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ota
Cambridge really hates it here.
He supposes, on some level, this is mostly petty spite. Starfleet ships aren't that different, really; while one might have a more informal atmosphere, and another goes purely on ceremony, and another contains families and the other just a scattering of scientists, they all have certain commonalities, in atmosphere and content. For example, most ships are more like each other than they are like Starfleet Medical, where Cambridge spent twelve years before being assigned to Voyager.
But, he hates it anyway. There's something missing in the atmosphere, and while the gel packs on Voyager don't have a smell of sorts, he imagines that there's a scent of ozone that's not there that should be. The uniforms look all wrong, and Cambridge resents it every moment, from bustling, bright ensigns to non-coms repairing open conduits.
Eventually, he settles on working on unsolved archaeological mysteries from the last few centuries. Alien, not human. It's at least something to do, and it's well within his area of expertise. Part of the time, he works in Ten-Forward, at a table with a handful of PADDs, frowning fiercely, cross-referencing. "No," is what he says to anyone who approaches him. Without looking up from the PADD.
The rest of the time, he works in his quarters, which he has to himself. And when he works like this, so intently, he doesn't care much for the organization of his room. Things end up on tables, on the floor. At one point he kicks a pair of pants aside, towards the doorway. Unfortunately, the next time the door opens and closes, the cloth gets in the way. So the ankle of the pants sticks out into the hallway, like a flag.
He supposes, on some level, this is mostly petty spite. Starfleet ships aren't that different, really; while one might have a more informal atmosphere, and another goes purely on ceremony, and another contains families and the other just a scattering of scientists, they all have certain commonalities, in atmosphere and content. For example, most ships are more like each other than they are like Starfleet Medical, where Cambridge spent twelve years before being assigned to Voyager.
But, he hates it anyway. There's something missing in the atmosphere, and while the gel packs on Voyager don't have a smell of sorts, he imagines that there's a scent of ozone that's not there that should be. The uniforms look all wrong, and Cambridge resents it every moment, from bustling, bright ensigns to non-coms repairing open conduits.
Eventually, he settles on working on unsolved archaeological mysteries from the last few centuries. Alien, not human. It's at least something to do, and it's well within his area of expertise. Part of the time, he works in Ten-Forward, at a table with a handful of PADDs, frowning fiercely, cross-referencing. "No," is what he says to anyone who approaches him. Without looking up from the PADD.
The rest of the time, he works in his quarters, which he has to himself. And when he works like this, so intently, he doesn't care much for the organization of his room. Things end up on tables, on the floor. At one point he kicks a pair of pants aside, towards the doorway. Unfortunately, the next time the door opens and closes, the cloth gets in the way. So the ankle of the pants sticks out into the hallway, like a flag.
no subject
"You, as you are now," he says, "will always be a force in the mind of Seven of Nine. Even as you change drastically, there will be a part of you who is still newly freed from the Borg Collective." A part of her that approaches humanity as a foreign country, and that admires, on some level, the connected nature of the Collective. Even if that part only becomes an echo, it will never vanish. Seven will never forget where she came from.
"There's simply no good way to put this," he says, "but I don't believe it's ethical to dissemble." His throat is dry. He recognizes that part of his own motivation is to drive her away, and make it so that they don't have to endure one another's company. But is that really so bad? "I acted as Seven's counselor for some time, to face issues such as personal loss and the nature of individuality. She made stunning progress, and those sessions were concluded. We then entered into an intimate relationship. As you said, of course, you are not the woman I knew. Feel free to act, or fail to act, on this information as you see fit."
no subject
That was not what she was expecting.
Honestly, she knew that as Humans go, she was considered attractive. She'd observed Ensign Kim's reaction to her within days of being forced headlong into individuality. She'd taken advantage of his fascination with her to try to signal the Collective. And while romantic relations were discussed in her social lessons with the Doctor, she'd never felt like that was something she wanted. Just something that she studied.
She sits back in the chair, looking...actually quite alarmed, as these things go.
"...I do not understand why you would divulge that."
Or why you would be open to the idea of starting a relationship with her in the first place.
no subject
"As I said," he says, giving her professionalism instead of emotion, "not divulging would be unethical. Your decisions about me should be informed."
Unethical. He's a joke right now, isn't he? There is no ethical way to proceed. There is no professionalism to fall back on. A flood of bitterness hits him like the smack of water's surface-tension.
A shake of his head, like he might dismiss all of those thoughts. "I have no expectations on how you may or may not react," he tells her. "I will exert no pressure on you. Your life is yours, and your choices are yours."
There. That's a little better. A little closer to something clean.
no subject
She doesn't think it reflects poorly on him. She suspects he might.
"I did not expect you to." She is, for all he claims it, the same person he had a relationship with. She's barely even the same person she was six months ago. One thing she thinks she might still be is independent, and he would know that she wouldn't take well to the pushing.
"If you know me as well as you say you do, you know that I would not tolerate that."
no subject
"Bloody-minded as you are," he says, "there are parts of you that are extremely vulnerable. You are now and will always be an exceptional - person," stopping himself from saying the world individual, knowing that it might bring with it some unwelcome connotations, "and it would be a crime if I put any of that in danger through selfishness."