This is the 22nd installment of the Just Between Series.

This story was written and posted near the end of July, 1999 after the end of the fifth season of Voyager and the events in Equinox.

Just Between Lessons

G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine, astrometrics officer for the USS Voyager, strode briskly down the corridor that led to engineering. She intended to have lunch with her friend, Lt. B’Elanna Torres, regardless of what obstacle might form to prevent it. It seemed to the young woman that, lately, the chief engineer had not been as available to the young Borg as she had in the past. Of course, they were still attending their ‘Starfleet Academy’ classes together, but where once they had many opportunities to indulge in recreational pursuits, recently it seemed that the Klingon simply did not have time for Seven. Nor was it due to the extra duties currently involving the crew.

Seven was determined that today they would have lunch, no matter what. She entered main engineering, the heart of the starship, feeling the throb of the warp core vibrate subtly through her feet as she walked across the deck. Her eyes scanned the area restlessly, seeking out the stocky form of her friend.

Not far away, Ensign Vorik, the young Vulcan male with the elegantly pointed ears, lifted his head.

“If you are looking for Lt. Torres, she is in Jeffries tube ten,” he offered in his polite, even tones.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully and turned around. She must have just missed B’Elanna.

A turbolift journey later, she discovered her friend, not in the Jeffries tube as she had expected, but outside the juncture, near the armory. Standing next to her, Lt. Ro Laren was talking quietly with the engineer. The tall, willowy Bajoran was supervising the weekly inventory of the compression phaser rifles, and Seven was hesitant as she approached. She had wanted to take the opportunity to apologize to B’Elanna for any misunderstandings they had been experiencing, but she didn’t feel she could while the other woman was present.

“Hello, Seven,” Ro greeted politely.

“Hey, Seven,” B’Elanna noted with less enthusiasm.

Seven thought that was because the Klingon was afraid she was going to press the case for Lt. Paris in an attempt to reunite the ex-lovers. That was the other thing Seven wished to explain to her friend. She had spoken to the fair-haired helmsman, and had been released from her promise to assist him in ‘wooing’ B’Elanna.

She dipped her head at Ro, in recognition of her greeting, and looked directly at B’Elanna.

“I wish to share lunch with you,” she said. “If that is agreeable.”

B’Elanna’s face darkened slightly, though the Borg did not know why.

“Actually, Seven, I just asked Laren to go to lunch with me,” the Klingon said with a bit of discomfort.

Seven blinked. “Ah,” she said, which was a sound she had developed when she wasn’t sure how to respond. It seemed a more acceptable response somehow, than her normal blank stare. She was disappointed that she had been too late, yet a part of her wondered if B’Elanna shared her regret.

Ro looked at both women, a faint smile on her fine-boned features as she raised an eyebrow.

“Why don’t we all go to lunch together?” she suggested evenly.

She glanced at Seven and to the Borg’s surprise, abruptly took her arm, nudging her toward the turbolift. Somewhat charmed, Seven allowed herself to be guided by the Bajoran, not noticing the displeased glower on the face of the Klingon who trudged after them.

The messhall, center of community for the starship, was fairly crowded with the lunch break for the alpha shift in full swing. Seven saw that Harry Kim, and his new bride, Megan Delaney, were off in the corner, sharing a bite before returning to their duties. Lt. Paris was with them and Seven noted that the young helmsman did not even look over as the trio of women entered. She hoped this meant he was finally and truly over the chief engineer.

Seven and her companions stopped by the big food replicators that dominated one wall of the large room, and made their selections. Taking the trays that materialized over to a free table that had just been vacated by four crewmembers from geometrics, the three women took a seat. Seven had chosen a chicken salad, along with a glass of apple juice, while Ro had replicated a Bajoran dish that the Borg did not recognize. Seven was surprised when B’Elanna repeated that selection for herself. The young woman hadn’t even known the Klingon liked Bajoran food, but it was one more clue in the puzzle she was slowly starting to piece together.

The Borg regarded Ro curiously as they sat down. The last few months had thrown the two women together in a variety of situations, mostly away missions, and that had allowed her to get to know the slender Bajoran a bit better. Seven had been astounded to discover that the woman had been hiding her true identity beneath a sullen, withdrawn cover, that the Maquis had actually been a former Starfleet officer. In a cavern on a planet light-years back, the secret was revealed, and now that Janeway had reinstated Ro’s commission, it seemed that the woman was finally able to show herself for the competent, accomplished officer she was capable of being. In fact, Tuvok had promoted Ro to his second in command the previous week, and the Maquis insignia on the Bajoran’s collar had been replaced by the two gold pips of a Starfleet senior lieutenant.

“How are things in astrometrics?” she asked the Borg.

Seven blinked, glanced at B’Elanna who was frowning faintly at her, and raised an eyebrow. “Functional.”

“Good.” Ro glanced at B’Elanna, smiled faintly again, then began to eat.

Bemused, Seven tentatively prodded her salad, acutely aware of the somewhat uncomfortable silence that fell over them. B’Elanna finally piped up with her own question to Seven, regarding her friend with a somewhat suspect attentiveness.

“What’s the status on your end of Operation Newborn?”

Recently, a virus which had spread through the crew had resulted in several unexpected and unplanned pregnancies, with possibly ten new offspring being added to the ship within four more months. Everyone in the crew was working feverishly to prepare the ship, in addition to their regular duties, and it made for long shifts. Seven, along with a portion of the biometrics department, had been assigned to transform cargo bay two into a ‘park’ for the newcomers.

“We are proceeding at a satisfactory rate,” Seven responded evenly. “The equipment has been fully installed, and now it is merely a matter of waiting for the plants to grow. In the meantime, I am assisting in the power grid requirements on deck two.”

“I never would have pegged you as a gardener, Seven,” Ro remarked.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “It is more Ensign Wildman who is directing the project. I am merely structuring and installing the power systems needed for the hydroponics aspect of the area.”

“But you are doing all the technical work, right?” Ro offered. “To make this planned park an actuality?”

The Borg wondered why the two women were directing their inquiries to her when it was becoming increasingly clear that they would rather be speaking to each other. She fixed her gaze on them, making sure she had their complete attention. “Explain.”

Ro blinked. “Excuse me?”

B’Elanna, far more familiar with Seven, looked alarmed.

Seven raised an eyebrow. “You both prefer to be with each other. I am intruding. Yet Lt. Ro, you insisted on bringing me along to this lunch. Why?”

B’Elanna closed her eyes while a slightly sheepish look crossed Ro’s face.

“She is very honest, isn’t she?” the Bajoran noted ruefully to the chief engineer.

“Always,” B’Elanna said gloomily. “Not much gets past her.”

Seven waited patiently through the short pause that followed.

“I like Laren,” B’Elanna finally mumbled. “A lot.”

“You wish her to be your friend now rather than me,” Seven said calmly, though she felt far less than calm inside.

B’Elanna seemed astonished. “No, Seven. Where did you get that idea?”

Ro glanced at her. “Perhaps by the way you’ve been so rude to her lately?” she suggested, arching a thin, dark brow.

B’Elanna frowned, regarding the Bajoran with some confusion, then she looked at Seven.

“Have I been rude to you?” she asked, her features baffled.

Seven hesitated. “It has seemed that you no longer wish to be my friend.”

B’Elanna looked down at the table, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Seven. I didn’t mean to. I just … you were really aggravating me so much with the Paris thing.”

Seven nodded regretfully. “Yes, I see that now. I did not mean to annoy you. I was attempting to help you both.” She paused. “I do not wish you to be lonely, B’Elanna.”

“I can handle my own love life,” B’Elanna stated, obviously aggravated, though whether that was from the actual wish from the Borg about her state of existence, or the fact that Seven had said it in front of someone else.

There was an elegant little snort from the direction of Lt. Ro. B’Elanna ignored it.

“I understand,” Seven said, gratified that they seemed to be making peace. “I have spoken to Lt. Paris, and am no longer representing him in this manner. I am sorry, B’Elanna.”

The Klingon waved it off. “That’s okay.”

Ro looked at them both sardonically. “Now that you have that settled, can we finish our lunch?”

Seven glanced at her. “Is that why you invited me? So that B’Elanna and I could make amends?”

“Partially,” Ro allowed, developing a sudden interest in her meal.

Seven waited but nothing more was forthcoming from the reticent Bajoran, and she found herself exchanging looks with B’Elanna. Together, both of them turned to stare pointedly at Ro until the woman literally began to twitch under their scrutiny.

“What?” she demanded finally, raising her dark eyes to glare at them both.

“You said ‘partially’,” B’Elanna said. “What’s the other part?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “If that were the case, why respond with a less than precise response to my previous question?”

Ro frowned.

“All right, if honesty is the mode of the day.” She turned to B’Elanna. “Frankly, you’ve been pushing me a little hard lately. I thought bringing Seven along would temper you a little, make you back off a bit.”

Seven was intrigued by this statement that she did not entirely understand, but the sudden flush which sent the blood darkening B’Elanna’s cheekbones let her know the Klingon certainly did.

“Do you really think you need a body guard?” Torres asked defensively, her dark eyes centered on Ro. “I thought Bajoran women were supposed to be passionate.”

“We are,” Ro responded with outrage. “But we liked to be romanced a little, not stalked like prey.”

B’Elanna blinked at her in confusion. “Romanced? You mean, with flowers or something?”

“That would be nice,” Ro noted with a certain amount of asperity. “At least that would show you’re interested in more than just my body.”

“Well, you haven’t sent me flowers either. You never ask me out. It’s always me asking you.”

Fascinated, Seven spent the rest of the lunch break learning about how Klingons and Bajorans established their territorial boundaries when it came to romance, gratified that she had somehow managed to get them discussing it. Because it was apparent that they had both been flailing around using the trial and error method prior to her intervention.

Captain Kathryn Janeway stirred as a steady noise penetrated the drowsy warmth of her slumber. She made a tiny noise of mild protest in her throat and stretched, her eyes still closed as she rolled over, her hand automatically reaching out to seek out a lean, lanky body next to her, only to find smooth sheets instead. It took a moment for her sleep-clouded mind to identify where, and what, the noise which had awakened her originated from. It was a song, sung in the clear, sweet, low voice of her partner.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,

Please, don’t take my sunshine away.”

Janeway smiled faintly, and listened as she dozed in the warm sheets, enjoying the obvious contentment of her partner. She couldn’t remember ever hearing Seven sing to herself like that before. Clearly, Seven had advanced enough in her progression to Humanity to do something so idle, so illogical, so uniquely Human as to sing just for the sheer joy of singing.

The third time Seven repeated the song, however, Janeway was less enthused with her partner’s growth as a Human being, and was wondering if the woman knew any other songs. The sixth time Seven swung into the opening stanza of You Are My Sunshine, Janeway was compelled to sit up.

“Annika?” she said, carefully keeping her voice even.

The singing stopped abruptly. “Yes, Kathryn.”

“Could you possibly sing a different song?”

“Yes, Kathryn.” Immediately, Seven began the standard Starfleet funeral dirge, Amazing Grace.

Janeway winced. Though Seven’s version was lovely, she knew exactly where her partner had picked up that one. All the recent memorial services required for deceased crewmembers, had ended with that hymn being sung as the torpedo casing containing the body was slowly loaded into the tube, and fired into the nearest star.

