Completion by Steven of Nine
Completion
by Steven of
Nine
 |
Voyager - Deck 8
The stateroom door closed behind Seven of Nine.
Her Borg optical implant automatically compensated for the scant lighting.
A cool blue filtered through window glass from a nearby nebula. Diffused,
it reflected off empty vases, a glass table, a pair of candle holders.
Six months of air cycling regularly through the
room had almost neutralised it, but Seven of Nine smelt the faintest organic
sweetness. Remnants of flowers grown in airponics? An open container
of perfume? Perhaps. Perhaps something Ocampan in nature, a remnant
of the quarters' last occupant. Kes.
"Species 633: Ocampa. Unsuitable for
assimilation. Insufficient musculature and skeletal strength.
Insufficient longevity." The usual Collective litany came unbidden
to Seven of Nine's mind. The species' dormant ESPer abilities also
made Ocampan assimilation into the Borg collective mind difficult, as difficult
as it had been for Seven of Nine to regain singularity, now cut off from
the Borg.
Seven activated her tricorder and began scanning.
The growth of Kes, her evolution into something more, had damaged several
parts of Voyager. Seven was here to study these effects at their
source, Kes' own quarters. There had been little time before now, what
with the Astrometrics project, the Krenim, the Hirogen.
Sub-atomic disruption had affected the floor, the
table and several wall panels. A padd, on the floor and abutting the
table's leg, also showed signs of disruption. Picking it up Seven activated
the data module's screen.
A half-dozen files, still tagged for uploading,
were stored in the unit, never having been passed on to the ship's
mainframe. Perhaps the phenomenon that damaged the padd's transmitter
had interrupted that transfer. She would have to physically link the
padd to a terminal.
By their names Seven noted the files' subject matter:
medical work. It would be most efficient to load these files through
a sickbay terminal. The ship's holographic physician could be notified
and also perform her monthly evaluation. Doubly efficient.
Having scanned the room for all relevant data Seven of Nine exited into the halls of deck eight. Behind her the automatic door closed, Kes' room empty once more.
Programme: "Ilari Alpha"
Subroutine: online
Time index: 1.3.4 through 1.3.8
"Damn!"
The ledge was still too high up. There were
certainly drawbacks to being a foot shorter than usual.
An urgent hiss: "On your knees! Here!"
The trooper dashed forward and crouched onto his
hands and knees at the wall's base. In the greying dusk she climbed
onto his back, one heeled boot after another. Now, the lip of the overhang
was within reach.
Once perched atop the ledge she took out her
viewscanner. The BodyGuard, silently and smoothly, scaled the wall
en masse. As the last of them took up his position her target
came into focus.
Fifty-two metres, by the scanner's readout.
Fifty-two metres to the cave, final resting place of the last of Demmas'
supporters. Fools, to cower in a haven offering only one exit.
She'd tracked them through the craggy, ragged hills
of Ilari's major landmass. Nothing but rocks, dust and bitter winds
shearing unpredictably from cliff faces. Hovercraft were useless here.
So what, she thought, I prefer the more
personal pleasure of a hunt on foot.
Predictably, her First Castellan had argued against
her participation. He worried for the frailty of the new body, too.
She'd cut him off.
"This body is hardier than you'd think, Resh.
Never underestimate an opponent by his appearance. Besides, with the
BodyGuard at hand I'll have ten bodies to transfer to if I am struck down.
"And when I return from battle, successful even
in this delicate shell...? Who will not believe me capable of anything?"
She lowered the viewscanner, looked through the
gloom at the men around her. None, of course, would meet her gaze without
permission. Stone-faced, all, they faced the compass' points, on guard.
When this is over, she mused, A one or
two of these to grace my sheets... Ah! But one thing at a time.
Fight first. Languish later.
And then there was still Nori. Dear, loyal,
beautiful Nori.
She looked once more to the dark mouth of the
cave. Securing the scanner at her waist she thumbed the blast pistol
to its maximum setting. Done, she raised her fist to signal attack.
