ANGRYSHIPPER NOTE: God, these really are a lot of fun. Strangely addictive.

“Up for a game of velocity?”

“Perhaps another time, Captain,” Seven replied. “I must finish my analysis of these algorithms.”

Janeway smiled. “All work and no play---”

“Makes Jack a dull boy. Yes, I am familiar with that colloquial phrase. However, I must be... ‘dull’ for a while.”

Janeway held up her hands in surrender. “Another time.” Seven stared after her as she walked out the door, and then turned to concentrate on her work. She was soon inturrupted by Crewman Tal Celes.

“Uh, Seven? I was wondering if you could help me with something,” the little Bajoran said meekly.

Seven perked her head in irritation.

“What might that be, crewman? I am occupied.”

“Yes, but... you see...” Tal was stuttering with nevousness.

“State your question.”

“Um, there’s something on deck fifteen you need to see.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Oh, it’s very urgent.” She held Seven’s eye, a feat the drone had rarely seen from the insecure Bajoran. “Your presence is... required.”

Seven sighed. “Very well. What is the problem?” She began to walk towards the door, and Celes kept pace.

“Well, it’s really something with circuitry...”

They stepped into the turbolift.

“Curcuitry is Lieutenant Torres’s area. Perhaps you should consult her.”

“Yes, Seven... but, but everyone knows how smart you are. I’m sure you’re better than Lieutenant Torres at this.”

Seven inclined her head slightly. “Likely. Lieutenant Torres is without the benefit of a Borg-enhanced mind.”

Celes shifted nervously. “So, uh, you play often with the captain?”

“Play?”

Celes jumped at her harsh tone. “I mean, Ve-velocity. You play often?”

“Yes.”

“So, who wins?”

“Captain Janeway is without the benefit of Borg-enhanced strength. If she were not so... lucky, I would win every time.”

“But who does win?”

“Elaborate on what this circuitry failure entails,” Seven cut in.

“Um, well... You have to see it. You are so much smarter than me. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.”

“That is unsurprising,” Seven remarked, and they walked out when the turbolift doors slid open.

“So... what was it like winning the Miss Voyager contest last week?” Celes fumbled.

“It was no ‘contest’ as you put it, Crewman. With my Borg-enhanced...” Seven paused, flustered. Then, “I will elaborate no further. Needless to say, I was not surprised.”

Celes giggled. “I’ll bet.”

They reached the end of the corridor, and Seven noticed a number of crewmen. She recongized their designations-- Lieutenant Ayala, Ensign Jennifer Delaney, Ensign Megan Delaney, and Lieutenant Vorick, but she paid them no regard.

“Where is this circuitry malfunction?” Seven demanded.

“Here!” a low, gutteral growl came from behind her, and suddenly a crowbar smashed into Seven’s head.

Seven cried out and fell to her knees. She rolled her eyes over to see Celes standing there with the offending bar.

“What is the meaning of this attack?”

“You’ve chipped away at me for three years... berated me, insulted me... You’ve single-handedly destroyed my self-esteem! Now, you’re going to die, bitch!” Celes roared.

Seven looked to the other crewmen. “Why do you not assist me?”

Promptly, the other crewmen pulled out crowbars of their own.

Ayala stepped forward. “You and your Tsunkatse moves, your endless bragging about your Borg strength... They don’t send me on away missions any more because it’s always you, you, you!” He smashed her in the ribs with his crowbar, and she doubled over.

Jenny and Megan Delaney stepped forward. “Walking around all the time in that skin tight outfit. You leave no room for competition! We’re stuck in this uniform, so we can’t parade around practically naked... we have no chance! That stupid Miss Voyager contest should have been either mine or Megan’s, and you stole it simply because you’re a damn slut!”

With that, the twins both hit her with their crowbars.

Vorick stepped forward. “Although it may seem illogical for a Vulcan to participate in a brutal murder, it is logical for a member of a hierarchy to secure his place. I was next in line for engineering until your arrival, and therefore, I will now ensure I am next in line again.”

And then he hit her with the crowbar.

The crewmen fell on her, and pounded her to a bloody pulp. When they were done, they drew back, triumphant.

“Ladies and gentlement,” Celes said, “Let’s celebrate with a drink at Sandrine’s.”

Happily, they marched off to the holodeck together, into the brighter future without Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix 0-1.