The BLTS Archive - Infected
by athenaprime (athenaprime@usa.net)

---

Harry Kim knew it was going to be a bad day when he woke up stuck to a
bulkhead.

The captain's voice was grating over the comm system. "Ensign Kim,
please report now!" Unfortunately, his uniform top was in a ball at
the foot of his bed, along with the rest of his clothes.

The climate controls in his quarters had been fluctuating for days
now, and B'Elanna had promised to send someone around, but since he
wasn't dying, presenting a danger to the structural integrity of the
ship, or about to slip into the fourth dimension, he was on the back
burner. So he suffered through tropical heat waves and record-breaking
cold fronts originating from his washstand.

Since the commlink was out of reach, he activated the room's comm
channel. "Kim to Captain. I'm having a bit of a problem with my
environmental controls. I'm--uh, unable to leave my room."

"Understood. We'll get someone there immediately." Through the
still-active comm channel, he heard the captain's voice, muffled as
she gave additional orders. "Torres, Seven, report to Ensign Kim's
quarters immediately and assist with the environmental controls."

"Uh, Captain, no!" All he needed was for the two women to walk in and
see him stuck to the wall naked, like some bizarre hunting trophy. He
searched desperately for a solution. Aha! The sheet was still on the
bed, bunched up near the pillows. If he stretched, maybe...

The door chimed. "Just a minute," he called out desperately.

B'Elanna's voice filtered through. "Harry? Harry are you alright in
there?"

"Just fine, under the circumstances."

"Harry, open the door. I haven't got all day to fix your heating and
air conditioning problems."

"Just a--" If he stretched his leg, his toes almost caught the sheet.
Just a bit closer...

"Ensign, your personal feelings are irrelevant. You must open the door
if you require assistance." Seven's emotionless voice drifted through.
Thank you very much, Seven, he grouched mentally. Why don't we trade
places and see how irrelevant your feelings are?

"This is ridiculous." B'Elanna's voice took on the rough edge that
showed her Klingon temper about to blow. "Computer, open this door,
Security Override Torres Omicron five."

"Noooo!" He wailed. As if in slow motion, the door began to slide
open. His toes brushed the edge of the sheet. Gods of the Universe, he
thought desperately, if there's any justice in the Delta Quadrant,
give me this sheet, pleeeeaaassseeee!

The edge of B'Elanna's shoulder came into view. At the same time,
Harry felt the cool cloth of the sheet in his hand. A miracle! He
placed it over the most vulnerable parts of his anatomy just in time
to see the women walk into his quarters.

B'Elanna's chocolate-brown eyes flicked around the room. Seven seemed
to be expecting a Thraxxian centipede to come jumping out at her from
his bathroom. "Up here," he said resignedly.

Two pairs of female eyes traveled upwards. When they went up as far as
they would go, two pairs of female eyebrows continued the climb.
B'Elanna's lips twitched. He held up a hand to stop her, and realized
belatedly that he lost half his effective cover. His hand clamped back
down on the sheet around his waist. "Don't say it, Maquis." He must be
as red as a well-cooked lobster by now.

"Harry," she drawled wickedly. "I had no idea you slept in the buff."

She was a superior officer. He would have saluted her with the
universally-understood single digit if he weren't afraid of saluting
her with more than that when he lost the sheet. As it was, he had to
settle for witty repartee. "If somebody would have fixed my climate
controls, I wouldn't need to be sleeping in the buff. Now will you
kindly fix whatever's wrong with my gravity, so that I can get to my
shift?" She was his second closest friend, but that wouldn't stop her
from ever letting him live this down.

Tom Paris' voice crackled through the intercom. "Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry looked accusingly at B'Elanna. He knew she and Tom had a thing
going, but since when had it become a Psychic Communion? "I'm fine,
Tom. Relatively speaking."

B'Elanna elaborated helpfully. "He's stuck to the wall and naked as a
jaybird."

"Thank you, Neelix's Nightly News," he retorted. She grinned.