"BodyGuard!" She ordered over the commlink:
"Forward!"
"Loyalty and Service!" A chorus in reply.
Oh, how she loved to hear them say that.
She leered and opened fire on the cave.
Voyager - Turbolift
Seven of Nine had plenty of time for reflection.
Life as a Borg drone had been binary: she performed a task or she awaited
a task. If awaiting a task she recharged in an alcove or other drones
performed upgrade tasks on her. There was no individual thought, only
oneness. Allknowledge.
A ten second turbolift ride and a walk to sickbay
should not be simply idling. Seven reconsidered recent events.
Attempts to integrate with her workmates continued to fail...
A routine calibration of the Astrometrics sensors
had ended in another discussion with Captain Janeway. Ensign Kim had
recently begun humming during work assignments. He hummed the same
simple sequence of notes over and over again.
One particular section, the so-called chorus, he
hummed differently. The young Asian ensign would stop working, close
his eyes and tilt back his head. Then, he would resume his work with
flamboyant flourishes, humming still, eyes dancing at Seven as though inviting
her to join in.
She did not join in.
"His humming interrupts the work. It is a
hindrance, Captain."
Janeway shifted in her seat, her hand moving to
touch her chin, "I don't suppose the phrase 'whistle while you work' means
anything to you, Seven?"
"No, Captain, it does not. And, Ensign Kim
was not whistling, he-"
"Yes, Seven. I understand."
Janeway rose, circled her desk and leaned back against
the edge. She crossed her arms, looked up.
"Seven, I'd like you to try something. For
the next week, whenever your colleagues do something... inefficient?
Count to ten, silently to yourself. If the inefficiency has ended by
count of ten, let it go."
"'Let it go', Captain?" Seven's eyebrows lifted.
"Yes," Janeway spread her hands between them, "Ignore
the activity. In a week, you and I will meet again. You and I
will discuss the things they do and the reasons for doing them.
Understood?"
"Understood, Captain."
It had taken only two days and an eleven-count of
Susan Nicoletti tapping a rhythm with two hydro-spanners to bring Chakotay
to Engineering.
"Counting to ten?" He'd seemed amused.
"Well, Seven, perhaps you might learn to count more... slowly."
And, in typical fashion, he'd smiled at Seven, winked
at Nicoletti and promptly left Engineering.
"Yes, Commander," she told the space where he'd
been.
Her integration efforts still needed work.
Perhaps a new approach.
Seven entered sickbay and activated the EMH, intended
as a stopgap, but now serving as the ship's permanent physician.
"Here are medical files that Kes had yet to upload."
"Ah!" said the Doctor, taking the padd.
"Simulations for a vaccine protocol for Levodian flu! I'd given up
hope. Kes was a brilliant protegée, you know. Of course,
everything she learned she learned from me. Why, even her brilliant
microsurgical operation on you owed much to-"
Seven had reached a count of eight when he stopped
short. The doctor tapped at the padd's keys.
"Doctor?" she prompted.
"This last file isn't a medical document.
It's a data upgrade to a holodeck programme. If the programme is still
online I think you should run it."
Seven was nonplussed. "You think I should
run a holodeck medical simulator?"
"Oh," the hologramme turned to face her, "This isn't
just a simulation of a medical nature. It's a simulation of Kes."
Programme: "Ilari Alpha"
Subroutine: online
Time index: 1.4.8 through 1.5.2
The room was surprisingly comfortable. Deep within the stone keep, but heated by cleverly disguised coils; lit by subtle angles. Ilari banners hung over the stone, black and grey but light with victory: "Loyalty and Service!"
She looked down at Nori, shifting in her sleep to
the prompting of some dream. She slipped the dark-haired woman's hand
from her thigh, apologising for the disturbance with a brushing kiss.
Whispered, "Shh. Sleep."
On her feet, now, bedside, she shrugged into a shirt
laying there. The cuffs dangled, an inch or so beyond her
fingertips. Smiling, Nori's. And I like that.
