::accurately interprets the tersely worded summons, entering and drawing to a halt mere paces from the desk::
::clasps hand behind back, lifting brow in taciturn greeting::
You wished to see me.
::blinks, turning gaze from her to blank screen again::
But I just sent the message thirty seconds ago. It could have waited until morning.
::lifts shoulders in barely notable shrug, patiently offering explanation for promptness::
My shift in astrometrics just ended.
I thought it would be convenient to stop by en route to the cargo bay...and my regeneration cycle.
::thinks a minute too long, own brows rising::
Convenient? En Route? You left one deck to come meet me on another deck before returning to the first deck for your sleep cycle, and you call that...
::rubs forehead, giving up focusing on Borg illogic for focusing on simple feats of wonder::
You got from there to here in thirty seconds?
::lifts brow slightly higher::
Thirty-seven point five, actually.
I recently assisted Ensign Wildman with turbolift maintenance.
Of course, of course.
::suppresses another sigh...well, since she's here...::
::gestures to sofa::
::gestures again after a long moment of disregard::
If you're near regeneration time, you shouldn't be on your feet for a long period of time.
::skirts eyes down despite self::
My feet are perfectly stable, Mr. Paris.
::surrenders to glower received, perching on a cushion edge uncomfortably::
You anticipate that this will be an extended meeting?
I'm getting a feeling...
::swallows the low mutter, swinging chair back around and propping feet up on desk::
Depends on you, Seven.
How are you settling back in?
I wasn't aware that 'settling back in' was a priority.
Chakotay stated that I would be allowed to attempt reintegration with the Collective once Voyager was amply fueled and supplied. That will be soon, I hope?
::coughs, making mental note to talk to the wise guy about not making promises you don't intend to keep...clearly he was never a parent::
The fuel and supply stop depends on whether we encounter any friendly locals any time soon.
::lifts stylus, twirling it absently::
As for the rest...Seven.
You don't really want to return to the Collective, do you?
My wishes are irrelevant. I am needed.
::settles back slightly, predicting his next line of persuasion::
I do not believe you fully grasp the harmful effects a disintegration of the hive mind would result in. Chaos where order once prevailed would prove far more dangerous than the order itself.
No, I think I get it well enough.
And I suspect you keep trying to put more weight in your value to the Borg than they probably do, rightly or wrongly.
Now, I'm no expert here...no Magnus Hansen, say...
::watches carefully, noting the barely perceptible lift of her chin::
...but I'm pretty sure the Collective hasn't gone this long without declaring a new Queen in your absence. Hell, they probably rebuilt the old one.
You have no guarantee you would be going back to anything but re assimilation in it's entirety, and Voyager and her crew no guarantee of safety if we shuttle you there.
::recognizes baiting for what it is, yet still prickles::
Obviously he was not the expert he believed himself to be.
::shakes head slightly, wondering just how many times similar condemnations have passed through own lips...but still, her situation is different::
Don't judge your father so blindly...Annika.
His mistakes were made out of a love for knowledge and a desire to open up to the rest of the universe...to open doors to the rest of the universe for you, I bet.
There's no denying that his actions weren't thought through and had devastating consequences, but...
Past mistakes considered, I'm uncertain you have room or right to defend in this instance.
::tightens grip on knees, observing white knuckles with only vague surprise::
Commander. This line of conversation has no further relevance. I suggest that we move on.
I'll decide when we move on, and hell yes, it has relevance.
Whether you like him or not, your father is aboard this ship and keeping up with him is part of my job.
How's he settling in?
Lieutenant Vorik assisted in the construction of a second alcove. Much of his time is spent there.
Hibernating until you decide to throw him a bone, I suppose?
::flips screen back on, accessing files requested from sickbay earlier::
It seems his cerebral functions have been stabilized and he's showing no immediate signs of distress from hive separation
which is more than you can say.
In fact, The Doctor and Linnis seem to think him viable for implant removal and rehabilitation.
::tilts head in sharp disapproval::
That isn't necessary.
When I return to the Collective, he will as well. Alteration would be pointless.
::grinds teeth, glancing at chronometer::
Even if you ever succeed in your crazy suicide quest, he's not going a damned inch after unless we know its of his own volition.
We aren't going to know that until we get him to talking, and that will take rehabilitation.
::rises abruptly, discarding last pretense of comfortable companionship::
As next of kin, I believe I have the right to withhold medical treatment.
On what grounds?
You were six years old when you and your father were assimilated. You're incapable of rationally assessing whatever desire he may or may not have had...or currently has...to be a Borg drone.
No federation court would give you final word in this case, and I'm damned sure Chakotay won't.
::drops feet, rising as well and lowering voice pointedly::
As next of kin, you should consider reflecting a little more on your feelings in this instance. You can't push him away with one hand and choke him to keep him near with the other.
::offers look of intense momentary dislike::
May I leave?
Go take a nap, maybe it'll put you in a better state of mind.
::watches her very graceful but not unchild-like stalk out, waiting for doors to close behind before releasing pent-up breath::
Somehow I don't think that went the way it should have...
::shakes head, moving to flop down on abandoned sofa::
Computer, lights out.