"Well, Starfleet. It looks like you're going to be a lot more popular
around here. I think I'll put a nice frame around you and call it
"Starfleet Ensign--weird is part of the job." It's a whole new art
medium."

"Fix my damn gravity. Please." He ground out. Only then did he notice.
He was the only one stuck to the wall. "Uh-oh."

He glanced over at Seven, to see how the former Borg was taking this.
He knew he could count on her to be emotionless and efficient.
Sometimes that came in handy.

She was not emotionless, nor was she efficient at that moment. She was
staring up at him, jaw scraping the floor, pale eyes as big as dinner
plates. Then it hit him. She'd probably never actually seen a naked
man before. Welcome to Human Male Anatomy, Lesson One, he thought
grimly.

Her eyes met his and she turned away, busying herself with a tricorder
reading. "Lieutenant Torres, the gravity fields are normal. But there
appears to be a local magnetic anomaly originating from..." She
followed her tricorder, reaching it out in front of her. It came to
rest, pointing directly at his midsection. She looked up, then quickly
looked down again. "...there." She motioned, looking anywhere but at
him.

He would have liked to enjoy the pleasant change. For once, Seven was
stumbling around him, instead of the other way around. But the price
was too high to pay, especially when Captain Janeway, Chakotay, and
Tuvok all filed through the door.

"Good Lord," Janeway whispered. She, Chakotay, and Torres all began
chuckling at the same time. The chuckles led to chortles, then to
giggles, then to guffaws. He resorted to being philosophical about
things. Now, at least, nothing worse could ever, ever, ever happen to
him.

The air blower beneath him kicked in with a vengeance. Cold air
greeted him and took with it the sheet, which billowed out, all but
exposing him to his audience, which laughed all the harder. He
scrambled frantically for the sheet, finally wrapping one arm around
his waist and planting the other hand directly over his groin,
propriety be damned. Okay, he thought to the Fates, now nothing worse
could happen to him. He hoped.

"I fail to see the humor in this." Tuvok regarded the scene with a
slight frown. Thank heavens! The voice of reason was here! "Ensign,
what have you done that would cause this magnetic anomaly?"

Dammit, was everyone around him dense? "Didn't I tell you? I signed up
for the magnetic anomaly of the month club. I guess my subscription
started today." His voice dripped with sarcasm, earning him a sharp
look from both Torres and the Captain.

"Harry," B'Elanna chastised, "Be nice. We're trying to help."

"Then for chrissakes, help, dammit!" He felt something churn in his
solar plexus and wondered if ulcers happened instantaneously. Seven's
head flew up from her studious examination of the floor, pinning him
with a wide-eyed look. Her tricorder, still pointed at his midsection,
began to spark. She dropped it, as she took a few faltering steps
towards him.

"Seven, don't move any closer." Chakotay commanded quietly.

"I do not appear to have a choice, Commander. The anomaly's field has
increased. My implants seem to be susceptible to this particular
magnetic frequency."

B'Elanna leaned forward and hauled the blonde Borg back by the
shoulders. "Harry, your magnetic personality really seems to have an
effect on women."

"Ha, ha. Are you going to leave me up here and crack jokes all day
long, or is someone going to get me down!" His voice rose to a wail on
the last three words.

B'Elanna consulted her tricorder, a safe distance from Harry's field.
"Commander, the field isn't toxic or radioactive. It should be safe to
go into, but I'd recommend removing your commlinks first."

Chakotay nodded, unpinning his commlink from his uniform. Similarly
denuded, Tuvok moved to help, reaching for Harry, who jerked away.
Chakotay looked up at him. "Ladies, if we could have some privacy?"

"Of course," B'Elanna snickered. "Come on, Seven. Show's over for
now." She tugged the still-stunned Seven out of the room, the captain
trailing behind.

"Ensign Kim, report to sickbay as soon as you're able. I'm temporarily
relieving you of duty."

Relieved of duty? How humiliating! "But Captain--"

"I'd have to be crazy to put a human magnet against the sensitive
electronics that run this ship. Torres, Seven, begin work immediately
on a habitat for Harry until we get this sorted out."

