The Arrangement

Star Trek Voyager fanfic. On the insistence of Chakotay and the EMH Seven writes an account of events following the latest social event she was forced to participate in.
(Seven/B'Elanna)

Read The Arrangement

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek Voyager are mine, especially B’Elanna and Seven, which is why I am so rich. What, you don’t believe me? Well... rats.




The Arrangement
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by Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




Quite some time ago Commander Chakotay and the Doctor both advised me that I should, as they put it, ’write things down’. I asked them to clarify to what ‘things’ they were referring, and also why I should use an antiquated method when I have more efficient means available to me.

They then explained to me that the ‘things’ in question could be anything I desired to write about, be it events that had transpired, my thoughts on a matter, or an object of fiction I would feel compelled to compose. I informed them that I had no desire to write at all, and for events and thoughts I keep a personal log like I am required to according to the Captain. They then informed me that it was not what I wrote, but the act of writing itself that had long been determined to have therapeutic effects, and that since Voyager lacks a counsellor, they were suggesting many of the crew to take up various acts of supposedly therapeutic value. They then suggested a list of other such activities that I could chose to participate in if I preferred, and when faced with that choice I acquiesced with writing.

As it is a low-priority assignment, and I have not had inclination to write before, this is the first time that I attempt to perform this task. I do not believe it to be beyond me, although I fail to see the value of this activity. That said, I do have something I feel compelled to record, although I will undoubtedly enter this in my personal log as well.

It regards an arrangement.

Some time ago during the latest trivial and wasteful social event engineered by Neelix on the holodeck, and that I as usual was ordered to attend, certain things in my personal relations began to alter somewhat. I could register the exact date and time when the change began, but I have been told by a certain individual that I should not to be so fixated with the ‘small’ details. I attempt to follow this advice in matters when the details are less relevant, although I often find that all data can be relevant in matters, even such details that at first glance would seem wholly unimportant.

As previously stated I attended the social function, and observed as usual the behaviour of the crew around me. There was but one individual whose behaviour surprised me somewhat, but I assume that Lieutenant Torres uncharacteristically massive consumption of synthehol derived from the fact that this was the first social event she had been forced to attend since her breakup with Ensign Paris. I observed for some time how the Lieutenant’s well-known tolerance for synthehol was exceeded, and how her behaviour became more and more inebriated. I have in the past found that I often observe the actions of Lieutenant Torres.

I moved around the holoprogram, forestalling the Captain who otherwise would have approached me and assigned me to ‘mingle’, internally counting down the minutes and seconds until I could politely retire to do something more productive with my time, such as polishing my alcoves with a sonic toothbrush. That was an attempt at sarcasm, another thing I am encouraged to acquaint myself with, although I must point out that I am quite accustomed to derisive comments or supposed wit from others, and that I do upon occasion indulge in commentry along those lines myself. I do so only rarely, as I am often taken seriously when I attempt at a humorous remark, and explaining the error becomes tedious and is a waste of time.

I found the most secluded and private corner of the program, a couch set between a stairway to the second floor of the building and a bend in the structural design of the first floor, and sat there to wait out the remaining time. It was my firm belief that the Captain would not see me there, and so I sat there occupying myself with some calculations. It did not take long, however, before Ensign Kim helped the inebriated Lieutenant Torres to my previously private corner, and they sat in the small couch next to me. I abandoned my calculations to instead take this opportunity to observe Lieutenant Torres further.

She laughed at trivial things. She giggled at nothing. She sang boisterously and repeatedly hit Ensign Kim in the shoulder until the Ensign shrank back and excused himself, holding his apparently injured shoulder. Then we were alone in our secluded corner.

The Lieutenant seemed happy, which is something I have rarely had the opportunity to observe up close. Usually my mere presence is enough to anger Lieutenant Torres, so our encounters are civil at the very best, and highly confrontational as the norm. Thus it quite intrigued me as Lieutenant Torres laughed to herself and sang small portions of songs as if she was unaware that I was present.

