This is the 21st in the Just Between Series. As I begin the twenties, I attempt yet another experimental format just to see if it’ll work or not. I fully appreciate that this may be less than enjoyable for some readers, and that’s understandable. All I can offer is that the JB series is like waiting for a bus; if you’re not entirely comfortable with this one, another will be along in a short while, and it’ll be in a more standard format. G

This installment was written and posted in the first part of July, 1999, after the end of season five on Voyager, so it would have occurred before the events in Equinox.

Perhaps because of its more ‘intimate’ first person style, this story turned out to be somewhat more explicit than previous ones. In fact, it starts out that way. There is a Wonder Wand 9000 Warning. There is a Clinical Terms Warning. There is an Extreme Profanity Warning.

This title comes from Wendy in Australia. (Poor Wendy, her titles inspire all the smutty stuff G)

Just Between The Lines

G. L. Dartt

Kathryn Janeway: Personal Log

I awoke sometime in the night, returning to consciousness abruptly as I became aware that I wasn’t alone. However, the warm body that joined me was eminently familiar, and I welcomed the arrival of my spouse with a faint murmur of appreciation. I had expected her to be away for the entire evening, and was more than pleased to discover I’d been wrong. It’s hard when we’re both so busy to find time for one another, but somehow, if we both make an effort, we find a way. The fact that we had been required to pull double duty shifts the past few weeks made moments like these seem even more precious.

It was wonderful to feel those strong, slender arms wrap around me, to surrender to that lean, lanky body which pressed tightly against me from behind. Seven nuzzled my ear lovingly, and I smiled, reaching back to stroke her hip lightly.

“I thought you would be busy for most of the night?”

“I will be busy for most of the night. It simply will not be in astrometrics.” My smile widened, and it occurred to me that my darling had become quite glib recently, at least for her.

I exhaled slowly as I felt her hand slip up from my stomach to gently cup my breast.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked her, even as I realized how perfectly inane the question was. Anybody with half a brain would know exactly what she was doing.

However, as always, she answered me politely, without impatience … though I definitely heard a touch of indulgent tolerance in her tone.

“I am going to make love to you.”

The plainly spoken words sent chills down my spine, making my stomach contract pleasantly, and caused a ripple of sensation to run directly to that spot between my legs.

I tried to resist.

“Seven, we’re both tired, and we need our sleep to be able to function at peak efficiency tomorrow.”

“My efficiency will not be affected, though I appreciate that you are only … Human.”

Despite knowing that she was provoking me, I was unable to control my response, stiffening in her arms even as I was very aware of her hand stilled on my breast, her palm brushing over a nipple that hardened eagerly against the warm skin. From the window above our heads, the shimmering light from passing stars illuminated our bedroom, falling silver over the blankets that surrounded us in the cozy center of the mattress. The familiar sounds of the ship’s systems were a subtle undercurrent to the comforting respiration of my partner, while Seven’s skin felt incredibly smooth and inviting against mine. As I have come to freely acknowledge; when it comes to being with Seven, any resistance on my part is ultimately futile.

“I think I can handle whatever you choose to offer, Borg,” I muttered, somewhat unconvincingly, and was thankful that she chose not to point out that my competitive nature was bound to get me into real trouble someday.

She did make a low sound in my ear, however. Seven is not prone to laugh out loud, but she has developed a rather charming little snicker that appears whenever I say or do something that particularly amuses her … as my admittedly feeble show of reluctance must have. The tip of her tongue flicked my earlobe, then delicately explored the curve of it as her hand squeezed my breast, her other arm pulling me tighter to her. I let my breath out slowly, closing my eyes as I tipped my head back, affording Seven more access to my neck, loving how she kissed and nibbled her way along my throat.

“Mmm, Annika.” I shifted slightly. The touch of her from behind was delicious, but I wanted to be able to look at her in the low illumination, to see how her eyes changed color from that pale ice to the deepest of blue, to watch as desire and love filled them. “I’m so glad you came home early.”

“I needed to come home to you,” she said huskily, stroking me from throat to groin in one easy motion of her fingertips, and suddenly I realized that she was already in a state of arousal. I wondered what had triggered it, then stopped wondering as her fingers brushed over my crease, the tip of her index finger dipping down to rub my clitoris.

I groaned and rolled over, Seven opening her arms to allow my motion, then enfolded me into them once more, crushing me tightly against her. I basked in the touch of her body against me, the yielding cushion of her breasts and belly, the way her legs entwined with mine. This was also better in that we could now kiss comfortably; I could have those pouty, full lips cover mine, could taste the sweetness of her tongue moving so lovingly against my own, inhale the breath that seemed to fill me with her warmth. I made a sound, low and gutteral, unable to stifle it. It just felt so incredibly good to be in her arms like this, to love her with all my heart and soul, to know this woman loved me in return. My desire for her rose thick and intense within me, like the surge of a tidal wave.

She swallowed my moan, muffling it with her mouth, and I clung to her, her nipples jabbing into my breasts, feeling my own nipples, stiff and aching, prod into her. Her belly, flat and muscled, slid against mine and lower, the thin strands of hair tangled with each other, pulling with a sweet pain. Her hands moved over me, caressed me, touching me everywhere while my fingers slid over her back, the tips bumping over the length of spine all the way up to her exquisite neck. I do so adore her neck, loving the leonine line of it, the way I can feel her even pulse throb beneath my lips whenever I nuzzle it. She is so beautiful, so incredibly gentle … being with her is like being in the safest, most secure, wonderful place in the universe. I’ve always felt that way. I hope I always do.

Her body felt fevered this night, her skin hot as I covered her breasts, so much larger than mine, spilling over my grasp as I squeezed them gently. I kissed down her chest, fell upon the generous bosom eagerly, hungry to taste her, to lick the pinkish nipples that elongate so impressively in my mouth, firm beneath my tongue, yet so velvet soft at the same time. She enjoyed that, arching up to me as I feasted on her, her hands stroking my head, fingers trailing through my hair and over my face, whispering my name. I responded by sucking lightly on those hard little tips, flicking them with my tongue, nibbling at the soft skin very carefully. As I did, I slid my hand down between us, searching for her tender flesh so that I could touch her. I was amazed at how very wet she was, wondering again at what had inspired such a copious display of desire, what had caused her to react with such demand.

I made another sound as she abruptly rolled us over, pressing down on me, her legs falling apart to either side of my thigh, and immediately, I brought it up to push into her moisture, pleasure echoing through me as she undulated against me, bathing my skin with her essence. I could feel that hard little ridge of flesh skid along my leg and I bit at her neck, whispering my love for her, urging her on as she thrust against me. I reached behind her, squeezing the full buttocks in my hands, then let my right index finger, still wet from her, brush over her anus, prodding at this most intimate of spots, circling the wrinkled orifice in a way that I know causes great pleasure for her. She increased her motion, and carefully, I eased the digit inside, the tightness incredible as I slowly impaled her with it.

I looked up into her face dark with demand and need, mesmerized by her passion, the blonde head thrown back, the full lips parted to gasp for air, her breath a brief sob into the night, and thought that she must be the most exquisite beauty I have ever known. Her climax was intense, but she offered no more than a breathless sigh, a soft expulsion of breath, the softest of moans and my name, “Kathryn”, granted a joyous inflection that never fails to move me almost to tears. Her eyes were bright and shining as she looked down at me, the pupils enlarged so that there was only a rim of blue around the black center. I wonder at times if the loud sounds she made in the beginning of our relationship … the screams, the cries … were actually in mimicry of my own verbal emoting, as if that was how she thought she was supposed to act. Now, as she grows more into herself, and better aware of who she is, she responds more in her own way, and that is tender and sweet, as indeed, she is beneath that cool Borg exterior.

I drew her down, kissing her deeply, passionately, wanting her so much. She did not disappoint, making love to me with lips and fingertips until I thought I would explode from the sheer intensity of it. I actually heard our dog, Jake, bark abruptly out in the living area in response to my own loud cry of pleasure.

It is odd … so much of my sexual experience prior to Seven was adapting to a quicker pace, learning to keep up with the men who, bless their hearts, did their best to hold back for my pleasure, and sometimes did not always succeed. Seven, in contrast, will linger with her caresses almost beyond bearing, completely intent on building on my pleasure no matter how long it takes. In fact, she enjoys it more when I am slower than when my need is raging and immediate. She does not hold back, giving me all that she is in every encounter, and it can be overwhelming, frequently leaving me limp and completely sated from the resulting climax.

Until the urge to do it again inevitably rises in me once more.

Afterward, she wrapped herself around me like a bubble bath, soothing, comforting, a warm haven against the cold of a sometimes unfeeling universe. In some ways, that is the best of all. To lie in her arms, her breath warm on my face or hair, knowing that I am loved with a completeness that goes far beyond anything I have ever known before. It lends me a strength and courage that continues to fill my every moment.

I snuggled into her embrace, tucked up under her chin in my favorite position, my lips against the hollow of her throat, feeling the flutter of pulse beneath them. I have never before felt a need for someone else’s protection, being the sort that makes my own way through the universe. Yet with her, I allow it, even revel in it. In her arms I know I am safe from all dangers, all threats; that she will take care of me and love me forever. At the same time, I feel so protective of her, needing to be there at her side, ready to catch her when she stumbles on this very rocky path back to humanity, cherishing her with every breath that I take.

The only way to describe it is that we fit, two beings who complement and support each other, two women who had been alone so long, yet found a place with each other, knowing that no matter what happens, we will never lose that connection…

Personal log addendum:

I’ve just read over the log I recorded two nights ago after Seven fell asleep, and despite the fact that it is private and security sealed, I still blush at the intimate description I presented. It’s something uncharacteristic of me. Yet lately, I find that my personal logs have become … well, progressively more personal. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps, it is simply a need to put down in a permanent record every intimate detail of my life with Seven of Nine … with Annika Hansen, my lover, my partner, my friend, my wife. It’s easy to relate her scientific and engineering accomplishments, how competent and successful a being she is … that is well documented in the ship and mission logs … but only here in my personal recordings can I describe how much she means to me, and all the things about her love that makes my life worthwhile.

It may be a form of overcompensation on my part. I remember, just after my injury when I had no memory of the previous three years, or of who Seven was, how my personal logs were very inadequate in helping me recapture the emotion I had for her. In fact, I found them almost … cold, as if I had forgotten, or did not want to share everything that was in my heart. I sincerely doubt we shall ever have to go through that again, but should it come to that, these personal thoughts that I am now relating in greater detail, along with the increased descriptions of our private life together, will somehow make it easier to find my way back to her.

At the moment, I can hear my darling in the sonic shower. Soon, she will come out and join me at the dining table where we will eat breakfast together before I go off to the bridge, and she makes her way to astrometrics, thus beginning another day here in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps that’s another reason why I feel the need to put these ordinary moments into some sort of permanent record. Our lives are passing by so quickly it seems, sometimes without notice, and I feel we concentrate so much on the day that we will eventually return home that we do not appreciate what we have here.

Hmm, I seem to be in a particularly reflective mood this morning, perhaps because it is Seven’s birthday in a few weeks. Almost an entire year has gone by since that terrible time when I thought I had lost everything that mattered to me, since the incident that made me realize just what is truly important in my life. I was granted a second chance. I must never take it lightly.

Unlike last year, I have not forgotten this special day, but I have no doubt that Seven will be wondering if I have. I think she will like the surprise I have planned for her. She does so enjoy birthdays, and I find that I too, am starting to garner a whole new appreciation for the rituals surrounding them.

[End Log]

From: Seven of Nine

USS Voyager

To: Gretchen Janeway

Agricultural Development Park

Indiana, North American Sector

Earth

Dear Gretchen,

I believe it may be difficult for you to understand why I am writing this since it is not possible to send it, and if it were, it would be unnecessary because I would then be in a position to speak with you directly. I am sure you will comprehend when I explain that this is a project devised for Naomi at the request of her mother, who wants Naomi to begin writing letters to her father. He remains in the Alpha Quadrant and it is hoped that when the family is finally united, he will have a sense of what he missed while his daughter was growing up. I agreed to assist in this by writing my own set of letters in order to encourage her.

Naomi is my friend, so I try to help her whenever I can. She is the only child to have been born on Voyager to date, and is now five years old, the offspring of a Katarian father and a Human mother, Ensign Samantha Wildman. Naomi and I often play kadis-kots, and she holds the rank of Captain’s Assistant though, as I’m sure you are aware, no such rank truly exists. Yet, Kathryn nurtures this belief, having presented Naomi with a pip from her own collar, and continually provides her with tasks to perform, which the child does with great enjoyment. I find Kathryn’s interaction with Naomi very intriguing, and believe that it displays a side of her that I rarely see; not so much ‘maternal’ for it could be argued that she is maternal with a great many of the crew, but definitely a more tender, sensitive side that she is hesitant to share with most people. Is it possible that there are two types of ‘maternal’ instinct? One which is firm, yet comforting, while the other is extremely indulgent and kind? It is the latter that Kathryn demonstrates with Naomi.

As you may or may not be aware, my parents are gone, assimilated by the Borg Collective, and in the case of my father, most certainly dead. I feel I developed a maternal connection with you during our encounter in the Alpha Quadrant. I am hopeful that you will not object to being utilized as the recipient of these letters even though you are not actually my parent. I feel that parental bond even stronger now that Kathryn and I are married. I appreciate that you will regret having missed the wedding, but Kathryn has assured me that we shall undertake another ceremony as soon as we return to the Alpha Quadrant so that you and Phoebe may attend. Kathryn and I were married in Voyager’s holodeck. It was a simulation of the church in your community. We wish to hold the second ceremony in the actual structure the program was based upon. I trust that this will meet with your approval.

Ensign Wildman, in designing this exercise, suggests that it is not as important that we describe our ‘day’ in detail so much as it is important to convey our feelings and impressions as our ‘day’ progresses. That will be more difficult for me than simply relating my actions, and I do not know if I shall succeed, but I shall endeavor to do my best.

My ‘day’ began at 0600 hours. My emotional state at this time was very happy because Kathryn was there to start her ‘day’ with me. Recently, it has been required that we work double shifts in order to complete certain repairs to the ship. The damage we received during an encounter with a group of nomads was extensive, although none of the truly vital systems were affected. Now that we have finally moved beyond the boundaries of nomad space, we expect not be bothered by them any longer.

As a result of the extra demands upon us professionally, Kathryn and I have not been able to spend as much time together on a personal level, as we would like. Fortunately, as the ship returns to a normal routine, so do we. This morning, for example, we were able to share a scheduled ingestion of nutritional supplement at the same time. For ‘breakfast’, I consumed 500 grams of oatmeal, a food item that I enjoy, though Kathryn does not, and 350 milliliters of apple juice. Conversely, Kathryn ingested 500 grams of a wheat based cereal covered by 200 milliliters of milk, 2 pieces of toast covered with 4 grams of marmalade, one soft boiled egg, and 350 milliliters of orange juice. She also had a cup of coffee, but since that is something she has all the time, as I am sure you are aware, I did not feel the need to include her precise intake … primarily because it is prohibitively difficult to track accurately.

I take great pleasure in watching Kathryn eat, particularly at ‘breakfast’. It means that she is endeavoring to take better care of herself. Prior to our romantic involvement, I know that Kathryn did not always eat properly, or allow herself the correct amount of sleep. It is a source of intense satisfaction to know that I am the one who is enabling her to complete this very necessary task for herself. I do believe she drinks far more coffee than is good for her, but she derives such enjoyment from it that it is difficult for me to offer a convincing argument why she should stop. Indeed, her response to ‘good’ coffee is such a source of gratification to me that I continue to make the ‘special’ blend for her so that she may continue to imbibe it, sending her off for her duty shift with a full thermos every morning.