The last thng he heard from the three women was Seven's voice, faint
and shaky. "There is additional room in cargo bay two. Since it is
already serving as crew quarters, it is only logical for it to
continue in that function."

"Looks like you'll be getting a roommate," Chakotay remarked as he
reached for one of Harry's arms. Cargo bay two was where Seven bunked.
Her alcove took up much, but not all of the space in the bay.

"Lovely." He reached arms down to Chakotay and Tuvok, letting the
sheet drop. Together, they peeled him off the wall and helped him
down. "I've never been so humiliated in my life."

"Better humiliated than dead, ensign." Chakotay slapped him cheerfully
on the shoulder. As soon as they were all sure Harry could move around
without sticking to any more walls or metal larger than he was, Tuvok
and Chakotay left him to dress in peace.

He was on his way to sickbay when the burn began. He almost doubled
over as pain exploded in his gut. He half-crawled the rest of the way
and staggered through sickbay's doors.

The Doctor appeared, but as soon as he attempted to help, his
holoimage began to fragment. "Oh, dear," he murmured. "This is going
to be trying. Doctor to Lieutenant Paris, please report to sickbay
immediately for a medical emergency."

Harry managed to curl up on a biobed, but the bed controls shorted out
as soon as the Doctor closed the cover. He couldn't stop a groan from
escaping. The Doctor, unable to do anything, wrung his hands, but kept
his demeanor efficient. "There, there, ensign. We have the situation
under control and you will feel better shortly."

Harry glared at him and the Doctor gave him a strange look. "Medical
log. Patient, Ensign Harry Kim. Problem, acute abdominal pains,
judging from his fetal position and vocal expressions of pain. Also
noted, ocular discolorations and--oh, my. This is not good at all."
The doctor prepared a hypospray, setting it on a bedside table and
rolling it towards Harry. "Ensign, please inject yourself with that
hypospray immediately."

Harry reached a trembling hand out to the hypo, fingers curling around
the cool plastic. With some effort, he managed to get the injector
against his skin and pressed the button. Immediately, the pain
lessened. "What's happening to me, Doc?"

"Ensign, I don't know."

Ten minutes later, the pain had faded to a dull ache all through his
body. At times, it felt like something else was sharing his skin, and
when the pains flared up, it was that something trying to get out. He
was sweating again, but felt good enough to sit up and wrestle out of
his uniform top.

Immediately, the cool air soothed his burning skin. His vision wasn't
doing so good, though. The Doctor was translucent, and he could almost
see the individual pixels that made up his holographic image. When Tom
Paris rushed in, he was surrounded by a swirling yellow-green cloud.
Harry skittered back from the Paris-cloud. Where the yellow-green
touched him, he felt the pricking of tiny needles along his flesh.
"Back, Tom, please!"

Janeway rushed in, Chakotay and Tuvok in tow. Tuvok was surrounded by
a cool blue cloud, while Janeway's glowed royal purple. Chakotay
hovered within a brown-orange nimbus. "Doc, what did you give me?"

"A simple sedative. The anesthetic should have concentrated in your
pain area."

"Why am I seeing all these colors around everybody? Is any of this
even real?" He held out his own hands. They were surrounded by red,
shot through with black. He was seeing energy fields of some type.
"Something's very wrong with my vision. It's making me nauseous."

A scalpel on a nearby table suddenly lifted, zooming towards him. With
uncanny speed, he lifted his hand, and watched in disbelief as his
fingers closed about the instrument, barely stopping it from embedding
itself in his forehead.

"Knock me out. Knock me out. Please, knock me out, Doc." The Doctor
stood helplessly by. Tom Paris grabbed a hypospray, but Harry held out
a hand. "Not that way."

Tom's eyes met his. Understanding dawned and he gritted his teeth.
"Aw, hell. I'm sorry, Harry." He slugged him and Harry went down into
blessed oblivion.