She looked back at the sleeping figure, serious
now. She could endanger me. I indulge myself where Nori is
concerned.
Yet, Nori had so much to offer. She had supported
the rebel coup from the first. She had rallied support from political
allies, industrialists, technical specialists and soldiers...
And I must not forget she knows assassins,
saboteurs... and traitors.
But, always, despite the speed with which she swore
her oath ("Loyalty and service to the new Autarch!") Nori always made
at least a show of resistance. From what, resentment?
She hates that she cannot truly resist me.
Even as I occupy another woman's body. She cannot, and it burns in
her.
That was why tonight it had been here, in Nori's chambers. To come here, where Nori felt safest and strong, conquering. Her resistance was always so invigorating.
So unlike Ameron.
Ameron! The servile second son of the old
Autarch was nothing but a simp. A tool. One threat to his life,
an appeal to his crotch and he'd sold his father's kingdom into desolation!
She closed her eyes to savour his coming death.
I'll watch the light leech from his eyes when I gut him. I'll wager
his skin offers as little resistance to a blade.
She found she'd moved. She stood before the brazier. Incense embers, they eased her ever-more-frequent headaches. The smoke made her eyes blink, the heat brought a prickly sweat. I'll burn you, too, Demmas.
"Tieran."
She turned, saw Nori leaning on an elbow, squinting
at her.
"Tieran, come back to bed."
That brought a smile, again. "Nori.
Sweeting. Loyalty and service..."
Voyager - Sickbay
Janeway had come to sickbay at the doctor's urging,
"Captain, I think you should come down here, Seven of Nine has a request."
Request! She doesn't usually ask to do
anything. Janeway had been intrigued.
The Doctor was speaking, now. "It was my idea,
of course, Captain, though Kes did some of the work."
He continued, boasting to his audience, "In light
of the success of my own programme, and my superb achievement with regard
to the holographic body for Doctor Pel, well, it was originally an idea destined
for academia!
"Naturally, no physician should have to rely on
Mr. Paris as his only medical backup. I suggested Kes begin a training
sequence. Crew would have access to the files on the holodeck at any
time. I even had Kes wearing my holo-emitter, recording rather than
projecting, to create a comprehensive database.
"Then, after the unfortunate business with my
subroutines... Well, Kes was rather shaken by events at the Mikhal
homeworld, and she aborted the project. At least, I thought she had."
For a moment Seven and the Captain were surprised
he'd stopped talking. Janeway took the opportunity to turn to Seven.
"And you wish to run the programme?"
"Yes, Captain. Kes recorded several of the
interpersonal relations sequences she and the Doctor practiced. If
the data has been integrated into the simulation I could practice the 'social
graces' myself.
"I... wanted to ask your permission... to run a
programme written by someone no longer here to answer for herself."
First intrigued, now impressed! "Permission granted."
Programme: "Ilari Alpha"
Subroutine: online
Time index: 1.9.7 through 2.0.1
"Redan is here, Tieran." Resh spoke from the
doorway, his reassuring bulk filling it.
"Excellent, Resh. Bring him in here."
"There's one other thing."
She looked up. His tone of voice presaged
ill. Resh cleared his throat.
"The two BodyGuard wounded at the cave. They
died."
She slumped back in her chair. Ran a manicured
hand through the soft blonde of her hair. The ledger thickens.
Paid in loyalty.
A thousand men had served the BodyGuard. For
generations, ten at a time, the 'Guard served only the Autarch. A thousand
men and never once an order disobeyed, a master betrayed.
She fingered the Talisman of the Autarch at her
neck. "Find me two more heroes, Resh. Replace them."
Resh bowed and backed out. An order to the First Castellan was a fait accompli. But he must learn to stop questioning me. Other masters may need counsel, I do not. I haven't made a mistake in over 200 years.
Two guards marched Redan in hooded, bound hands
at his back. Oh, and look who's here to preen. Ameron.
