Chapter Text
The hoops they’d both had to jump through to arrange for their time off from Starfleet to coincide had been both cruel and unusual. And worth it.
Going by Earth-standard, it was sometime after midnight, but neither of them had made any move to go to bed yet. Raffi lazed back in her chair, feet propped up on the ship console and eyes scanning the datapad in her hand. The new instalment of her favourite Trill spy novel series had come out weeks ago and Seven knew she’d been saving it for this trip so she could enjoy it without the constant threat of disruption.
“Ugh,” Raffi muttered. “Saw that coming by the third chapter.”
Seven dragged her eyes away from the stars as they flew by at warp speed and smiled indulgently at her companion.
“What did you see coming?”
With her free hand Raffi gestured to the datapad. “Chekhov’s allergy. No way was that guy making it out of the book without a fatal overdose of peanut oil and a suspiciously absent EpiPen.”
After Voyager, Seven had consumed as much media as she could to help acclimate herself to modern Earth culture. She’d thought it might help her to relate to other humans. It hadn’t worked and she hadn’t been much of a reader since, and she truly did not understand Raffi’s fascination with a series of trashy novels that she did nothing but grumble about. Once, during a particularly rambling complaint about the introduction of time travel to the plot (have they just run out of ideas? ) Seven had asked her why she didn’t just stop reading them if they bothered her so much. Raffi had been scandalised. I’m in too deep to quit.
Now, Seven found it soothing to sit beside Raffi and listen to her mumbled comments on her choice of literature. In a life that had become so unpredictable, so unscheduled, it was a comforting evening routine that she missed when they were on different ships.
Seven turned her attention back to the stars and breathed deeply. The recycled air and artificial gravity were familiar to her; more familiar than the real thing certainly, but she was pleased they would arrive at their destination tomorrow. Any time spent with Raffi was well spent, but the expensive beachside hotel on Asteria (Raffi’s choice) undeniably held more allure than the La Sirena. Pale pink sands, warm oceans and binary moons that chased each other across the purple-blue sky. Seven wasn’t accustomed to downtime. There was always something to do, someone to save, fires to put out. For the bathing suits and floaty dresses Raffi had replicated for herself, Seven would try her best to relax and enjoy a trip without obligation.
“Oh come on! That is not how tricorders work!”
Seven laughed.
“And that doesn’t even-” Raffi abruptly stopped and turned off her datapad. “Okay I think that’s enough reading for one night before I pop a blood vessel.”
“Are you certain?” said Seven. “I’d really like to hear more about the new tricorder capabilities. Perhaps we could suggest the modifications to Starfleet?”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“No,” said Seven. She’d been told many times in her life that humour was not an area in which she excelled and she believed it. “You think so though.”
Raffi shook her head and allowed herself a smile. “You have your moments.”
For a while, all they could hear was the gentle hum of the engines as La Sirena glided through space. Then Raffi yawned and stretched her legs out in front of her. “Bed?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” said Seven. She brought up the navigation charts to make sure they were still on course. “I need to reactivate the holo.”
Seeing even a facsimile of Rios had proven upsetting for Raffi, so Seven had disabled him for most of their journey and brought him back to keep an eye on things only when they left the bridge for the evening.
“All right, honey.”
Raffi rose to her feet and pressed a kiss to Seven’s temple. Her face tingled at the point of contact and Seven allowed herself to bask in the feeling of contentment before wishing Raffi a goodnight.
Raffi had barely moved ten feet when the ship jerked to a stop.
The streaks of starlight stilled and Seven sat up.
“Um…did we just drop out of warp?”
“We did,” Seven confirmed.
Then Raffi was beside her again, activating the ship scanners and ship diagnostics.
“We’re still moving.”
“I see that.”
Data flashed across the screen almost faster than Seven could process it, but she got the gist. “Brace for impact!”
There wasn’t enough time for Raffi to get back to her chair before the debris hit the side of the ship. It lilted to the side and she staggered into the console with a loud oof. Emergency warning lights began to flash and Seven let out a huff of irritation as something else smashed into the back of the ship.
