"I wouldn't mind speaking with you." Looking around at the
chairs and tables of the Resort, which had begun to fill with
their fellow crew members, Harry paused and checked the
time. "In fact, it looks like I have lots of time to talk now.
My shift is over. Let me check with the bridge. If they don't
need me, we could get some dinner. Isn't it time for you to
eat, too?"

"It is."

"Do you want to go to the mess hall?"

"I would prefer to ingest nutrients here. The smells in the
mess hall are often unappealing."

Harry laughed. "I can't disagree with you about that! I've
got the rations, so if you do, too, here is fine."

As he signaled for the waiter, Harry became aware of
Seven's eyes fixed upon him--such pretty blue eyes. When
he realized whose eyes they reminded him of, he felt
another pang beneath his breastbone.

The waiter came, and Harry forced himself to push away
memory and pain so he could order meals for his
companion and himself. While they waited to be served,
Harry was finally able to ask Seven the question about the
Astrometrics power relays he'd needed answered when he'd
come looking for her a couple of hours before.

Tonight, when he was alone in his quarters, Harry would
take the time to reminisce about his lost love. Someone
else was in need of his help now, and he was glad to give it.
Kes would have wanted it that way.

---

". . . all right, B'Elanna. I'm sure Harry will find out what
Seven was doing with the Belle character. The power
relays can wait. Harry's right, though. It's not good for you
to get so upset like this."

::::I'm fine. The baby's fine. I wish everyone would stop
obsessing about the baby every time I get a little aggravated
about something I've got good reason to be aggravated
about! Is Tom there obsessing, too, Captain?::::

Tom rolled his eyes at Captain Janeway as he answered,
"Yes, I'm here, B'Elanna. I have something to tell the
captain, and then I'll be off the rest of the night. How long
will you be in engineering?"

::::As long as it takes me to figure out a way to jury-rig a
bypass around the blasted Astrometrics power relays! If we
could have consulted with the Borg about it, I'd probably be
off already!::::

"Ah. Okay. Maybe I'll wander down to engineering as soon
as I'm done here, see if I can help you with anything. Just
take it easy."

::::'Just take it easy.' You *are* obsessing, too, I take it.::::

"No more than usual. I'll be there in a little while. Paris
out."

As the communication ended, the captain allowed her
laughter to be heard by her helmsman-*cum*-nurse. Tom
sighed, "It's not so funny when it happens every day,
Captain. I'll be glad when this is over, and I only have to
worry about a baby screaming all night long."

"I'm sorry, Tom. I shouldn't have laughed."

Tom grinned ruefully. "I'm sure it's a lot funnier when it's
happening to somebody else."

"I'm sure it is. Go ahead and make your report so you can
rescue B'Elanna--or maybe rescue engineering from her!
Let her relax a little before the next crisis occurs."

"Thanks, Captain. I needed to talk to you about Nanny. The
Doctor has his hands full dealing with her. She's been
putting the moves on him. While I was in Sickbay today
she came in three times; and each time, she was fluttering
her eyelashes and invading his personal space and . . . well,
Captain, I've flirted enough myself to know when someone
is trying to seduce somebody. And she is. Trying to seduce
the Doc, I mean."

"Hasn't the Doctor told her he's 'married'? Jeffrey is one of
her students, isn't he?"

"Actually, no, I don't think he has told her. The Doctor
hasn't mentioned Charlene that I know of, and I don't know
if it was put into the student data base. We put most of the
emphasis on Naomi. That wasn't my area to program. I'll
look into it, now that you mention it. And there's one other
thing . . . "

"Yes?"

"I've noticed that Nanny has a tendency to be a wee bit
paranoid. Okay, a *lot* paranoid. She worries about
*everything*. People are watching her and following her
around--they want to do evil things to her--that sort of
thing."

"The Doctor mentioned that to me before. I thought it was
simply a matter of her being able to sense the general log
cameras. Perhaps it's something more, if she's thinking that
someone is out to get her."