Finally she appeared to notice that Ensign Kim was no longer beside her, and then she turned her attention to myself. She scooted closer to me in the small couch and struck up a most peculiar conversation. She informed me that she was having a blast, and when I inquired where this explosion was expected to take place, she laughed so hard she leaned into me to keep upright. She remained there even after her laughter died out, leaning against me. I was quite amazed.

Then Lieutenant Torres began asking me questions pertaining to my Borg nature and my appearance. Many of them never made sense to me, such as if the Borg were asexual, then why was I made with the perfect body for sin, as she put it. I attempted to explain that my form was not engineered in that way, as aesthetics are irrelevant, and that the Borg do not believe in the concept of ‘sin’. For some reason that answer appeared to please her.

She revealed to me she had thought my mammae and glutaei must have been designed for the purpose of hypnotizing individuals into submitting to assimilation, and that the way I, apparently, ‘swished’ my behind while walking was meant to divest individuals of their faculties so they were more easily overcome. I was uncertain how to respond to such a suggestion, but the Lieutenat did not appear to notice, and instead proceeded to ask me questions of a more sexual nature.

How many species’ sexual practises did I know of, and how many of them would be transferable to the human form. Had I ever had sexual intercourse with a female, and when I answered no, I had not, had I ever had sexual intercourse with the Captain or the Borg Queen. I pointed out that the Captain was female and as such should be counted into my previous answer, and that the answer for the Borg Queen was also no, to which she followed up with would I ever want to have sexual intercourse with either the Captain or the Borg Queen. She smiled when my answer once more was negative.

She asked me if I would ever consider having sexual relations with a female, and I answered that I was open to new experiences, and find the female form more aesthetically pleasing than the male, which appeared to please her even more. The Lieutenant then began examining my facial implants, tracing them with her fingers and asking me if my implants were touch-sensitive. I believe she smirked when I answered yes.

Lieutenant Torres then picked up my Borg-enhanced hand and began to play with my fingers. First she performed what I assume is some childrens’ rhyming game, involving ‘pinkies’ that go to a number of locations and perform different actions. I do not believe, however, that the original rhyme contains those specific actions, but the Lieutenant merely giggled when I pointed out this fact. Then she sang a rather raunchy Klingon song, moving my fingers to the lyrics with both of her hands, and giggled some more. I pointed out that she had gotten some of the words slightly wrong, but at that point the Lieutenant was not paying attention to what I was saying.

Instead she brought my hand up close to her face, and intently examined my fingers. I allowed her to continue as I was curious to what she was doing, but I did not realize she would put my fingers in her mouth. I admit that the sensation of her teeth rasping my implants as she tested the metal with her teeth made me gasp. Lieutenant Torres smirked at my reaction, and then proceeded to wrap her tongue around my fingers and suck them.

I find it hard to describe my reaction. I can note that my heartrate went up, my pupils dilated, and that the flow of blood in my body concentrated on areas other than it normally does, but these things seem inadequate. All I can truly say is that her actions aroused me greatly, and she seemed quite aware of that fact.

Lieutenant Torres continued this activity for a while while I was trying to regain control of my breathing pattern, then told me in what appeared to me as a very self-satisfied fashion that I had enjoyed that. I did not have a chance to respond to that as she then waved her own hand in front of my face and told me I should return the favour.

I have never backed away from a challenge issued by Lieutenant Torres before, and I decided this was not going to be the first time for that occurrence, so I made an attempt to ‘return the favour’. However, I am Borg, and as such I strive to perfect all that I do, to better myself, and also my tongue has some Borg enhancements in order to allow me to speak certain sounds in alien tongues that my subvocal processor cannot fully supply me with. It is my belief that Lieutenant Torres fully enjoyed my efforts in that respect, because she straddled my leg and growled into my ear.

When I answered her growl with a low-pitched one of my own, she responded by upending me, and I summarily found myself on my back in the couch that was much to small to hold my form, with Lieutenant Torres on top of me, her tongue in my mouth, and her hands squeezing various parts of my anatomy.

It was quite unexpected for me that while my mind was having some difficulty correctly processing events and working out what my reactions should be, my body was already acting on it’s own, responding to the overwhelming stimulus of the Lieutenant. I had not believed that I had retained that much instinctive behaviour after my years as a Borg.