I should also inform you that the recipes you passed on to me have been a source of much pleasure for Kathryn, and for myself as well. I have developed a great appreciation for the skills you instilled in me, and derive continued enjoyment from the preparation of nutritional offerings from ‘scratch’. I wish to convey my gratitude for your thoughtfulness in taking the time to teach me so well, as I’m sure Kathryn would if she were writing this letter.

I am hopeful that perhaps now Kathryn and I can find time for a certain amount of ‘togetherness’. It seems to me that she is becoming progressively more distant as the days progress, as if she is attempting to conceal something from me. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps our recent missions have caused her, once more, to feel a sense of guilt about Voyager being stranded in the Delta Quadrant. It has been my experience that if left unchecked, the emotions she can experience during times of crisis can accumulate, building up internally until she becomes depressed and withdraws. I have become quite sensitive to that ever since the incident when we remained awake all night, talking through several troubling issues. If that is required again, I shall do my best to initiate such a discussion as soon as possible.

It has occurred to me that Naomi rarely gets depressed, perhaps because of her ability to ‘play’. Kathryn, in contrast, competes frequently on the Velocity court and in Parreses Squares, but it is possible she does not know how to ‘play’ simply for the sake of ‘playing’. I shall research adult play techniques immediately upon completing this assignment.

After breakfast, we went to our assigned areas, Kathryn to the bridge, and myself to astrometrics where I ran the navigational array through a level three diagnostic before beginning long range scans on the upcoming sector of space. I was relieved to see that there were no species of note inhabiting the systems that lay within our immediate course, thereby allowing Voyager time to fully recover from the damage we sustained. Perhaps it shall even accord a certain amount of rest and recreation to the rest of the crew.

I have noticed that times of recreation are important for the crew’s effective functioning. Logically therefore, it must also be important for Kathryn’s continued well being, though I feel that sometimes, she refuses to acknowledge that. As her wife, it is incumbent upon me to make sure she accepts downtime for herself. The longer we are together, the more I see how one’s professional life can supercede that of the personal one. In the beginning of our relationship, it was a concept I greatly resented but did not truly understand. Now, I see how easy it is for beings such as Kathryn and myself, both perfectionists, to allow certain areas of our life take precedence over others. It is a difficult balance. Just how difficult is something I am only now beginning to fully comprehend.

Upon rereading what I have written thus far in this missive, I realize that I have actually succeeded in relating some of my internal feelings. Indeed, I find that I am actually feeling more efficient for having committed these thoughts to a permanent record. Kathryn has always encouraged me to be more expansive in my personal logs, to express more beyond the basic facts that I normally relate. She is of the opinion that, while facts are sufficient for both the ship and mission logs, one’s personal logs should be intimate, and that they are a useful outlet for our emotions. I believe I now understand what she was attempting to teach me. I shall be more forthcoming in future logs, and include all my emotional resonances, as well as be more extensive in the descriptive details.

I shall now describe the other challenge I have accepted in my life, though in fact, it is more a professional rather than a personal undertaking.

I am attempting to join Starfleet.

When I first suggested to Kathryn that I be accorded an official rank, I simply wished to better understand my role on the ship, perhaps hoping that she would grant me a status that would allow me to function within the chain of command with more clarity. I underestimated her deep attachment to her profession. Merely according me an honorary rank was not sufficient. She demands that I officially become a member of Starfleet. In order to do that, it must first be determined if I am qualified for such a role. Apparently, it is not merely a matter of being technically capable, I must also pass the more subjective courses that every Academy cadet must complete successfully in order to graduate, and be given a rank.

I shall be attending my first ‘Ethics’ class a week from now. It will be taught by Tuvok, who is Voyager’s chief of security. Out of a desire to ‘support’ me … though I suspect it is primarily her hope that she shall derive some form of entertainment from it … B’Elanna Torres, our chief engineer has volunteered to ‘monitor’ the class. As well, Neelix, a Talaxian trader who is from the Delta Quadrant, and Ensign Tabor Jur, a former member of the Maquis, have also expressed an interest in attending, though neither have indicated a desire to join Starfleet. As a result, I shall not be alone in pursuing some of these lessons. In truth, I find that I am actually looking forward to it. I have a great deal of knowledge with regards to technology and hard science, but little comprehensive familiarity with subjective subjects such as ‘morals’ and ‘ethics’. My ‘morals’ come directly from Kathryn and my Human Collective. I accept them because it is the most efficient way to function within the collective, not because I necessarily agree with all of them. Perhaps these lessons shall help me comprehend why the members of my collective hold certain ideals in high regard, and not others.

I have been reading many texts which the captain instructed me to review prior to taking the course. Much of what I read is confusing, and when I attempt to discuss it with Kathryn, she suggests that I wait until I have attended at least one class before trying out my theories on her. It is my belief that she is actually afraid of starting an argument, because some of what I have read indicates that what Starfleet professes to believe and what they actually do are sometimes two separate things. This intrigues me, and once I have attended a few classes, I hope to be able to discuss it rationally with Kathryn. She is the most intelligent person I know, and her input is always valuable to me when I am formulating a conclusion.

I trust that you and Phoebe continue to function at an acceptable level. Naomi suggests that I ask about the ‘crops’ since corn is the primary purpose of the agricultural park where you reside. I am unsure if you are directly involved with the production of such foodstuff, so I shall ask Kathryn. In the meantime, please continue to enjoy good health and pleasant emotions.

Sincerely,

Seven of Nine

Annika Hansen

Captain’s Log: Kathryn Janeway recording

We have resumed our journey to the Alpha Quadrant after a week of station-keeping in a dust cloud that concealed us while we facilitated repairs. Because of a recent conflict with the pirates frequenting this sector of space, our vessel has become the primary target of the loosely affiliated nomad families. Apparently, as Lt. Ro feared at the time, Kasha … or Kashyk from the Devore Imperium as I first knew him … has indeed become a martyr to these people, and our contribution to his demise has made us public enemy number one in their eyes.

Their current status as an organized militaristic force has galvanized the local planetary systems to take a more unified approach to the problem so perhaps our initial mission wasn’t a complete failure. If it weren’t for the fact that the utterance of Voyager’s name is now accompanied by an associative glob of saliva being spewed onto the floor every time it is mentioned in certain circles, we could justifiably feel that perhaps we actually accomplished something during our time here.

I admit, I’m not particularly sorry to be leaving this area of space behind.

This afternoon is the monthly departmental reports. With any luck, I’ll have this completed before the end of my duty shift, and perhaps I’ll even get a jump on the personnel reports. I’m determined not to leave them until the last moment. Not like last month, and the month before that, and frankly, all the previous months before that.

Engineering:

My chief engineer, B’Elanna Torres submitted a report that indicates the final minor repairs in engineering will be complete within twelve hours. I’ve assigned an extra team of crewmembers from other departments to assist where they could. To my surprise, this team included Neelix, our native guide, at B’Elanna’s own personal request. I never imagined that the Talaxian could convince our chief engineer to accept him as a member of her staff, but I must believe that she knows what she is doing. This shall be his ‘probationary period’, and if B’Elanna likes what she sees, then she intends to grant him a permanent assignment to her department. We’ll see how it develops.

Ensign Vorik has offered a plan to increase the output of deflector array by 2.3%. Lt. Torres indicates that while she doesn’t feel the effort is worth the reward, she’s passed it on to Chakotay to make the final decision. I looked over Vorik’s specifications, and while it might be worth attempting if we run into an area of space where Voyager could be secured for a respectable amount of time, B’Elanna was correct in her decision not to schedule it. It would require too many of the engineering systems be put offline at the same time. I’ve suggested to Chakotay that we put it on the ‘Things To Do Later’ list.

Security:

Lt. Commander Tuvok has requested that Ro Laren be promoted from the rank of lieutenant jr. grade to that of a senior. Apparently, he has designs on making her his second in command. I wonder if that was why he arranged to have her accompany me on so many recent missions. He knew that I was bound to notice her varied abilities, including advanced tactical training. He probably also expected me to discover the fact that not only was she once a member of Starfleet, but she was a crewmember of the flagship, USS Enterprise under Jean-Luc Picard. I’m aware that there were problems while Lt. Ro served on her previous Starfleet vessels, but she’s hardly the first person to whom I have granted a fresh start here in the Delta Quadrant. Certainly, her record over the past five years as a member of Voyager’s crew indicates that she has earned it. She’s been a steady and reliable officer.

Tuvok may have had bringing Ro back into the Starfleet fold from the beginning;. They say Vulcans cannot become impatient, but five years of maintaining the Bajoran’s secret possibly wore on even his endurance.

With the recent deaths of Ensign David Briggs and Lt. Mary Ryan, as well as the transfer of Neelix, security has found itself short staffed, particularly in the beta squad. Commander Chakotay has recommended that Lt. Sahib Mahesana from hangar operations, and Ensign D’Vor from geometrics be transferred, allowing Tuvok to promote replacements for the beta squad from within his own department . My security chief seems agreeable, and all necessary paperwork shall be submitted once he has made his final selection.

Navigation:

Lt. Paris has requested that we construct a second shuttle, similar to the Delta Flyer. Due to the lack of resources, I am denying this request.

It has come to my attention that Lt. Ro had helm experience during her tours of duty with the Wellington and the Enterprise. I plan to have her placed on standby in the event a medical emergency requires that Lt. Paris be in sickbay at the same time we require a skilled navigator. Tuvok has agreed to ‘lend’ his personnel to this department so I shall send a memo to Mr. Paris that he make a formal request to her. It means she will have to update her rating, but it’s been my experience that skills such as those do not disappear … one only needs to be reminded of what they were once capable.

Operations:

Lt. Kim is agressively pursuing a line of research regarding the slipstream drive. I’m not sure it’s viable, but since nothing else has managed to solve the integrity field problem, I’m not adverse to his trying. I’m granting him the extra database resources that he requested, as well as the holodeck time. Hopefully, it won’t inconvenience too many of the crew.

Ensign Megan Delaney has requested a transfer from stellar cartography to operations. I’m questioning her reasoning for doing this. Certainly, she is qualified, but she and her sister have been together professionally since they left the Academy. In fact, it’s something they’ve insisted upon their entire career. It leaves me wondering what’s changed that Megan suddenly wants to be apart from Jennifer who has not offered any indication of wanting to leave her current assignment.

Perhaps there’s a perfectly rational explanation, such as a minor squabble, or merely the fact that she’s in love with Mr. Kim and wishes to work with him on a full time basis. Still, I believe that I’ll research it a bit further, for my own peace of mind if nothing else. I’ll request Chakotay make the inquiries. If the reason turns out to be nothing more than an aspect of growth for Megan, then I’ll approve the request.

Astrometrics:

As mentioned, Ensign Megan Delaney has requested a transfer from here to operations. If necessary, Chakotay has suggested that Lt. Wallace be moved from astrophysics to replace her. Pending Seven’s approval, I’ll agree.

Every time I review astrometrics, I’m conscious of the fact that the head of this department is not a Starfleet officer. That is about to change. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjutant to Unimatrix 01, has agreed to join Starfleet, dependent on her ability to fulfill certain demands. As her captain, I have no doubt that she shall be able to achieve and indeed, surpass the requirements

the curriculum developed by Tuvok, Chakotay and myself demand. As it turns out, others are interested in pursuing these classes on the subjects of Philosophy and Ethics. Perhaps this is just the beginning, and by the time we return to the Alpha Quadrant, even more of the crew will be Starfleet in actuality, rather than just in name.

Or perhaps I’m underestimating just how boring space travel can be. Anything new, even school, can provide an outlet for the crew. In that case, I’m even more appreciative of the opportunity this provides. I think in the future, I’ll take a turn teaching one of the classes myself, just for the experience.

Geometrics:

Lt. Marris’s group has been doing an in-depth analysis of a crystal splinter we retrieved from the Meuranato system, and have submitted a final report as to the possible source of its power. Apparently, the crystalline structure is rift with what appears to be a form of geo-thermal circuitry. Their conclusion is that the Crystal of Being (In Charge) was actually a super-computer, though they cannot offer any suggestions as to why it was built or how it got to Meuranato. It remains a mystery, and our hand in destroying it prevents us from inquiring further. Even if Voyager was in the habit of retracing her steps, and revisiting the civilizations we’ve met in the Delta Quadrant, the Meuranato made it very clear that they do not wish to encounter us again.

I accept full responsibility for the undesirable outcome of that mission. My away team destroyed the crystal in an attempt to save my life, and while it is regrettable that we caused such damage to the Meuranato political structure, it was a Meuranato native that involved us in the situation to begin with. We were doing our best to save lives, and the outstanding performance of my team’s actions under exceptionally trying conditions has been duly noted.

A search is on for the ore that we were unable to secure from the Meuranato. Long range sensors have been calibrated to seek out the slightest trace of dertanium and according to Seven, the area of space we are approaching is likely to hold a certain amount of metal-rich planetary systems. I remain positive in her assessement.

Biometrics:

The hydroponics research team has come up with a new hybrid plant from cuttings taken from the system christened Safe Haven, the planet where Seven and I were stranded after our ill fated test of the slipstream drive. The new plant grows quickly, and provides a fruit that tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a raspberry, yet is the size of a peach. I anticipate these will be a popular addition to our diet. With any luck, several of the plants will be germinated within the next three months. Lt. Edwards headed up the project and I’m placing a commendation in her record regarding her excellent work.

Ensign Samantha Wildman’s exobiology group has determined that the beings we encountered in the Void could not have evolved there. It is an obvious conclusion, based on the fact that the creatures possessed eyes. They would not have evolved a visual sense in an environment devoid of natural illumination, but of course, until Dr. Jamison concludes it, then it cannot be accepted as fact.

A secondary report, preliminary only, offers the tentative theory that the ruins of an extinct civilization excavated during a layover several months ago, were actually the ancestors of the Barellan, though how they evolved from a race of artists to that of prison guards is unknown. It’s a sad commentary on the rise and fall of a once proud civilization. I wonder what will be left of the Federation in a few thousand years if indeed, anything is left at all.

Medical:

The Doctor has provided his weekly report on the crew’s health which, despite recent missions and incidents with nomads, has turned out to be surprisingly positive. Sek, his assistant, notes that there is a general air of “enthusiasm” currently being displayed by most members of the crew. I don’t know if that is her medical opinion, or merely a personal one, but I must admit to sensing it myself. I’m certainly not complaining. After the string of negative encounters, I look forward to a regular routine. Of course, it may simply be the natural balance of Voyager’s confidence reasserting itself. My crew is, by nature, optimistic. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have progressed as far as we have on this journey.

Ship Support:

Ensign Treak from ship’s stores has requested more energy be diverted to the large equipment replicators in his area. Apparently there has been a run on new beds; including several requests by various crewmembers to increase their mattress size from single to double. Also, in the monthly list of crew-requested items, I’ve come across hints that perhaps Lt. Kim has been taking advantage of his excess of rations while repairing the damage to his cabin caused by an unfortunate incident involving our respective pets. I intend to speak with Mr. Kim about this. I granted the extra rations in order to replace his furnishings, not design a ‘bachelor pad’. I find myself longing for the days when Lt. Paris was all I had to worry about.

Maintenance has discovered a ‘still’ concealed in the biometrics lab on deck 14. While I’m not thrilled to have such a thing on my ship, I’ll overlook it, provided the quality of the product remains high, and there are no incidents of drunken behavior from any of the crew. As Starfleet Command knows, there has never been a time when there wasn’t an operational ‘still’ on a starship, even though alcoholic beverages and synthehol are readily available from the replicators. It is a proud and enduring tradition, and breaking it up would only lead to the creation of another somewhere else, with perhaps less attention paid to cleanliness and safety. I’m curious if this location has anything to do with the new hybrid plant the biometrics lab has created. I must arrange to obtain a sample of the still’s product … for analytical purposes only, of course.