"Between her worrying about everything and coming onto
the Doc, buttering him up by calling him 'Lord Burly,' I
don't think he is . . ."

"Did you say Lord Burleigh?" the captain gasped.

"Yeah, that's what she's been calling him. Lord Burly."

"Oh, God! You didn't use my Victorian governess
holonovel for her program?"

"Let me check." Tom leaned over the captain's desk to
access her computer. After several deft movements of his
fingers, he had the screen filled with the data he was
looking for. After a few "uh-hmms" and "okays," he looked
up at the captain. "Yes, Captain. We eliminated 'The Turn
of the Screw,' 'Jane Eyre,' and several other teachers we
thought could cause problems from Nanny's matrix, but
Lucille Davenport, the governess from your holonovel, was
included."

"Well, that explains it all, then. Lord Burleigh was
supposedly a widower, but Lady Burleigh was still alive
and dangerously crazy."

"That sounds a lot like 'Jane Eyre.' "

"It is, in some ways; but there were a few unusual twists, so
I decided to be Lucille Davenport instead of Jane. I'd pretty
much forgotten about it. Compared to daily life on
Voyager, it got to be boring after a while."

"And Leonardo might get jealous."

Despite her concern, the captain laughed. "The DaVinci
program is much more entertaining. Such a great mind!"

"I'm sorry we put Mrs. Davenport in to the matrix without
realizing the deficiencies in her character, Captain. I should
have checked her out instead of leaving it to the Doc."

"It's all right. Now that we know about it, it's easy enough
to fix. But before we do any more fiddling with her
personality, the first thing we need to do is be honest with
her."

"Absolutely, Captain. I wanted to do that from the
beginning."

---

"Hello! Nanny? Are you still here?" Captain Janeway called
out as she entered the schoolroom,  with Tom close on her
heels.

Nanny shimmered into existence. "Yes, I'm still here. I
haven't had a chance to go home yet, what with all the
lesson planning I have to do. I was expecting Miss Nine to
stop by this afternoon, but I haven't seen her. Have you?"

"No, but I know why she didn't come. She had something
she needed to discuss with Ensign Kim."

"Oh, Captain, I hope there isn't any problem! No one's
following Miss Nine about wanting to do her harm, is
there? There's so many disreputable people hanging around.
You just never know what they'll do!" Nanny's brow
crinkled in dismay.

"No, nothing like that, Nanny. Just something she and Mr.
Kim needed to talk about."

"I'll get the Doc," Tom whispered to the captain at a pause
in her dialogue with the teacher, while Nanny was
muttering to herself about Miss Nine being in danger, too.

A minute later, Tom followed the Doctor into the
schoolroom.

As soon as the Doctor arrived, the captain began, "Now
that I've got the two of you together, I have to ask you
about what's been going on in here. Tom expressed concern
about some things he's observed in sickbay. Doctor?"

The EMH stood up a little straighter, then deflated visibly.
"There do seem to have been a few little problems lately.
Nothing I can't handle."

"Tom tells me that Nanny has been flirting with you.
Inviting you out to dinner--that sort of thing."

The Doctor stabbed a look in Tom's direction, but before he
could answer, Nanny chimed in, "Oh, Captain, it's true! I
can't help it. He's such a wonderful man. I've always had a
weakness for my employers; I confess; it's my Achille's
heel. If you don't favor my attentions, Lord Burleigh--I
mean, Doctor--I'll understand if you need to terminate me."

"No one's going to terminate you!" cried the Doctor. "Oh,
you mean fire you?"

"That's what she meant, Doc. It wasn't like she expected
you to 'terminate' her, like she was a program, or
something," Tom explained pointedly. "Then she wouldn't
be paranoid about somebody being out to get her, would
she?"

"Tom . . ." the captain warned, then turned back to the
teacher. "You're saying you've fallen in love with your
employer, the Doctor?"

"Yes, desperately." Nanny, starry eyed and smiling, glanced
lovingly at the EMH.

"Nanny, the Doctor isn't your employer. I am," said
Janeway.