I was much enjoying Lieutenant Torres’ ardour, and my responses to it, when I heard Captain Janeway approach our secluded spot. A moment later Lieutenant Torres realized this as well, as Captain Janeway called out for me, and she growled in anger this time. I am quite familiar with the various kinds of growls that the Lieutenant emits in different situations, and can easily detect which is being issued.

I thought that Lieutenant Torres was going to roll off from on top of me and allow me to inquire what the Captain wanted, but instead she shifted back slightly and ran her hand up my chest until she reached my combadge. A short, growled command later, and we were transported to the Lieutenant’s own bed in her quarters, and she proceeded to kiss me with much enthusiasm.

We had sexual intercourse that night, repeatedly and all night, the Lieutenant and I. While it surprised me at first that Lieutenant Torres would find me attractive enough to engage in sexual interaction with, I do logically realize that we are quite compatible, and that indeed I may be the one person onboard Voyager that is fully compatible to Lieutenant Torres sexually, barring perhaps a Vulcan during Pon Far.

Thus began our arrangement.

It seemed a most logical solution. We had physical relations without any romantical notions connected to the act, having as the Lieutenant calls it, ‘a good time’ together, and in the process gained a friendship that I had not expected. It also reflected in our daily routines in that no longer did our disagreements become largescale fights, instead we both seemed more willing to listen to the other’s standpoint even though we did not always agree. We enjoyed each other’s company more and more, and began spending more time together in non-sexual activities.

It was all a very logical and sensible arrangement, and I had no reason to protest or change it. As long as we were both unattached romantically, there was no reason to question the nature of our arrangement, nor the nature of my feelings for Lieutenant Torres. This changed when Ensign Paris decided to try and win Lieutenant Torres back.

As the Lieutenant and I did not have a relationship per se, the crew was largely unaware of the true nature of our affiliations, and as such Ensign Paris did not know about it. While Lieutenant Torres herself did not realize Ensign Paris was trying to win back her affections at first, I did, and I found it bothered me greatly.

I observed how Ensign Paris attempted to ‘woo’ Lieutenant Torres, and found myself experiencing a number of emotional responses that I would not have anticipated, such as what I believe to be jealousy, anger and hurt. I examined my emotions in regards to the Lieutenant and also did some research to better understand them, and I came to the conclusion that it was time to end our arrangement.

The location I had decided on for our upcoming conversation was the holodeck, where Lieutenant Torres had convinced me we would meet for a handful of hours that evening. I found I was nervous for the impending conversation, and for the Lieutenant’s response to what I had to say. I also quite irrationally already mourned the loss of what we had, even though nothing had changed between us yet.

She arrived, smiling, and took me by the arm to leisurely walk along the beach in our holoprogram. A beautiful secluded cove was our destination, where we would have a picknick, bathe and enjoy ourselves, and ultimately undoubtedly be intimate.

I found it very difficult to speak what was on my mind as she held me close and smiled so happily, but by the time we reached our cove I finally managed to indicate that there was something I needed to speak to her about.

I began by explaining that I had noticed Ensign Paris actions and his intentions towards her. She laughed and said she had no interest in the man whatsoever, and that he was a mistake she was glad she would never make again. While this calmed my feelings of jealousy, the Ensign’s intentions had no real relevance to what I needed to speak of, it was merely a way to explain myself. And I did.

I told her how his recent behaviour had sparked emotional responses within me that had led me to examine my feelings more indepth, and that in turn made me realize that we needed to terminate our arrangement. She looked alarmed and hurt as I said this, and I wished I had an easier time expressing myself in a manner that would not lead to misunderstandings.

She interrupted me and asked if I was ‘breaking up’ with her. I hesitated in some confusion, as I had believed that you could only ‘break up’ with someone if you were in a relationship with that person, and by her own definition that first day of our arrangement, what we had was not a relationship. She interpreted my momentary silence as a yes, and I was surprised to see her eyes tearing up as she began to turn away from me.