“Annika.”

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven replied, aborting her song.

“Can you sing something else, please?”

Seven paused. “I only know those two songs.”

Janeway blinked. “What about those songs you sang in the holodeck during the Hirogen incident? The one where you were a lounge singer?”

“I have no memory of actually being a lounge singer, Kathryn.” Seven hesitated. “And none of the songs in their entirety. How do you remember them?”

Janeway thought about it for a moment, and finally realized she had viewed ship logs pertaining to that time not long after the Hirogen had been cleared off her ship. It was shortly before she and Seven had become intimately involved, and the captain remembered how, in her quarters late at night, she would often replay the recording where Seven was in the slinky silver dress, warbling old World War II songs. She must have forgotten to tell her spouse about that ackwardly romantic secret.

She blushed. “Uh, from when I checked the logs. In any event, could you learn some different songs? Just for the sake of variety?”

“Very well.”

There was another pause as Janeway heard her partner’s footsteps cross the room, then quiet beeps and clicks sounded as Seven accessed her work console. Janeway stifled a sigh and lay back down, shutting her eyes once more. This was the first off duty rotation she had experienced in some time, and she was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. She snuggled down into the linens, and felt herself start to drift off once more.

She was abruptly jolted awake as Seven began singing at the top of her lungs … as her research undoubtedly suggested she do for this particular tune … the unmistakable lyrics to the Starfleet Academy ditty, What do You do with a Drunken Vulcan? Janeway had no idea what would possess Seven to choose that one, but she knew she didn’t like it.

“Seven!” Janeway shouted to be heard over the words Seven was lustily belting out.

Silence.

“Yes, Kathryn?” Polite, infinitely patient, completely tolerant of her partner’s unfathomable moods upon waking up.

Janeway sighed again, thinking hard.

“Why don’t you find a quieter song?”

Seven suddenly appeared in the doorway, regarding her partner with a puzzled expression. To Janeway’s surprise, the Borg was dressed in a Starfleet issued t-shirt that was a bit too small, and baggy, thigh-length shorts. Her feet were bare, her hair was down, and she looked absolutely adorable. Janeway had assumed that Seven was on duty, and had only stopped by the quarters for a brief time. To see her like this meant that she was not on duty at all, a fact which made Janeway’s heart pound pleasantly.

“Perhaps you could be more specific in your request?” Seven tilted her head as she studied her partner.

Janeway smiled suddenly with what she hoped was obvious, sensual interest. “Darling, there’s a song you sing so well,” she offered, patting the mattress beside her invitingly. “And so loudly.” That was actually a fallacy. Of the two women, Janeway was far more vocal and expressive while experiencing pleasure. The captain offered her best come hither expression, dropping her voice to a husky trill. “I love hearing it so much.”

“Which is?” Seven asked, not budging as she raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

Janeway leaned back on the pillows, allowing the sheet to slip down until her torso was fully exposed. “The one that involves singing my name over and over until you can’t quite verbalize it anymore.”

Seven looked mildly intrigued by this, but the captain realized she was going to have to work a lot harder than that to entice the Borg back to bed during what was essentially the late morning. A quick glance at the chronometer by the captain confirmed that it was already 1135 hours, almost time for lunch, and no doubt Seven was already making preparations. Janeway feigned a look of sadness.

“Of course, if you don’t want to make love to me, what about a kiss good morning at least.” She offered her most pathetic tone.

Seven immediately moved toward her, frowning faintly. “I did not mean to imply that I did not want to make love to you.”

Janeway, for whom getting Seven on the bed was the first step to getting her in the bed, moved over to make room as Seven sat down on the edge of the mattress beside her.

“I was just teasing,” the captain told her honestly, sliding her arms around her partner’s neck. “I was hoping it would get you over here.”

“Ah,” Seven said. She considered it with a certain amount of approval. “It was efficient.”

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. “Now that I have you, I’m not apt to let you go.”

“I am not resisting,” Seven pointed out quite logically as she snugged her arms around Janeway’s reclining form, the couple sinking down onto the sheets with the Borg half lying on top of the captain. Janeway welcomed the young woman’s weight, pulling her down even further, accepting the sweet touch of Seven’s lips against her own gratefully.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured between the lovely, slow, melting kisses.

“I have been on the ship,” Seven responded, nibbling gently at Janeway’s bottom lip. “We see each other often.”

Janeway smiled sadly, the emotion real this time. “I know, but that’s in a professional capacity, and it’s not the same. Between the new ship operation, and your classes, and our double shifts, you’re usually going out the door while I’m coming in. I’m often asleep when you do get in for the night, and when I wake up, you’re already gone. I miss being with you.” A sudden qualm hit her. “You miss that too, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Seven reassured her. “That is why I switched with Ensign Delaney so that I could share this off duty rotation with you.”

The realization made Janeway’s heart melt. “You did?”

“I wanted to spend the day with you.” Seven favored the captain with a tender, loving look. “I have missed you very much as well, Kathryn.”

“I wish I’d known,” Janeway said ruefully. “I wouldn’t have slept in so long.”

Seven shook her head. “You do not have the opportunity to do so, often. Nor did I have any intention of waking you. I am sorry if my singing disturbed you. I did not even realize I was singing, until you spoke.”

“You never disturb me,” Janeway assured her. “Except in the way I love to be disturbed.”

She relaxed as Seven kissed her again, and then again, filling her senses with the young woman’s taste and touch. She was acutely aware of the bedding between them as well as Seven’s clothes, and she ran her hands down her partner’s sides, seeking the hem of the shirt and tugging on it.

“Where did you get this?” she asked as Seven drew back, allowing Janeway to pull the garment over her head.

“This is one of your t-shirts,” Seven told her. “I replicated the shorts for our honeymoon, but I did not think to wear them outside the holodeck and the beach setting until now. It seemed inappropriate.”

“Why inappropriate?” Janeway asked, helping her partner wiggle out of the shorts, the clothes discarded casually on the floor.

“I could not decide finally. That is why I decided to wear them today rather than my biometric outfit. I was just very tired of wearing my suits, particularly since I have been on duty so much lately.”

“Well, I like you in these clothes,” Janeway told her sincerely. “You look very sexy wearing them.”

“‘Sexy’?” Seven quirked a quizzical eyebrow.

“Desirable,” Janeway elaborated.

“I do?” Seven was clearly surprised.

“Of course,” Janeway pointed out as the Borg slipped between the sheets with her, “you look desirable in everything.”

“That is because you are insatiable,” Seven said in a serious tone.

Janeway smiled. “Do you know what that word really means, Seven?” she asked as she was enfolded into the strong, slender arms, her body pressing sweetly against smooth, silken skin. She inhaled deeply, basking in the warmth and scent of her spouse.

“It means you cannot get enough sex,” Seven replied as her hands moved lazily over the captain’s body.

“Yes, but it’s not an accurate term for me, Annika. You’re the one I can’t get enough of, not sex. I lived quite nicely without sex for five years.” She reconsidered and added with a crooked grin, “Well, maybe not ‘nicely’, but I managed.”

“Oh,” Seven said. She blinked and looked at her partner. “Thank you for clarifying that.” She hesitated. “I have wondered on occasion what you did prior to our becoming involved. You did not even have an accessory.”

Janeway laughed out loud. “I tried hard not to think about it very often. When I absolutely couldn’t help myself, let’s just say I took matters into my own hands.”

Seven considered that, enlightenment slowly dawning in her pale eyes. “Indeed?” she said, in a rather odd tone.

Intrigued by the expression, Janeway studied her. “Does that … bother you for some reason?” she asked, a grin quirking the corners of her mouth.

Seven shook her head briefly. “No. It is merely that I did not consider you to be so … self sustaining.”

Janeway smirked. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Seven looked pensive. “I have never … pleasured myself. At least, not without you watching, which takes away from the solitary aspect of it. You mentioned that it is not as pleasurable as when two people are together.”

“It’s not as wonderful as when we’re together,” Janeway corrected. “But it can be … quite pleasant otherwise.”

The captain wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to get into these conversations with her spouse. She had learned over time not to give Seven too much information at once, limiting her response to what the Borg was specifically inquiring about at that particular moment, rather than leading her spouse down confusing paths, but it was still a discomforting experience on occasion. Janeway suspected it would be good training for when the children arrived. Knowing how to answer painfully honest, and potentially embarrassing questions would be a very useful skill to have.

“Have you … pleasured yourself in the past month when we have been unable to be together?”

Janeway shook her head. “No, I’m usually too tired to even think about it when I drop into bed.” Heavens, where was this coming from? She thought about it, and the glimmering of an idea wafted across her mind. “Have you been wanting to masturbate, darling?”

Seven looked vaguely relieved that Janeway had guessed, rather than her having to admit it. “A week ago, when you were working the back shift in the central safe haven, I was home alone, yet was very amorous.”

“Ah,” Janeway said. “But, you didn’t?”

“I did not know how,” Seven said with some embarrassment. “I attempted to utilize the wonder wand as you showed me, but it did not feel the same as when you watched me and as a result, I found the experience … inadequate.”

“Oh dear,” Janeway sighed. When would she learn to explain things right? And why did Seven have to be the one that always paid for her lack of foresight? “Annika, there are other ways to pleasure yourself. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear … and I’m sorry I didn’t show you how to … take care of this when you need to.” She hesitated, then stroked Seven’s cheek tenderly. “Would you like me to teach you now?”

Seven tilted her head, her pale eyes alight as she considered it.

“No,” she replied finally. A smile curved her full lips. “A solitary pursuit is not what interests me at this moment.”

Janeway laughed, a husky, full-bodied laugh. “I’m certainly not going to object,” she said, wrapping her arms tightly around Seven. “But I will teach you soon.”

“That would be acceptable,” Seven allowed as her hands gently stroked her partner, nuzzling the warm line of Janeway’s neck. “For now, however, I just want to be with you.”

There were so many things she wanted to do with Kathryn at the moment, but the sheer variety of possible pleasures stymied her and all she could do was caress and kiss Janeway with slow desire, luxuriating in the joy of being with her spouse, concentrating on this moment of existing with all she was. Kathryn seemed to sense what she was feeling, and her caresses were light and loving as well, almost as if she were familiarizing herself with Seven’s body again rather than attempting to deliberately arouse her … though Seven was certainly being aroused.

“Mmm, Annika,” Janeway offered after several long, glorious moments had passed.

“Yes, Kathryn?” Seven whispered, nibbling at the captain’s ear.

“I’ve been doing a little research myself,” Janeway murmured. “Just for the sake of variety.”

“Indeed?” Seven was intrigued.

Janeway shifted, nudging Seven onto her back, and rolling over on top of her, looking down into her eyes with a gaze of pure sapphire.

“Oh, yes,” the captain said, the white flash of teeth appearing briefly. She captured Seven’s full bottom lip between her own, sucking lightly at it before releasing her to smile once more. “I’m not sure it’ll work, but I want to try it anyway.”

“I am always willing to try new things, Kathryn.”

“That’s one of the things I adore about you, my darling,” Janeway responded before kissing her again. She nibbled her way down the Borg’s chest to her full breasts, tasting the tender flesh with loving intensity.