The traitor sauntered in behind the others. "Over there." This
from Ameron. He gestured before the desk.
She looked from beneath her brows, askance at
Ameron. He slumped a little, his eyes dropping away, and he took a
few steps backwards.
Rising, she nodded to the guards as she rounded
the desk, her heel-to-toe steps clicking slowly. She faced Redan, raised
her brows. The guards removed the hood and Redan, eyes blackened and
squinting at the lights, looked down at her.
"That's right, Redan, the rumours are true."
She leaned back, raised herself to sit on the desk. "You cost me two
loyal men, you and your brothers. Three enemies for two heroes.
Poor barter for me."
Redan said nothing. There was a fatigue about him beyond simple exhaustion. It was a pitiful thing. She'd seen it recently, on Ameron, who shrank from it. Defeat. Loss. Surrender.
She slipped from her perch. "The three of
you are all that remains from the cave. For all I know you're all that
remains of planetside opposition, what with Demmas parading the outer systems
in Janeway's barge."
Some factions had joined Tieran the moment they'd
confirmed Demmas' flight. Cowardice was considered an affliction on
Ilari, Demmas sick with it.
"But I want to be sure. Tell me your
secrets. Pledge me your loyalty, Redan. Serve me."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping even lower,
"The rewards are... exquisite."
From the corner of her eye she noticed Ameron
nodding. As long as he doesn't open his fool's mouth.
Redan inhaled- he speaks? -and spat into her face.
The change was rapid. Her face reddened, contorting. Fists balled at her side she bellowed: "NO!"
Redan flew from the guards' surprised grasp, up, twisting back across the room twenty feet to slam awkwardly into the stone of the chamber wall. The corpse dropped, limp, to the floor. Arms still tied behind, legs askew, the ruined face turned down towards a shoulder.
She slumped back against the desk, her left hand
shaking at her temple. "Ameron... clean that up."
Ameron looked to Redan, back to her, and scurried
over to the body. She turned and staggered to her private door.
"And Ameron, send for Adin. I have a headache."
Voyager - Holodeck One
"Computer, upload and execute file "Medical Primer
v2.3."
Seven spoke to the console outside holodeck one.
The standard acknowledgement tone sounded. Then, the oral interface
spoke, "Upgrade complete."
"Run programme," Seven ordered. She
pressed the entry tab on the panel and stepped into the opening arch.
The holodeck was silver-grey. Walls, floor,
ceiling. A few things broke the scheme's monotony. Square lighting
nodes ran vertical rows, spaced evenly around the room; the floor and
crenellated walls were crisscrossed with the system's i/o strips, and a slim,
blonde female in green and grey stood at centre, patiently watching Seven
enter.
The figure spoke, "Hello. You're Seven of
Nine." A deep but feminine voice.
"Correct. And you are a holographic simulation
of the Ocampa female, Kes."
The smaller woman chuckled through a grin.
"'Kes' will do just fine!"
Seven got to the point. "Does this simulation
contain instruction in 'social graces' or interpersonal skills?"
"No," said 'Kes', "Not any more. Kes removed
the medical, social and recreational material. Only the therapeutic
simulations remain."
Seven considered this. Perhaps this programme
would not serve her needs.
"Describe these simulations and their functions."
"Well," as she began to lecture, Kes took on a more
serious tone, "There's me. I'm designed essentially to be another
Kes. I allowed her to discuss her experiences, sort of self-reflection
with myself as Devil's advocate. The other simulation provided most
of the experiences we discussed, from a traumatic period in Kes' life."
Seven knew little of Kes' history. She was
extremely well-remembered amongst the crew. "Sensible."
"Intelligent." "Wonderful." Accollades from all. This
simulation must be of something the crew never mentioned. Still, a
simulation that could take Kes from traumatic experiences- anything like
assimilation? - to crew legend... It must be capable of teaching Seven
to hold a conversation without generating enmity.
"Elaborate. Which period?"