---

He awoke in some place dark and cool. He recognized the struts and
supports of a cargo bay. He looked around after carefully lifting his
head. Seven's alcove was across the way, and he was in some sort of
hexagonal structure. Almost below human hearing frequency, he could
hear-feel the hum of a dampening field. Nothing metal was sticking to
him, and he wasn't sticking to anything metal. This was good.

He gingerly tested his limbs, noting with relief that nothing ached,
save for his jaw where Tom had clocked him. He reached up to tap his
commbadge but found bare chest. His shirt was neatly folded at the
edge of the mat where he lay. He reached for it, keeping his movements
slow. "Kim to the Doctor. I'm awake." His voice was rough to his ears.

"Excellent, ensign. Mr. Paris and I shall join you presently."

Someone had thoughtfully rigged a lavatory and he stumbled gratefully
towards the sink. He splashed some water on his face and looked up
into the little mirror. He screamed.

This wasn't the first time he had looked in the mirror and found a
stranger staring back. The Taresian incident still gave him
nightmares, and he blamed it for his dismal social life of late. But
this was a little more disturbing. The Taresians had changed his skin,
not his eyes.

He had stared into eyes like this once before, for a microsecond, just
before plunging into the worst hell he had ever known. Only one
species in the known universe had the cross-shaped pupils staring back
at him.

Species 8472.

---

The senior crew and Seven clustered around him like first-year med
students around a cadaver. "Other than the odd yellow eyes, nothing's
really different about Harry," Tom remarked.

"Don't forget my new ability to attract base metals," he retorted.

"That, too."

"Yeah, thanks for the knuckle sandwich. Anyone tell you your bedside
manner needs work?"

"Harry, I'm sorry--"

"Forget it. I really did ask for it. And if it's any consolation, your
right hook is just fine." He rubbed his jaw for emphasis.

Janeway held up her hand. "Enough. This is obviously some sort of
throwback from Harry's previous encounter with Species 8472. Seven,
you have the most experience with them, do you remember anything like
this from your Borg days?"

Seven narrowed her eyes at him, dropping her gaze to his chest, then
back up again. It was odd--he could see the faint blush staining her
skin, even from this distance. "Negative, Captain. Species 8472's
assimilation methods were much more aggressive. Besides, the Borg
nanoprobes the Doctor developed completely annihilated all traces of
their assimilation virus from Ensign Kim's system months ago."

"The fact remains that Harry is starting to look like our
transdimensional friends and we don't know why. Doctor, Seven, I want
this to be first priority. Tuvok, quarantine cargo bay two, effective
immediately. Tom, B'Elanna, assist the Doctor and Seven in any way
possible. Everyone here, report to sickbay at least once a day. If any
of you feel the slightest bit--" Janeway paused, at a loss for words.

"Magnetic?" Harry supplied.

"Weird?" Tom's input.

Janeway looked at them both, raising an eyebrow in her "don't talk
back to me, young man" expression. He and Tom both bowed their heads.
"The slightest bit abnormal, report to sickbay immediately."

The group fanned out to perform their tasks, and Harry was left alone
with Seven and the Doc.

Seven held out a cargo carton. "I brought some things from your
quarters. Lieutenant Torres suggested you might be more--comfortable
with some personal items."

He peeked in the carton and smiled. "Why thank you, Seven." His
clarinet case sat on top of his music stand, along with several scores
of music, and the pictures of his family he kept on his dresser.

"You are welcome."

"So I guess we're roommates now, huh?"

"Roommates?"

"Yeah, we're sharing quarters. Weird, huh?"

"Weird is irrelevant." She stalked off. The Doctor raised an eyebrow
as if to say, "Women" or perhaps, "Borg."

After obtaining enough sample tissue and blood to grow another Harry,
the Doctor departed, leaving him alone with Seven in the cargo bay. It
was a big room, and the acoustics were great. Nice if you were putting
on a concert, but lousy for privacy.