Overview:

We continue our journey home, and as of now, the ship is functioning at acceptable levels. There does seem to be a sort of ‘restlessness’ on the ship, but it’s not anything that I can put my finger on. For some reason, I anticipate another round of marriages among the crew, and possibly even a stronger insistence by various couples that they be permitted to have children. Perhaps this time, granting permission is feasible. It may be an uncomfortable thing to recognize, but with death comes rebirth, and the recent losses in our crew have opened the door for possible additions.

I shall be speaking to Chakotay further regarding it.

[Log Interrupt. Awaiting further data.]

Seven of Nine: Personal Log

In this log, I shall offer additional attention to description and detail.

This afternoon, I stood naked in the bathroom, wearing the Wonder Wand 9000 in preparation for the exercise I was about to undertake. I do not fully comprehend Kathryn’s enjoyment in utilizing this device, but it is sufficient that she does. While we do not require its use often, it is an adequate supplement to our sexual interaction. I heard the sound of the door to our quarters hiss open, and then her footsteps crossed the living area into the bedroom before hesitating. I knew she was probably confused.

“Annika?” Her voice was curious, as well as concerned.

“Here, Kathryn,” I said loudly, so that my voice would carry. “In the ensuite.”

She appeared in the doorway, her eyebrow raising as she saw me standing there. A variety of expressions crossed her face, and finally settled into a lidded gaze of reserved patience as she leaned against the entrance support structure, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s going on? I came as soon as I got your message.”

I felt somewhat apprehensive. Though we have been married for months, there are still times when I am unsure as to her reaction, particularly in the aftermath of a crisis when her emotions could be at a low ebb. I wanted her to respond with pleasure to this surprise, not annoyance or discomfort, even though I had been somewhat deceptive by sending a memo to her personal work station requesting her immediate presence in our quarters. In it, I gave the possible impression that there was a maintenance problem with my implants.

“I have studied various texts on enhancing one’s love life,” I told her, standing at respectful attention as I presented my findings. “Making love at unexpected times in unexpected places by unexpected methods is supposedly a quite efficient way to ensure continued success in a relationship.”

“Ah,” she said, still fairly noncommittal. “You feel our love life needs ‘enhancing’?”

“I read a theory that states if the couple waits for their interaction to need enhancing, it can be too late. I do not wish to be too late in attempting this. Indeed, you have mentioned that you would appreciate some ‘variety’ in our romantic encounters.”

A small smile played about her lips, and suddenly, I was aware that it was all right, that she was not angry that I had lured her from her ready room and her duties.

“I see.” Her voice became the husky trill that I knew was indicative of amorous interest. “Well, all I had was departmental reports this afternoon anyway, and they’re mostly complete. But I certainly don’t want you to make a habit of interrupting either of our duty shifts in the future.”

“I will not. If it becomes a habit, it defeats the purpose of the ‘spontaneity’ aspect of the exercise.”

The tiny lines radiating from the corners of her eyes deepened, and I knew I had amused her in some way again, though I was unsure how.

“What now?” She tilted her head as she studied me.

I picked up the padd which had been lying on the sink counter. “I am the burglar you have interrupted while I am committing the crime of breaking and entering,” I read from the sample scenario my romance guidebook had provided. “I do not wish to be prosecuted. I will do whatever you want in exchange for your leniency.”

When I looked up, Kathryn had her right hand over her mouth, and her eyes were crinkled even more. Clearly, she was far more amused than aroused at this point.

She dropped her hand, and joined it with the other to fold them tightly in front of her, her lips pressed firmly together.

“Indeed.” She quirked an elegant eyebrow. “Do you always break into people’s homes with no clothes on?”

I frowned, and then looked back at my padd, baffled. “There is no mention of why I am naked, only that I must be.” I felt slightly defensive until a sudden thought struck me. “Perhaps I am here to steal clothing.”

Kathryn’s mouth twisted oddly, as if she were swallowing something. “Perhaps.” Her voice was slightly unsteady. I did not think she was entirely satisfied with that suggestion, but she seemed willing to go along with it for now. “Why do you have on the … uh, accessory?”

That question I could answer. “The scenarios presented for this exercise were all male/female role playing. I adapted.”

Kathryn’s jaw set, her eyes darkening, and I knew she was trying very hard not to laugh. Still, my research indicated that these exercises were to induce adult ‘play’, and laughter frequently accompanies play, therefore, this reaction was to be expected. I did not mind. In fact, I rather wished she would simply get it over with because once she had laughed fully, I knew she would be far more comfortable about participating in my simulation than while attempting to contain her amusement.

“All right,” she said finally, after taking a moment to compose herself. “So you’re a burglar. Who am I?”

I glanced back at my padd. “You are the off-duty law enforcement agent. You will require much incentive not to arrest me.” I considered that for a moment. “It seems rather unethical for me to attempt to influence you in this manner,” I added, feeling a sense of concern. It occurred to me that I had not considered all the moral ramifications of this scenario.

Kathryn had been quite specific about teaching me Human morality lately. I did not want her to think I was not learning anything from the texts she had given me.

“Perhaps we should attempt the other exercise after all.”

Kathryn inhaled deeply. “Who would we be in that exercise?”

“That required many candles, and we do not have the replicator rations to provide them,” I said, wanting her to know why it was not my initial choice. “In that scenario, you would be the inflamed homeowner, and I would be the fire fighter who has broken down the door to ‘put out your fire’.” I paused, feeling confused again as I studied the readout. “Clearly these scenarios do not take into account the current technology of automated fire suppression. What does it mean: ‘you will put out her flames with your hose’?”

Kathryn abruptly turned around, and walked out of the ensuite. I could hear the support structure creak as she fell upon our bed, laughing so hard I was concerned that she would be unable to breathe. Sighing, I followed her out into the bedroom where she was curled up on the mattress, tears running down her face, arms wrapped around her ribs, literally screaming with merriment.

She looked at me, and as always, the sight of the Wonder Wand 9000 attached to my groin seemed to increase her amusement. That was slightly dismaying since I had been very careful to adjust it, not only to the size dimensions she prefers, but also the coloration that has always seemed less than appealing to me. I personally prefer the bright neon blue that glows in the dark or, to a lesser extent, a fairly attractive orange and black tiger-striped pattern. The pinkish beige that approximate my skin tones seemed somewhat … mundane when considering that this is a ‘toy’ and should appear bright and cheerful.

Finally she subsided, arms out flung, having rolled over onto her back to regard me with bright eyes.

“Darling,” she said with great sincerity, “You are the wonder of my existence.”

I considered that statement for a moment. “Is that acceptable?”

“Very acceptable. Honestly, I don’t know how I would get through this life without you.”

I was pleased by that and very glad I had chosen to initiate this exercise.

“Are you ready to begin?”

Her smile widened. “Of course. What would you like me to do?”

I referred to the padd.

“You must leap onto my back and wrestle me to the bed, pinning my arms over my head and requesting I tell you what I am up to. Then you should caress my penis … the Wonder Wand 9000 … and say, ‘or is this what you are up to’.”

I had no idea what that meant.

Kathryn carefully wiped the tears away from beneath her eyes, still chuckling. “What if we alter the simulation somewhat.”

I tilted my head, interested in what she might be thinking. “How so?”

“You be the impertinent crewmember who’s presumptuous enough to interrupt a starship captain’s duty shift, and I’ll show you what sort of punishment this particular Starfleet captain will impose.”

“Indeed?” I allowed, feeling somewhat suspicious. “You are going to punish me?”

Kathryn’s gaze grew dark, and her smile became somewhat feral.

“Oh, yes,” she said in an odd tone. “In the very way you love to be punished.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You intend to give me a ‘tongue lashing’.” I felt an odd sensation skitter down my spine. I knew this game very well.

She moved to the bottom of the bed so that she was sitting on the edge. “Come here,” she demanded quietly.

For a moment, I debated whether I should accede to that tone of command in her voice, but the look in her eyes was so provocative, I moved forward almost without conscious volition. She looked up at me with an easy smile, and reached out to take the remote control from my palm. The wand was detached, and she caught it as it fell, tossing it behind me where it landed on the chaise lounge, followed immediately by the control pad. I made a note to find them later, and return them to their container, knowing that Jake, our pet, would consider them new toys, and chew on them extensively.

Kathryn rested her hands on my hips and leaned forward slightly. I shivered when I felt her warm breath waft over my navel.

“Are you ready for your tongue lashing?”

I swallowed. “Yes, Captain.”

I closed my eyes as I felt her lips brush over my abdomen, and put my hands on her head, holding her to me. Her hair had grown out after her recent illness, and now fell gently about her face, curving upward slightly at the ends. I loved the way it felt around my fingers, the warmth of her scalp against my palms. The wonderful shade of reddish brown with the highlights of pure fire were aesthetically pleasing.

She kissed my stomach, tickling my navel with the tip of her tongue, then moved lower, to a spot just above the triangle of my pubic that is a darker shade than the hair on my head. Kathryn’s pubic hair is also correspondingly darker. I am not entirely sure why it must be. She moved her hands so that they rested on the tops of my thighs, and I trembled as I felt her breath flow over flesh that was tender, and quite moist at this point. She kissed the top of the crease, her lips soft against my skin, and a chill of pleasure radiated through me as the tip of her tongue flicked out, and stroked lightly over the upper part of my clitoris.

My respiration increased, and I made a sound, completely involuntarily. Kathryn causes me to react quite often with responses I cannot control, no matter how hard I try. Though at this particular moment, I was not attempting to restrain myself. Her hands crept around to cup my buttocks, and I found that she was pulling me forward as she eased back onto the mattress. Not wanting to lose this most delightful of contacts, I followed awkwardly, crawling onto the bed until I was centered over her mouth, my weight resting on my hands and knees.

Now Kathryn had a much better angle, and was able to access all the area between my legs. I dug my fingers into the bedding as I felt her lips and tongue caress me, the sensation unlike any I can precisely describe. The desire filled me with its power, while anticipation tingled along my limbs to the very tips of my fingers. There was a slight disorientation, almost as if I had suddenly entered a low gravity area, and my digestive system had become weightless. Primarily, however, it is love, the warmth of knowing it is Kathryn who does this to me, who grants me this delight, this sheer and utter pleasure, the sort I have never experienced anywhere else.

I made another sound as I felt her fingertip circle the entrance to my vagina. I do not understand how simple, physical touch can produce such a combination of emotions inside me, but it does. I gasped for air, finding it difficult to breathe as she slowly entered me. In the beginning, she was more abrupt, and she had to learn that while I could accept, and even enjoy this type of caress, I appreciate a slow penetration more. I would have told her at the time, but I lacked the practical experience to discuss it knowledgeably. This is not to say she was ever brutal or harsh in her approach, but it seemed to me that she was used to providing a stronger, more aggressive form of caress, perhaps because her previous lovers had all been male. Kathryn has since become quite delicate with me, tender, patient and very loving.

I moaned softly as I felt her finger gently push into me. Sometimes it is difficult for her to enter me, and she needs to be even more patient. She says that I am naturally very ‘tight’, and that is why I cannot enjoy our accessory being used on me the way she enjoys me using it to pleasure her. Though I have offered to adapt, and become more receptive to that sexual practice, she seems reluctant to pursue that option. It is possible the difficulty enhances her pleasure in some way. Perhaps she likes how I feel around her fingers, how she must first ease one digit inside so very carefully, continuing to pleasure my clitoris with her tongue, and then gradually, as my desire increases, I become more receptive, and she is able to slip a second finger into me. There have been rare instances when she has managed three, but it is only when I have been in a constant state of arousal for a very long time, and have generated copious amounts of lubrication. Even then, it is less a matter of pleasure, than exploration.

I felt her other hand touch my anus, her index finger gently stroking it, circling it, teasing it open. This is very pleasurable for me though I comprehend that it is not for many Human females. Even Kathryn, who is very open to new sensations, does not enjoy it. It is possible that I can derive pleasure from such a thing because, unlike the average Human, I do not have the same risk of infection they do. My implants take care of all my bodily waste byproducts before they reach that area of my body, so the anal channel does not produce the same type of harmful bacteria that is present in the normal Human excretion system. Indeed, Kathryn has told me that were I not so ‘pristine’, she would not be so ready to use her hands, and most certainly not her mouth on that area of my anatomy.

On occasion, I am very thankful I am Borg.

Kathryn takes even longer to enter me here, knowing that the tissue is fragile and easy to tear with a careless penetration. Once she is inside, however, I feel completely open and vulnerable to her, according her a trust that I would not, for one instant, offer anyone else. She never betrays that trust, granting me the most exquisite of pleasures as her tongue continued to lave my clitoris, and her fingers flexed and pressed gently inside me. I felt the sensation build steadily, and my arms supporting me, trembled from the strain.

When my orgasm occurred, I was unable to keep from crying out, moaning Kathryn’s name again and again. There were ripples within me, shudders that shook my body, pulsations in my genitals that squeezed with what must be painful intensity around Kathryn’s fingers. She did not pause in her attentions, did not cease swirling her tongue around my clitoris until it was no longer pleasurable, and I tried to pull away. Immediately, her touch lessened, became even gentler, softer, meant to soothe rather than further arouse me. Finally she withdrew, as carefully as she entered, her hands and face wet with my moisture.

I fell onto my side weakly, breathing heavily, and she crawled up next to me where I pulled her into my arms, kissing her deeply, tasting my own unique flavor on her lips. I am lacking in this area, I believe. Kathryn’s flavor is so much stronger than my own, muskier, a taste I can never seem to get enough of.

“I must return to the bridge,” she whispered against my lips.

“No,” I protested, holding her closer to me, keeping her immobilized in my arms. She was still fully dressed in her uniform, not having removed even the tunic before she made love to me. “Stay with me. Let me love you. This encounter was intended to pleasure you, not me.”

“Oh, I’m pleasured,” she murmured with a smile, kissing me sweetly. “I love being with you, Annika. I love touching you, tasting you…”

“Are you saying that you would not enjoy me making love to you now?” I asked bluntly. I have found that, in regards to sexual interaction, it is efficient to be direct with Kathryn whenever possible.

She hesitated. “No, I’m not saying that.”

“Do not return to duty,” I requested in my most persuasive tone. “You said yourself that all you have is departmental reports this afternoon. This is not something we shall make a habit of but, if the opportunity exists, then please, stay with me now.”

She groaned, whether dramatically or genuinely, I was not sure.

“You’re too much to resist.”

“Then do not,” I said, and then added playfully, “Resistance is futile.”

The blue grey eyes centered on mine and Kathryn smiled, responding to my attempt at humor.

“I suppose it is,” she allowed, and pulled me closer.

Kathryn is stirring. I shall resume recording at a future time.

[Log Interrupt. Awaiting further data]

Kathryn Janeway: Personal Log

I was concerned when a light flashed in the corner of my screen, indicating a priority memo being transmitted to my console. I immediately keyed it up, scanning the contents and my concern heightened. It was from Seven, security sealed and deliberately cryptic.

(Priority Two)

To: Captain K. Janeway

From: Seven of Nine

Re: Personal Communique

Kathryn,

I require your assistance in our quarters regarding an anomalous reading of a personal nature. While it is not an emergency, it requires prompt and immediate attention in order to facilitate my proper functioning in the immediate future.

I was worried that one of her implants was malfunctioning, though why she didn’t go to the Doctor was a mystery. I immediately shoved aside the stack of departmental reports awaiting my attention, and logged out of the ready room, moving briskly across the bridge and to the turbolift. When I reached our quarters, I discovered that her ‘anomalous readings’ were nothing more than a sudden desire on her part to expand upon the research she had been doing on enhancing our love life. I was torn between being angry that she would interrupt our duty shifts in such a manner, and appreciating her initiative in exploring this aspect of romantic role-playing.