"StarDate 50348.1. Kes' mind was suppressed
and her body occupied by the conciousness of the Ilari dictator, Tieran-"
Seven's mind flashed: Identity suppressed and
motor control usurped. It is like assimilation.
"-even free of him she remembered and dreamed of
the experiences as if they were her own. These simulations allowed
her to relive the events in the first person. To face her daemon, in
a way; to understand the links between herself and the Warlord.
"She needed to understand how Tieran, in her body,
could bully, torture, beat and kill while she, in the same physical form,
found all these things repugnant... and why she found herself compelled to
kill him."
Seven considered this. The doctor's recent
memory therapy had failed, whilst meddling with suppressed assimilation
trauma. It had cost a life. But Kes had emerged from this episode
without costing anyone's life. Other than Tieran, perhaps.
"Was Kes successful?"
"She was. The recent data upgrade confirms
it."
Seven nodded. "Show me the other simulation."
Programme: "Ilari Alpha"
Subroutine: offline
Substitution protocol: enabled
Subject identity: Seven of Nine
Time index: 2.6.0 through 2.6.2
A table. She was looking down at a table.
Thick, dark wood, it shone with reflected light and... and she could scarcely
move her head, a thrumbing ache at the base of her skull... what was wrong
with her?
Voices! Behind her -why can't I turn?-
men, arguing amidst the screeching and clamour of mechanical alarms.
A crisis? Someone yelled, the words indistinguishable, punctuated
with short stabs of some invisible needle, right between her eyes.
She lifted her head. Why does that hurt,
too? Saw a cut-stone hall, a half-dozen figures with rifles.
Flashing lights.
Someone was near. Speaking to her. To
me? I am...
"Tieran! Don't give in. Stay with
me!" A tall, dark woman. A wide, soft mouth, speaking harshly,
"Tieran!"
"..." She'd said something. Forced something
out.
"Fight it!" The soft mouth. "You must
fight it, Tieran-"
Another jabbing spike, this time her temple.
She wanted to shake it away. Massage it away. Will it away, but
nothing moved. What's wrong? Why am I immobile?
A new sound, instantly recognised: weapons
fire!
A sudden clarity broke in her, noticing long golden
streaks of phaser rifle fire; dashing figures in black, shoulders splashed
with primaries, felling leather-clad riflemen. StarFleet!
A hooded man, another- ANOTHER! Struck by small arms, toppling.
She felt able to rise, then a bodylength contact
struck sideways, her feet flailing. I'm hit? I'm shot!
No, carried. A muscled beast-of-a-man lifting her bodily, veered
for a doorway, stumbled. A voice yelling, "Resh!"
His grip loosened, she slipped solidly to the floor,
dazed by it, winded. Rolling over she saw the man prone, motionless.
Dead? Another pair of hooded rifles falling back in the archways,
flashing light beyond.
Scrabbling away she bumped a wall. No,
I should be commanding, here. If she could clear her thoughts she
could- Someone grabbed her arm, pulled her upright. She turned,
saw that same wide mouth, shouting, "-find a doctor and get you stabilised
or transfered to a new host. You will survive!"
The tall woman thrust her across open space.
Overhead a siren screamed directly into her skull. The woman ran by,
shooting, shooting... falling. The afterglow of a weapon discharge
dulled across her chest. Dark eyes longing into her own, dulling too.
Backing away from this, cornered now. Figures
approached, one she... one she knew... Neelix! Who is
Neelix? The figure was speaking, soothing, placating; holding something
toward her!
Fumbling, almost instinctively at her waist.
A smoothness, a flap, a handle. The blaster! Her hand closed
on it, flexed to-
Neelix' hand threw starlight into her... fading,
turning light... something pricking her cheek.
...a different view... painless thought... clarity...
a slim, blonde woman in black and grey, receding. Hands grabbed from
behind to pin her painless arms. A man's voice came from everywhere:
Tieran, it's Ameron, your new host. Say nothing, they'll think
you-
Looking back, the blonde -Kes!- was closing
on her, determination she'd only known in herself, a glint of silver in her
hand, speaking through clenched teeth, "I know you too well, Tieran.