When it became apparent that Seven wanted him to ignore her as
forcefully as she was ignoring him, he shrugged and pulled out his
music. The music he had composed for Sleeping Beauty was fairly
complicated. He had hoped to get down the whole thing in time for
Naomi Wildman's next birthday. He and Neelix had planned on creating
an interactive holodeck fairy tale collection for the little girl,
complete with characters, music, and adventures.

They had finished Mother Goose just a few days ago. Sleeping Beauty
was to be followed by Cinderella, Peter and the Wolf, and the Frog
Prince. He wondered if he would ever get to see his creation. The
notes coming from his clarinet turned mournful.

---

Seven listened to the music, noting the mathematical structure of the
notes. Perhaps Janeway was correct in her conclusion that music was
relevant.She noted experiencing a sense of loss, similar to when she'd
first been severed from the collective. She stole a glance at the man
inside the structure across the room.

Ensign Kim's honesty appealed to her. Of all the people on the ship,
she had the least doubt about his motives. Janeway possessed ulterior
motives for everything she did, and the others, save for the Doctor,
let their dislike or discomfort with her Borg nature dictate how they
treated her. Ensign Kim was uncomfortable around her because he found
her pleasing to look at.

She knew she unsettled him. She unsettled most of the crew. Yet the
ensign seemed determined to overcome his emotional reaction, a fact
which she admired. He would have made a superb drone.

But now, the ensign unsettled her. Species 8472 caused her to
experience fear, and she did not care for the experience. When she
looked into his eyes, she did not see human ones like her own, or
familiar Borg implants. She saw the predatory gaze of the hunter, and
she experienced the sensation of being prey.

The mathematical algorithms of the musical notes lured her to the
containment structure. Harry stopped playing. "Hi Seven."

"Hello, Harry," she supplied the appropriate greeting, then formed her
query. "What is that music you play?"

"It's for a story called Sleeping Beauty. Neelix and I are making a
holoprogram for Ensign Wildman's daughter. Did your parents tell you
fairy tales when you were a child?"

"I do not remember."

"Well this one goes as follows." He told her the tale of the cursed
princess, punctuating his tale with skirls of music from his clarinet
between sections. Seven found herself absorbed in the tale.

"Was there an antigen in the prince's saliva that reversed the effects
of the poison?"

He laughed, a sound that resonated along her Borg senses as well as
her human ones. His demeanor had not altered, but Harry Kim was
becoming more like species 8472. Seven felt an unfamiliar anger at the
change. She would not allow species 8472, or any other species, to
assimilate Harry. She did not know why she experienced feelings of
possessiveness, but concluded that it was an indication of her
acceptance of Voyager as her new collective.

"No, Seven. The poison was magical. There was no antigen in his
saliva. It was true love that woke the princess."

"I do not understand."

He looked up at her and the sensation of being tracked by species 8472
receded for a moment, and he was the Harry she was used to. "The
prince's love for the princess lifted the curse and cured her. And
they lived happily ever after."

"It is illogical to conclude that an intangible emotion is capable of
healing physical damage. And curses do not exist. It is also illogical
that a desire can manifest itself without physical effort."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't be too sure of that. Besides, you're
missing the point. Go study some psychology from the late 20th century
feminist movement. Fairy tales are allegorical. They represent
concepts. This story represents the concept that love conquers all,
and good triumphs over evil."

"I see." The Borg had not encountered, experienced, or assimilated
love. Thus she had no experience with it and should therefore withdraw
from the discussion. "I will do as you suggest."

Later, as she read something called Grimm's Fairy Tales, she concluded
that Harry was in error. "Ensign Kim. Your version of the fairy story
is incorrect. I have made changes in the holoprogram to reflect the
original account." She handed him the padd.

He scanned the writing and gasped. "Seven, no!" She concluded he must
have reached the part where the sleeping princess gives birth to the
prince's son, only then awakening from her cursed sleep.

"You were in error," she stated. "Ensign Wildman's child should not be
educated with inaccurate facts."

He sighed. "Seven, you can't tell a story like this to a five year
old. Wildman will cut off my head if she sees this."

