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TRADITIONS

"Seven, you really should learn a little about holiday customs. When we get back to Earth, you may find you want to participate. Think of it as a cultural education assignment."

As usual Kathryn Janeway was trying to find ways to draw out the Borg woman into social activities. She worried about Seven of Nine, and how her development was progressing. Seven would join her Captain in a game of Velocity or play Kotiskot easily enough with Naomi, the only child on board. But getting her to attend a social gathering with a large group of people was like pulling teeth. Kathryn's latest hope to encourage Seven to attend the Christmas dinner Neelix insisted on throwing was to make it sound like a kind
of assignment. Seven rarely declined any opportunity to learn something, especially if Kathryn made it a point to ask her personally.

"I do not see the point. I am not a…… `Christian', I believe is the right term, and I have no wish to take part in an antiquated religious ceremony I have no need of." Seven had a stubborn look on her face, Kathryn noted. The one she knew she would not be able to budge. She conceded failure, but not totally. She sighed.

"All right, Seven. If you can show me two examples of Christmas traditions, I will excuse you from attending the dinner, since you are so obviously opposed to it. But I want to see that you have made at least a cursory survey of this predominant Earth holiday. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain." The look of defiance on Seven's face reduced itself to a pout.

"Good. I will return later to check on your progress." Kathryn turned on her heel and walked out of the cargo bay.

On the way down the corridor, she shook her head gently and smiled. Seven was so obstinate. In any other crewmember, she would of course not tolerate such in-subordination. Seven however, was not an officer or even a cadet. She was a strange mix of stubborn child and wise, world-weary woman. Her unique life experiences had to be respected as the underdeveloped parts of her personality were carefully encouraged. Kathryn had a unique relationship with the rescued woman as Seven sought to sharpen herself against Kathryn's strength, often in unbending displays like this last one. Kathryn was intrigued to see what aspects Seven would pull from the vast tradition of `Christmas'.

After the Captain had spent several uneventful hours on the bridge, she made her way down to the galley to see how Neelix was doing in his preparations. He allowed her a peek into the oven to see a heavily basted six-legged, avian-looking *thing* in a huge roasting pan. He declared it a "Davakorn d'Aclayen hen, basted in juute broth with fetran stuffing". He was most excited to tell her he'd found it on the last planet they had stopped at and saved it in the
freezer for just this occasion. At least it smelled good, even if its appearance were a little daunting. And Neelix *did* look very festive in his red hat, the brim surrounded with white pom-poms.

She proceeded on to Cargo Bay Two to assess Sevens reluctant study.

As soon as the bay doors opened, an odour of spice, cinnamon, she thought, hit her nostrils. A very small pine tree sat on top of the computer console and cast a warm glow from the string of lights wound around it. Seven was in front of her alcove reaching towards the top of it, attaching a sock to it, much to Kathryn's amazement.

"Captain. I will be finished momentarily," Seven declared, her back still towards Kathryn.

Kathryn noticed two steaming mugs sitting in front of the tree on the console. They had cinnamon bark rolls sticking out of the tops of them, and an alcoholic vapour hung in the air now that she was closer. Seven had clearly replicated some mulled wine.

The tall slim Borg, made taller and slimmer by the stretch she was executing to finish with the stocking, recoiled her reach and turned to face her Captain.

"A Christmas tree, the primary decorative icon of Christmas. Mulled wine, a popular beverage for the occasion, especially appealing as an alternative to the sweetened and blended raw embryo of a common fowl." Sevens face held a look of disgust at her interpretation of eggnog. Kathryn looked at her own boots to hide her amusement.

"A *stocking*," Seven gestured to her alcove, "fastened to the mantle of a fireplace by children, hoping they have behaved well enough throughout an entire year to warrant gifts magically appearing in their foot-coverings while they sleep."

"Would you care for some wine, Captain?" Seven asked. She picked up the two mugs and handed one to Kathryn.

Kathryn accepted the drink and took a sip. The taste of cloves and nutmeg joined the cinnamon and sweetened wine as it rolled across her tongue and warmed her throat. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"I forgot how good that tastes, Seven. Thank you. My mother always made wine like this at Christmas time." She closed her eyes again and inhaled deeply the scent. Seven watched her with interest.

"Well, Seven, I am satisfied that you did your research," Kathryn said, after taking another sip from her mug. "In fact you have shown me three examples instead of two. Now, if you will excuse me, I am due at the dinner in the mess hall. Thank you for the wine." She put the mug down and headed for the door. "Unless of course you've changed your mind about attending?"

"No, Captain, although I did find one other intriguing tradition." Seven said, following her to the door. "I believe it is customary to grant a kiss to someone you find yourself standing under mistletoe with."

Kathryn looked up. Sure enough, suspended from the ceiling of the Cargo bay right above her head was a small tied bunch of spiky greenery.

"Sev--"

Seven tilted her head towards Kathryn's up-turned face, gently kissing her Captain's lips, still parted in the question she didn't get to ask.

Kathryn froze. Seven had surprised her completely, yet again.

"Merry Christmas, Captain." Seven said to an astonished Kathryn, when she had released her from the kiss. "Thank you for encouraging me to learn your traditions. I find they are enjoyable after all. Now I believe I must regenerate if I hope to find anything in my sock."

Seven turned and walked toward her alcove. Kathryn watched her go wordlessly.

"Merry Christmas, Seven," Kathryn said quietly before finally leaving the cargo bay.