You died a long time ago. Now, it's time to let go."
Kes' hand reached for her. A pricking at her cheek. Her mouth; his voice, screaming...
Voyager - Holodeck One
Seven of Nine blinked, a momentary
reorientation. Looking down at 'Kes' she was mildly surprised.
The simulation still wore her Ilari leathers, black and grey.
'Kes' smiled, "Yes, that was me, at the end.
Although you were 'me' most of the time."
Seven spoke, "That was a convincingly vivid
experience. I was... confused, pained. Paralysed."
"Kes worked on it for some time," the figure looked
down at herself. "She became comfortable in this, once she understood
Tieran. There were steps involved. She had to know that when
Tieran killed, when the body enjoyed it, it wasn't her pleasure. But
she identified a part within her that might enjoy it, ferally.
"Tieran's murders were never of necessity, mostly
whim. But, she grasped that to measure her own act. Vengeance,
retribution, anger... all played a part in killing Tieran. And she
already knew in the most pragmatic way: the only way to stop him killing
was killing him.
"They were similar in many ways: extremely intelligent;
determined; practical. And they loved. Tieran's love, for Nori,
was Kes' first insight, her first stage in understanding."
"It is a powerful tool," said Seven. "I might
like to... modify it."
"Oh, that's not possible. You'd have to create
your own simulation."
"Explain."
The simulation stiffened, lecturing again, "My command
parameters have been updated by your running me. Kes is, well, gone.
When next shut down this programme will be purged."
Seven accepted this. She might do the same.
But there should be no unfinished tasks.
She asked, "Would you agree to inform the doctor
of Kes' therapeutic results?"
The construct grinned. "It's already in her
medical file. So are considerations for another theory I've
generated. The doctor should see it right away." The simulation
paused, Seven raised her brows. "Tieran made Kes' evolution possible."
Sickbay
Seven of Nine was in sickbay, deep into gamma
shift. Even the doctor, bored with Seven's silent reading of Kes' entire
personnel and medical files, had rolled his eyes and deactivated hours
ago. With the lights down, the LCARS' colours reflected in Seven's
orbital appliance, shadowed her features.
Seven had terminated the Kes simulation and come
straight to the doctor's office. The EMH was somewhat upset at the
construct's loss, but fascinated with its theory. He'd noted, a number
of times, how he was certainly most responsible.
The simulation's theory was radical, but having
read every ship's file remotely associated with Kes, Seven agreed with it.
The Ocampa, generations distant from abilities seen
only in children's tales and oral history, were almost mere pets of the Caretaker
when Voyager encountered them. Kes was even then an upstart
amongst her people, yearning to break city seals and see the world... the
Galaxy.
And, in the crucible of Voyager's travels
she had manifested mental gifts, always in crisis. Planetary holocaust;
Chakotay disembodied; the Caretaker's mate threatening Voyager; Species
8472 contacting her, not Tuvok. And Tieran, a killer, a beast,
a Warlord. He had tapped amazing strengths.
Perhaps these experiences were enough. Alone
they were more for Kes herself than Ocampans had seen collectively for
decades. When strictures of time and physical boundaries were broken
over them as in Kes... Elogium in half the time; a full Ocampan life
lived forward and back by duress of chroniton poisoning... well, who knew
what that might foment?
Seven considered the simulated Kes' last words,
spoken through a smile: "I don't know where Kes went. I'm sure she's
excited to be there. And, if there's any way she can manage it, she'll
return to share this with our own kind. She'll free the Ocampa."
The construct had faded, her job done. Perhaps
Kes was out there, somewhere, completing hers.
Seven thumbed off the medical viewer, headed for
the exit. She, too, had one more task to complete.
Voyager - Deck 8
The panel fixed in place with a solid 'click'.