"You're my employer? Oh, no, that clearly can't be. Why,
you can't be Lord Burleigh. You're a woman! Aren't you?"
Nanny looked nervously at the captain.

"Yes, of course, the captain is a woman, but that doesn't
mean she can't be your employer! I'm not your employer,
Nanny! I'm the chief medical officer of this ship, but the
captain runs the ship! She's the 'employer' of us all."

"I don't understand!" wailed Nanny.

Taking Nanny by the hand, the captain sat her down in the
chair behind her desk, perching herself on the desk's edge,
before continuing, "You see, Nanny, you've been
programmed to have a predisposition to fall in love with
your employer. Since the Doctor has been so involved with
you, it's understandable that you interpreted him to be your
employer, but he isn't. He's really your crew mate and co-
worker."

"I've been programmed? I've been brainwashed, you mean?
You see! Someone is out to get me! Oh, what have I done
to deserve this?"

"No, Nanny, that's not it at all." Sighing, the captain turned
to the Doctor. "It's time, Doctor. Will you tell her, or shall
I?"

"Tell me what?"

The Doctor met the captain's firm, not-to-be-disobeyed,
Janeway stare. Shaking his head slightly and sighing, the
Doctor turned to Nanny and declared, "Nanny, you and I
aren't humans, like the Captain, or even Mr. Paris here.
We're sophisticated computer programs who interact with
the humanoids on Voyager via a holographic interface.
We're holograms."

Nanny gaped at the Doctor, gagged, and began to laugh
hysterically. "Holograms! Computer programs! Oh, my,
Doctor! You really had me going there for a moment! This
is just too funny!"

"I'm not in the habit of joking about as serious a subject as
this one!" cried the EMH.

The captain tried to get Nanny's attention, but it was Tom
who walked over to her, brushing by the captain as he knelt
before the teacher and reached out to grasp her hands.
"Nanny, access Zeta-Tau-Alpha-Two, Holographic Matrix
Program Directory, Matrices One and Two. It's all there.
All the specs for the Emergency Medical Hologram and the
Holographic Head Teacher programs. The EMH and the
HHT. You're the HHT."

Abruptly, Nanny stopped laughing and gazed up at Tom
with a faraway look in her eyes. When her eyes again were
fastened on Tom's sympathetic ones, she gulped a small,
"Oh," before looking at Captain Janeway. The captain
gazed at the HHT, her eyes filled with the same
sympathetic warmth that Tom's had.

Nanny looked up at the ceiling. "The holoemitters are up
there?"

"Yes, Nanny," Tom replied. "They're housed in the ceilings
in here. Also in Sickbay, in the medical labs, and in two
Holodecks that have their entrances one deck below us, on
Deck Six. You can go anywhere where there are
holoemitters. You can transfer down to the Holodecks
without having to go out into any corridors, but we've been
talking about fitting holoemitters in some other rooms, too.
Maybe a corridor or two. That's for the future, though.
Until that's done, these are the only places you can go."

"But how do you get around on those away missions you've
told me about, Doctor? Don't you need holoemitters to . . .
to be?"

"That small badge I wear on my arm sometimes is a mobile
emitter. It's very handy. I can go anywhere when I'm
wearing that."

"Can you make me one?"

"I'm sorry, Nanny. That technology is from the future. It's a
long story, but the brief version is that we only have the
one." The Doctor took a deep breath. "Of course, we can
share the mobile emitter. There are bound to be times when
I'm going to be needed in Sickbay, and you can use it then.
Perhaps when we get to a suitable planet, your program can
be loaded into it so you can take Naomi on a field trip."

"Naomi, but not the other students? Oh. They're
holocharacters, too, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are. My son Jeffrey and all the teenagers. All the
children, except for Naomi."

"And Miss Nine is a holocharacter, too, of course."

Tom chuckled, "Well, no, actually. Seven is a human
being. "

"Really! If you'd told me just one of the others was a
hologram, I would have guessed Miss Nine."

Captain Janeway smiled. "An understandable mistake.
She's led a rather unusual life up to now. One could say
she's been programmed, too, in many ways."