Seven inhaled deeply, and lolled on the sheets, deliberately relaxing as she allowed her spouse to pleasure her, knowing that Kathryn would get to what she was intending at her own pace. Any attempt to hurry her would trigger the captain’s natural contrariness, and she would become even slower, teasing … Seven did not wish to be teased today. She placed her left hand around the metal bar embedded in the headboard, and used her other to gently stroke Janeway’s hair and face, trailing her fingers over the captain’s temple and down her cheek. Janeway paused briefly to kiss each fingertip before returning her attentions to Seven’s nipples, sending tingles of delight through the young woman. Seven felt her breathing deepen, her heart rate rising accordingly, and when Janeway trailed down over her belly, she flexed her knees, anticipating the touch of Kathryn’s mouth on her most intimate regions.

But Janeway surprised her, drawing away to wrap her arm around Seven’s leg, pulling it against her belly as she hooked her own leg over the Borg’s other thigh. Bemused by the positioning Janeway was arranging them into, Seven opened her eyes and watched as Janeway attempted to fit them together, abruptly jolted by the sensation of her partner’s wetness being pressed against her own.

“Kathryn,” Seven breathed, astounded.

“Does that feel good?” Janeway asked, her voice husky and deep, her eyes lidded as she undulated against Seven.

“More than good,” Seven said, finding it hard to breathe. “It is … wonderful.”

Janeway smiled sensually, her gaze capturing Seven’s, watching intently as the delicate, maddening sensations rippled through them both. Seven stared back, captured by the intensity of that look, smoldering, desiring; making it clear exactly who Kathryn wanted with every fibre of her being.

“You know,” Janeway murmured after a few moments, her voice low and unsteady, “I want to go faster, but I think that would be the wrong thing to do.”

Seven considered it, even though she found it incredibly difficult to think clearly. “Yes, slow is better,” she replied, swallowing against a mouth going dry from her attempts to get more air into her lungs. “Too fast risks losing this contact.”

“We don’t want to do that,” Janeway agreed reverently, hugging Seven’s leg tightly to her stomach in what was obviously an attempt to control her passion, tempering her motion, keeping it steady and erotically slow.

Seven felt dizzy, the heat of Kathryn sliding against her, sending tremors through her body, the Borg shivering as she felt the hard nodule of her partner rub over her own, the woman’s wetness seeming to trickle inside her. The Borg was being opened up by this incredibly intimate touch, her internal muscles squeezing rhythmically as she tried to draw more of Kathryn’s essence inside her, and she moaned audibly as the sensation steadily built within her. The moist, warm pressure against her own made her feel as if every nerve ending was being stimulated, and she moved her hips in perfect counterpoint to Janeway, their connection falling into a smooth, slow rhythm that was beyond delight. Then Janeway abruptly shuddered, almost as if her climax had caught her by surprise, a sound of pure ecstasy issuing from her throat, and she reached out, putting her hand over Seven’s left breast, squeezing even as she clutched Seven’s leg against her belly with her other arm. Seven could feel her partner’s opening flutter against her own, the soft rush of additional moisture that covered her, filled her, and it was enough to trigger her own climax, her hips surging up to Janeway, seeking even more contact until finally their pleasure ebbed, and Kathryn toppled over, collapsing into Seven’s waiting embrace.

They lay pressed together, kissing deeply and sweetly, the gentle aftershocks rippling through each of them at different times. Then Janeway made an abbreviated sound of pleasure and satisfaction, swallowing audibly as she drew her head back to look down at her partner.

“Interesting,” she managed quietly.

Seven lifted a brow. “I believe that I rather enjoy the results of your research. Please continue it in the future.”

Janeway laughed huskily and kissed her again. “I will.”

They snuggled into the warm nest in the center of their bed, drawing up the blankets and sheets that had been tossed askew as they made love, pulling them around each other. Janeway huddled within the circle of Seven’s arms, kissing the young woman’s chin and lips softly, tenderly.

“Did Jennifer mind switching shifts with you, darling?” she asked finally, after basking lazily for long moments in the pleasant afterglow. “I know she hates any kind of change in her routine.”

Seven hesitated, looking thoughtful. “On the contrary, she appeared grateful for the inconvinience. In truth, she has seemed somewhat … unlike herself since her sister transferred out of astrometrics. Also, the marriage of Megan to Harry Kim was apparently displeasing to her. I believe she had romantic designs on the lieutenant herself.”

“You make her sound predatory, Annika,” Janeway noted with amusement.

Seven considered it. “There does seem to be a measure of that in romance. I was at lunch with B’Elanna and Laren yesterday, and they did appear to be defining their territorial boundaries for future romantic interaction.”

“Ro and Torres?” Janeway said with some surprise. “I knew they were attempting to figure out where they stood with each other, but I believed it had to do with the fact that Ro was Starfleet all this time, rather than Maquis. It never occurred to me that they would become romantically involved.”

“I believe that is their intent.” Seven idly ran her fingertips over Janeway’s collarbone, tracing the hard ridge as her eyes followed without really seeing it. “B’Elanna has stated on more than one occasion, that her intent is to take a female lover. Ro expresses a less eager opinion, yet at the same time, she does not seem entirely adverse to the idea.” She paused, face pensive as she thought about it some more. “B’Elanna thinks that she is pursuing Laren, but I believe that is an incorrect assumption on her part.”

Janeway was regarding her with amusement. “Yes?” she coaxed.

Seven focused on her partner’s gaze and blushed faintly, a brief smile touching her lips as well. “Bajoran women are reputed to be very passionate and aggressive, almost as much as Klingon women … I do not think B’Elanna is aware that Laren is only leading her to where she wants her to be. B’Elanna is used to pursuing males, not females. It is a subtle but definite distinction.”

“I know,” Janeway noted dryly. “I had to chase you until you let me catch you.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “I believe you allowed me to make all the aggressive moves until you were ready to be caught. Whether this relationship occurred or not has always resided with your decision.”

Janeway chuckled and shifted, rolling onto her back as she ran her hand over her face. “Maybe you’re right.” She smiled again. “Though it hasn’t always rested with me.”

Seven quirked an eyebrow. “That is correct,” she said with some surprise as she considered it further. “Just after you lost your memories, and you were ‘wooing’ me, the choice of whether to allow you to succeed or not was mine.” She tilted her head. “Interesting.”

Janeway reached over and patted the Borg lovingly on the belly. “Darling, don’t analyze this too much. You’ll tie yourself up in knots.” She stretched energetically, and glanced over at Seven with a grin. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in lunch?”

“Ah,” Seven noted dryly. “Sleep, sex and food. Your day is complete.”

Janeway laughed out loud, and rolled to her feet. “Come on,” she said, reaching back to snag Seven’s hand. “Let’s shower and see what the rest of our off duty rotation brings.”

Seven did not resist, allowing her partner to pull her out of bed. She followed the captain into the ensuite where Janeway activated the shower jets, producing a triple spray of needle fine water that they wallowed under with luxurious enjoyment. They played for a while, then made love again beneath the warm cascade, and finally managed to get themselves clean amid the caresses and soap suds and lather.

Seven retrieved her clothes from the bedroom, recycling them through the replicator before pulling them back on. Janeway followed her lead by finding a pair of colorful shorts, and a brief tank top in a compartment in the closet where the clothes had been stored for months. The last time the couple had worn the casual garments was during their honeymoon on the holodeck, in a simulation of a Caribbean island. The sight of her partner in the breif garments brought back good memories for Seven, and she smiled as she went out to the living area to prepare lunch. Inspired, she made a seafood salad with rolls, and a light sherbet to complete the meal.

Janeway checked her work console to see what was going on in her absence, spoke briefly with Chakotay, and then rushed to set the table as Seven carried over the meal. Their lunch was pleasant, the conversation inconsequential but stimulating, and Seven decided this was one of the better days they had experienced in a while. Sometimes, what was truly important got lost in the adventures and missions they had to deal with in this journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. Seven was determined to appreciate this brief period of ‘no demands’ upon them to its fullest.

After cleaning up, they retrieved some wine, and curled up together on the couch, Seven sitting in one corner as Janeway stretched out on the cushions, leaning against the Borg comfortably. Jake, their Irish Setter, curled up on the floor next to them, napping as they sipped their wine, and listened to the soft sound of the music Janeway had selected.

“You know, darling,” the captain remarked at one point. “I’m really enjoying myself.”

Seven brushed her lips over Janeway’s hair. “I am, as well, Kathryn. We have had little opportunity for such moments lately.”

Janeway leaned her head back on the Borg’s shoulder, smiling faintly. “Being married has taught me a good lesson, love. The value of relaxing makes me a better captain, and allows me to be a better person as well. I used to believe that I had to be on the go all the time, that spare time meant I should be working out, or playing Velocity, or just doing something.”

“We are doing something,” Seven pointed out. “We are drinking wine and listening to music.”

“Still, I never liked what I considered ‘just sitting around’ … at least, not until I met you. You’ve allowed me to understand that taking time to enjoy existence is something to be cherished … that life is sometimes better lived by recognizing the moment, rather than attempting to always fill it.” She paused, chuckling a bit. “Am I making any sense?”

“You are making perfect sense,” Seven assured her, hugging her tenderly. “I too, had a need to fill every moment with some activity, particularly after being severed from the Collective. It took me time to comprehend that taking those opportunities to be still, allows me to listen to myself, allows me to listen to ‘Annika Hansen’. I need to hear that voice, and what it has to tell me.” She considered it. “I believe Tuvok would describe this as meditation, but perhaps all he really means is that we need to take time to connect with ourselves on occasion.”

“I will admit, being with you like this beats any meditation technique I’ve ever tried.” Janeway reached up with her hand and placed it gently against Seven’s cheek. “I love you, my darling.”

Seven turned her head to kiss the warm palm. “You make my life complete, Kathryn.”

Janeway smiled again, closing her eyes, and for the rest of the afternoon, they relaxed in their quarters, shutting out the rest of the universe for just a few hours more.

Janeway ruffled the hair on Jake’s belly as he rolled over on his back, his jaws split in an ecstatic grin of pleasure, tongue lolling pink out of the side of his mouth. Listening to her partner get ready in the bedroom, she mused over how their lives had changed in just the short time since their wedding, and how they would continue to change over the next few months. She looked up as Seven finally came out, dressed in her blue and grey biometric outfit, and her hair tied tightly back, several padds in her hands.

“What time do you think you’ll be back?” Janeway asked curiously.

“Our class usually terminates at 2200 hours.” Seven hesitated before adding, “The students tend to meet afterward in the messhall to discuss what we have learned.” She regarded Janeway with dark eyes. “I will return immediately after class. I do not want us to be apart. In fact, if you wish, I will not go this evening.”

Janeway smiled, and leaned back against the couch, reaching out a hand to beckon her partner to join her, which Seven did, stepping over Jake who had remained on his back, clearly hoping for more attention. The Borg settled next to the captain and looked at her inquiringly.

“I want you to go to class, darling,” Janeway said, pulling her leg up under her as she turned to study her partner intently. “If you want to go to the messhall with your classmates later, then I think you should.”

“I would rather be with you,” Seven insisted, slipping her arm along the back of the couch, her padds resting on her lap as she angled her body toward her spouse. “I love you.”