It was a close call, but fortunately, I chose the latter. Immediately, I realized that the profound sense of relief and relaxation my outburst of laughter provided was indicative that I was becoming dangerously stressed. Seven was so utterly charming standing there in the ensuite, seriously making every effort to portray the ‘interrupted burglar’ that I wondered later if perhaps she had intended this exactly as it turned out … not as a way to enhance our sex life so much as a way to ease the pressure that had been steadily building inside me without my conscious knowledge.

Later, lying in her arms after making love to her, feeling wonderfully disheveled and disarrayed beneath my uniform, making only the token resistance to her plea that I take the rest of the day off, I understood how important it was that she is able to help me this way. I smiled as she began to remove my clothes, lazily allowing her to undress me until I Iay naked on the bed beside her, my uniform having ended up in various corners of the bedroom as she happily tossed them aside. I remembered how she looked when I walked in, the odd combination of sexual goddess and innocent explorer, and I felt a surge of desire rush through me that made my stomach clench. Suddenly, more than anything, I needed to be completely and totally ravished by my beloved.

“Darling, would you mind finding the ‘accessory’ again?” I asked as we kissed deeply.

She promptly rolled out of my arms and crossed to the foot of the bed, retrieving the sexual aid that has added such an interesting twist to our love life. I absolutely adore Annika with all my heart, and making love with her is more than enough to make me happy for the rest of my life, but occasionally, I desire penetration, the male aspect of sexual intercourse, whether because of biology, or some unfathomable psychological quirk. Thanks to this clever device created by the Ferengi, I have the best of both worlds with my spouse.

When she puts it on, and the coloration is approximate to her skin tone, she appears to be the perfect meld of male and female, a true omni-sexual being. She is tall and lean, yet with the most feminine curves; incredibly strong yet delicate in motion and presence. When she walks toward me, a expression of profound love on her face, her breasts full and heavy, the rosy tips proudly pointed at me while from her groin, a seventieen centimeter erection sprouts with the most obvious intent, the anticipation and desire that flow through me are tremendous.

Let there be no confusion here. I do not for one second want Seven to be male. I fully appreciate and love the fact that she is all female and in truth, it is her very femininity that makes her so wonderfully compatible with me. However, there’s also a part of me that likes to be ‘taken’ by her, just as I enjoyed being penetrated by the men I’ve loved. It’s base and physical, and the fact that she grants me this indulgence which she herself, does not quite comprehend, makes me love her even more.

I reached out my hand to her and she accepted it, allowing me to pull her down on top of me. I entangled my legs in hers, and clung to that lanky body, feeling the Wonder Wand 9000 trapped between us, the warm, fleshy construction making it feel completely realistic. I thought that if there had been a little less attention to detail to the device, I wouldn’t enjoy using it at all. I don’t think Seven understands that’s the real reason I don’t like the tiger pattern, or worse, the bright neon blue. To her, it’s always a device, and she uses it because she appreciates the technical aspect of it. Conversely, I enjoy using it because I’m able to create the fantasy that it is a part of Seven, that it is her who is inside me, that it is completely she who is making love to me this way.

“Take me,” I said flatly, with little preamble.

Startled, she drew back far enough to look at me directly, searching my face intently.

“Indeed,” she said, raising an eyebrow though it was apparent that she was, at least, willing to consider the idea. She slipped a hand down between our bodies to touch me, either in a token attempt at foreplay, or to determine my readiness.

It turned out to be lacking.

“You require more preparation,” Seven told me, tilting her head slightly as her fingers moved against me. “Unless you would prefer the artificial lubrication I replicated.”

“Have I ever told you that sometimes you’re a bit too clinical?” I asked, squirming a little as her fondling began to take care of the lubrication deficiency quite nicely.

“Frequently, but it would be uncharacteristic of me to converse with you utilizing words that are less than accurate.” She nuzzled my cheek briefly, adding in a mutter, “You can be so profane during lovemaking that I often wonder where you acquired your education.”

“I like to pretend I’m a little … ‘wilder’ than I really am,” I admitted, thinking bashfully of what could be considered a rather limited experience. Before Seven, I’d had three lovers, all male, none of whom were the most adventurous when it came to sex. I believe that it is only with Seven that I’ve been able to completely release that hidden, somewhat wicked part of me, the part that just wants to roll around on the floor and have at it without so much as taking the time to get undressed. The side of me that wants to take her on the bridge, or on the desk in my ready room, which is about as unprofessional as a captain can get when thinking of a crewmember.

“Ah,” Seven said, looking down at me, her narrow features serious though I suspected she was becoming better at hiding her amusement. “Very well, for the sake of our role-playing, I shall endeavor to utilize the terms you prefer.”

I was startled.. “I’m not sure how I’ll respond to those sort of terms coming from a Borg.”

“It shall be educational,” she said, her pale blue eyes sparkling.

“I’m sure it will be.” I tried not to laugh as I looked up at her. She abruptly looked mischievous, as if about to embark on the most daring and outrageous prank she could conceive. A smile appeared, and then widened to the point where I actually saw the flash of white teeth between her full lips.

“Please inform me if I use a term incorrectly.”

“I promise,” I said, wondering how I would do this with a straight face, let alone be able to concentrate on the sexual aspect of it.

Then she bent her head down and kissed me … one of her long, slow, melting kisses that stiffened my nipples and curled my toes, arousing me beyond all measure and my doubts immediately scattered like leaves before the wind. She really is the most marvelous kisser, having acquired a skill somewhere along the line that often astounds me. I tend to think it is her absolute concentration on what she is doing. When she kisses me, well, by god, I know I’ve been kissed, and there is no debate about her possibly thinking about something else while she was doing it. I am the sole being in her universe at that particular instant, and it literally can be quite breathtaking.

I reached down between us to guide the erection into me, but she forestalled it, shifting away from my groping hand.

“When it is time.”

I groaned, and she smiled at me. Shifting her body, she lifted up a bit and moved the simulated penis down between my legs where I could feel it rub against the sensitive flesh, resting length wise along my crease.

“You’re such a tease.”

“You are too impatient,” she responded easily. She nuzzled into my neck, and in a completely unexpected growl, added, “Do you want me to fuck you, Kathryn?”

Startled, amazed, the sudden profanity sent a chill through me, and I wondered where she had picked it up. From me no doubt.

“You know I do,” I breathed. “I want you so much.”

“Tell me,” she insisted, rubbing provocatively against my body. “Tell me what you want, Kathryn.”

“I want you to go inside me,” I said, losing myself in the feel of her body pressing against me. “I want you to feel me surrounding you, feel how much I like having you inside me,” I breathed in her ear. “I want you to fuck me, my darling.”

Seven kissed me so hard I saw stars, and undulated her hips, rubbing the top of the simulated penis against my tender flesh, scraping over the clitoris that was so swollen at this point, I almost climaxed just from the sensation. I couldn’t keep my hips still, pushing up against her as I ran my hands over her back restlessly, loving her utterly. She rose off me, creating a separation so she could reach down to wrap her fingers around the Wonder Wand 9000 and use the head of it to swirl around my clitoris, the cloying sensation drawing a flood of moisture from me. I bent my knees, spreading them wide, pressing my fingers into Seven’s back, digging in my nails slightly as I tried to convey my urgency.

“Inside, darling,” I demanded. “Please.”

She hesitated briefly, and then mercifully complied, the tip slipping down to my opening, the fat mushroom head pressing against it, seeking entrance. After a brief, initial resistance, it suddenly slipped past that tight band of muscle, seeming to expand within the interior channel as it eased into me. I cried out, arching as Seven filled me, pushing deeper with slow, steady pressure until I could feel her triangle impact softly against mine, the hairs tangling and pulling gently.

“Oh god,” I sobbed.

She lay still on top of me, and I realized she was enjoying the sensation that the walls of my vagina surrounding the artificial phallus provided. The device transmitted signals to her own nerve endings, making her feel as if it was her clitoris inside me. The thought inflamed me, and I contracted the muscles internally, squeezing rhythmically to stimulate her, wondering what it would be like to experience it myself.

She moaned in response, pressing deeper, and then began to withdraw slowly … so slowly. She had no need to rush, no need to thrust back in immediately … she simply enjoyed the sensation to its fullest, and so did I. She pulled back so far that I tensed, afraid she would slip out, but she didn’t, reversing into another long, lengthy, lingering thrust into me. I felt the head of the device skid over that spot inside that makes me feel wonderful, and I arched my pelvis, angling it properly in order to feel the complete effect. Gradually, we found a slow, easy rhythm, my hips arching up to her forward thrust, and I could hear her start to grunt quietly with each contact of our groins.

This was the only time I ever heard her make that sound, the expulsion of breath as she entered me fully, a sound of pleasure and desire. I didn’t quite understand why she reserved it for this particular interaction, but the sound was arousing, and so was the sensation of her breasts flattening mine, her nipples jabbing into my skin, my perspiration dampening us both.

I moaned, burying my face in her neck, her blonde hair falling around my head, the scent of her and our coupling strong in my nostrils, the sticky sound of the moist movement between my legs heightening my pleasure even more.

“Oh god, fuck me darling,” I urged huskily. “Fuck me hard.”

She increased her thrusts, revolving her hips so that she massaged every part of my inner self, and I felt the gathering within me, the melting toward my center. I reached down to grasp her buttocks, trying to draw her even deeper inside as I began to spasm, needing her to move faster and harder. She sensed my need, quickening her motion, abbreviating her strokes to short, quick jabs. I knew she was getting close herself from her ragged breathing, and as I began to pulsate around her, she made that wonderful sound, the whisper of my name, loving and helpless, as if needing me more in that moment of pleasure than at any other time. I sought out her lips, catching the word in a searing kiss, swallowing it as we both shuddered together in perfect empathy.

We lay together for a long time, not moving, just holding each other close and kissing softly, listening to each other breathe. Unlike the real thing, the phallus lodged within me did not lose its firmness, and after a while, it became intrusive rather than something I could associate with my lover. I made a sound of protest, and she stirred, seeming to understand instinctively what I wanted, withdrawing from me slowly.

“Hmm, you are so incredible, my love. You do things for me no one else can. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” Seven disentangled herself and rolled out of bed, detaching the device from her in the same motion. “You are happier now.”

“Was I that obvious, darling?” I asked ruefully as she disappeared into the ensuite. I heard the splash of water, and knew she was cleaning the Wonder Wand 9000 before putting it back in its box for when we next required it.

“I think that you are learning how to let go,” she said slowly, her voice carrying out into the bedroom. “You are learning to deal with your stress, rather than simply forestall it for the future.”

I thought about that. “You’ve been reading up on this, haven’t you?” I said slowly, not entirely sure I liked it, but unable to deny how accurate she was.

She returned to the bedroom and drew back the sheets, slipping in beside me. Despite the fact that it was still mid-afternoon, I readily surrendered to her embrace, snuggling into her arms. “Did you enjoy this ‘play’ time, Kathryn?”

“Oh yes, my love,” I responded, wiggling closer to her as we quickly found the optimum position for cuddling. “You can play with me anytime you want.”

She made an indulgent sound, almost a tiny snort. “You do not mean that, but I shall utilize this exercise again in the future if I deem it necessary.”

I chuckled. “Just so long as it’s not in the middle of a Red Alert.”

“Not a Red Alert,” she repeated in agreement. A pause. “Perhaps a Yellow Alert?”

I laughed outright, hearing the tone of amusement in her tone. Such a sense of humor, my love was developing. I liked it.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed in her arms, sleep drawing me down even though the rest of the day loomed before us. But since I had played hooky this long, what was a few more hours? With a smile on my face, I allowed myself to drift off, safe and secure in my partner’s arms.

[End Log]

Seven of Nine: Personal Log

I awoke exactly one hour after our ‘playtime’, completely refreshed from my nap. Kathryn was in my arms, comforting and familiar as she continued to slumber deeply, and I inhaled slowly, smelling her gentle fragrance and the unique scent of our lovemaking. I have found that as I continue to develop as a human, certain of my senses take on a greater significance, such as my olfactory ability, my sense of taste, and my skin’s nerve endings, none of which were of particular note when I was Borg. The Collective relies on visual acuity first and foremost, enhancing it as much as possible, and then to a lesser extent, the auditory system. The other three senses are deemed irrelevant. Lying here with Kathryn, however, I knew that they were far from irrelevant.

Where our bodies touched … and that was as much as possible … her flesh was warm and smooth, though sticky in spots where perspiration and other fluids had gelled. I had only to open my mouth and extend my tongue a little to taste the flavor of her skin, the salt sweetness of her smooth flesh against my lips. I heard her steady breathing, the slow throb of her heartbeat, and if I listened very carefully, the very rush of blood through her veins and capillaries, as well as the quiet gurgles of her digestive system, indicating that it had been some time since she had eaten.

She sighed and stirred briefly, snuggling closer against me as if somehow afraid of losing our physical contact. She is a restless sleeper, frequently moving, forever seeking some unfathomable ‘perfect’ position, and it is worse when she is undergoing REM phase. Sometimes she even makes sounds, strings of disconnected phrases or names I do not recognize. On other occasions, she will give orders, demands for warp power or to activate phasers, and I wonder what battle she is fighting in her mental imagery. At times, she will smile faintly, and I know the dreams she is experiencing are pleasant. Very often, she whispers my human designation, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize she is not addressing me, but merely saying my name for some unknown reason.

She snores at times, quiet gentle rumblings of checked breathing, and I will ease her over onto her side so that her respiration quiets, becomes silent once more. This is not because I am bothered by the sound, but rather so she is no longer in a position of having fluid congest in her nose and chest, which is not good for her.

Her body makes other sounds as well, biological in nature, a byproduct of her gastronomic system as gas is expelled from her anal canal, providing a pungent odor. If she is awake, she will blush faintly and mutter an apology, though I am not entirely sure why. Naomi, when this happens, giggles wildly and says ‘toot, toot’ as if she has accomplished something significant. If I ever advance to that level of humanity, I do not know which reaction I will choose to emulate.

Kathryn is very shy about certain of her bodily functions. It took considerable time before she would urinate in my presence, and she still refuses to allow me in the ensuite while she excretes solid waste. Yet, she has no compunction of filling my mouth with her saliva when we kiss deeply, nor is she at all hesitant about smearing her vaginal excretions over my skin whenever we make love. Her perspiration splatters me constantly when our physical interaction is particularly energetic, be it sexual or something as simple as playing Velocity in the holodeck. Certainly, I understand that the type of bacteria is different in each case, and in fact, can be harmful in the case of waste production, but they are all still byproducts of her body. I would not be repelled or revolted by witnessing any of these functions, yet sometimes I feel that is why she rejects my presence. Humans have odd behavioral patterns at times.

Occasionally, when she is lying on her side, her mouth falls open, and a thin trail of saliva will run from it. It can be fascinating to watch her sleep. I learn so much about the human condition at times like these, far more than I think she realizes. She is such a fragile creature, lithe and delicate, yet in her I know is a strength and passion that is far greater than anything I have ever experienced before.

She stirred again, and I waited for her to settle down, but she did not, waking in my arms. She made a soft sound of pleasure, and pressed her lips to my throat, suckling at it. It would undoubtedly leave a mark that would require the use of our dermal regenerator to remove. Originally, I took no notice of the marks Kathryn left on my body, but after several ribald comments from B’Elanna, as well as a gentle explanation from the captain that such marks should be hidden, I learned to remove them. Though I did wonder if such marks were meant to be hidden, why Kathryn insisted on making them on the most visible areas of my body in the first place.

She sighed, and mumbled my name.

“Yes, Kathryn,” I responded softly.

She smiled and stretched in my arms, kissing my neck again.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

I did, but for the sake of argument, I pretended I did not.

“Tell me.”

She laughed quietly, knowing I was attempting to be facetious.

“More than there are stars,” she said, throwing her head back to look at me, her eyes still sleepy as she smiled lazily. “In all the universes.”

Impressed with the mathematical projection of this equation, I kissed her gently.