Nanny smiled sadly at the captain. "So, my only true
student is Naomi."

"And Seven. She needs just as much instruction on how to
be a human being as Naomi does. More, probably. That's
why we assigned her to work with you. I'm sure you'll be
able to help her develop in many ways she can't anticipate
yet. I'm looking forward to seeing how you do with her,"
the captain said encouragingly.

"So, I'm a computer program," Nanny repeated. "Is that
why I thought everyone was out to get me?"

"No, it was the way you were programmed." Captain
Janeway explained. "You've been having problems because
elements from my old holonovel contaminated your
personality files. They didn't work well with the rest of
your subroutines. Don't worry. I'll have Tom, B'Elanna,
Harry and Seven work on taking them out tomorrow."

"No, Captain. I think I'd rather you left them there. Now
that I know what I really am, I think I'll be able to get
around them. And if I can't, then you can take them out."

"Sure, Nanny. That should work. B'Elanna will be keeping
your program tuned up regularly anyway. You just let one
of us know if you need any help in between, and we'll fix
you right up." As Tom finished, he noted that Nanny had
become very quiet and disturbed. "Is there still something
wrong, Nanny?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, Lieutenant. Nothing you
can do anything about. It's just that I'm . . . I'm only a
program."

Tom squeezed her hand again. "No, you aren't, not to us,
Nanny. You're your own, distinct personality. Now that you
know exactly what you are, you'll be able to develop it even
more, on your own. Like the Doc has. One thing you've got
going for you is that it's easier to fix your personality when
you need to. You don't need a counselor, something we
don't have and desperately need! You've got B'Elanna to
help you through. A little reprogramming to get rid of that
glitch . . ."

"I'm not really alive. I'm not real," she said, hollowly.

"That's not true. You're real to us. The Doc sure is," Tom
said, with a sincere smile.

"No, I'm not. I'm only a projection of light and energy."

Janeway gently patted Nanny on the shoulder. "You know,
Nanny, humans are made up of atoms. And what does an
atom consist of? Positive charges of electricity in the form
of protons and negative charges--electrons. With a few
neutrons here and there thrown in for good measure.
Essentially, matter is made up of energy. So maybe 'a
projection of light and energy' isn't a bad description of us
all, not just you."

"It doesn't mean I'm a life form. You can turn me on and
off."

"They certainly can," grumbled the Doctor. "Any time they
want."

Tom coughed suddenly and got up in front of Nanny,
rubbing his knees as if they were sore. "I don't know if
being capable of being turned off and on negates your
being a life form."

The captain transmitted a withering look at her helmsman,
certain she did not wish to address at the moment what had
crossed his mind to prompt that comment. She had a pretty
good idea what that thought might have been. Instead, she
said, "Now, Nanny, sentience is another matter--you are
sentient, as far as we're all concerned. Now that you know
who you are, you are self-aware, too."

"Me, sentient? A computer program?" sputtered Nanny.

"That you may be, but a sentient being is self-aware, able to
think, to reproduce in some manner. You and the Doctor fit
that definition."

Nanny looked in confusion at the Doctor, who opened his
mouth as if he wished to say something, without a word
escaping his lips. Returning her attention to the captain, she
said, "I may know who and what I am, but can I think? And
how can I reproduce?"

"You've shown your ability to use reason and to problem
solve while teaching Naomi. That sounds like thinking to
me. And you are the same sort of being as the Doctor, who,
in a sense, has reproduced by helping to create you."

Tom agreed vigorously. "He did, Nanny. The Doc was very
involved in creating you. And he's been very protective,
too. Almost fatherly."

Nanny's eyes turned inward as she considered Tom's
remark. Finally, she sighed, "That's all very nice of you to
say, but this is the Delta Quadrant. What will Starfleet say
about this when Voyager returns to the Alpha Quadrant?"