“I absolutely know that, darling,” Janeway said, resting her hand on Seven’s forearm, “But you should understand that while you don’t have the chance to go to the real Starfleet Academy, or the Daystrom Institute, or any of the other varied institutions of higher learning in the Alpha Quadrant, these evening classes with Tuvok, the Doctor, and Chakotay, can provide you with something similiar. I want you to be able to get as much out of the experience as you can. That’s part of why I was so pleased when you agreed to do this.”

Seven tilted her head. “Explain.”

Janeway squeezed her hand gently, feeling the fine muscle and bone of Seven’s arm beneath her palm. “The Academy is more than just sitting in the classroom learning new things, Annika. It’s an entire social experience, the opportunity to grow in ways that are unique to this situation. Getting together with your fellow students outside of the classroom is part of it as well. It teaches you how to interact with others who might not necessarily hold the same galactic view as you do.”

“I have experienced that since I came on board Voyager,” Seven pointed out, somewhat dryly.

Janeway smiled. “I know, but truthfully, darling, you don’t interact with many people on a regular basis. The senior staff, yes. Naomi, of course, and Neelix a little bit, but I’ve noticed that there is a large area of the ship which you simply have no need to come in contact with in your everyday routine. The Philosophy and Ethics classes have changed that. I was surprised at how many people have started going to them, but pleased to see that most are from the gamma shift and lower deck stations. Getting to know them better can only benefit you.”

Seven’s face was placid, obviously considering this. “I admit, I have been surprised by a great deal of what goes on in these classes, even in the short period of time I have been attending.” She paused and offered Janeway a glance from beneath lowered lashes. “Some of which has made me question certain things.”

Janeway quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure it has,” she said diplomatically, trying not to smile. “That is, after all, what they’re for.”

Seven blinked. “It occurs to me that possibly, Starfleet is not the path for me,” she admitted quietly, after a moment. She added hastily, “I am not saying that it is not, but … there is much to learn. Far more than I anticipated.”

Janeway reached out and touched Seven’s cheek. “That is also what they are for. Annika, I was thrilled and honored that you wished to be in Starfleet, but I also know it’s not an easy career choice. In fact, it’s more than a career, it’s a way of life. You’ve already seen that to a certain extent, just from being with me. That’s why I wanted you to take these classes, so that you’d know exactly what you’re getting into. I don’t want you to join Starfleet simply because you feel it’s a more efficient way for you to function. I want you to do it because it’s the ‘right’ way for you to function. Does that make sense?”

Seven nodded. “It does. It would not, only a month ago, prior to my start of classes, but now I believe I partially understand what you are saying.” She reached up and took Janeway’s hand in her own, entwining her fingers in them. “There is a great deal that remains unknown to me.”

“Welcome to the club,” Janeway offered, with a crooked grin.

Seven’s eyes unfocused a little as she deciphered that, but they quickly sharpened and the captain knew the Borg had either figured it out or decided to let it go for the moment.

“Sometimes I find that the discussions certain of my classmates and I have afterward are more enlightening than what occurs in the actual class,” the young woman ventured slowly.

“I’m not surprised.” Janeway leaned forward and kissed Seven gently. “That’s why you should go to the messhall if you want, after class. I promise you, I won’t mind.”

Seven sighed. “But we have had so little time together lately. I miss being with you.”

A wistful expression crossed Janeway’s face. “I miss being with you, darling. We just have to remember that we’re settling into a new reality, Annika. Not just us, but the entire ship, and the transition period we’re undergoing makes things seem a bit uncertain. We’ll find a routine again. It may take some time but, once we adapt to everything, your classes will become a part of our daily life. I want you to understand that just because they don’t really include me, it doesn’t mean that I resent or don’t like you taking this opportunity. On the contrary, I truly want you to grant the same attention to this that you do everything else. I promise to let you know if I think we’re neglecting each other. You have to promise the same.”

“I will,” Seven said gravely.

“If that happens, we’ll figure out a way to adjust further. I’m glad that we’re able to develop interests and pursuits outside our marriage, Annika. It’s an important way to supplement our lives and make them better.”

Seven nodded. “I believe you are correct.” She paused. “Are you going to develop an interest beyond the ship and our marriage while I am at class?”

Janeway laughed. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

Seven raised an eyebrow, her ocular implant glinting grey in the subdued light. “What do you intend to do this evening while I am gone?”

“Ah,” Janeway said, understanding now. “Jake and I are going for a long stroll around the ship. Then, I’m going to come back here and read a book I’ve been promising myself to start for months now.”

Seven abruptly leaned forward and kissed Janeway, her full lips incredibly soft on the captain’s. “I will come home directly after class, just for tonight. I want for you to be able to fall asleep in my arms.”

Janeway felt warmth suffuse her entire body. “Thank you, love. I’ll wait up for you. I want you know that today was wonderful. Thank you for switching duty shifts with Ensign Delaney.”

“You are welcome,” Seven said, her pale eyes alight with pleasure. Janeway felt the Borg pull her close and they kissed again, lingering over it.

“You’re going to be late for class,” Janeway warned when they finally parted. “Especially if you don’t leave right this minute.”

Seven released the captain reluctantly and uncoiled her lean, lanky form from the couch, gathering up her padds. “Good-bye, Kathryn.”

“Enjoy yourself, darling,” Janeway said, feeling an odd mix of pride and pleasure as she watched Seven leave. Such a wonderful person Annika was, she mused. Far better than a cantankerous old Starfleet captain like her probably deserved.

Then she prodded Jake playfully in the side with her toe. “What about you, boy? What is it Chakotay calls you? ‘Walks-with-Disaster’? Want to go for a walk?”

The dog, who most likely only understood the mouth noise that corresponded to ‘walk’, eagerly leapt to his feet, his fringed tail swaying as he waited anxiously for his mistress to get her lazy butt off the couch.

Janeway laughed at him and rose from the sofa, taking a moment to find his leash though Jake was trained well enough … Seven’s meticulous doing … that for the most part, she didn’t really need it. Still, there were those two B’Rethna loose on the ship. The small creatures resembling a cross between a kitten and a weasel, drove Jake insane when he encountered them, and since the alien lifeforms were continually finding ways out of their respective quarters, the dog encountered them quite often. The escapes drove their owners, B’Elanna and Naomi, to distraction and at any given moment, the cute if annoying little pets could be found literally anywhere in the ship. Janeway could only thank god that the Doctor had managed to neuter both creatures before they bred. Or worse, once more provided the same conditions that created the virus resulting in ten unexpected additions being added to the crew.

As she and Jake left her cabin, the dog trotting properly at her heel, the captain mused over how the ship had changed in the last year. Pets, children … it was turning into a small village, rather than a Starfleet vessel, and not for the first time, Janeway wondered uneasily what kind of shape Voyager would be in when they finally did make it back to the Federation.

On the other hand, Voyager maintained far more discipline and protocol with kids and pets than say, the Equinox had without them. The captain wasn’t quite sure why Captain Ransom had deviated so badly from his Starfleet ideals, even with the ill luck he had encountered in the Delta Quadrant, though at times she thought that, there but for the grace of God, went she. Still, she understood that, as uncertain as she sometimes felt regarding the decisions she had made, she tried to do what was best for all concerned, not just for Voyager. It may have kept her ship from returning home sooner, but on the other hand, when they finally did return, she and her crew could carry their heads with pride, knowing they did their best to live up to the Starfleet ideals.

Jake sniffed avidly at all the corners as they passed through the corridors, and Janeway wondered with a sinking feeling if perhaps the B’Rethna had been ‘marking’ them. Jake had been trained to leave his spoor on the devices which served to remove it efficiently and quickly from the ship’s environment. Seven had designed them, and provided similar devices for the other pets, but it didn’t mean that Naomi and B’Elanna had trained their animals as well as the Borg had hers. Janeway made a note to check with the Doctor. It could become a health concern if they weren’t careful.

The setter’s ears abruptly went up, and with a happy bark, he took off before Janeway quite realized what was happening. Biting off a curse for allowing herself to become lax, she sprinted after him, hoping that the sight of the captain pelting haplessly after her pet would not be considered too undignified by any crewmembers who happened to see her. She finally skidded around a corner to find Jake had Lt. Ro Laren cornered, the Bajoran desperately attempting to keep B’Elanna’s pet from shredding the front of her uniform as the B’Rethna tried to return the dog’s overly friendly greeting.

“Jake, sit,” Janeway shouted firmly. Since it was the same tone which had served to cause green ensigns fresh from the Academy to consider wetting their pants, it was more than sufficient to make the dog immediately drop to his haunches and look at his mistress with an injured expression.

“I’m sorry about that, Lieutenant,” Janeway apologized, clipping the leash to Jake’s collar. “He didn’t jump up on you, did he?”

“No,” Ro said, finally prying the B’Rethna’s claws from her sweater and possibly, Janeway noted, a good part of the woman’s flesh beneath. “I should have known better than to offer to look after this thing while B’Elanna is in class. I’ll be damned if I know how it got out.”

“They seem to be quite good at finding vents and tubes we forget exist,” Janeway said, her hand resting on Jake’s head. She looked at the Bajoran with interest, mindful of what Seven had told her earlier. “I didn’t realize B’Elanna had acquired a new … uh, babysitter. Did it escape her quarters?”

Ro shot a sharp look at her, but Janeway made sure to keep her face pleasantly bland, making it an innocuous comment only, nothing more.

“Lt. Torres dropped the creature by my quarters earlier in the evening.”

Janeway wanted to pry further but for some reason, she sensed that Ro was far sharper than most and would not appreciate it in the slightest. So she attempted a different tack. “I understand you have helm experience, Lt. Ro. Has Lt. Paris contacted you about upgrading your rating?”

“Actually, he did, Captain,” Ro said, holding the blue ball of fur firmly against her so that it would not go down into her tunic. She seemed to be having some difficulty. Janeway herself, could feel Jake wiggling anxiously by her side, literally vibrating against her leg. “Paris and I have the holodeck booked for tomorrow at 1500 hours in order to run the pilot simulations.”

Janeway nodded. “Excellent.” She offered a smile. “I think you belong on the bridge, Laren.”

Ro looked at her, an indeterminate expression on her face. “Someday I may remind you that you said that, Captain.”

Janeway blinked as the tall, slender Bajoran favored her with a final, significant look, and walked away.

Seven dropped her padds on the table and took a seat, glancing over at B’Elanna who was already sitting in her customary spot, beside the Borg.

“Curious,” she offered.

B’Elanna looked askance at her. “What’s curious?”

“I have noticed that you have been early for the last three classes. This is uncharacteristic of you. You are usually the last to arrive.”

B’Elanna crossed her arms over her chest. “See, I try to turn over a new leaf, improve myself and what do I get for my trouble? Criticism.”

Seven blinked. “It was not criticism. It was merely an observation.” She paused. “Are you attempting to ‘turn over a new leaf’?”

B’Elanna didn’t respond right away, and Seven wondered if she perhaps had overstepped her boundaries. It was something she had become very sensitive to lately, particularly with the Klingon. But when the engineer did speak, it was very thoughtful, which was unusual for the normally acerbic young woman.

“I guess I don’t like who I’ve been in the past very much, Seven. I want to be better.”

Seven considered that, a little surprised. The hiss of the door, however, heralded the arrival of others, the classroom filling up, and she could not respond as she wished.

“An attempt to improve is to be admired,” she said instead, in a low voice.

B’Elanna shot her an amused glance. “Thanks.”

