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As much as Seven doesn’t remember Starfleet being a place where piracy skills took one very far, she certainly seems to be drawing from that skill pool often these days. As part of the Enterprise-G’s newest deep space foray, they’ve accidentally managed to land on a planet with two competing factions of space smugglers. And while their actual mission – one where they were supposed to observe as unassuming tourists to understand whether or not the planet was warp-capable or if the technology had simply ended up on the planet at the hands of one of the smugglers – had been more or less successful, Jack had, as usual, gotten way too enthusiastically into his role.
He’d been way too good of a pirate, and now the two factions, were, for the first time in years if not history, teaming up to oust him and the rest of his crew.
Seven and Raffi, as the only gamblers on board the planet had not seen yet, would have to go down and clean up the mess.
“Captain, Commander, I’m sorry !”
Raffi stands, cross-armed and standing, next to Seven who is seated at her desk. “Look, Ensign,” says Seven, “we understand and appreciate your enthusiasm for your role. We all love our jobs. That’s great, because if you don’t love your job, your role in Starfleet is really, really hard to perform. I get it. I’ve worked on ships where we were literally trapped together. But you’ve got to learn to read context.”
“Throw a hand sometimes,” summarizes Raffi, “to win the game.”
“You’re new,” says Seven. “You want to prove yourself. I understand that, and you’ve certainly done that. But you’ve also put this crew at risk by standing out a little too much. Your objective is always the mission, not necessarily being a hotshot badass.”
Jack sighs. “I was trying to draw attention away from the rest of the crew so that they could get their job done.” He looks between captain and first officer. “And you guys are always hotshot badasses, but no one checks you on it.”
“Thank you,” says Raffi, and Seven – well, she doesn’t roll her eyes, but she certainly flicks them decisively towards the ceiling.
“Number One.”
“Respectfully, Captain, you didn’t let me finish!” She looks back to Jack. “Thank you, but we didn’t get to where we were by winning all the time. If anything, it’s our losses – and learning from them – that make us so effective at our jobs. Better, Captain?”
“Quite. Thank you, Number One. Ensign, you’re very effective at your job. We are well aware of what you can do in and out of Starfleet. And sometimes, the best thing you can do with that knowledge is not prove yourself but to try and support the team. Lift others up.”
“And be more unassuming next time so I don’t arouse suspicion.” Seven and Raffi nod in unison. “Okay, so what’s my punishment?”
Seven shakes her head. “I don’t think we need to respond to learning with more punishment. Stay on the bridge and advise the remaining team as necessary. You’ve had firsthand experience with these smugglers that the others haven’t.”
“Practice what you’ve learned,” offers Raffi. “Contribute to the team instead of necessarily taking opportunities to prove yourself.”
She’s touched a nerve, and that’s very clear. Jack bristles a little bit, but then his shoulders soften. “Yes, Captain, Commander.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” says Seven. “Dismissed.”
As her ready room door slide shut, Seven turns to Raffi and raises an eyebrow.
“Permission to speak freely.” Seven waves her hand. “You think I was too harsh with him?”
“He does want to prove himself, but I don’t think it’s because he wants to stand out at the expense of everyone else. I think he’s just trying to help. He’s still trying to find his place on the ship, and it’s hard because he hasn’t had a seeming lifetime in Starfleet like everyone else here.”
“And you’re…speaking from experience?” The boldness earns her a smile that is also the lightest of warnings. “Speak freely,” Raffi reminds her.
“You think I’m too soft on him.”
“I think you have a lot in common.”
“And you two don’t?”
Raffi shakes her hair. “I’ve always been perfect, Seven. I don’t know what you think you’re talking about.”
Seven laughs. Well, it’s not like we’ve been really seeking out putting him on away teams. Let’s see if he’s able to work in a support function on his own, and then if he still needs help, we’ll adjust assignments accordingly.”
“Difficult officers often turn out to be the best Starfleet captains,” says Raffi. She gestures between them. “You know that.”
Seven rubs her forehead. “Yeah, and we need the most guidance, which is something you only learn when you have to actually deal with yourself.” Raffi chuckles. “Now what?”
“A few months in the chair has really aged you, Captain.”
“Well, then I hope you like old women,” Seven replies, straight-faced. “Unless that’s your way of telling me that you think I’ve lost my step.”
Raffi grins, wide and bright. “You, Captain? Never.”
“So then let’s get ready for this mission.”
They can’t go down in uniform because they need to go down in disguise. When they meet at the transporter room, the two of them stop short at the doors.