Her hands slid over my sides and ribs, then down my back, her fingertips stroking lightly over my buttocks. I was amazed, believing that our previous encounter would have sated her, having kept track of her cycle. Once a month, she is very irritable, on another day, she is easily saddened, and on one day, she is insatiable. But that day was not for another week so this was unexpected indeed.

Regardless, I am always appreciative of her need to make love, and I returned her caresses, stoking her body as I sought out her mouth so that I could kiss her once more, deeply this time.

“Kathryn,” I said softly when she finally pulled back from the kiss. “You are very … amorous … this afternoon.”

She smiled lazily, moistening her lips with her tongue in that way that always arouses me. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all. I am just curious as to why I am so fortunate.”

“Perhaps it’s spring.”

“Spring?” I was unable to pinpoint the reference.

“In Indiana where I grew up, there were four seasons, ” she explained in a low voice, interrupting her lecture with soft, searing kisses that were very distracting. “Summer, autumn, winter and spring. Spring was a time of regrowth, of new life … animals mated and produced young so that they would have the entire summer when food was most plentiful to grow strong. Fall was harvest time, the time to ready for winter which was cold and quiet, the time of rest and the end of the year, before the return of spring once more.”

“Humans are also affected by this cycle of seasons?” I asked, trying to concentrate on her words rather than her kisses. “This natural time of mating?”

“It’s never been proven,” she replied, smiling in such a way that I knew she was amused by my inability to focus. “But I believe so. The hormones flow freer at this time of year … even in space. At least, I know they do for me.”

“Perhaps they do for me as well,” I allowed thoughtfully. “Do you remember two nights ago when I finished my repair assignment early, and returned to you in the middle of the night?”

“How could I forget?”

“I was very aroused. I do not know why exactly. I was in astrometrics, and the thought of you lying in our bed, waiting for me, suddenly occupied my every thought. I could not return to you quickly enough in my estimate, and when I did return, I felt that I needed to satisfy myself immediately.”

“Spring fever,” she said, grinning impishly. “Aren’t we lucky? She paused, as of something had just occurred to her, “In fact, it may explain why everyone’s been so upbeat lately.”

“They have?”

“Just a side effect of spring fever,” Kathryn explained, smiling warmly at me. Her smile became sensual and she reached down to pull my thigh up onto her hip, brushing her fingers along the inside of it, causing tingles to ripple through me. “I have just the cure for ours.”

I raised my eyebrow as I heard another gurgle in the vicinity of her abdomen. “Are you not hungry, instead?”

She nipped at my bottom lip. “Just for you, my darling,” she said huskily. “Annika, I’m not prepared to take the afternoon off like this very often. You’d better take advantage of it.”

I nodded at the warning and pulled her closer. Another, unusually large rumble sounded in her stomach, and abruptly Kathryn began to laugh.

“Or maybe you have a point,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling.

I tried not to smile. “Would you like me to make something for you?”

“I can make something for us,” she offered, attempting to get up.

“No,” I said quickly, holding her in place. “The last time you provided food for us, it resulted in chocolate sauce being deposited in the bed … as well as on my head.”

My beautiful spouse smirked at me, her eyes wide with feigned outrage. “You shouldn’t have put your head there.”

“You told me to,” I pointed out logically, as I got out of bed. “In fact, you insisted that is where you wished my mouth to be.”

“Not before I poured the chocolate sauce.”

I pressed my lips together. I had not won this argument weeks ago as I stood in the shower, attempting to remove the thick, syrupy confection from my hair while she offered somewhat suspect apologies between her bouts of laughter. I doubted I would win it now.

She laughed, and despite my best attempt, I was not able to completely stifle my smile as I picked up my robe from the lounger on the other side of the room, pulling it on as I walked out to the living area. I heard her following me, and when I turned around from programming the replicator, I found that she was perched on the wooden stool by the counter, dressed in a terrycloth blue robe that makes her appear smaller than she is. Jake, our dog, was next to her, standing upright on his hind legs while his front legs were supported by Kathryn who was petting him.

I frowned, not particularly pleased to see him sniffing avidly at the counter top. Kathryn may have thought he was attempting to crawl onto her lap because he loved her, but I knew better. He merely wanted the opportunity to access a place that he knows he is not allowed.

“Kathryn, please do not allow Jake up on the counter.”

She shot me a look, the sort of mischievous expression that indicated she knew she was not supposed to be doing what she was doing … but was proceeding to do it anyway.

“There’s no food up there,” she protested mildly even as she pulled him down.

“There shall be,” I noted, acquiring a sterile cloth from the compartment beneath, and passing it over the counter. Offering her an admonishing glance, which did not appear to impress her at all, I turned back to the replicator where I retrieved the ingredients I had requested, and placed them on the clean surface.

Kathryn rested her chin on her palm, her elbow propped on the counter ,and watched me as I began to slice the vegetables.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked brightly.

She had watched me prepare this meal many times, but this woman who could tell immediately if a crewmember was inputting a phase variance incorrectly by as little as .02 percent, could not … or would not … remember that this combination of raw materials, mixed in this fashion, would result in one of her favorite dishes: Chicken Indiana. I raised my eyebrow at her, and she smiled sunnily at me.

“I believe you know what this is. You have seen me make it several times.”

“You know I don’t like to cook, darling.” She paused. “So what are we having?”

I sighed. “Chicken Indiana.”

“I love that,” she said, as if in surprise that I would just happen to prepare a meal that she would enjoy.

“Unfortunate,” I replied. “It is for Jake.”

For a moment she just stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief, and then she laughed out loud in delight. I was pleased at the reaction. In humor parlance, I believed I had just ‘gotten’ her. Perhaps this humor was not so difficult after all.

“I deserved that. Good one.”

Much as she would have, had I just put a particularly adept Velocity shot past her to win a point. Perhaps humor contained a certain element of competition to it. I would have to research it further. I finished combining the chicken, pasta, green peppers, mushrooms, celery, sauce and spices in their proper amounts, and placed the casserole dish into the heating unit. Then I leaned over and kissed my spouse, feeling particularly happy for some reason.

She kissed me back, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me tightly.

“I love you,” I told her seriously, once we had parted.

Her face became soft, vulnerable in a way that she will not show to anyone else.

“Oh, darling, you’re my heart.”

I knew that, but it pleased me greatly to hear it.

I kissed her again, and then released her. “You are required to set the table now.”

She favored me with a vaguely apologetic look. “You’re right. I really have been playing hooky today.”

“‘Hooky’?” I asked as she slipped off the stool, and went over to the recycler where she retrieved the necessary dishes and utensils for her task.

She didn’t answer right away, frowning briefly as she set the table, and I knew that she was attempting to come up with a way to explain the concept to me.

“Sometimes when one has to do something out of duty or responsibility,” she said finally, folding the napkins into triangles, “one can feel a need not to. Perhaps in a effort to display one’s independence, or simply for the sake of freedom. So they don’t go to school, or they don’t appear for a duty shift, or they sneak out of their ready room four hours before their shift is up. The term is called ‘playing hooky’.” She glanced at me and smiled. “Before you ask, no, I’m not sure why that particular term is used, but it’s an old phrase. It’s more common with children, and finding ways to get out of attending school.”

“I see,” I said, though I was not entirely sure that I did. I placed protective mittens on my hands, and removed the completely cooked casserole from the heating unit, carrying it over to the table. “Did you ‘play hooky’ often when you were a child?”

An expression crossed her face, a sort of half smile as her eyes became distant, and I knew she was remembering specific incidents, but she did not offer them. Instead, she sat down at the table and began to spoon the casserole onto her plate.

“No, I never played hooky when I was a kid.”

I stared at her, suspecting a falsehood of sorts, and she laughed. “At least, not in a way I’d care to share,” she elaborated.

I hesitated before finally nodding. I understood her need for privacy and in any event, I knew she would tell me if I asked her the next time we were about to make love. She could not resist answering any question I offered during those particular moments, though I did not know why.

I filed it away as something to return to later. After all, it was still only the afternoon … and apparently, spring was in the air.

[End Log]

From: Captain Kathryn Janeway

USS Voyager

To: Mrs. Gretchen Janeway

Agricultural Development Park

Indiana, North American Sector

Earth

Dear Mom,

Annika has told me about her newest project to help out Naomi by writing letters to you, and it has shamed me into writing my own. Yes, I know that they can’t be sent, but I’ve been remiss in finding a way to tell you all that is going on here. I remember when we discovered the Hirogen communications array, and experienced that brief taste of home, I immediately wrote a letter to you and Phoebe. The array’s subsequent destruction kept me from sending it however, and eventually, in a lonely pique one night in a void, I deleted it. I truly regret that. When Annika returned from the Alpha Quadrant with so many of your logs, I can’t express how much they meant to me.

Yet at the same time, they were so exquisitely painful. I never let on to Annika, but often I would be sealed in my ready room, crying so hard that I could barely breathe. Of course, I don’t do that anymore. Cry alone, I mean. If nothing else, after all she and I have been through, I’ve learned that there is one other person in the universe who will always be there for me. Now, when I need to cry, it’s on her shoulder which she offers freely and without reservations of any kind. She has such a gentle heart and a sweet personality, Mom. I know they’re hidden beneath that Borg exterior sometimes, but she shows them to me readily. Perhaps she was always that kind though certainly, most of the crew has taken a lot longer to recognize it, and a good percentage of them still can’t, for whatever reason.

Mom, I wish I could tell you that we’ll be home soon. Though Seven thinks that it will take no more than three years at most to adapt the slipstream drive to Voyager, at times I feel as if that is a false hope, like so many others have been in this quadrant. I believe in my heart that Annika would move heaven and earth not to let me down, but perhaps this is beyond even her abilities. The ship’s structure is simply not designed to withstand the pressures of a slipstream conduit, and even though we continue to work on bolstering the integrity field, we haven’t found a proper solution yet. I have to recognize that we may never find one.

Still, we are considerably closer to the Alpha Quadrant at this point than even I could have expected. Wormholes, transwarp coils, slipstream conduits, and a boost from a crewmember as a parting gift have combined to bring us 50,000 light years over the past six years. At present, we are a mere 23 years away from home. While that is an achievement of which we can be proud, deep in my heart, it’s still not enough. I try not to think of the enormity of it most of the time, but there are those occasions when I imagine bringing the ship home to a Federation that is twenty years out of time for us, and I become frightened, Mom … really frightened.

Which makes me frustrated, which in turn, makes me cranky, and then Annika has to find a way to put up with me until I work it out. Though lately, I’ve found that she’s coming up with pre-emptive strikes against my dark moods, and before I even realize it, she’s helped me find my courage and determination again.

There are other times when I feel as if we’re no further away than a sub-space message, and I find myself full of optimism and hope. I try to hang onto that to get me through the rough patches. It’s become easier now that I’m married.

I probably should have mentioned that in the beginning. Annika and I were married six months ago in a holodeck simulation of the church down by the village. It was a beautiful ceremony, and yes, you can tell Phoebe that I was absolutely terrified. If Annika hadn’t been hanging on to me at the altar, I’m sure I would have passed out in front of my entire crew … which would have done their perception of me no good at all. I can’t tell you how beautiful my bride was walking down the aisle that day. She was simply exquisite, wearing a dress that was a duplicate of the dress in which you married Daddy. The gesture meant so much to me. Just thinking about it is enough to bring tears to my eyes though of course, I never let them show. The only thing that kept the whole thing from being absolutely perfect was that you and Phoebe were not there to share it with us.

But I’ve asked Annika, and she’s agreed that we’ll renew our vows once we get home. Being married to her is such a joy, Mom, I don’t have the necessary words to express how much. She is a constant surprise as well. Just when I think I have her all figured out, she astounds me with something new that may infuriate me, may aggravate me, may captivate me, may fill me with the most profound happiness, but whatever it is … it never, ever, bores me.

I’m aware you worried about that with me and my various beaus.

You never said anything, but I finally figured out that you were never that fond of the idea of Mark and me. Yes, I know you adored him. You had from the time Hobbes and I were kids, but you really didn’t like the concept of our getting married. I didn’t see it at the time but I see it now, particularly when I go over the logs you sent back with Seven. You’re so voluminous with your praise of her in a way that you never were when speaking about Mark. Or for that matter, Justin. Did you know something I didn’t, Mother? Did you think that what I truly needed to make me happy was a woman like you, and not a man like Daddy? Perhaps you’re right. I do intend to ask you face to face upon my return however, though somehow I doubt I’ll get a straight answer.

How did Phoebe’s exhibit go? I know she had told Seven she wanted to see us back for that, and I must say, Annika was quite distressed when the date approached and we had not returned to the Alpha Quadrant. It took considerable comforting on my part to assure her that my little sister was just being her usual breezy self, and wasn’t being serious. Phoebe needs to recognize that Seven will take what she says literally. Of course, Annika is getting better and by the time we do return, I’m sure my wife will be more than able to hold her own with my outrageous sibling.

I remember Phoebe saying something about a new man she met during her last showing. Did anything ever come of that, or is my sister still footloose and fancy free? I don’t envy the man who eventually ends up with her, but then, I’m sure she would say the same thing about Annika having ended up with me.

I’ve just reread this, and it sounds a trifle boorish, not to mention very ungracious. I hope you know that’s not how I mean it at all, Mom. I miss you both terribly, even Phoebe’s needling. Or maybe especially Phoebe’s needling. She always knew how to burst my bubble and make me realize when I’ve become too full of myself. Until Seven, I didn’t have anyone else like that in my life, and I truly missed it. Of course, Seven was far more antagonistic in the beginning and for a while, she swung completely over to the other direction, becoming very supportive of me to the point of being unlike herself. Around the time I lost my memories, as a matter of fact, which I appreciated certainly, but I did miss the challenges she used to present to the concepts and beliefs I held dear. Recently, however, I find that she’s developed a sense of humor that is quite reminiscent of my little sister’s. She’s stopped letting me get away with things, and isn’t afraid to tell me when I’m getting out of line. With her new foray into becoming a member of Starfleet, I have a feeling I’m about to be challenged even more.

Annika is going to be taking an ‘Ethics & Philosophy’ course, and already, just from the texts she’s been perusing in preparation for it, she’s discovered some of the conundrums forced upon various Starfleet captains over the years. These incidents were sometimes at odds with the ideas and precepts set down by Starfleet, and it’s difficult for her to comprehend why the rules needed to be stretched or bent in those instances. I’m also aware that she’s starting to apply this to my command here in the Delta Quadrant She’s developing that youthful certainty about what is right and wrong that all cadets possess in their first year of the Academy … and is subsequently punctured as time goes on. In some ways, she is at a disadvantage because she is so much older than the average cadet, not to mention coming from such a unique background.

I anticipate that there will be more than a few all night discussions in my future though, since others are also taking the classes, I’m hoping she will spare me some of the sleepless nights, and share them with her classmates instead. I understand that B’Elanna is taking the class with her. I anticipate some rather interesting conclusions to come from that interaction. I don’t believe it will hurt to have Lt. Torres to finish the courses she didn’t get a chance to complete the first time around.

As Seven prepares, I find myself remembering what it was like that first year at the Academy, when my ideals were so exact, so precise. By the time I graduated, I had all my precepts turned completely upside down, and I looked at everything I had known up until then in a completely different light. I have no idea what kind of person Seven shall be when this is all over. I can only hope that I’ll be with her every step of the way. It will probably be an opportunity for me to grow even further as well.

On the topic of growth, I had a couple come to me earlier this afternoon and make a request for family quarters. Their way of requesting permission to having children, of course. It happens every year at this time, and every year, it must be the same response. Voyager simply does not have the facilities for family quarters. I had hoped that this time, it would be different. That I would be able to grant the requests of my crew, but after talking with Chakotay and Tuvok, after going over all our current resources, and what it would take for the ship to provide a stable environment for children, I have no choice but to refuse it. Not only for the good of the ship, but for the good of those unborn children.