Seven stepped back. She was in error, but she did not know why. "I do
not understand."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Seven, there are certain things you
just don't tell kids. Not until they're old enough to understand. And
Naomi Wildman is not old enough."

"Am I? And what are these 'certain things?' "

Harry could have been stuck to a bulkhead again for all that he was
prepared for that question. "Oh, jeez." He put his head in his hands.
Seven waited expectantly. It was ironic. Here he was, not a father,
hell, he hadn't even had a date in months, and it was up to him to
deliver The Talk to a woman who was likely older than he was. "Seven,
you know how sex works," he said into his hands. "Kids don't need to
know the details until they're ready. It's a sensitive subject. You
try to keep kids innocent, by not telling them about sex and murder
and violence and hate until they're old enough to understand them."

"That is illogical. Knowledge should be shared among members of the
collective."

"Well, guess what. Humans are an illogical species, and knowledge
doesn't get shared," he retorted crossly. "Go read up on human
sociology."

"I have upset you," her voice trembled. "I am sorry." She turned away.
"I will not bother you again."

"No, wait. Seven!" But she was gone.

She reappeared several hours later. He began an apology for his
earlier rudeness, but she silenced him. "Ensign Kim. I realize you are
upset by your inability to leave your structure. I believe I can help
with that." She handed him a dark gray pile of cloth. He shook it out.
It was a bodysuit.

She held up a contraption made of thin, flexible tubing. "These
conduits, and the filaments in the suit's fabric, create a personal
dampening field around you that extends half a meter out. You may
safely move about the ship, if my calculations are correct."

"Thank you, Seven. This is--"

"It is logical for all members of the collective to remain as
productive as possible at all times."

Twice now, she had done something that could be considered thoughtful,
but she passed off as logical. "You're more human than some of us
who've been doing it all our lives."

She rewarded him with a sharp look. "The suit has a limited power
source, so you must return here to regenerate it every three hours. I
am attempting to develop a more efficient power source--"

"No, really. This is great."

The suit was not uncomfortable. It was a little awkward and made him
look like a demented hoverball player, but it was great to be moving
around again. The Doctor was able to take more samples and run a
biobed around him somewhat successfully.

"It appears that the virus from species 8472 has altered your
chemistry somewhat. The relapse seems to be caused by our recent
proximity to a natural singularity leading to their dimension. I
cannot determine if the effects will diminish as we leave this area of
space, or if they will revert, or if they are continuing to change. I
will continue to study your cell structure."

"Thanks, Doc."

Despite the inactivity, Harry found himself exhausted earlier than he
usually did. He pulled up the privacy curtain around his habitat and
had to call to Seven when he tried to remove the damper suit.

"Give me a hand," he asked when she walked over. She refused to enter
his habitat, but she reached through the doorway to unfasten the
tubing. He stepped out of it, bundling it neatly in the electrostatic
mesh recharging unit. Seven stepped away.

"You're not done yet." He pointed to the back fastening of the
bodysuit. By necessity, it had to be fairly strong, or the magnetic
field of his body could have forced the two sides of it apart.

She unfastened the closure, and jerked her hands back. He was halfway
out of the suit before he realized she was still there. He turned
around. She backed away, a hunted look in her eyes.

The pain in his solar plexus hadn't bothered him all day, but he'd
been aware of it, sleeping while he was awake. Now it curled to life,
and he no longer doubted its existence.

It wasn't just pain. It was something--alien. And it was sharing real
estate with him. It didn't hurt as much, and he suspected it was
because he and it were getting used to each other. As he watched
Seven's retreating body, an unholy thought entered his mind. Maybe
they weren't just getting used to one another. Maybe they were working
together because they wanted the same thing.

He sank into blackness, and was thankful he did not dream.

A sharp pain at his cheek, jaw and temple jerked him awake. Something
was on his chest, holding him down. His eyes snapped open to reveal
Seven plastered on him, holding him down while her hand, the one with
the Borg implants still attached, fastened to his face. "What the--?"