Raffi wears a floor-length gown the color of a brilliant Earth sunset, the kind that really brings out the warmer and more golden, saturated tones in her hair. The gown has a high neck that ends in a circle of gold that resembles the outline of a star, and the netted fabric over her chest seems to glisten. Her arms, which Seven hasn’t seen bare in months, shine in the lights of the G.
Her muscles have gotten bigger, somehow, and have gained definition, even given all of the time she has to spend on her duties on the ship now.
Seven, in a kelly green suit with black lapels and an extremely cinched waist, takes her hands out of her pockets. The shirt underneath is black, with sleek buttons. She swallows.
Raffi takes a long breath, then smiles. “Captain.”
“Number One.”
“I see that when we thought about our game clothes, we had the same idea.”
“I’m surprised you kept the pattern for that dress,” says Seven. Raffi’s brow slightly furrows. “Uh, not because it’s not becoming. It’s actually very b–what I mean to say is that it looks good, but I know you didn’t bring a lot of the patterns from previous years into the ship with you, so it’s nice to see that you’ve kept this one.”
Raffi had, in many ways, reconciled her old life before she’d come onto this ship, found redemption but also stood redeemed in the eyes of many. Still, she’d cleared out a lot of her old mundane possessions before moving onto this ship. She’d mentioned it once to Seven before they came here, just a way of starting a new chapter and letting go of an old one.
Seven had not realized that she’d kept some things.
“Lucky gown,” says Raffi. “Figured we might need it someday.” She looks Seven up and down. “Same for you?”
“I like this suit,” replies Seven.
“Ah,” says Raffi lightly, so lightly that Seven doesn’t expect her own chest to fall a bit at the reaction. “Well, come on, then, let’s get ourselves out of this mess.” They enter the transporter room, but Raffi continues speaking. “It’ll be just like that reunion of mine you went to. You’re my good luck charm.”
They ignore the transporter room chief’s amused expression as they nod that they’re ready for her to energize.
The game they’re playing isn’t poker, but it’s similar enough. Seven and Raffi wait outside the room for a while, taking their time with their drinks, because delay is a good tactic to loosen people up (a learning both Seven and Raffi have learned, separately, on two very different trajectories).
It also gives them time to finalize their game plan.
“Seven to Enterprise. How are we doing?”
“Mura here. Captain, we’re in position and ready to assist if you need, but this game is all you, as they say. May the Prophets show you their favor.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. And thanks for the well wishes, though I think you’d agree that this is more of a game of tactics than it is of luck.”
Raffi grins, because she can hear Mura’s smile in his reply. “Of course, Captain.”
Mura’s actually not bad in a casino himself. He only plays games where one can gain an advantage against the house, which is really only two of them. It’s too bad that the planet’s seen his face already. “Seven out.”
Raffi looks at Seven. “Game plan, Captain?”
“Same as usual,” replies Seven. “It’s your game. I’m just here to support you.”
“And uh, nudge the table along.” Seven shrugs, with a little smirk. “Okay, come on, let’s have some fun.”
On the Enterprise, Jack hovers over Mura’s elbow. Mura finally turns slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you, Ensign?”
“We have visuals on that room,” says Jack. “So we’d be able to see everyone’s hands. So wouldn’t it be easier if–”
“Someone’s jumpy today.” Sidney turns from the pilot’s seat. “They’ve got this. Seven’s a Fenris Ranger, and Musiker’s one of those Starfleet people that they sent into the criminal underbellies. This is exactly where they shine.”
Jack shrugs. “Or we could just watch the game, then,” he says. “Two masters at work and we can watch.”
“Alright, settle down,” says Mura. Then, he cocks a small grin. “And zoom in on those monitors.”
Raffi gives the game an hour, tops. People tend to make bolder moves in the first few rounds, which makes it easier to see mistakes, even if that mistake is being too conservative too early. It doesn’t take long to figure out this table and their ticks and tells.
But, she and Seven need to drag things out. The two smugglers are undoubtedly working against them, so they decide to divide and conquer, work between them to first cheat to make sure one of them is getting the upper hand on the entire table. Then, when there is sufficient doubt, they fix the games to work the other way.
When the smugglers are too busy fighting amongst themselves, they egg each other on, build up the stakes to goad them into betting everything and more, and then when they’re completely distracted, a hand from Raffi with a nice bit of contract wordplay from Seven wins them the run of the place.
While the two leave in a huff, Raffi pulls the winnings toward the both of them as the dealer gives them instruction on how to cash out. They’ll need those, because they’re going to use those winnings to pay back every bit that the smugglers have stolen (and also some of the winnings that Jack had managed to win). They’re going to quietly leave it within this community, which is not warp capable yet but will be someday – soon, if their findings are any indication.