Commander Chakotay strolled in behind the rest of the students, and took his place at the desk situated at the front of the room. Obviously he was to be their instructor this night. They were never sure who that would be at any given time, but that was part of the unexpected nature of the course, getting used to different commanding officers, and their different approaches to the subject. Unlike the Doctor and Tuvok, Chakotay seemed to have a flair for teaching, and the class tended to be a great deal livelier and more entertaining when he was in charge. Seven thought that perhaps the commander had missed his calling, and that here in a classroom was where he was meant to be. She wondered if it would be something he would pursue once they returned to the Alpha Quadrant.

He perched on the edge of his desk and regarded the class, waiting until they had settled down. They quickly became quiet, and were now awaiting his opening statement with great anticipation. They were not disappointed.

“Starfleet is an archaic organization and should be abolished,” he stated with authority.

There was a delicious pause as the class examined this jewel, examining it from all sides.

“Agreed,” Ensign Tabor Jur said, characteristically going first.

He was the most outspoken in the class, and anti-Federation in a great many ways. Part of it was because he was from Bajor and had been witness to the Cardassian occupation, but some of it, Seven was sure, had to do with the fact that, when B’Elanna had been infected by an alien lifeform, a hologram based on a Cardassian doctor who had performed horrific experiments on thousands of Bajorans, including, Tabor’s family, had been activated. Tabor had objected strenuously to using medical information derived from inhumane research, and had gone so far as to resign his Voyager commission over it, though Chakotay had refused to accept it. The incident had served to reawaken Tabor’s political views, and he had developed quite strong ones about Voyager, and her captain, in particular. Still, he was attending this course which meant that he was attempting to learn more about what he disagreed with. Seven admired that.

“Starfleet has become bloated, nothing more than a bureaucracy. It’s outlived its usefulness as an organization to promote the ideals it gives voice to, but does not follow.”

“Starfleet is far from that,” Neelix interjected. The Talaxian, ironically, had the best historical knowledge of the Federation, Starfleet and Earth in the class, thanks to extensive studies he had undertaken completely on his own. Seven noticed that this course had seemed to encourage the Delta Quadrant native, the stocky alien no longer so apologetic when presenting his views. “They explore, discover scientific phenomena. They seek out new life, exchange ideas peacefully. They settle disputes and offer a better alternative than war to many.”

“Maybe at one time they did,” Tabor argued, “but now all they do is patrol their territory and fight Cardassians. When was their last really big scientific discovery?”

“The Caretaker’s array,” some wag on the other side of the room noted. “And we blew it up.”

“You know, that’s right,” Will Davis noted, the hulking security officer lounging in his chair easily. He and Tabor had always had a longstanding relationship, harking back, Seven assumed, to their time together in the Maquis. “Starfleet has become less like a scientific organization, and more like a military one. Far more concerned with administering and policing the territory the Federation already has. I mean, we all ended up here because Voyager was essentially conducting a mission that was more a function of law enforcement than any form of scientific or diplomatic intent.”

“But are we talking about Starfleet or the Federation itself, now?” B’Elanna asked, surprising Seven, who glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. B’Elanna tended to remain quiet in these classes or at least, content herself with snide remarks to the Borg about how silly she thought it all was. The Borg guessed this new enthusiasm was part of the engineer’s attempt to change.

“I think that you’re ignoring the fact that Starfleet has always been made up of three factions,” the Klingon continued in a thoughtful tone. “Military, Diplomatic and Scientific. Depending on what is most important to the Federation at any given time, that’s the purpose of Starfleet.”

Chakotay crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his desk. “That’s an interesting point, B’Elanna. Can you elaborate?”

B’Elanna looked a little self-conscious but nodded, turning her chair so that it faced more of the classroom.

“If you go back to the very beginning, to when the Federation was first pushing out its boundaries and expanding its territory, Starfleet captains like Robert April, were explorers, adventurers, dedicated to discovering what lay beyond the next star. The next generation also reflected this scientific aspect … this need to expand and explore. To seek out new life and new civilizations. Christopher Pike and later, James T. Kirk, were captains in this mode. They were actually expected to take their ships out for five year missions, far from Federation influence and communication. Of course, by this time, the Federation had run into the Klingons and the Romulans so Starfleet also had to develop a strong militaristic aspect to handle those conflicts. Diplomacy, what little there was with those captains, was of the ‘cowboy’ variety.”

“You’re right about communications being far more uncertain back then,” Josie Harper remarked in a somewhat dreamy voice, as if she wished to somehow be a part of that era. “Starfleet officers were more autonomous, often making decisions that could affect the entire Federation entirely on their own. They stood up for themselves, and didn’t let anyone push them around.”

“But after Praxis exploded, the Klingons gradually became allies rather than enemies and it changed what Starfleet represented,” Ensign Lisa White interjected.

The young crewmember was not yet showing her pregnancy, but Seven allowed that she was certainly ‘glowing’ in some indefinable way. The Borg wondered if, one day in the future, if everything worked out as planned, that Janeway would also appear like that. Most likely, Seven told herself, the command mask was just so strong, it would hide any sort of ‘glowing’ at all.

“The Federation began establishing relations with the Klingons, and captains like Rachel Garrett commanded the elite ships of Starfleet,” B’Elanna added as Seven realized the engineer had been studying a bit of history. “They were adventurous, yes, but they were more apt to seek a diplomatic solution long before they attempted to resort to phasers, though they could if they had to. Then the Romulans suddenly withdrew behind the neutral zone, not coming out for another eighty years, and the Federation entered an era of peace.”

Neelix’s golden eyes were gleaming. He always became excited when he was learning something new. “Diplomacy has been the most important aspect of Starfleet for the past fifty years. Moderating disputes, developing treaties. Securing all the territory it had acquired during its first big push had made exploration less vital.”

“Ten years ago, captains like Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise and Robert DeSoto of the Hood were more apt to be sent on missions of diplomacy than to discover a new spatial anomaly,” Lt. Ayala agreed. Once Maquis, he had become a vital part of Voyager’s bridge staff, and he discovered he rather liked it. Having no Starfleet experience prior to being thrust in the Delta Quadrant with the rest, he was the one who most wanted to pass this course and gain an honest commission. “Perhaps that’s why the situation with the Cardassians turned out to be such a mess … Starfleet kept trying to deal with it on a diplomatic level rather than take care of them once and for all in a strong show of military force.”

“That’s changed now,” B’Elanna noted. “When Chakotay, Seven and myself were back in the Alpha Quadrant that brief time, the whole Federation was on a war footing. There’s no question, the Military aspect of Starfleet is predominant now.”

“Assuming there still is a Starfleet,” Tabor noted sardonically.

They all stared at him and he held out his hands. “Hey, there’s no guarantee the Alpha Quadrant won that war. For all we know, it could still be going on or worse, it’s been lost and this ‘Dominion’ is in charge, which means, so are the Cardassians. Maybe we’re busting our butts to get back to a home that doesn’t exist anymore.”

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence as they contemplated that disturbing thought.

“In any event,” Chakotay said finally. “That did not answer the question. Should Starfleet be disbanded?”

“But that is what we are discussing,” Seven noted, speaking for the first time. “Before one can decide if something is no longer useful, one has to determine where it fits in the collect–the society. I have come to believe that Starfleet is a vital part of the Federation, and in fact, reflects what that society is, just as Lt. Torres mentioned. It serves the purposes of the Federation. If it was to be removed, what could replace it?”

“That’s a good point,” Harper said. “Starfleet cannot become archaic. It’s too fluid, changing with the needs of the Federation. It isn’t really a separate entity, it merely represents Federation society. Any problem is not with Starfleet, but with the Federation itself, and the policies it makes. Starfleet can only protect and serve those policies.”

“But what does Voyager serve?” Tabor asked. “Half the time, I don’t know what we’re doing; exploring the Delta Quadrant or trying to get home.”

“I thought we were doing both?” Neelix offered.

“You know, we’re a lot like those early ships,” Ayala pointed out. “We’re completely on our own, expanding our boundaries, and having more than our share of incidents requiring ‘cowboy’ diplomacy.”

“Does that make Janeway a female James T. Kirk?” the wag piped up again. Seven finally identified him as Chell, the Bolian from security, and her eyes narrowed.

“No, that means Kirk was a less polished, male Kathryn Janeway,” B’Elanna shot back, causing the class to laugh. Even Chakotay smiled a bit. Seven was not amused but she wasn’t sure why. It did not sound insulting at all, but from what she had read of James Kirk, it was … disturbing in some undefined fashion.

“Now that children are on the way, we’re going to become more insular, more interested in protecting our society,” Harper noted thoughtfully, once the laughter had faded out.

“More diplomatic in our approach? More apt to avoid trouble whenever possible?” Ayala offered, his dark eyebrow raised. He looked pensive. “You could be right, but it also might mean that we’ll respond quicker with deadly force when threatened.”

They continued to discuss it, delving into how utilizing Starfleet protocols had actually been beneficial to their journey in the Delta Quadrant, having the example of the Equinox to compare their own situation with. Tabor’s insistence that they could have made the journey as a Maquis vessel was shot down, though he did make many good points where a Maquis approach might have been more advantageous in certain circumstances.

Seven had much to think about as she resisted her classmates request that she join them in the messhall, and made her way back to her quarters. Did following the Starfleet way make returning to the Alpha Quadrant easier or was it in fact, slowing them down? If that was so, what did that say about the captain … who was also her wife?

Janeway reclined in her bed, her eyes sweeping across the snow white pages, completely submersed in the adventures of the beautiful and courageous young heroine, isolated on the rocky shoals of the coast in a manor with the darkly handsome, deeply mysterious man. The captain hefted the weight of the large book in her hands, unconsciously enjoying its solid presence, the smell of paper and type ink, the connection to it that padds and a viewscreen simply could not convey while reading. Abruptly, from the outer area of the captain’s quarters, the sound of the door cut through the threatening mist rolling in from the sea, and the firm footsteps of what could only be her spouse returning made Janeway hastily shove the book into a drawer of the night stand. She replaced it quickly with a tome of historical discovery that was resting conveniently on the shelf above their bed. She wasn’t entirely sure why she didn’t want to be caught reading what could only be described as a ‘bodice ripper’. Perhaps it was because she didn’t want to admit that a portion of Seven’s great appeal to the captain was her formidable Borg-enhanced strength, and the young woman’s ability to literally ‘sweep’ Janeway off her feet at the slightest provocation.

Janeway looked up as Seven entered the room empty-handed, no doubt having deposited her padds on the workstation in the living area.

“Hello, darling. How was class?”

“Thought provoking,” Seven replied in a very distracted tone as she crossed into the ensuite.

Janeway raised an eyebrow, and waited as Seven performed her ablutions in the bathroom before finally returning to the bedroom, now wearing nothing but a preoccupied look. The mattress dipped as the Borg crawled into bed beside her, and Janeway put aside the unread book, sliding down beneath the sheets beside her partner.

“Tired?” she asked softly, rolling over to face the young woman.

Seven nodded. “A bit.” Rather than explain the reason for her distant manner, however, she reached over and kissed Janeway gently. “Good night, Kathryn.”

“Good night, love,” Janeway responded, snuggling into the embrace as they settled down for the evening. She was surprised, but decided that if Seven wanted to let it be, she would not object. She knew the Borg would tell her in her own time. “Computer, alter lights to night standard.”