The Doctor found his voice again. "If you examine the
Starfleet databanks you'll see there's an android, an
artificial life form, who has become a member of Starfleet-
-he was a lieutenant commander when we left the Alpha
Quadrant, as a matter of fact. His right to choose his own
fate has been decided in a court of law. As far as the law is
concerned, he is not a machine, but a living being. Yet, like
a machine, he has an on and off switch."

Tom interjected, "You know, when humanoid species are
asleep, you could say they're 'off.' And when they're awake,
aren't they 'on'?"

"An excellent example, Tom." The captain caught his sly
grin. That wasn't what he'd been thinking about earlier, she
was willing to bet, but it was close enough.

"Well, maybe . . ."

"And we're only talking of species that have bodies. There
are beings we accept as 'real,' such as the Organians, who
have evolved beyond having bodies. We've even had a
member of this crew leave us by transforming herself into a
non-corporeal life form," the EMH began to warm to the
subject.

Janeway smiled and said, "There, you see? I think we have
an excellent argument that you and the Doctor are a kind of
life form, too, just of another type. Perhaps we should call
you an intermittent life form? You may have bodies like
ours only when you're 'on,' but when you're 'turned off,' you
continue to exist inside our computer core."

Tom added, "When you and the Doc are asleep, you kind of
become Organians. No bodies, but your consciousness can
be called up any time we need you."

Janeway nodded in approval. "Exactly. What do you say,
Nanny? Can you accept that?"

"I'll try," she sighed, glancing down at her lap. When she
raised her eyes again, there was a tiny smile lurking there.
Janeway smiled warmly at her. From out of the corner of
her eye, the captain could see Tom's grin of
encouragement, which Nanny answered by straightening
her posture. Clearing her throat, Nanny turned her attention
back to the Doctor. "I think perhaps I owe you an apology,
Doctor. You didn't seem to want my . . . attentions. I guess
I'm not the kind of intermittent life form you'd want to
date."

"Oh, you'd be a lovely intermittent life form to date, but I'm
not free. I have Jeffrey's mother Charlene--my wife. She
isn't self-aware, perhaps, but I've made a commitment to
our family. We have two sons. You know Jeffrey, and then
there's our new little bouncing baby boy hologram. We
haven't decided upon a name for him yet, but . . ."

Tom groaned, "Doc, don't you think you need to do
something about that soon? I mean, can't you hold a 'name
that holographic baby' contest or something?"

"Mr. Paris! I can just imagine what B'Elanna would say if
you suggested to her that the crew have a baby-naming
contest for your anticipated offspring!"

"Don't have to, Doc. We've already got her name picked
out. You're the one who's got the history of waffling on
names."

"Now, Tom . . . " cautioned the captain.

"I'm sorry, Captain. Doc, I guess I did get a little carried
away," Tom apologized, backing up a step, with both hands
raised to signal his retreat.

The EMH turned back to Nanny. "Anyway, as a family
man, I wouldn't feel compfortable about dating. It simply
wouldn't be acceptable, as desirable as you are. Besides, if
Mr. Paris and the captain are correct in their supposition
that I've reproduced you, it wouldn't be right. I'd be your
father, more or less."

"My father? My FATHER! MY FATHER! Oh, no! I don't
want to even think about dating my father! No, no, no. Oh,
dear, no!"

"Calm down. It's all right, Nanny," Tom said. "No harm
done! You never did get around to a date with him, so
there's no need for screams of horror." The Doctor glared at
Tom, who continued without missing a beat, "And if you
want a boyfriend, I can program a much better one for you
than the Doctor."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Paris, for your vote of confidence.
Charlene doesn't seem to hold that opinion, fortunately!"

The captain rested her hand upon her brow. She felt a
headache coming on. A very nasty one.

Nanny came to the rescue. "Before I even think about
getting a boyfriend, I'll need a real name. I wonder which
one I should pick?"

The Doctor eagerly replied, "Your name needs to be
something that communicates something to the world about
you! It can honor an important personage from the past or
express some of your hopes for your future. There are so
many wonderful ones to choose from, I've had trouble
narrowing the list of possibilities . . ."