“Very good job, Number One,” comments Seven.
Raffi is jittery with excitement, but she shrugs anyway. “Old dog, old tricks,” she says. “These days are far behind me.”
“But useful,” says Seven. She taps her comm badge, hidden beneath her lapel. “Seven to Enterprise.”
“Mura here. Very good game, Captain.”
Seven shrugs. “Musiker’s the better player,” she says. “I may be the better cheater.”
“Not a chance,” says Raffi. Seven rolls her eyes.
A different voice this time: Jack’s. “You were her support,” says Jack. “You worked as a team.”
Seven and Raffi beam at each other. “That’s right,” says Raffi. “Good observation, Ensign.”
“Anyway,” says Seven, “stand by at the rendezvous point. We don’t want anyone here to see our transporter technology.”
“And take it easy!” says Raffi. “This has been successful, so treat yourselves a little. Not too much, but you guys have all done a good job making sure that they don’t know what we know.”
“Seven and Musiker out.”
Seven stands and offers her arm. Raffi’s still shaking when she takes it, so Seven begins to take off her jacket.
“It’s adrenaline, not cold.”
“Yeah, but that’s going to drop soon, and it’s cold outside.”
“You just don’t like looking at my guns.”
“I never said that,” chuckles Seven, and Raffi curls her arm into hers. "I don't think anyone in the history of ever has said that to you."
In order to be beamed up without anyone seeing them, Seven and Raffi need to wait until much later in the night when the casino crowd begins to clear out. So, the Enterprise dutifully stands by (with half of the crew in celebratory mode), and captain and first officer pass the time with some mocktails that seem to release a flurry of rainbow-colored bubbles between every sip. Above them, the starlight seems to dance against a backdrop of night.
“I lied before,” says Seven, as the two of them listen to the late night insects on this planet, which sound nothing like crickets on Earth but are pleasant all the same.
“Oh, I know,” says Raffi. “That’s the whole reason why we won.”
“I mean, yes, there, but also about the suit.”
“Oh?”
“I do like it, but it’s also because of the memories I’ve made wearing it. Otherwise, it’s just another set of clothing.”
Of course, Raffi remembers that night as if it were yesterday, a yesterday in a different life. That had been before their work together, when they were partners beholden to no one but each other, in much, much less authoritative positions within their respective organizations.
Of course now, their work doesn’t allow for that kind of commitment, certainly with each other. But back then everything had been new and honey-sweet, as many new relationships are.
It had been hard to get ready that evening, actually, because they’d put off getting ready until the last second, preferring to stay wrapped up in each other instead. Raffi’s cheeks heat up at the memory, and now she wears Seven’s jacket fully because of the chill in the night air, but for a moment, it feels a little too warm, almost like she should give it back. “And that’s why you wore it.”
Seven picks up Raffi’s banter easily, because it’s become so easy for them to speak the language of jest and suggestion these days. It powers them, makes things even more efficient sometimes, an energy source that both of them can draw from but can never quite seem to touch.
Touching it would ruin it, probably.
“Of course, no other reason.”
“And do you miss it? Your–” Raffi shimmes her shoulders in a show of mock playfulness, probably to play down how they're both stepping into territory that could get dicey for both of them, given their history. “–pirate life?”
“Yeah, but not for the reasons you think.”
“Not for the life of adventure?”
“Look around, Raffi. This is a life of adventure. But no. Maybe I miss the lack of responsibility. That there was more room to say, screw it, and go after the things I wanted.”
“And now?”
“Greater good. Nothing beats that.”
“Yeah.”
“But I do want you to know that I miss it,” says Seven, her eyes shining like twin full moons. “There are parts of it that I’m always going to miss.”
Raffi allows herself a moment too long to look into Seven’s eyes. They’re rarely this close, this alone . And she rarely can give Seven’s features the reverence that they seem to require of her, that she wants to give them.
Then she looks away.
“Well,” she says, gazing out upon a moonlight lake. Unlike Seven’s gaze, the moon on this planet is scace tonight, just a small and shimmering crescent sliver. But here, away from the hustle of the casinos, that’s more than enough light. If anything, it allows the sparkle of some stars to come through, the dark surface of the water sparkling with lightyears-old illumination. “You’re stuck with me, so get used to never missing that.”
“You, Number One,” says Seven, “are something I could never take for granted.”
Without breaking their gaze, the two of them sip slowly, at the same time, from their mocktails, letting the effervescent bubbles rise and color the night air.