It’s not easy, Mother. This is a power that no captain should have: the responsibility of saying whether a couple may reproduce or not. It’s too much. I know all the logical reasons why Voyager must refrain from becoming a generational ship, but the memory of the disappointment and even anger in their eyes, the sorrowful recognition that none of us have any real choice in the matter, cuts me to the core. I also look at Naomi and the joy she has brought to the people around her, including myself and Seven, and I think, who am I to deny that to anyone? Yet I must. There is no way for Voyager to be able to keep a group of children safe and secure. It would be selfish to bring offspring into the constant threat of danger that we must live with.

Did you know that Seven wants children? Unfortunately, because of the residual damage done to her by being assimilated by the Borg, it is something she cannot undergo herself, and it was a hard blow for her to take. We have subsequently found a way around that and, while it does force me into the position of having to conduct the pregnancy myself, you’ll be able to look forward to having grandchildren who are genetically conceived from the both of us. Because of the planning and medical preparation needed for such a thing, however, we are waiting until we return to the Alpha Quadrant. Annika has already decided what she wants as far as how many, what sex and even has the names picked out. I’m beginning to think my only contribution is going to be the actual gestation, which doesn’t seem fair somehow.

But I look forward to it. I wouldn’t admit that to just anyone. There’s a part of me that easily imagines Annika and I raising children together. I think about what kind of mother she will be, or more incredibly, what sort of mother I’ll be. I know I won’t be as good a parent as you are, but I do hope that I can offer my children the same love and support you gave Phoebe and me throughout the years. I’m absolutely convinced that Annika will be an outstanding parent. I watch her infinite patience, her kind, yet firm discipline with Jake, our Irish Setter … now, don’t laugh Mom, we both know puppies can be as much of a handful as children can be, even if they do tend to obey better in the long run. In any event, I know that Annika shall be absolutely wonderful. I think I’ll be the one who indulges our children’s every whim and gets us all into trouble with my wife.

I suppose I should wrap this up. The Doctor has just contacted me regarding something he’s found in the latest round of checkups of the crew. He sounded a bit concerned, but that may be a ruse. It occurs to me that I didn’t have a checkup, and this could be his way of luring me to sickbay so he can spring a surprise physical on me. He’s getting craftier as time goes by.

Which only means I have to be even cleverer. But, since he’s made it a formal request, CMO to Captain I guess I have to stop by. Where is a convenient Red Alert when I need one?

I miss you, Mom. I hope you’re well, and that Phoebe is continuing to live the life of Riley as she always does. I dream of the day when Annika and I can beam down to that farm house in Indiana, walk up the driveway and see you waiting for us on the porch. I dream of the day that I can show Annika the farm where I grew up, and the tree where I used to play. I dream of sitting in your kitchen, watching as you and Annika swap recipes while I try out the results. I dream of my beloved and I waking up in that same room where I spent all my childhood, and seeing the sunshine come through the window across the rug where Brambles used to sleep. I dream of looking up all my old friends and seeing their faces when I introduce my lovely Borg wife to them. Tell me, is Cheb Packer still married to Cathy Martin? I think it would be most interesting to introduce Seven to him, though I’m afraid that Annika might say something to him to the effect that she hoped he had improved considerably since his relationship with me.

I might even explain that one to you when I get home. Next letter, I’ll tell you all about Seven’s birthday and the surprise I have for her.

Take care, Mom.

Love,

Kathryn

Officer’s Log: Seven of Nine Recording

Voyager is about to undergo some profound changes. The Doctor has discovered that the recent ‘spring fever’ that swept the crew was in fact, medically based. It is a genetically keyed virus, intended to help the Cirrellian B’Rethna reproduce in surroundings other than their natural environment. Apparently, the creatures are not native to Cirrellia after all, a fact somehow overlooked in our initial acquisition of them.

The original concern was keeping Naomi’s pet which was male, away from B’Elanna Torres’s pet, which was female, so that the ship was not inundated with B’Rethna offspring. That concern quickly became moot when it was discovered the virus had mutated into an airborne variety that affected certain species on the ship, including all the Humans. I was affected as well, though of course, not to the same extent. The most obvious symptom was a strong, overpowering ‘need’ to mate. The Doctor quickly created an anti-viral agent, and was able to stamp out the epidemic, but it did have repercussions.

The virus, in addition to releasing natural hormones designed to facilitate reproduction, also neutralized the contraceptive implant which every crewmember is outfitted with during their yearly physical. The captain immediately sent out a memo requesting that crewmembers refrain from sexual practices that would result in conception, but for twelve couples in the crew, it was too late.

Many of the crew are now fully occupied with organizing ways to restructure Voyager for children. In eight months and two weeks, assuming everything goes as projected, offspring shall be added to the crew roster. I find that I have developed a great anticipation for this, while others seem quite disturbed by this new adjustment being forced on us. I am sure they will all adapt, though I do admit to a certain amount of concern for Lt. Harry Kim. He continues to pursue his duties with a most peculiar expression on his face, and his skin has taken on a decidedly pale tone.

Apparently he and Ensign Delaney were not prepared to procreate this early in their relationship.

The couple has scheduled a wedding that will take place, along with three others, next week. Meanwhile, three other couples have requested that their marriages be dissolved. One couple is of the parings that conceived, and the female insists on raising the child on her own.

In addition, two of the twelve couples chose to terminate the pregnancies, a procedure that was handled quickly and efficiently by the medical staff. It is a decision that I do not entirely understand, but must respect. As I have come to realize, if people truly do not wish to be parents, then it is in the best interests of everyone that they do not.

The Doctor tells me that I should pay very close attention to all that is happening at the moment. He says it is a perfect representation of a much larger community in a very closed environment. The virus has forced profound social changes that could be the inspiration of a dozen papers on the ‘Human Condition’. His opinion was not appreciated by the captain when I asked her about it later, however.

Captain Janeway has placed me in charge of altering cargo bay two. My Borg alcoves have been sectioned off with high security bulkheads, while the rest of the area is being turned into a ‘park’. Originally, the cargo bay was home to a hydroponics area organized by Kes, the Ocampa crewmember who left the ship shortly after my arrival. The necessary equipment for nurturing plants is already in place, which facilitates the project greatly. I am working very closely with biometrics on this project, and Ensign Wildman, who designed the layout, has been very helpful in explaining her ‘vision’. I anticipate that we shall have it done within two months, and the new, high yield, fast growing plants for our ‘park’ will be fully germinated in seven.

All these new duties regarding the ship’s renovation, are of course, in addition to my regular shift in astrometrics. I am gratified to record that long range sensors detected deposits of dertanium on a small moon in an uninhabited system. Acquiring it required only a minor course change. Lt. Torres has been assigned to mine and refine the ore, and she has taken the Delta Flyer down to the surface with an engineering team. Lt. Ro Laren volunteered to assist her by piloting the ship for this mission. I did not realize the Bajoran was an adept pilot, but apparently she possesses extensive helm experience. In the meantime, Voyager will take up station-keeping in orbit above the moon, allowing the rest of the crew to start Operation Newborn immediately.

Obviously, this task has set back the Starfleet Ethics classes. Tuvok has assured me that, once Operation Newborn has completed its initial startup phase, and the ship is once more back on course to the Alpha Quadrant, he will advise me of a new class schedule. I am still looking forward to it, though my original anticipation has been muted somewhat by this other situation.

The areas most needing adaptation are in the process of being studied and prepared for renovation. It shall be an undertaking of several months, but we intend the initial planning phase be underway as soon as possible. A ‘safe haven’ in the very center of the ship is being mapped out, the section reinforced with hull-thick walls, while an independent energy source is being installed to supply the area in the event the rest of the ship loses all other power. Deck two, made up primarily of conference rooms and labs, is being switched over to provide day care and a school. Sickbay needs to expand into the immediate surrounding areas to provide a maternity and children’s ward. Chakotay has begun the task of organizing the proper personnel who are best suited to become the caregivers and teachers of a group of children while their parents are on duty.

Looking after these offspring shall be the responsibility of the entire community of Voyager, and that means that many shall have to adapt.

All this perhaps would not be so necessary or crucial but for the timing, and amount of children. We can expect all these babies to be born within days of each other, which means we shall have a respectable group of children all growing at the same rate. It is an intriguing thing to contemplate, though I appreciate how troubling this has been to some crewmembers. The Doctor tells me that children growing up on a ship have different needs than adults, and require far more attention. He is concerned about such things as artificial gravity on developing bones, and how the closed, rather sterile environment of the ship’s atmosphere will affect the immune systems of the newborns. I am already aware that, although Naomi is seemingly a healthy child, in truth, her mother and the Doctor keep a close monitor on her whenever she goes planetside, aware that she will be more vulnerable to diseases. Now the challenges shall be increased tenfold.

I am also growing concerned for the captain. She is so busy that she barely has time to eat and sleep, and she only does that because I remain constantly alert to her schedule. Otherwise, she would gladly go without both, and it becomes a conflict at times when I insist she interrupt her duties for meals and rest periods.

Sometimes, I do not know how she is capable of all that she does. Her energy is inexhaustible, her stamina phenomenal, and her endurance compares favorably to the duranium hull of the starship she commands. But I also know that this is not something she can maintain forever. It has been two weeks since we first discovered the presence of the virus, and since then, she has been unrelenting.

Still, there does not seem to be any other way to accomplish everything that needs to be done. This is her duty, as it is mine, and together, we are working harder than I believe we ever have worked before. I can only hope that there is ‘a light at the end of the tunnel’. That is a saying that Lt. Torres has used often, and I try to apply it here.

The captain has made it clear to me that officer logs and personal logs are two different things. So while I have found a certain sort of freedom in adding greater emotional resonances to my personal log, I comprehend that I am not to do the same here. These logs may be perused by a superior officer as necessary, and it would not do to present the same sort of detail that I do in my personal logs.

As soon as I am able to find a more private area, I shall record the incident that happened earlier today as it was quite significant to me personally. For now, I must return to my duties.

[End Log]

Seven of Nine: Personal Log

During this period of instability and confusion, my birthday passed unnoticed, even by me. Not by Neelix however, and just before a quick staff briefing first thing this morning, he leaned over and wished me a happy birthday in a low voice. As I thanked him quietly, I glanced at Kathryn, wondering if she had heard. The expression on her face told me she had. For just an instant, before the command mask covered it again, she looked extremely distraught, almost as if she were about to weep.

I lingered after the meeting until the rest had vacated the room and went to her. Her eyes were very sad when she looked at me, and I put my hands on her shoulders, attempting to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry, Annika,” she said softly, suddenly appearing very weary.

I shook my head. “It is unnecessary to apologize. I did not even remember the date myself.”

She reached out, and even though we were still on duty, wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me close.

“I promise, as soon as things settle down,” she said in a muffled tone, her face pressed against my throat, “we’ll celebrate your birthday the way you deserve.”

“It is all right, Kathryn.” She appeared more upset by this than she needed to be, and I was concerned. “I appreciate that the situation prohibits us from enjoying the off duty recreations that we would otherwise pursue.”

“That’s no excuse, my darling,” she said, her voice such that I knew she was reprimanding herself harshly. “At least, I could have taken note of the date. It’s a sad thing when Neelix remembers, and your own wife doesn’t.”

I did not want her to be bothered by this, and hugged her tightly. “Kathryn, you are much busier than Neelix, and have far more responsibility weighing on you. I am not asking more of you than you can give. Do not demand it of yourself.”

She was silent for awhile, holding on to me.

Finally she looked up at me. “I love you,” she said intently, her eyes so serious that I knew she was attempting to convey something very important to her. “With all my heart, Annika.”

“I know. I love you. It is acceptable for us to sometimes overlook each other in a situation like this, Kathryn. Our love is strong enough that it can carry us through these times. Please, do not think that if you are remiss in a ‘gesture’ that I would believe your feelings have altered. We have been together long enough now that I know how much you care. Just know that I care for you as well.”

She studied my face, then grinned ruefully. “I do have a gift for you. It’s hidden in my ready room. I’ve been keeping it quiet for months, along with the party I had planned.”

I was delighted. “Indeed.” I attempted not to show my emotion blatantly. I must not have succeeded because her smile widened, and she kissed me gently.

“If you want to open it now, I’ll get it for you.”

I thought about it. “No,” I decided finally. “I am required in cargo bay two, and you promised Ensign Travis that you would look over his schematics for the auxiliary gravimetric emitters. I wish you to be with me when I open my gift, and I want us to have time to appreciate the experience, both in terms of me receiving it, and you for giving it. We do not have the appropriate time now.”

She squeezed gently. “Soon. When B’Elanna returns with her team, and we’re on our way to the Alpha Quadrant again, things will become more structured.”

“I know,” I told her. I studied her for a few moments, taking note of the deeper lines around her eyes and the way her jaw set, indicating her weariness. “Please do not overwork yourself to the extent that you become ill, Kathryn. I am not able to look after you as I wish at the moment.”

She spared me a sigh, and I rubbed her back gently.

“I’ll try,” was all she could promise.

“Try hard,” I said firmly. “This much I know you are capable of giving me.” I considered it, and added thoughtfully. “I would consider it part of my birthday present.”

She gave me a look of tolerant bemusement, then I was gratified to see her smile again though I was aware that it lacked its usual brilliance, undoubtedly due to her lack of excess resources.

“All right,” she said in a wry, resigned sort of tone. “I will try hard.”

“Acceptable.” I took the moment to hug her tightly one more time, then reluctantly released her, knowing it was time for me to return to duty.

“Soon,” she repeated softly.

“Yes,” I agreed.

I left the conference room and went to cargo bay two.

[End Log]

Kathryn Janeway: Personal Log

Voyager has once again resumed course for the Alpha Quadrant. The Doctor has reported that the wounded have been treated, and that they’re doing as well as can be expected at the moment. I know we needed that ore but this time, it was too costly. If only I had been quicker with our response, if only I had ordered a closer monitor be kept on the away team…

We first knew there was danger when the emergency call reached the bridge. A brief burst of communication from the surface of the asteroid, distorted by static and interference. Lt. Ro’s voice was barely audible.

“Away Te … yager .. ran ….sive gas …. require assi … can … read us ….”

Lt. Kim attempted to clear it up, but it was impossible. I ordered an immediate transport for the away team, but whatever was interfering with the communications kept the sensors form getting a lock on them. I glanced at Chakotay who returned the look, his dark eyes clearly worried.

“Get a rescue team together,” I snapped. He inclined his head, and disappeared off the bridge after nodding at Tuvok and Kim to follow him.

At the helm, Paris glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe I should go. They might need me to pilot Delta Flyer.” I wondered which he was worried about more, the away team or his vessel? Then stifled that line of thought as being unworthy of the young man.

“As you were,” I said shortly, keeping him at his station.

He frowned briefly, then turned back to his board.

I wanted to pace, but knew it would not be good for the other bridge crew so instead, I took a seat in the command chair and attempted to look confident. Minutes seemed to drag into hours as I waited for a sensor report, a hail … anything that might tell me what was going on.

I have a good crew … probably the best … and I know I need to rely on their abilities, but sometimes it’s extremely difficult to not leap up and do things myself. Impatience has always been a fatal flaw of mine, and one of the hardest parts about being captain is the need to curb it. I carefully wrapped my hands around the arms of my chair so that I wouldn’t drum my fingers, and took a slow, deep breath.

I heard the hiss of the turbolift door behind me and took a quick glance back to see Seven enter and take a position at the aft tactical station. Despite myself, I immediately felt better knowing she was there. It perhaps doesn’t make sense, but it’s a fact, nonetheless. I was able to relax marginally within the aura of her presence as we all waited anxiously for some word from the surface.

