Before you can shout 'Danger, Will Robinson!', Seven has regrown her weaponized bits, bobs, and personal forcefields (though OF COURSE nothing too unsightly). She overcomes everyone and everything blocking her path, blows up the shuttle bay doors and is over the hills and far away before you can squeal UPN. The Voyager crew, clearly, have never heard of anesthizine, the knock-out gas commonly deployed on starships. What? Does she have lung shields now, too? Isn't it worth a TRY? Tuvok? Captain? Anyone?
Rampaging Seven immediately offends some easily offended aliens called the B'omar. They are not the same B'omarr whose monks stuff their own brains into spider-legged jars (that would be the Star Wars universe). The Star Trek B'omar are anal-retentive newts in football helmets. They count and monitor every blade of grass on every asteroid that approaches their territory. So you can imagine how much they love an unannounced mad Borg. Their eyes are on the sparrow... because they want to shoot it down.
Speaking of threatening avians, Seven of Nine is tormented by visions of Edgar Allen Poe's feathery chum while traumatically flashing back to the assimilation of her Mommy and Popsicle.
"The Raven", in my considered opinion, owes the rare moments that have any emotional impact whatsoever to inserts from co-writer Brian Fuller. I can't disparage actress Jeri Ryan, she's doing a great job. But Seven is a frustratingly, hair-pullingly overpowered Mary Sue character who can outthink a Vulcan tactician and saunter through a sea of security yellow while sleepwalking. The mind boggles that anyone could ever get the best of the Borg when ONE dozing half-drone makes them look like yam-and-turkey-stuffed mall cops.
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