The illumination lowered until there was only the starlight, and the glow from the running light lining the windowsill above the bed. Janeway lay quietly, waiting for sleep to arrive, vaguely startled when Seven rolled away from her a few moments later to lie on her back. Then shortly after, she shifted to her side, facing away from the captain. A little later, onto her belly, sighing softly.

Janeway frowned into the dark. This was extremely unusual for her partner. Generally, it was the captain who was the restless sleeper, wandering all over the bed throughout the night whereas Seven tended to pick a spot and stay with it until morning … allowing, of course, for the elbows, knees and head butts Janeway administered in her energetic slumbering. This evening, it was the Borg who was fretful, unable to find a good position to settle in. Finally, as Seven stretched out a third time on her back, Janeway reached over and captured the young woman in her arms, holding her tightly.

“Talk to me, darling,” she murmured against Seven’s temple, kissing it tenderly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Kathryn,” Seven responded, her voice puzzled. “I simply find it difficult to … organize my thoughts in preparation of sleep.”

“Ah, one of those nights,” Janeway said knowingly. She hugged Seven gently. “What can I do? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Seven said, reaching up to put her hand over Janeway’s forearm which was pressed against her chest. She inhaled slowly. “There is nothing really to talk about at the moment in a coherent matter. I am still ‘working it out’, as B’Elanna would say.”

“Do you want to make love?” Janeway offered, moving her arm slightly over Seven’s breasts, chafing the nipples lazily. “Just to help you think?”

“No,” Seven said in a gentler tone, stilling the motion with a brief smile. “That usually makes me stop thinking entirely.”

“Do you want to get up?” Janeway suggested. “Go out? We can go to the holodeck, go for a stroll on the beach.”

Seven considered it. “No.” She shifted so that she was once again facing Janeway, enfolding her in her arms. “How do you sleep? I know that you often must have many things weighing on your mind when you go to bed, for no other reason than because of your role on the ship.”

Janeway smiled. “It’s not always easy. Sometimes I have to use relaxation techniques, exercises that clear the mind.” She ran her fingertips over the Borg’s forehead, smoothing over the lines she felt there. “Of course, since I met you, I sleep a lot better at night.”

Seven’s eyebrow began a slow ascent. “If that is the case, how did you ever manage to remain in the bed before we began sleeping together?”

A husky laugh issued from Janeway. “I never thought about it.” She hugged Seven fondly, and drew the Borg’s head down onto her shoulder so that they were cuddled together. “Darling, just try to imagine a peaceful time in your life,” she offered quietly. “Try thinking of this afternoon for example, of us sitting on the couch, listening to music and sipping wine.” Her voice gentled, became even softer, and her nails began to slip over the Borg’s long, smooth back, scratching it lightly. “Or the stream on Safe Haven where we went fishing, leaning back against the tree, listening to the sound of the birds and the insects, the water flowing by…”

Before long, Seven grew heavy in her arms, sleep drawing her down as she complied with Janeway’s suggestion. Smiling faintly, Janeway closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off as well. She woke some undetermined time later by the sound of Seven singing softly in her ear, something to the effect that if love lasts forever…

“Mmm, Seven?” Janeway mumbled.

“I am sorry Kathryn, but you said you missed waking in my arms. It will soon be time for me to leave.”

“So you decided to wake me up by singing in my ear?” Janeway yawned, rolling over to wrap her arms around her partner.

“Yes,” Seven responded, returning the hug. “Was it acceptable?”

“Quite,” Janeway muttered, burying her face into the warm neck of her spouse. “But I don’t want you to go,” she added wistfully.

Seven hesitated. “I must, Kathryn. I am scheduled to configure the power relays in the daycare area before I report to astrometrics.”

“I hate this,” Kathryn muttered drowsily. “I hate the fact that we all have to drive ourselves into the ground because we’re all alone out here with no support. I hate the fact that these children will be born in space, not knowing Earth or the Federation. I hate that our time together now is being measured in moments between days of not being together.”

“It will only be for a few more months,” Seven noted. “As you have pointed out to me repeatedly.”

Janeway was silent. “I know, darling,” she sighed. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“I should not have awakened you,” the young woman said regretfully.

Janeway tightened her embrace. “I’m glad you did. Now hold me and kiss me so that I can get through my day.”

Seven did so, delivering one of her toe-curling, ear-ringing, breathtaking kisses that certainly did not make Janeway want to let her go. Seven finally had to pry the captain off her so that she could roll out of bed.

“Damn it,” Janeway mumbled, punching her pillow into submission as she curled up in the middle of the bed. “Why can’t I be the sort of captain who can take advantage of my rank and excuse my spouse from duty?”

“Because then you would not be the kind of captain you are,” Seven noted logically as she padded naked into the ensuite. “Or the sort of person I fell in love with.”

Janeway made a rueful face of agreement and reached over, wrapping her arms around Seven’s pillow, which was a poor substitute for her beautiful spouse, but the best she was going to get for the time being. “You’re biased,” she mumbled, burying her face into the soft cushion where the scent of her partner lingered.

“Yes, I am.” Seven’s voice floated in from the bathroom just before the whine of the sonic shower began.

Janeway set her teeth and tried to ignore the hum, knowing that it wouldn’t last long … that in fact, that was why Seven was utilizing it, because it was far faster than the hydro setting. A few moments passed, then the Borg came out of the ensuite, wearing her plum biometric suit. Janeway, however, did not see her. She had already resumed her slumber, having three more hours before she was required to report to the bridge.

When the computer woke the captain a second time, Janeway felt like she had spent the night wrestling with tigers rather than having acquired a good night’s sleep. She groaned and rolled out of bed, feeling a great deal more tired than if she had simply rose the same time as Seven. Next time, she promised herself as she stumbled into the bathroom, activating the shower and stepping under the spray. She finished quickly and retrieved her uniform off the sink counter, feeling a trifle more command-like as she went out into the living area. She was charmed to see several dishes covered with stasis lids sitting on the counter along with a tall, silver thermos. She gratefully perched on the stool and consumed her breakfast, wondering if Seven was taking as good of care of herself as she was of her spouse. Janeway made a mental note to find out, not wanting to discover too late that the Borg was neglecting her own well-being.

The bridge was filled with unfamiliar faces when she stepped out of the turbolift, backup personnel sent to cover the various stations while most of the alpha shift were in other parts of the ship, supervising the various aspects of Operation Newborn. Lt. Ro was at tactical and Janeway nodded briefly at the woman before strolling down to the lower level, meeting Susan Nicoletti who held the conn.

“Captain,” the dark-haired woman said, standing up and relinquishing the command post. “All systems normal. We remain on course for the Alpha Quadrant.”

“I relieve you, Lieutenant,” Janeway said with a formality she didn’t require with Chakotay or Tuvok and sank down into the command chair.

Her shift over, Nicoletti made a beeline for the turbolift, no doubt anxious to grab a bite to eat and catch some shuteye before starting all over again for the beta shift. Janeway took a moment to survey her bridge crew, noting that Nicoletti was not the only one who seemed weary. Ensign White sat in for Paris at the helm while Ensign Mulchaey covered operations. Janeway was acutely aware that both young people looked a trifle pale. It made Janeway feel uncertain in some indefinable way, a purely instinctual unease, and she forced herself to relax, attempting to get a sense of the entity that was Voyager. She flipped around the monitor that sat between her chair and the first officer post, scanning the duty roster and all the tasks the alpha rotation were attempting to carry out this shift. She frowned when she noted that there had been two minor setbacks in the sickbay expansion, small accidents that resulted in no injuries, but had slowed progress in that aspect of the project considerably.

Perhaps it wasn’t just her desire to have more time with Seven, the thought came suddenly. Perhaps a real problem involving the entire ship was developing here. Janeway sent a memo out to Chakotay, requesting him to visit her in the ready room when he had time away from his overseeing of the renovation on deck two. In the meantime, she went over the remaining list of reports regarding the operation, and was truly dismayed at how they had piled up just by her taking the single off duty rotation.

“Lt. Ro,” she said, standing up and retrieving the silver thermos she had brought with her when she arrived. “You have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room.”

Ro appeared startled, but after only a slight hesitation, nodded and keyed in a request for replacement personnel before circling the console to descend to the lower level. Janeway affected not to notice the look, and calmly went to her ready room. After all, the woman was Starfleet, the most senior officer of the crew currently on the bridge. Who else would the captain leave it to? Still, Janeway recognized the fact that Ro had not expected to be trusted with something this responsible so quickly. The captain just believed that the sooner she could discover if Ro was really ready to resume her position as a Starfleet officer, the better it would be for all concerned.

Janeway entered the haven of her office, and found her lucky cup sitting on her desk, the white china turned down just as she had left it two days earlier. She flipped it over and filled it with hot coffee from the thermos, sipping it as she took a seat, lingering over the deep roast flavor. It didn’t matter how long Seven had been providing her with the blend, the memory of four years with only horrid coffee had seared itself into Janeway’s mind with scarring force, and she never failed to take a few seconds to appreciate the smooth, rich aroma and taste. Or send a silent thought of gratitude to her spouse, wherever she happened to be at the moment.

Accessing her console, she set to work, examining the various progress reports of Operation Newborn, determined to at least, make a dent in them before her first officer arrived. Chakotay found a spare moment early in his shift because she had barely finished going over the first department before the chime at her door sounded softly.

“Come,” she invited, taking another sip from her cup, looking up expectantly.

“Captain?” Chakotay asked, dropping into the armchair opposite her which had been provided for that purpose, though it was uncharacteristic of him to do so without a nod of invitation from her. It was almost as if he were too tired to stand for very long. “You wished to see me?”

Janeway studied him closely, noting the lines around his eyes and his mouth, the dullness in the dark gaze. It solidified her belief that something needed to be done.

“I want you to set up a week long schedule of full ship shore leave. I’m going to divert Voyager to the nearest suitable M-class planet and arrange to set down.”

He was astonished. “Captain?”

She pushed over a padd, clicking her nail on the accident report. “This is only going to get worse if we don’t. We both know it, old friend.”

He stared at it, then seemed to slump, rubbing the tattoo which arched over his left eye with the back of his thumb, seeming to sigh with relief. “You’re right. We’ve been driving pretty hard.”

“What will be most affected by a week’s delay?”

“The central safe haven,” he said promptly. “The rest of the projects … sickbay, deck two, the cargo bay transformation … all have a month or two leeway, but the area to keep the children safe in the event of a fatal hull breach is the most extensive renovation. The plan has it being completed a month after the scheduled arrival of the children, as a matter of fact.”

Janeway nodded. “Well then, it’s just going to be two months after the fact,” she said with calm resolve. “Because I plan to have two more leaves between now, and the completion of this operation. I’d rather have downtime planned than have it come up unexpectedly because of an accident.” She hesitated, then added dryly, “Or a mutiny.”

He nodded as a white flash of teeth appeared, and Janeway realized it had been a while since she had seen him smile. It made her realize that perhaps she was just in time with this idea. “I know the crew will appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s a lesson that Seven has taught me,” Janeway admitted as she leaned back in her chair. “Of course, if we had been thinking clearly from the beginning, we could have had this whole operation prepared over the course of years, rather than trying to get it all done in a matter of months. I just didn’t think we’d be lost this long. Not deep down. I honestly believed we would have returned to the Alpha Quadrant long before we ever needed to become a generational ship.”