“Shields at ninety-four percent,” Raffi ground out, edging around the equipment, knuckles turning white from her deathgrip on anything she could grab that was bolted to the floor. Sparks shot out of the designated navigational port, lighting up her alarmed face in a sickly yellow.
“We’re caught in a-” Another strike to the hull. Seven grunted, pain shooting up her spine at the impact. “-gravitational field.”
“Well turn us around!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”
Seven’s fingers flew over the screens. Taking manual control.
“Shields at eighty-two percent.”
Something tugged at the back of Seven’s awareness. A wrongness. Prickling, cold fingers creeping across her brain. She blinked and darkness began to cloud her vision. Whatever was pulling them in was moving faster. Shit.
“Moving all auxiliary power to right side thrusters!”
Another strike to the ship, almost throwing Seven forward from her chair. Raffi was shouting something now, but Seven could barely hear her over the shipwide red alert sirens and debris now crashing into their ship with an uncomfortable regularity.
It wasn’t working. Seven was pumping as much power as she could into their escape, but they were still being dragged sideways into…something and that deep-seated feeling of wrong wrong wrong was getting stronger.
With a thrill of anger Seven switched track. If she was going to be hauled into God-knew-what she’d like to know why.
“Shields at sixty-five percent! And the energy readings for this thing are off the charts. Literally. The computer’s going haywire.”
Seven spared Raffi a glance. She’d made it to the XO station but judging from the blood dripping down her forehead it hadn’t been unscathed. She swallowed back another surge of unhelpful fury.
“I’m getting an image!”
Another strike shook the entire ship as Raffi worked to get their attacker up on the screens. If indeed it was an attacker.
Seven had just enough time to recognise the wormhole before her vision went dark.
Consciousness came back to Raffi in a rush of pain and noise. Her forehead was pressed to something cold and it took her a moment to recognise that she was sprawled facedown on the floor of La Sirena.
“Seven?” she mumbled. She swallowed against her dry throat and then coughed. Ow.
No response.
Okay, Raff. Come on. Get up. With a Herculean amount of effort, Raffi rolled her head to the side and pried open her eyes. Her body throbbed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, focussing in on one nebulous ball of pain somewhere in her lower ribs. She wanted to be angry about it but given their usual run of luck she probably should have expected something like this to happen.
The emergency lights and alarms were still blaring throughout the ship, but from what Raffi could see they were no longer in any immediate danger. Her view from the floor wasn’t exactly all encompassing though.
“Seven?” she tried again. Still nothing. Fuck.
She breathed in deeply, steeling herself for movement that she knew without a doubt was going to suck, and then pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Pain lanced through her chest and she gasped. Okay, Raffi. Almost there. She shuffled over to the nearest control centre and wrapped her hands around the base. It was uncomfortably hot beneath her fingers - not a great sign. Okay okay.
Though the throbbing in her head showed no sign of stopping, her thoughts were beginning to clear. She swiped the back of her hand across her face and then flinched at the wet smear of blood there. Great. Then, another moment of rest before she pulled herself to her feet. Her body screamed in protest and she ignored it.
She wiped more blood from her face before it dripped into her eyes and peered intently at the navigational interface. They’d moved. A really long fucking way.
One thing at a time.
She activated the short range scanners and squinted at the muddled data it threw up. Then a flashing light to her left caught her eye.
They were being hailed.
“Hang on.” She tried to bring up the comms screens, only for them to crackle with static and immediately power down. Raffi pressed her lips into a flat line. Audio only it is. “One minute!” she said, knowing the person on the other end of the line couldn’t actually hear her. She tapped a few buttons and a crackly voice rang out.
“-of the USS Voyager. Do you require assistance?”
Starfleet? Thank God.
“Uhh…maybe?” Raffi cleared her throat. “This is Commander Raffaella Musiker of the USS Excelsior. We hit-” A loud groan sounded somewhere behind her. “Shit. Sorry. I’ll be right back with you!”