I stopped her, managed to get her to turn back towards me although she avoided looking into my eyes, and tried again to explain myself. I explained my confusion regarding her choice of words, and she looked less distressed at that. In fact it appeared to me as if she was somewhat embarrassed, but it was but a momentary thing. Then I began explaining the change in my emotions towards her, and how I could no longer abide by the rules of our arrangement.

As she was about to interrupt me again I hurried to tell her I loved her and wanted a relationship with her, with all what that meant, and not sexual intercourse in the name of fun and friendliness. And then I explained that as I felt this way I saw no other recourse than to terminate our arrangement, so that she might find someone who better suited to her criteria than I, who wanted more than she was prepared to give.

I turned around and began walking away, knowing that although I had revealed what I wanted, it was not a desire answered in her. It hurt to know that I had lost even what little of her I might have had for a time, but at the same time I could not have acted differently.

I had walked a small distance down the beach by the time she cried out my name and came running after me. I turned just in time to catch her as she threw herself into my arms, and as she threw her arms around my neck I noticed with some surprise that she looked more happy than I had ever seen her.

She then called me names and questioned my intellect, informing me that I was all she wanted and that she was ‘crazy’ for me. That while we had begun in the wrong end of things, she had long since realized she was in love with me, and that she wanted the same things I did. She then proceeded to inform me that I was hers, and that she would never let me go.

We made love for the first time that evening, and while the logical part of my mind insists that the actions are the same as before, I find our making love to be more powerful than I would have imagined. Somehow her touch is new, the sensations stronger and more potent now that they carry the emotions that I have come to realize that I always wanted from her. It defies all logic, but as Commander Tuvok once pointed out to me in a conversation on the subject, love cannot be ruled by logic.

I am in a relationship now, and this time most of the ship knows it. Ensign Paris still looks shocked by the news everytime our paths cross, which they do often in our duties, but he has made no comment of any kind that I know of. Others are more openly expressing their surprise and disbelief, but I find I care not. Those that I consider friends have shown support, although surprise, when I informed them of the change in my status, and for that I am grateful. Although to me what matters is her arms around me, and her eyes, warm and loving, looking at me and finally seeing me after all this time. I would not ask for more.


I am uncertain if Commander Chakotay and the Doctor intended I send this writing assignment in for their inspection, but I shall have it sent to them by morning, just to make sure I have completed the assignment and no longer will require performing the more time-consuming task of writing down what I could record in my personal logs instead. Although I must confess I find that the act of writing is enjoyable, my time is no longer a unvalued commodity that can be squandered on whatever new project my superior officers designs for me. No, now my time belongs to her, and will be enjoyed to the fullest.

Time is another reason why I chose this instance to fulfil this assignment, as well as the choice of subject. This evening I will be moving my few personal belongings to the quarters of Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres, which will from this day onward be the Torres/Nine quarters.

Today my personnel file will be updated in location of living quarters. Three weeks from now it will be updated from ‘marital status: single’ to ‘marital status: married’, and that is the reason I chose our somewhat different beginnings as the subject of my writing assignment.



I hereby consider the writing assignment completed, and request that no further assignments be issued me for the nearest two months at least, unless it is for ship’s business, as I will be quite busy preparing for my nuptials and then will be enjoying my honeymoon.

Cordially,
Seven of Nine






Chakotay, Doc,

Anyone that comes up with the bright idea to give my soon-to-be wife any smartass assignments that aren’t related to ship’s business from now on will have a standing appointment with the business end of my bat'leth, just so you know it. And let me just say that you had all better pray that there will be no ship crisis during my honeymoon, or you will have a very raging half-Klingon on your hands. To simplify it: assignment equals cranky engineer, cranky engineer equals a bat'leth sticking out of embarrassing places in givers of said assignments. Assignments bad. Get my drift?

And before you ask, Chakotay, no, Seven does not go around calling me ‘Lieutenant Torres’ in private, and it’s none of your business anyway.

Oh, and I had better not find anything from this little... assignment floating around the ship, or I will introduce you both to my bat'leth anyway.

B’Elanna