“I suspect all of us did, Kathryn,” he said gently, quietly.

They looked at each other, perhaps in silent acknowledgment of the reality facing them, that perhaps they would not see the Federation again … but their children might. Janeway straightened.

“Take care of the roster, Chakotay. I’ll be down in astrometrics, trying to find a suitable planet for my stressed crew to take some much needed time off.”

Seven of Nine shaded her eyes as she looked out over the sparkling surface of the ocean, the salt breeze cooling her face. Around her, the rest of the preliminary away team spread out, taking readings.

“It’s high tide, Seven,” Harry Kim noted, coming up beside her. “So we know that, even during a storm, the water won’t get as high as the cliffs, and being on the lee side of the island, the forest should protect the clearing.”

“I concur.” There were of course, some native dangers such as animals and the occasional poisonous plant, but certainly no more than an outing in a wilderness area of any park on Earth would offer. Starfleet officers were trained to look after themselves, and all the necessary information would be transmitted to each personal work padd prior to leave so that people would know what to look out for.

He grinned crookedly at her. “You want to do the honors, or should I?”

“You are in command of the away team,” she reminded him dryly.

He grinned at her again, and touched his command badge. “Voyager, the site is secure. You are clear to land.”

“Understood, away team,” came the crackle of the return communication.

As one, the away team took up a vantage point next to the edge of the cliff, looking up expectantly. Ensign Ashmore, clearly with the best eyes, pointed out the small speck in the sky above them first.

“There!”

For a portion of the away team, this was a totally new experience, the opportunity to observe the silvery bulk of their starship gracefully descending through the planet’s atmosphere, a trail of red streaming out behind it as overheated air molecules screamed over the hull. For the rest, it remained an incredible experience as the sound buffeted them, the roar of atmospheric thrusters creating its own form of wind. Majestically, Voyager slowed and hovered over the large meadow, the sleek starship easing down onto the landing struts that had been lowered from beneath the hull, settling onto the impossibly tiny supports like a creature sinking to its haunches, ready to leap back into the air in an instant as if resentful of this planetbound necessity. Seven did not think she would forget the sight any time soon and she wondered if Kathryn had ever had the opportunity to view her ship descend for a landing, making a mental note to ask her about it later.

She glanced over at Harry and found him smiling broadly. “Lieutenant?”

He shook his head. “Just happy, I guess, Seven. A whole week of shore leave,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “On an uninhabited planet no less. Do you know how lucky we are?”

“It was a fortunate happenstance that this planet was nearby. Otherwise, we would have been forced to spend our leave on Voyager.” She paused. “Somehow, I do not think that would have been as effective.”

He inhaled deeply, his uniform tunic straining over his chest. “Just smell that air, Seven. You can’t get this on a holodeck, no matter how good the program. Sometimes you just need to have real dirt beneath your feet, and blue sky over your head.”

She was not entirely sure of that necessity, but she did allow that being out here on the planet’s surface was different than being in a simulation on the ship. She looked back at Voyager in time to see ramp being lowered from the bottom of the vessel’s hull, indicating that all stations had been secured, and the first wave of shore leave personnel was being released.

“Lt. Kim, if you would like, I will hand in the mission report so that you may remain out here. That way you will be able to start your leave immediately.”

He looked at her, his dark eyes softening. “Thank you, Seven,” he said with sincere gratitude, and handed her his tricorder. “I really appreciate that.” His face lit up even more as he saw Megan, his wife, heading toward them.

Seven shut off her own tricorder and began to stride toward the vessel, the long grass of the meadow swirling around her legs. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of the wildflowers scattered throughout the huge clearing, and her passage disturbed insects, similar to Terran butterflies, that flitted away on multi-hued wings of bright blue, red, orange and yellow.

As she walked up the ramp and into the ship, she was struck by the stuffiness of the atmosphere, and she wondered if somehow the air filtration system was failing. Then she decided it was simply the contrast of the somewhat sterile environment of Voyager compared to the vitality of the planet’s atmosphere. The ship itself was oddly quiet, the engines shut down while other systems were taken offline, not needed while the vessel was planetside. The voices of the crew echoed unnaturally in the corridors and rooms.

After she completed her report, Seven took it to Janeway. She found the captain in her ready room, looking out the large windows that revealed blue sky and sunshine streaming in to brighten an area normally set at a much dimmer illumination. It looked quite different, Seven decided, almost drab in the stark glare rather than with the refined elegance it normally displayed. She tilted her head, regarding the pensive form of her partner curiously.

“This is quite a view the away team provided for us,” Janeway said quietly.

The ship had landed so that the bow was angled toward the ocean. Janeway was looking beyond the worn hull of the teardrop shaped saucer section, down to the emerald expanse of a clearing that broke off abruptly to plunge down to the azure depths of the planet’s ocean.

“As Mr. Kim would say,” Seven offered, “‘we aim to please’.”

Janeway laughed briefly, and shot her spouse a mischievous look as she accepted the padd Seven handed her. She perused it briefly, then lay it down on the coffee table, resuming her observation. “Look at them,” she said, her voice heavy with humor. “They’re like children let go from school for summer vacation.”

In the clearing, amongst the small village of habitats being set up for the science teams, and those who just preferred to spend some time outside on the planet’s surface, a pick up game of some form had developed, the tiny figures of the crew racing about the clearing, chasing someone who appeared to be carrying a brightly colored ball. Seven hoped they did not run too close to the edge of the cliff. It would be unfortunate if someone fell over the side, though the white, limestone cliffs only dropped about two stories. Still, that was high enough to cause a fatality if one landed incorrectly.

“It has been an intense few months for them,” Seven allowed.

“For you too, don’t forget,” Janeway said dryly. “The alpha shift is required to take the entire week off. That includes my astrometrics officer.”

Seven considered that. “And you?”

A muscle twitched in Janeway’s cheek. “I’m going to remain available for the volunteer skeleton crew, but I’m not taking on any further duties. So, yes, I’m on leave as of 1600 hours as well.”

Seven felt a smile curve her lips, and she moved a bit closer though she didn’t touch the captain … not yet.

“Do you have any tasks to complete at the moment?” she asked innocently.

Janeway shook her head. “I finished up the last of the reports this morning.” She appeared unaware of her partner’s stealthy approach. “Now, I’m just making sure that the leave transition goes smoothly before my shift ends.”

Seven smiled and took a final step so that she was immediately behind Janeway, putting her hands lightly on the captain’s shoulders.

“Do you remember,” she offered softly, putting her lips right next to Janeway’s ear, “when we were stranded on that planet and we made love in the meadow? The sun was shining down on us, very much like this.”

A small chuckle rippled the captain. “I do, but I doubt very much we’ll be able to recreate it here. This is a small island, and for the next week, a hundred and thirty people are going to be wandering all over it. There’s absolutely no guarantee of the same sort of privacy we had on that planet. We can’t afford anything less.”

“Unfortunate.” Seven noted that Janeway’s auburn hair was swept up in a bun that left the back of her neck available to be touched. Seven accepted the invitation, brushing her mouth lightly over the tender skin.

Janeway caught her breath, but did not pull away.

“Seven,” she said warningly.

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven responded, her lips tracing the hairline, then down the ridge of spine.

Janeway swallowed hard. “This is my ready room, Seven.”

Seven moved closer and very gently, kissed the exquisitely sensitive spot just behind her partner’s ear.

“I am aware of that,” she murmured quietly. She put her hands on the woman’s waist, and nibbled her way down the side of Kathryn’s throat, amused as the captain tilted her head, affording her more access even as she continued to protest.

“I am still on duty until 1600 hours,” Janeway reminded her in a somewhat less than completely firm voice. “Technically, so are you even though I made it clear I wasn’t going to hold anyone past the time it took to finish up any tasks.”

“This is a task I must finish,” Seven noted reasonably.

“No, it is not a task you must … don’t do that, Seven.” Janeway captured Seven’s wrist as her mesh-covered hand strayed up to the captain’s breasts. Immediately, the Borg’s free hand headed in the other direction and Janeway was forced to capture that one as well. “This is entirely inappropriate … Seven, don’t … I can’t condone … Annika, stop … what was I saying?”

“I believe you said ‘don’t stop’,” Seven whispered in the delicate, shell-like ear.

“I think you’re editing for content,” Janeway accused her.

Seven smiled and bit gently at her partner’s earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop, Kathryn?”

“No.” Janeway groaned with convincing dismay. “But you have to.”

Realizing she had gone as far as she could with this particular tactic, Seven allowed Janeway to guide the Borg’s arms around her waist and keep them there.

“I believe that making love in your ready room would offer us a certain amount of ‘variety’,” Seven offered, not giving up as she tried it from a different angle. She felt the cheek against hers tense, and she knew that the captain was smiling.

“I’m sure it would,” Janeway allowed dryly. “But it’s not going to happen on my watch.”

“Have you wondered what it would be like, Kathryn?” Seven persisted softly. “Making love in here, perhaps on your desk?”

“Seven, I’m not sure I want you to continue with this.”

“I would lift you onto the desk, kissing you deeply,” Seven forged on, undaunted by her partner’s objection, her voice a sweet melody. It was like singing, the Borg thought, constructing words to flow together in a pattern designed to evoke feelings in her audience … in this case, arousal in her spouse. “I would slowly remove your tunic as well as your sweater, so that I could access your breasts.”

“I’d still have my bra on,” Janeway responded logically. Then paused. “What am I saying?”

“In this fantasy, you would not have worn undergarments, knowing that I would be by at one point during your shift. You are always as prepared as possible, Kathryn. It is your nature.”

“Oh,” Janeway said faintly, the first real chinks finally beginning to appear in her armor. “Is that how this works?”

“You would have been thinking of nothing else until my arrival,” Seven said in a provocative purr. “So that when I finally kiss each one of your nipples, surrounding them with my lips, running my tongue around them, they would already be incredible hard and aching. Your breasts are so beautiful to me, Kathryn, so soft yet so firm at the same time. I love how they feel against my lips, how they taste under my tongue.”

She heard Janeway swallow audibly, gulping almost. “Annika, I’m not sure why you decided to do this, but I think you should stop now.”

Seven, who had discovered the idea from the romantic guides she had been perusing lately, did not agree, particularly when she felt Janeway press back against her, pressing her buttocks against Seven’s groin unconsciously.

“I would put my face between your breasts, so that I could feel surrounded by your warmth,” Seven continued, kissing the ear so conveniently close to her lips, flicking the lobe briefly with her tongue. “I reach down to remove your trousers and boots until finally, you would be reclining on the desk, completely naked before me.”

She could hear Janeway’s respiration increase, and the protests seemed to have died away for the moment.

“I would take some time to look at you, my eyes assessing every millimeter of your body before I would kiss you.” Seven pitched her voice to the same level she did when they were alone in bed together, low, lyrical, infinitely desirous. “As I did, I would be able to smell you, your scent, the fragrance you offer when you are aroused. I would breathe it in deeply, Kathryn. You smell so very good, so very ready and I would draw back, putting my hands on your knees to spread your legs apart so that you are fully revealed to me. I can see how much fluid you have produced, how you glisten in the light.”