"Here we go again," muttered the captain, as Tom groaned
loudly.

The Doctor glanced over at the captain and sighed. "You're
right, Captain. I haven't even picked my own name yet. I'm
not one to talk about making a decision about names."

"I can't think of a better person to give me a name . . .
Father." Nanny smiled at the EMH, eliciting a half-smile
from him.

Tom scratched up his hair and said, "Maybe he already has
then."

"What are you jabbering about now, Mr. Paris?" the Doctor
grumbled.

"Maybe I know her name." Tom paused, as if suddenly
reluctant to say that name. Shrugging his shoulders, he said,
"Maybe it's Belle."

Not noticing the sudden change in the Doctor's expression,
Nanny replied, "Like your wife B'Elanna? After her?"

Tom's eyes never wavered from the Doctor's face. A
vulnerable expression had come over him at Nanny's
innocent question. When he saw the EMH give him ever so
slight a nod, however, Tom responded softly to Nanny,
"No, not after B'Elanna. Belle was the Doctor's daughter in
his family program. She's not around any more, but you
could be her, all grown up."

Seeing the Doctor's wistful expression, Nanny looked
quizzically at the captain, who was unable to add anything
to what Tom said. Tom advised her, in a very gentle tone of
voice, "You can access the Doctor's family program if you
want to know more, Nanny."

Nanny's eyes went out of focus as she accessed the part of
the computer memory that Tom had suggested. As her eyes
again came back into focus, she leaned towards the EMH,
took his hand in hers and murmured, "I'm so sorry. I didn't
realize . . . "

"It's quite all right. You couldn't have known, really. The
way I'd set up the program before, you wouldn't have been
able to see it, even if you'd known where to look."

Silence fell over the entire group. The two holograms
continued to clasp hands. A bit of holographic mist might
have come into their eyes, but Janeway wasn't quite sure.
Her own eyes seemed to go blurry for a moment, and she
couldn't even see Tom's. He was looking away from them
all.

When Nanny cleared her throat importantly, all eyes
returned to her. After a short pause, the holographic teacher
stated, "Captain Janeway, please let everyone know that,
like any member of the crew, I may be called by my job
title. Nanny. But those who wish to call me by name should
call me Belle. I might not be that same hologram, but I'd
like everyone to call me that, in memory of the Doctor's
brave little girl."

Tom swiftly looked away again. This time the captain
didn't bother to hide the tears that sprang into her eyes as
she replied, huskily, "I'll make sure they all know."

After a short pause, the EMH said, "Mr. Paris, don't you
think now would be a good time to load Nanny's program .
. . I mean Belle's . . . into the mobile emitter? It's about time
she had a chance to get out of the schoolroom and Sickbay,
don't you think?"

"Sure, Doc. And I need to get down to engineering before
Joe Carey and the rest of the staff are driven crazy by a
pregnant half-Klingon. She's probably got them scrubbing
every Jefferies tube on Voyager. Let me get the emitter."
Tom sauntered into Sickbay.

The captain said, "I think I'll go along with you. I have a
feeling Mr. Paris will be spending more time in engineering
than he anticipates, and I want you to see more of Voyager
than just engineering. How would you like a tour of the
ship?"

"A tour of the ship. That sounds exciting," bubbled Belle.

"While you're gone, I'll get home to Charlene and let her
know that Jeffrey's teacher will be coming for dinner. You
do want to come for dinner, don't you?"

"Of course, Doctor. Umm. Doctor?"

"Yes, Nan . . . Belle?"

"Do you think your wife would mind if I called you Pops,
or something? 'Doctor' doesn't sound right any more,
somehow. And 'Father' seems so formal."

The Doctor beamed. "Pops. I rather like that."

"Pops?" asked Tom as he returned, mobile emitter in hand.

"Just load her program into the emitter, Mr. Paris," the
EMH groaned.

As the bantering continued, Kathryn Janeway leaned back,
crossed her arms, and thought, not for the first time, nor the
last, that weird is *definitely* part of her job.

---

The End