“Sensors indicate the presence of terrazin gas,” Seven noted after a few moments. I realized that she had been using her formidable skills to enhance the sensors to cut through most of the interference.

I felt my heart begin to pound. Terrazin gas was poisonous, not to mention corrosive as hell to organic tissue. To be caught in an explosion usually meant instant death, and I knew instinctively that I must have lost crewmembers. The question was, how many? Had we lost the entire team? What was the situation down there?

“Contact the rescue team.”

“Aye, Captain,” Lt. Nicoletti said crisply from ops. A few moments passed then, “The away team reports that their sensors detected the gas, and they’re in full protective gear. They estimate their shuttle’s landing will be in two-point-four minutes.”

I nodded briefly and stared at the viewscreen, though all it was showing at the moment was the silvery rugged surface of the asteroid we were orbiting, and the inky blackness of space beyond, dotted with unfamiliar stars. I regulated my respiration as best I could, making every attempt to project calm assurance … a trait painstakingly taught to us in command school, and which I barely manage to accommodate a lot of the time. It felt as if there was a warp core about to breech inside me, and it took all my discipline not to leap up and shout orders even though I had no clear idea of what those orders should be.

“The rescue team is hailing us,” Nicoletti informed me.

I stood up abruptly. “On screen.”

The view flickered to show Commander Chakotay in a white environmental suit, his features eerily shadowed through the transparent shield of his helmet.

“Captain, the mining team lost two when a pocket exploded, releasing the gas. The rest tried to get to them but the gas forced them back to the Delta Flyer, which was trapped under rubble. There are other injuries, and Sek is securing the wounded onto the shuttle now. Lt. Ro and I will remain behind to bring back the Delta Flyer.”

So at least I knew one survivor, I thought grimly. “Who were the casualties, Chakotay?”

He hesitated. “Lt. Poe and Ensign Taylor.”

Stevie Poe was a personable young man from Rigel Six who, like Harry Kim, had joined Voyager fresh out of the Academy. He was probably the only person I knew who actually liked Neelix’s leola root stew, and deserved far better than to die so far away from home. Janice Taylor, in contrast, was an older woman who had been with the Maquis. She had a knack for tracking down plasma variances, and liked to carve small animals from wood products. I had traded a great many replicator rations for a remarkable cherry wood reproduction of Jake that was now sitting in my ready room next to my bust of Leonardo da Vinci.

I felt sick. Old, tired and just plain sick.

But also aware that I didn’t have the time to indulge such emotions at the moment.

“The rest?”

“B’Elanna’s burnt pretty bad,” he said soberly. “I guess she tried hard to get to them, and got caught in the back wash. Vorik’s wounds aren’t quite as bad.”

I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch. “Understood.” Then had to ask because there was an entire ship to worry about in addition to the away teams. “What about the ore?”

I didn’t have to look around to know I was receiving outraged glances from some of the bridge crew at my perceived callousness. I ignored them.

“The Flyer’s hold is almost full,” he reported. “Maybe short an eighth.”

“That’ll do,” I said evenly. “ETA?”

“The shuttle’s already on its way back. Ro estimates that we’ll have the Delta Flyer uncovered in a couple of hours.”

“Best possible speed, Chakotay.”

“Understood.” He broke the channel, the screen flickering once more to show the stars and the asteroid that had killed my crewmembers.

For an instant, I had the irrational urge to load a quantum torpedo into the forward tube and fire it at the uncaring piece of rock … not that it would do anything more than put another crater in its pockmarked surface. The feeling passed quickly, and as it did, despair and weariness rushed in to fill its place.

“Maintain station-keeping until the Delta Flyer has docked,” I said quietly to Paris. “Then resume course to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Aye, Captain.”

In silence, I walked across the bridge, descended the stairs and entered my ready room. I felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach, and I must have stumbled a bit as I moved around the desk because I barked my hip on the edge. Uncertainly, I sat down in my chair and bent over, putting my face in my hands, trying hard to maintain my composure.

Dimly, I was aware of the hiss of the door but I did not look up. Only one person would presume to enter without requesting permission.

I felt her hands warm on the back of my neck, and it was if that was all the permission I needed. The sobs came thick and fast, and then I was clinging to her, burying my face into Seven’s lap as she leaned against the desk, stroking my hair and murmuring words that did not quite make sense, but were comforting nonetheless.

How many times, I wondered? How many times had I come in here after a blow like the one I had just received, and had to work through it myself? Very often, I wouldn’t even let myself cry, thinking it a weakness I could not afford. Or perhaps I was just terrified that once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop on my own.

If I have received nothing else from my love, this is a gift she has given me which is beyond measure … the ability to mourn immediately and fully, without holding back, knowing that she will be there to hold me up until I can find my balance once more.

Finally, the sobs eased and settled down into an occasional hiccough that hitched my breathing. I sniffed hard and wiped my eyes, wishing I had a handkerchief as I sat up, using my uniform sleeves instead. Seven got up without saying a word, and went to the upper level where she programmed something into the replicator. She brought back a mug which she handed me, and I sipped it, discovering camomile tea that was reminiscent of home and Mother when she was trying to comfort me after I had fallen short of my expectations … as I had so many times in my life. I wondered how my partner had known, but didn’t ask. It was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking as I wrapped them around the mug, warming them against the chill that had settled inside me.

Seven perched on the edge of the desk again, resting her hand gently on my shoulder as I drank the hot liquid and slowly gathered the tattered shards of my composure. She didn’t speak, for which I was oddly grateful. It was enough to know she was there and close by, her presence lending me strength when I needed it most.

After a while, I glanced up at her. Her pale blue eyes were concerned, and I managed what I’m sure was a rather weak smile.

“I’m okay now.”

“Indeed.” It was in the sort of voice that told me she wasn’t buying it for an instant.

“Yes,” I said, in a much firmer tone. I hesitated, and then added with unmistakable dismissal. “Thank you.”

She started to speak, stopped, and then nodded as if understanding what I was really saying. For all I knew, she did. God knows my beloved was a lot more sensitive than many gave her credit for, and no doubt could easily able to read between the lines of what I was saying. Knowing that what I really meant was the support she gave so unselfishly was the only thing allowing me to do my job … a job, which, despite my feelings, still needed to be done. She nodded once and without looking back, she left the ready room.

I took a breath and retrieved my mirror from a compartment under my desk. I’m sure most crewmembers who knew about it, thought I kept such a thing in my ready room for vanity’s sake. In truth, it was a necessary accessory to being captain, allowing me to check my command mask, making sure it was solid and without cracks. It would not do to allow what I was feeling to leak through. A little grief was sufficient to show my sorrow. Too much, and my crew would perceive me as less than the rock they needed in times of crisis.

I couldn’t let them down.

After making sure the tear stains were invisible, I got up and returned to the bridge. “Status?” I asked as soon as I mounted the stairs.

“As soon as the shuttle was in range, the wounded were transported to sickbay,” Lt. Paris remarked. “The Doctor is working on B’Elanna now.”

There was more than just a hint of strain in the young helmsman’s voice. Despite the fact that he and the chief engineer were no longer romantically involved, I was aware that he still cared deeply for the young woman. Indeed, I knew that he had recently asked Seven to assist in presenting his intentions to reunite with her. So far, B’Elanna was less than enthusiastic, and I know it was beginning to put a little bit of a strain on the friendship between her and Seven. I made a note to myself to ask Paris to release Seven of her promise because I knew my partner would take it as far as she could, and perhaps not recognize the damage she was doing to her relationship with the Klingon.

I glanced up at my Borg as she worked on her console.

“The shuttle?”

“The Edison is landing in the hangar deck now.”

I dipped my head and went over to my chair. It was too early to find out how the wounded were doing. Until the Doctor reported in, I knew I would only be in the way down there, as would anyone else. While both Seven and Tom wanted to be there for their friend, for the moment, I needed them where they were, and did not respond to their unspoken expressions of inquiry.

I accessed the monitor that sat between the command and first officer’s chairs, bringing up the departmental duty roster. I keyed in a request to geometrics to send a team to the hangar deck to unload the ore, and another memo to Lt. Carey to inform him that he would be acting as chief of engineering until further notice. That done, I brought up the personnel files of both Poe and Taylor, shifting them to the station in the ready room so that they would be ready when I needed to do the paperwork; always necessary when a crewmember dies. I tried not to think too hard about what I was doing. There would be time for that later.

I added a note to Chakotay’s station that he fill the holes created in engineering as soon as possible, and wondered how many more times I would be required to do this in the Delta Quadrant. We had started out with 152 people at the beginning of this long journey. We were now down to 136, less than the full crew complement. It was not a major problem yet, but if we continued to lose qualified people, then eventually we would no longer be able to fly the ship.

I worked quietly, hoping that by concentrating on incidentals, it would keep me from acknowledging that yet again, I had failed my people, that I had lost someone I had promised to return home. Sometimes it feels as if nothing I can do will be enough, that in the end, all I’m doing is fooling myself into thinking I have any right to this chair. I was the one who made the decision to strand us here. I am the one who has yet to find a way home after six long years.

As I worked, I felt the gaze of my partner on the back of my head, and tried to let that bond keep me from casting completely adrift. I wondered what would happen if Lt. Torres didn’t make it, what that would mean, not only to the ship but to Seven and myself for whom the Klingon’s friendship meant so much. I sent a tiny thought to sickbay and my chief engineer. Some might have called it a prayer, but whatever it really was, it took the form of an order.

Don’t you dare die on us, Lieutenant.

[End Log]

Seven of Nine: Personal Log

As soon as I could, I went to sickbay to see B’Elanna. Until the Delta Flyer returned, and we once more had secured stations to resume our journey, the captain was unable to release me from my duties. It is hard sometimes, but I have come to understand that even when it is difficult, duty must take precedence.

It was late in the beta rotation when I left my post, and the lights were lowered in sickbay to indicate evening watch. I noted that in addition to the chief engineer, Ensign Vorik remained in a biobed as did another officer, Ensign D’Vor, from security. I knew that this was the latter’s first mission in his new department, and I wondered if he had any appreciation at all for the transfer, considering how it went.

I hesitated as I saw that I was not the only one visiting with B’Elanna at this time. Unobtrusively, I drifted into the Doctor’s office until the other crewmember had completed her visit, not wishing to interrupt the two. Neither the Doctor nor Sek were present, and I supposed that they were in other parts of the ship, conferring with the various engineering teams regarding sickbay’s expansion. I did note that there was a monitor with an open access, no doubt ready to alert them if it became necessary. It relieved me because I knew that they would not leave their patients unattended unless they were certain they would be all right.

As I waited, having taken a seat in the chair, I surreptitiously watched the slender figure by the engineer’s biobed through the transparency. It surprised me somewhat to see Lt. Ro, but I realized that, since both she and B’Elanna had been on the mission together, they would have need to speak about it. I tried not to listen to their conversation, but my Borg-enhanced cranial implant makes that difficult at times, even though they had their heads close together and were speaking in low tones.

“This was all my fault,” B’Elanna said in a voice that was completely unlike her. “I should have seen the weakness in the vein.”

“That was Poe’s job,” Ro responded firmly, if kindly. I saw her put her hand on B’Elanna’s shoulder. “He was responsible for taking care of the geometric readings. He was the one who needed to be aware of the fault lines.”

“I was in command,” B’Elanna insisted in a small voice. “I should have checked his readings.”

“It’s a poor commander who needs to watch over the shoulder of qualified people,” Ro responded. “Look, I know what you’re feeling, Lieutenant. It’s hard and god knows, the guilt never really goes away, but you can’t let it defeat you. I learned that the hard way as well.”

There was a silence. “You’re talking about Garon II, aren’t you. When you disobeyed orders.”

Ro hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I didn’t defend myself at the court martial. I didn’t think I had the right … after all, eight crewmembers were dead and I was still alive.” She seemed to take a deep breath. “But later, people that I met … people that I respected greatly … explained that sometimes taking on all the guilt was in itself, a selfish act. That I had deprived Starfleet of my services because I accepted a version of the truth rather than what actually happened.” She looked very thoughtful, her face shadowed in the low illumination. “I don’t know that I agree, but maybe they were right. I do know, in this situation, looking in from the outside, that you are not to blame, B’Elanna. These things just … happen.”

B’Elanna shook her head unhappily. “But they’ve happened two missions in a row. First on Meuranato, and now here.” She closed her eyes sorrowfully. “I’m not fit to be put in charge of away missions.”

“So Captain Janeway is a fool,” Ro said casually.

Despite my efforts not to eavesdrop, that made me straighten in my chair, anger rising in me at the implied slur on my beloved. B’Elanna also seemed to take note of it, and she looked at Ro with what appeared to be annoyance.

“You want to explain that?”

I too, wanted the dark haired woman to reveal her reasoning.

“All I meant was that sometimes when you’re in command, you lose people,” Ro said quietly. “You don’t always make the right decision, and bad things happen. Janeway believes in you, in your abilities. What makes her a damned good captain is because she takes responsibility for any mistakes she might make. You need to, as well.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“No, you’re feeling guilty and wallowing in that guilt,” Ro pointed out. “Poor, poor Torres, can’t do anything right.” Her voice had turned a bit mocking. “So let’s lie in bed and feel sorry for ourselves.”

I could see that B’Elanna was furious, but she also looked a great deal better than she had. I wondered if this was the intention of the security officer.

“Look,” Ro added in a more serious tone. “I know you look up to Janeway, and lately, as she sends you out in command of more away missions, you try to emulate her even more, but you can’t be the captain, B’Elanna, nor would she want you to be. You need to be you.”

“Maybe I don’t know who that is,” B’Elanna mumbled, and looked away from Ro.

The security officer seemed surprised, and did not speak for a few moments. When she finally did, her voice was very gentle.

“Who do you want to be?”

“I don’t know,” the engineer said in what seemed utter frustration. “I only know it’s not who I’ve been trying to be for the past six years.”

“Then maybe you’re trying too hard.” Ro bowed her head. “I know it isn’t easy. I’m eight years older than that day when I stepped onto the Enterprise with a chip on my shoulder the size of Bajor. Now, I hope that after all I’ve been through, I’m a little wiser. All I can say is that you just have to be able to … let go of things. I’ve had to let go of a lot of things in my life and while it gets tiresome on occasion, it also can be … freeing.”

B’Elanna did not seem to want to listen, her mouth firming stubbornly. “Maybe I don’t know how to let go.”

“Then you’d better learn,” Ro said quietly. “Because at this point, I think you’re only hurting yourself.”

“Jeez, put your Starfleet uniform back on and suddenly you have all the answers.” There was a certain amount of bitterness in the tone.

I did not know Lt. Ro very well, but I could tell that she was hurt by those words. Her face tightened, and she straightened.

“No,” she said with some bitterness of her own. “I don’t have any answers at all.”

She turned and left sickbay. I looked away from the two women, but not before I saw the expression on B’Elanna’s face. She was very upset and I took some time before I went out to visit her so that she could compose herself. When she saw me, however, her face closed up, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at me as if I was in some way upsetting her further.

“I have come to visit you,” I said somewhat uncertainly.

“So I see,” she said without much enthusiasm. “I suppose you heard all that?”

I hesitated. “I did not mean to.” I looked around the room in an effort to find another topic and noticed a bouquet of flowers on the table.

“Who gave you the flowers?”

B’Elanna’s brows drew down, and she looked even more annoyed.

“Paris,” she said shortly. “I guess he thought it would impress me.”

“Did it?”

“No,” she said shortly.

I was aware that Lt. Paris was attempting to ‘woo’ B’Elanna into resuming a relationship with him. Indeed, I had agreed to help him and I thought that this might be a good opportunity to press his case.

“I think it is a very thoughtful gesture. He truly seems to have changed.”

“Look,” she said with a sharp edge to her voice. She was looking at me with yet more anger, and what I thought might actually be dislike. “I don’t want to talk about Paris with you, Seven, not now, not in the future. Is that clear? I don’t want you to mention him to me ever again.”