Her eyes were wild and frightened. "Species 8472 is not permitted to
assimilate you. Do not move, or the nanoprobes will not house
correctly. You should not have awakened."

He tried to roll out from under her, but she stuck with him and he
ended up rolling on top of her. The thing inhabiting his gut reared up
to respond to the pain in his temple and his vision clouded. "Seven,
stop. Please. It's not--"

"You will comply. The nanoprobes will take effect shortly. You will be
immune once you are Borg."

"But I don't want to be Borg." With a supreme effort and a silent
apology for mistreating a lady, even one who was trying to assimilate
him, he flung her aside and fell out of the cot. A sick nausea and
coldness on the side of his face told him that at least some Borg
nanoprobes had found their way into his system. His earlier weird-o-
vision returned with a vengeance, illuminating Seven in a nimbus of
greens and blues, shot through with pulsing streaks of purple.

If he could get to the Doc on time, the nanoprobes could be expelled
from his system. But the thing inside him sprang, and he had the eerie
sensation that it assimilated the nanoprobes that were trying to
assimilate him. "Seven, I think you made a big mistake."

She slapped her hand onto his bare chest. He felt the needles slide
beneath his skin and shivered. "Oh, Seven, did you ever make a
mistake."

"I am not in error." Her tone was desperate and frantic. "Altered Borg
nanoprobes can defeat the Species 8472 virus."

He shook his head, feeling his will recede in the face of the greater
truth. "Unless the virus assimilates them first."

"You cannot join a new collective without severing ties to the old
one. You cannot sever ties to this collective." He didn't know who she
was convincing, him or herself.

Now his gut really was on fire. He could feel the thing inside him
reaching for her, seeking contact through the filaments buried in his
skin. "Seven, the virus is sentient. And it mutated. Assimilation
works both ways."

It found her and she shrieked, ripping her fingers out of his chest in
disbelief. Sharp lances of pain ripped through him and he briefly knew
what it felt like to be a peeled orange. "Yeeeow!"

"What have I done?" She backed away, an uncharacteristically terrified
look on her face. He reached for her, lightning-fast, dragging her
down on the floor with him. The virus supplied him with information
and the answer to her question. She skittered away from him.

"It isn't species 8472. It's something different. I can feel it
evolving inside me." He was torn between fascination and horror. "It
wants to explore. It learns by assimilation, like the Borg, but it
doesn't breed by assimilation like Borg do." Now that she was away,
the virus wanted to commune with the part of itself now inside her.
"It's in you now, like it's in me."

Shock formed her full lips into a perfect O. "I can feel it."

He knew the sudden rush of desire for her might just be the virus,
calling to its own. But as long as it was his body, he was calling the
shots. His hands fisted at his sides. "Seven, in your study of fairy
tales, did you make it as far as 'Little Red Riding Hood?'"

She looked at him with wide, hungry eyes. "Yes. The child who is
stalked by an intelligent lupine with evil intentions."

What a way to put it. "Yeah. Listen, Red?" Colors swirled in front of
his eyes, even when he closed them.

She realized he was addressing her. Score one for Borg learning
abilities. "What, Ensign?"

The tight hold borne of years of being the perfect officer finally
gave way.His virus wanted its others back, and it wanted them now. He
ground out the word. "Run."

"I cannot. Harry?" Traces of emotion warred across her face, its
nimbus of color now including red and black like his, and in the end,
Curiosity was the victor of the day. She held up her Borg-enhanced
hand and seemed fascinated by it.

He could only keep still for so long. "What?"

"I would like to believe what you told me about your fairy tales." She
crawled towards him, one hand reaching out to caress his bare chest.

---

Doctor-Patient confidentiality prevented the Doc from informing the
captain about the newly acquired neural enhancements to Harry's brain,
nor did he have an explanation for his even more intuitive and deeper
understanding of the ship's computer systems.

No one knew what happened between Harry and Seven that night. They
never spoke about it, nor did either give an explanation why they were
found together, wrapped in a sheet, stuck to the bulkhead in cargo bay
two.

---

The End