Raffi spun around, eyes darting to the source of the sound. Her eyes immediately landed upon Seven, lying on her back at the top of the stairs and gazing up at the ceiling. Raffi staggered over to her and dropped to her knees. They were lucky she hadn’t fallen down into the dining area.
“Seven?”
“Mmhmm.”
“You all right down there, honey?” She did her best to keep her voice even, but her heart pounded rapidly against her chest. “How bad is it?”
Seven blinked up at her. Her facial implants gleamed in the low lighting. “M’kay.”
“Yeah?”
It took her a second to reply, but Seven nodded. “Nothing broken. Just… I need a minute.”
“However long you need,” said Raffi. She took Seven’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “So I have no idea where we are because the computers are drunk. If the working calculations are anything to go by though we’re pretty goddamn far from the Asteria spaceport.”
“I would expect no less. Things were going too smoothly,” said Seven, resigned. She tried to sit up and Raffi put a steadying hand on her back. The leather jacket she wore was torn in one corner; Seven was going to be livid when she saw it. It was one of her favourites. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Then at Seven’s raised eyebrow she said, “I’ll be fine. My ribs are a bit banged up. Nothing that the subdermal regenerator can’t fix.” Seven made a dubious noise and brought a hand to her head. “Oh and just f.y.i. we’re not alone out here. We’ve got a Starfleet ship on the line.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been awake much longer than you. I just caught the end of their message but they’re offering their help at least.”
Seven glanced around the ship, eyes lingering on the flicking ship interface. “Convenient,” she said, suspiciously. “But we are probably going to need it.”
“Yeah. So much for cocktails on the beach.”
Seven barked out a laugh and they exchanged strained smiles.
Time to see what the damage was.
Raffi hauled herself to her feet and headed back towards the comms system. Behind her she could feel Seven’s hands brushing her bare arms, touching her elbow, as though to make sure she was still there and in one piece. Raffi appreciated the sentiment. When the ship wasn’t on the cusp of exploding and they were free of the concussions she suspected they both had she’d quite like to engage in some life affirming touches of her own.
While Seven moved in next to her, scanning through system updates, Raffi reactivated the audio channels.
“Hey. Sorry about that. Possible medical emergency.” Her voice shook, despite her efforts to calm herself.
“Not a problem, Commander Musiker.” Maybe Raffi was wrong, but even through the crackle she thought she could detect a hint of dry amusement in the tone. Beside her, Seven stiffened. “Our computer reads two lifesigns aboard your vessel. Is that correct?”
Raffi cast Seven a concerned glance. “There are two of us. We-”
BANG.
The hot wave of force of…whatever that was threw Raffi sideways. Pain shot through her as Seven caught her around the waist before she hit the floor and all the air left her lungs in a single yelp.
“Commander Musiker?” The voice on the other end of the line was more urgent now. “The radiation levels in your vessel are climbing. Do you require assistance?”
“Yes!” said Seven.
“Prepare to be transported,” said the voice. Through short gasps of breath it only occurred to Raffi then that she hadn’t even caught their rescuer’s name. “Energising in three…two…one.”
The sensation of the transporter beam prickled over Raffi’s skin. Should they have tried harder to work out who, exactly, they were talking to? Probably. But Raffi was too focussed on the weight of Seven’s arm pressing against the bruised parts of her stomach and ribs. She brought up her own hands to clutch at the offending arm while she worked on regulating her breathing and packing all the pain she felt into a tiny box and burying it somewhere in the back of her mind. Then the light around them faded and she opened her eyes.
Yep. Definitely Starfleet.
But…
Raffi’s mouth dropped open and Seven became very very still.
“Uh…Seven.”
They weren’t the only ones stunned into silence. The woman in front of them, the captain, stood astounded, eyebrows both raised dramatically upwards. A captain that Raffi recognised, though not as she was here and now.
“Seven,” Raffi tried again.
She squeezed Seven’s arm.
“Seven.”
“Yeah, I see them, Raffi!”