I was taken aback, not sure what to say next.

“I understand.”

I wondered if she was angry because Lt. Paris had given her flowers, and that was why she had been so unfriendly to Lt. Ro, who was attempting to give her advice. I paused, wondering what topic I should pursue. I had never felt this way with B’Elanna before. Or rather, I had not felt this sort of antagonism between us for some time … not since I had first came on board Voyager.

“Why was Lt. Ro visiting you. Did she have some new insight into what happened on the surface?”

That was also the wrong thing to say. I think I knew it before it was even out of my mouth, but for some reason, I could not stop myself from saying it. I simply did not seem to know how to speak with my friend this day. B’Elanna glowered.

“Look, Seven,” she said coldly. “I’m really tired at the moment. Can you leave?”

I blinked. “Of course. I hope that you will feel better soon.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, as if not believing me. It was almost as if she thought I was trying to hurt her when in fact, that was the last thing I wished. “Just go, all right.”

“Very well.”

Feeling very confused, and somewhat hurt myself, I nodded a polite good-bye and left sickbay. I did not understand why B’Elanna was angry with me, and I wondered if it was because I had eavesdropped. I knew that doing such a thing was considered less than honorable, even though everyone I knew had indulged in it at one point or another. I decided that I must apologize when I saw her again.

If indeed, she wished to see me again.

At that point, I was not sure of anything, and I felt considerably disconcerted as I returned to my quarters. Once inside, I was disappointed to find the lights lowered and Kathryn not around. I hesitated just inside the entrance and looked through the open door toward the bedroom. Jake was curled up on the deck on the rug, and I knew that Kathryn must have already retired for the evening. Our dog only slept in the bedroom when one of us was in the bed. Otherwise, his favorite place to nap was on the couch.

“Jake,” I called softly and he lifted his head, his ears perking up when he saw me.

I gestured to him and he immediately rose from the rug, trotting over to where I had knelt down. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him gently, not understanding why such a thing should make me feel marginally better, but unable to deny that it did. I scratched behind his ears for a few moments, then commanded him to get into his doggy bed. He complied, but I knew it was only temporary. As soon as I was out of the room, he would inevitably go over to the couch to spend the rest of the night on its cushions. It was sufficient that I had removed him from the bedroom. He grew unaccountably playful when Kathryn and I were together, and it had become our habit not to allow him in the room while we were in the bed together. I keyed the door to slide shut behind me, and moved quietly across the bedroom to the ensuite.

I noticed that Kathryn was sleeping peacefully, curled up in the center in the mattress, and looked forward to joining her. It was not something that was commonplace in this time of crisis but for tonight, we would be able to spend some time with each other, even if it meant both of us would be unconscious.

I felt very unhappy as I went into the ensuite, and undressed before activating the shower and stepping beneath the warm water, wishing that it could wash away the dismay I was experiencing. I was of the impression that when someone was unhappy, as B’Elanna had been, that they needed to speak with their friends, but clearly, B’Elanna had not wanted me to be there at all.

It occurred to me that perhaps she no longer wished for us to be friends. Originally, we had participated in a very antagonistic relationship. When I became involved with Kathryn, my relationship with the chief engineer also altered, and we became very good friends. Now I wondered if she wished to return to the interaction we shared in the beginning.

I did not want to do that. While it did not bother me the first time to encounter hostility from B’Elanna, I knew it would be very distressing for me to encounter it now.

I dried myself off with a towel, and moved over to the sink counter where I cleaned my teeth and brushed out my hair until it was dry, before retrieving my padd so that I could complete my log for the day.

Now, I shall go into the bedroom and join my spouse. I do not wish to disturb her, but I do hope she wakes.

I feel decidedly in need of comforting.

[End Log]

Kathryn Janeway: Personal Log

I awoke sometime in the night, returning to consciousness abruptly as I became aware that I was not alone. However, the warm body that joined me was eminently familiar, and I welcomed the arrival of my spouse with a faint murmur of appreciation … as always.

She wrapped her arms around me, and buried her face into the back of my neck, holding me tightly as she tucked her knees up under mine. I reached up and entwined my fingers in hers, pressing our combined hands against my chest so they would be next to my heart.

“What’s wrong?” I asked softly. I cannot really pride myself on my past empathy to my partner’s moods, but I am trying very hard to get better, and I do believe I am succeeding, even if it’s only on a limited level. This night, there was no question in my mind that my partner was upset about something.

She sighed sadly and snuggled closer. “I do not think B’Elanna wants to be my friend anymore.”

I was startled. “What makes you say that?”

Seven hesitated which was very unlike her and I knew it had to do with something imprecise. Sure enough, she replied in a voice which was barely audible, “I sensed it.”

“When?” I coaxed gently. “Why do you think this?”

She explained to me the discussion she had overheard in sickbay, as well as her own conversation with my engineer. While I was surprised by some of what she told me, I thought I had a glimmer of what might have been going on there.

“Annika,” I said, reaching back to gently stroke her hip. “I don’t think this is about you at all.”

“No?” she said in a doubtful voice.

“No,” I said firmly. “It just sounds to me that B’Elanna and Ro are … well, working out some sort of relationship, and you just got caught in the middle.”

Seven was quiet for a moment. “In the middle?”

I shifted, rolling over so I could look into her face. Her eyes were very dark in the dim illumination coming from the running light that glowed softly on the window ledge above the bed. I didn’t have to see any more of her face to know she was very unhappy, and I put my arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“Darling,” I offered quietly, “it sounds to me that B’Elanna was upset that she hurt Lt. Ro, and took it out on you a bit. You know that sometimes when people are angry, they sometimes display it towards people that really have nothing to do with it. Even you’ve done that.”

“Yes,” she agreed quietly. She seemed to think about it. “If B’Elanna did not want to hurt Lt. Ro, then why did she?”

That was a harder question. I shook my head. “Maybe Ro was just getting a little too close to the truth for B’Elanna’s liking.”

Seven thought about it for a few more moments. “I do not understand,” she said finally with a resigned sigh.

We shifted again so that I was on my back, and she was resting her head on my shoulder. I stroked her long blonde hair soothingly. “Darling, I do think that you’re going to have to give up on helping Tom ‘woo’ B’Elanna. It’s obvious she’s made her mind up about that, and if you continue to pursue it, all you’ll do is make her angry with you.”

She stiffened slightly, stubbornly, and then seemed to relax as she accepted my point.

“What of your representation of Chakotay?” she asked silkily.

I swallowed my smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of that,” I told her, remembering the brief but to-the-point conversation my first officer and I had shortly after returning from Meuranato. “He knows it’s a lost cause.”

She did not respond further, but I knew she had heard me. We lay there quietly for a few moments, then I happened to glance up and see the time. 2335 hours.

“Hey,” I said, nudging her a little. “It’s still your birthday, darling. Would you like your gift?”

She looked up at me, her eyes brightening perceptively. “Yes.” She sat up, the blanket falling away from her body. “I thought it was in your ready room.”

“I brought it home on the off chance we’d be able to spend some time together,” I told her as I rolled out of bed. I shot a look at her over my shoulder. “I want you to know that I ate three meals today and went to bed immediately after I logged off duty, so I did keep my promise.”

She smiled, and I was delighted to see it chase the lingering shadows from her eyes. Going into the other room, I retrieved the large, rectangular package from the compartment under my work station, as well as a few other items I had prepared earlier, and returned with them to the bedroom. For a moment, I was caught by the sheer loveliness of my partner who was sitting up in the bed, the sheets wrapped around her hips, looking slightly mussed with her hair falling down over her shoulders and back. Sometimes I can scarcely believe that I am so fortunate to have found her. I noticed that Jake had followed me in … unsurprising since I was juggling a large cupcake in addition to the package. He sat down on the floor by the bed, and watched everything avidly.

“What is that?” my love asked, her eyes wide as I deposited the package on the night stand, and turned my attention to the cupcake, proceeding to light the single candle jutting out from the blue frosting.

“I didn’t have time for a cake, darling,” I told her as I presented it to her. “That’s more for the party anyway which I swear to you we shall have once things settle down a bit, but I wanted you to have this in the meantime. It’s your favorite, fudge brownie, and I can go replicate some ice cream if you want.”

She accepted the confection with a delighted smile, looking up at me with such a bright, blue gaze that I thought my heart would leap right out of my chest.

“Thank you, Kathryn,” she said in her very formal way. “This is very special for me.”

I blinked back the tears that were suddenly stinging my eyes, and returned her smile. “I’m glad,” I said, unable to keep my voice from becoming husky from the emotion filling my throat. “I wanted this day to end much better than it began.”

“It is,” she decided. The flame danced as she held up the cake. “I am to blow this out, am I not? Just as Naomi did on her birthday?”

“After you make a wish,” I reminded her, crawling up onto the bed beside her.

She offered me yet another of those glowing smiles, gave the matter serious consideration, and blew out the flame. I wanted to ask what she wished for but reminded myself that it had to remain a secret for it to come true. Then I realized what I had just thought, and decided I was getting entirely too involved with this whole birthday idea. Still, the look of such utter joy on my love’s face was something I never wanted to see go away, and I leaned over to kiss her gently.

“Happy birthday, my darling,” I murmured against her lips.

Her smile grew a bit mischievous. “You did not sing the song for me.”

I laughed. “You don’t want me to sing the song for you. Unlike you, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

She blinked, obviously considering that simile, and smiled again. “No,” she said, apparently having worked it out. “You cannot.” She regarded the cake. “Shall we eat this now?”

“If you’d like,” I said, raising my eyebrow. I watched her closely, and she blushed.

“I would rather open my present.”

“I thought you might.” I grinned as I retrieved the package from the night stand. I had wrapped it in bright paper, with a pattern that was not necessarily appropriate for a woman her age, but I knew that she enjoyed bright things, and decided that propriety would just have to take a second place to the warmth and happiness in my partner’s eyes.

She placed the cupcake on her night stand and accepted the gift, looking it over with badly concealed anticipation. For an instant, I worried that what was inside would not live up to her expectations, but I consoled myself with the thought that Seven would love anything I gave her because she was just that sort of person. Though, of course, what I really wanted, with all my heart, was for my gift to be absolutely the best thing she had ever received in her life.

She carefully detached the paper from its fastening points, unwrapping the present to reveal a plain, unmarked box. She shot me a look before she attempted to open the box, a glance that was a mix of great excitement and pleasure, and I was hard pressed not to laugh when she wiggled slightly, totally unconsciously. Her childlike wonder and enthusiasm for things is a constant joy for me. I pray that she never loses it.

The first thing she removed from the box was a dress, a simple summer thing of blue to match her eyes. I knew that sometimes she wished for things to wear beyond her regular biometric suits and the work outfits she needed, but because of our size difference, she’s unable to wear any of my clothes. Plus, I know that she is hesitant about replicating outfits of her own, particularly something like this which is somewhat impractical … not to mention, inefficient … designed for the sheer joy of wearing it. It would never be anything that she would expend replicator rations on, so I did it for her.

“It is beautiful,” she exclaimed, holding it up.

“So are you,” I said quietly. She shot me another look, one of utter happiness and I felt the echo of it fill me as she pulled out the assorted, delicate undergarments that went with it. I admitted to myself that this was going to be as much my gift as it was hers. I couldn’t wait for the day when I could see her wear it.

She drew out two smaller items, next, and wiggled some more. I did laugh this time, an amused chuckle. “Open them,” I suggested.

She took the first one, putting the smaller one aside for the moment, and found the latch of the rectangular box. Her breath caught as she saw the thin gold necklace with the reddish stone and her eyes met mine, uncomprehending.

“No, it’s not the same one, but I knew you felt so bad about losing the first one on the Borg cube that I wanted to replace it for you. The rock is actually from the same planet, though it’s our counterpart’s Mars and not our own. I asked Johnson if she had any samples with her, and fortunately, she did, along with her own necklace, which allowed me to reproduce it exactly. The jewelry might not have the same history, darling, but it’s offered with the same amount of love.”

She blinked and looked down, blushing as her eyes grew shiny. “Then I accept it with the same amount of love,” she said huskily. Abruptly, she reached over and hugged me tightly. I returned the hug, kissing her tenderly.

“Still one more,” I reminded her quietly.

She squeezed her arms again, then released me to pick up the final part of my gift, a long, thin envelope. She opened it and drew out a slip of paper, reading it out loud.

“This entitles you to one full day of the captain’s time,” she read and looked at me curiously.

“I trust that you will spend it wisely, but I swear to you, Annika, when you finally use that certificate, no one and nothing is going to interrupt us on that day … even if I have to throw away my comm badge to make sure of it.”

She thought about it. “This is a wonderful gift, Kathryn.”

I’m not entirely sure she understood it completely, but I think she would eventually. On that day, I promised myself that we would sit down and plan out in detail everything we needed to as a couple; from where we were going to live in the Federation, to how we were going to raise our children. Seven craved that structure, an organized plan of action to hang onto, especially out here where things were so uncertain. Perhaps, I needed it as well. I hadn’t been very good at making concrete promises for the future. I thought it was time I did.

She placed all her treasures carefully on the night stand, and reached out for me, snuggling against my side.

“Thank you, Kathryn,” she whispered. “This was a wonderful birthday.”

“They’ll only get better from here.” After all, I thought ruefully, they could hardly get worse. I sighed as I thought about what a long and trying day it had been. “Don’t forget, we’ll have a big party for you in a week or so. In fact, I think we’ll all need a party by then.”

“I think so as well,” she said, resting in my arms. She paused, then added in a questioning tone; “Voyager is going to change a great deal.”

I nodded. “Yes. It might even alter our whole purpose. I don’t know that we’ll be able to afford to spend as much time on exploration as we have. Our priorities will no doubt be affected … but that always happens when children become involved.”

“Naomi did not change the ship.”

“No, but she was able to be raised within the confines of Starfleet without interfering with it. Believe me, ten more children will change that considerably. Unlike the Galaxy class vessels that are built with families in mind, and are able to separate in an emergency to protect civilians and offspring, Voyager doesn’t have that option … the whole ship will need to be restructured to provide for the children’s safety and care.”

She thought about this for a while. “How do you feel about it?”

Somewhat surprised, I shrugged. “I don’t really have much choice in the matter.” I smiled as I added, “I’ll adapt.”

“It is not the sort of ship you wish to command, Kahtryn.”

I hesitated. “No,” I admitted as I tightened my hold on her, “but there is a bright side, darling. It will give me lots of practice for when we have our own children, and need to take them with us into space.”

“A logical assessment,” she said and I took it for what it was, a compliment.

She rose up so that she could look into my face, her eyes searching mine for long moments.

“It will be most interesting. The immediate future, I mean.”

“It will,” I agreed.

It will indeed.

Personal Log Addendum

I start this morning with a certain sort of optimism and hope, perhaps because I was able to share my love’s birthday with her last night. Or perhaps it is merely all the sugar from the cupcake we ate before we went to sleep amid the crumbs. All I know is that somehow, this day in space dawns a little brighter than the one before.

I can’t say that the new additions to our family are expected, but they will be welcomed. Perhaps our lives work out exactly as they are supposed to in their own way and time, no matter how hard we try to control them. This is just our time for our family’s expansion to happen. Work will continue for many months on preparing for our new arrrivals, and there is a part of me that looks forward to the challenge inherent in it. I must write Mother and explain all that had happened since my last letter. I think she would find it ironic … and amusing.

In the meantime, I think of Seven and know that she is rapidly becoming my strength here in the Delta Quadrant. She has become so good at reading between the lines, at penetrating this facade of command I sometimes wear, and lending me a shoulder when I need it most. I have no doubt that she shall continue to do so for however long it takes for me to get Voyager home.

And, if I am very fortunate, probably for the rest of my life, as well.

The End

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