Seven stood, her work finished. She raised and activated the
tricorder. All traces of sub-atomic disruption were gone.
The repair project was simple, but
time-consuming. Seven had, however, refused Lt. Torres' offer of additional
manpower. She could work in Kes' old room alone. "More efficiently,"
she'd told Torres.
She gathered the work tools in their case; a damaged
panel; the padd on which she'd planned her work. She moved toward the
door. Stopped.
Turning, she inhaled. Recycled air, new carpetting
and the static tang of cutting tools. No trace organics.
"Computer, lights off." The room darkened
at her command. A second's pause and Seven of Nine turned and left
through the stateroom doors.
Behind her, cool blue light filtered through a window's
glass. Diffused, it touched an empty room.
Programme: "Raven Alpha"
Subroutine: online
Time index: 0.0.1 through 0.0.3
She sat, patiently, in the captain's chair.
Papa let her sit there when he had "...just one more little job and then
we'll play, okay, honey?" A seat in the chair meant soon.
Panels and consoles flashed and whirred. But
Annika was immune to the sparkle of technology. Like her parents, she
wanted wonders, unknowns. She wanted a good story, an adventure like
Papa could tell.
Her father wiped his hands on a cloth, rose and
smiled at her. He's all done!
"PROXIMITY ALERT!" The computer's rude tone
broke out. Her father, surprised, looked over at her mother.
He spoke, "Something came up fast!"
"Message coming in," her mother answered, "On
speakers..."
"-as you know it is over. We will add your
biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. We are the
Borg-"
|
All characters, places and the like are the
intellectual property of Paramount, and I merely use and abuse
them at my will. Anything here to which they make no claim I gladly
say is mine.
Thanks to: Julia for pushing me just enough to write this,
not so much that I blew it off.
Lisa Klink, Andrew Shepard Price & Mark
Gaberman, and David Livingston for making
the masterpiece episode "Warlord".
By March of '98 I felt cheated. I enjoyed the new character, Seven
of Nine, I really did. But why did I have to lose Kes to get her? (Ever wonder
who would have got the axe if Jennifer Lien had been 4 inches taller and
a cup size larger?)
Until "Elogium" and "Parturition" I thought Kes a waste
of time. By "Warlord" she was simply underused. Here's
the perfect STrek character: intelligent, inquisitive, open- and fair-minded,
capable, attractive and charismatic, the usual Roddenberry list of Kirkian
properties. Plus, now she has killed, tasted the Dark Side, and no
longer must be a goody-two-shoes. Of course, if you've now created
a superior female character you have to obey Paramount's Prime Directive:
Kill Her. (Yar, Dax, Seska, Borg Queen, K'Elehr...) The ones
who stick around are weak: Troi, Crusher, Keiko...
So, I put Seven and Kes in a story 'together'. At the same time
I had Seven stop being so petulant while solving the why-did-Kes-evolve
question.
The story was conceived as a 10-scene piece. I wrote it March
24th-29th, 1998. I wanted 4 scenes of Kes/Tieran, including the climax
from "Warlord" from her perspective. I also have 4 scenes with
Seven learning about herself and Kes. The first and last scenes would
set the stage and wrap it up.
I ended up with 11 scenes. I wrote two endings, one with Seven
in Kes' quarters mirroring the opener. One had Seven beginning her
own holo-therapy. I asked readers to indicate a preference: everyone
said to leave both endings.
I wrote the scenes longhand, limiting them to two pages each. My
strength is brevity and economy. My weakness is a tendency to ramble
if given free rein. I wanted every sentence to contribute. If
a sentence is removed it must thereby weaken the piece. It pretty much
worked out. I wish I could cut another 10%, but I like it the way it
is, now.
As with its successor, the prequel "Reflection," "Completion" satisfies me. I really, really enjoy reading it. Therefore I unilaterally declare it a success, not caring what others might say. That's freedom of expression. That's a reason to write. I got the straight answers I'll never get from Paramount. That's completion.
Page courtesy: geocities.