“Oh god,” Janeway uttered, and the pink tip of her tongue appeared, moistening her lips.

The detached part of Seven’s analytical mind noted that her partner gave every indication of being fully aroused, just from the sound of the young woman’s voice, and what she was saying. Amazed by the power mere words were having, Seven decided that what she had read in her research about providing sexual stimulation by simply presenting a verbal recitation was accurate after all, despite her initial skepticism. Perhaps there was a lesson of sorts to be learned here.

“I would sit down in your chair and lean forward, kissing the smooth skin along the inside of your thigh until I reached the region where you are so very wet,” Seven told Janeway huskily. “I would lick you so very, very gently, running my tongue all over your most intimate places. I would taste you, consume you, drinking your essence eagerly. Have I ever told you how good you taste, Kathryn? So powerful, yet so delicate at the same time. Your flavor fills a need in me that no mere nutrition could ever manage to accomplish.”

Janeway made a sound then, halfway between a groan and a cry. The next thing Seven knew, Janeway had grabbed a fistful of the front of the Borg’s biometric suit, and was hauling the young woman unceremoniously into the small bathroom set off from the ready room. Containing only a sink and a waste disposal unit, the dimensions of the room were small indeed, hardly constructed with the idea of two people occupying it at the same time, particularly when one was six feet tall, and both were intent on utilizing it for something other than for what it was originally designed. Seven’s attempt to stimulate the captain had obviously succeeded beyond her wildest expectation, and it occurred to the young woman around the same time her elbow cracked against the wall and her hip impacted solidly with the sink counter, that before she had aroused her partner to a fever pitch, she should have designed a plan of action with which to cool her off.

Janeway was kissing her hard as she clawed frantically at the back of Seven’s neck, releasing the fastening of her biometric suit. At the same time, Seven tugged at the captain’s uniform, somehow opening the tunic and hiking sweater up far enough to reveal Janeway’s bra clad breasts which the Borg promptly covered with her hands, squeezing with loving intensity. As the captain’s mouth did its best to devour hers, Seven barked her knee smartly against the waste disposal unit as she somehow wrestled Janeway’s trousers down over her hips, lifting the smaller woman up onto the sink counter. She pinned Kathryn against the mirror, reaching down to place her hand against the area where the captain so clearly wanted her to go, profoundly astonished at the copious amount of moisture that allowed her fingers to slip inside with remarkable ease. As Seven fondled her, Janeway’s head thudded rhythmically against the mirror, somehow not cracking it … her head or the glass … before climaxing hard with a long, drawn-out sob of ecstasy.

Things continued to move far faster than Seven was accustomed to, and when Janeway suddenly grabbed at her with desperate intent, the Borg stumbled backward, tripping over the biometric suit tangled around her feet. Together, they fell onto the waste disposal unit that flushed loudly, apparently triggered by the force of a very solid Borg, and the smaller, but compact captain, landing on the seat with a audible thud. Janeway’s fingers were immediately at the juncture between Seven’s legs, caressing her intimately, her mouth covering the Borg’s, and Seven was astounded when she climaxed almost immediately, just from the feel of Kathryn’s half clad body on top of her, and the powerful, almost rough caresses from the captain’s hands.

“Oh, darling,” Janeway gasped when it was all over and she was slumped in Seven’s arms, breathing harshly, her fingers still buried in her spouse.

Seven just blinked, feeling as if she had been run over by a land speeder even as the quite wonderful aftershocks echoed through her. She wondered if this would happen every time she recited a fantasy to the captain, and was determined to make sure she was in a more spacious area next time.

At that moment, from out in the ready room, they both heard the distinct sound of the door chime.

“Oh damn,” Janeway squeaked, hastily disengaging from her partner as she tried to tug up her trousers with one hand while she yanked down on her sweater with the other. “I knew this would happen.”

Her mind going curiously blank, Janeway wondered frantically who would be summoning her, especially since everyone but the bare bones of a skeleton crew were supposed to be on shore leave. A stunned Seven watched in astonishment as Janeway swiftly got herself semi-arrayed in a matter of seconds before turning to glare sternly at her spouse.

“You stay in here and don’t make a sound,” Janeway ordered in an aggrieved hiss.

Grabbing her tunic, Janeway stumbled out into the ready room, closing the red and black jacket over her wrinkled sweater as she dashed down to her desk. “Come,” she said breathlessly as she leaped into the chair and grabbed a padd, trying to look like she was completely involved in her work.

Chakotay entered, looking around as if expecting someone else to be there, and then hesitated as he saw her, though she didn’t know why. Finally, he moved closer, an odd expression on his face. “Uh, here’s the output readings for the power relays,” he said, laying the padd gently on the desk.

“Thank you, Commander,” Janeway said coolly.

He paused as if to say something further, offered yet another odd expression, then turned around and hastily left the room. Janeway breathed a sigh of relief and slumped in her chair. “You can come out now, Seven.”

A very bemused young Borg came out from the bathroom, completely redressed in her biometric outfit, every hair back in place, looking as if absolutely nothing had happened.

“Kathryn?”

“I can’t believe this,” Janeway said sternly. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Seven. This was completely inappropriate.”

“I was merely discussing a fantasy,” Seven noted accurately, and somewhat unfairly, Janeway thought. “You were the one who escalated it into an encounter in the bathroom.” She glanced down at the padd. “Ah, the output reading for the power relays. Chakotay promised me he would see that I got them.”

Janeway stared at her. “You?”

Seven picked up the padd. “He knew I was in here. He saw me come in, after all.” She quirked an eyebrow at Janeway. “Kathryn, your hair is …. displaced.”

Taken aback, Janeway blinked. “Displaced?”

Seven made a motion with her hand in the general direction of the captain’s head. Frowning, Janeway retrieved the mirror from a compartment beneath her desk and looked at her reflection. Her eyes immediately closed and she groaned, her head falling forward onto her hands which covered her face.

“Oh my god.”

Her auburn hair was completely awry, several strands falling about her face while others stuck straight up from various places on her head, undoubtedly filled with static from where she had been rubbing against the mirror in the bathroom. She had the dreamy, soft expression of the freshly ‘satisfied’, despite her best effort to conceal it, and there was a large, blotchy mark on her neck just about where her jawline faded into her throat, directly above the sweater collar with its four golden pips.

“I do not understand, Kathryn,” Seven said guilelessly. “If you did not wish to have Commander Chakotay see you in this state of disarray, why did you not simply instruct the computer to tell him you were temporarily indisposed until we had … composed ourselves adequately? I am sure he would have waited, no doubt assuming that you were performing some form of biological function.”

“Oh my god,” Janeway repeated.

“Kathryn, are you all right?” Seven tilted her head curiously.

“I can’t believe it,” Janeway muttered. “I panicked. I heard the chime and I just … panicked. Like some green ensign caught by a superior officer playing with a lover in the utility closet. Like I was doing something wrong! Dammit, I’m the captain here.”

“Kathryn?” Seven repeated, puzzlement clouding her pale blue gaze.

“Annika, I have no intention of discussing this right now,” Janeway managed finally, sitting upright and opening her eyes, trying to gather some shred of dignity. “Believe it or not, I’m still on duty.”

Seven frowned, moving closer. “Are you angry with me, Kathryn?”

Janeway softened her expression when she saw the obvious disturbance in her spouse’s eyes, and she tried to get a grip on herself.

“No darling, not at all,” she said ruefully. “I’m a little disgusted with myself, but it’s nothing I won’t get over.”

At Seven’s continued unease, Janeway stood up and walked around the desk, reaching out to wrap her arms around the young woman, hugging her tightly.

“Darling, no matter what else,” she told her, looking up into the narrow features with great sincerity. “Your fantasy was wonderful, and I have to admit, making love in the bathroom was absolutely thrilling. Possibly it was the danger of getting caught that made it that way, but we can’t do this again. Obviously, I can’t handle such an encounter in any kind of mature manner at all.”

Seven looked vastly disappointed. “I am sorry about that I really did wish to make love to you on your desk right now.”

Janeway felt herself being pressed back against that piece of furniture, the Borg’s body so warm and full in her arms, the sudden wash of desire tingling along all her nerve endings. For one insane, purely lustful second, she actually considered allowing Seven to fulfill her wish, to lift her onto that desk and ravish her until she screamed. It was one of Janeway’s most titillating fantasies, and it took considerable effort to push her spouse away.

“Oh, my god,” she groaned. “You have to leave, darling. You’re driving me absolutely crazy here.”

Seven frowned faintly. “Is that good?”

“You can tell me,” Janeway told her, and her voice descended into a husky growl, her eyes burning. “After my shift ends and I meet you back in our quarters. If you survive what happens after that, then yes, it’s a good thing.”

Seven looked insufferably smug suddenly, and her hands dropped to the captain’s bottom, squeezing provocatively.

“Out,” Janeway demanded faintly.

Seven kissed her hotly, catching the next protest in her throat.

“Now,” Janeway said, breaking away with difficulty. “You have to go, Seven.”

Seven hesitated, and then released her slowly as if realizing that the captain was indeed serious. “If you insist.”

Janeway wavered internally but tried not to show it. “Go.”

Seven kissed her again, just for good measure and left. Janeway returned to her chair, sitting down weakly as she wondered what the hell was going on with her and her spouse.

It has to be the stress we’ve all been under the past few months, she told herself.

Going nonstop for ten to fourteen days at a stretch, sixteen or eighteen hours a day, was enough to make anyone a little reckless and crazy, even a starship captain. Though she and Seven had found moments to make love and be together briefly, such as their shared off duty rotation the day before, it was a mere taste, encounters that only wetted the appetite, and made her aware of exactly what they were missing rather than completely fulfilling the need.

So much to do and so little time to do it in, Janeway thought with dismay, putting her face in her hands, acutely conscious of Seven’s scent lingering on her hands, tickling her nostrils. It wasn’t just the physical need, she decided, it was the intimacy, the personal closeness they were missing. A few hours here or there were simply not adequate. She wanted and needed to be with Seven more now after months of marriage than she had when they first became a couple. And how hard was it on Seven? My god, the woman had asked to be taught how to masturbate because a personal release was all she could count on in this time of uncertainty.

Perhaps it was also the fact that Voyager, as a whole, was starting to ‘nest’, to prepare itself for additions. Even in perfectly controlled conditions, it seemed that one couple making a baby always inspired others to want to do the same. Could she and Seven also be feeling that instinct stir within them? They had agreed not to have children until they returned to the Alpha Quadrant, but was that being fair to themselves? No one really knew for sure when they would get back. Was Janeway really prepared to wait twenty years, even if it were still physically possible by that time to become pregnant?

Janeway rubbed her forehead fretfully and got up, returning to the bathroom where she fixed her hair and washed her face and hands. She noticed that the towels had all been knocked askew, and somehow, a dent had appeared in the wall. That last was definitely Seven’s doing, she noted and wondered how she could get ship’s maintenance to repair it without speculating on its origin.

Maybe it was all just getting to her, Janeway thought with a sudden weariness, leaning against the sink counter as she rested her forehead against the cool comfort of the mirror. Six years on the same ship, lost, alone, without any kind of support in this unfamiliar space. Maybe she was just flat out sick and tired of this vessel, of being captain, of all the responsibility. Maybe the wild moments when she was able to shed it completely, as she had in this very bathroom moments earlier, only served to make her more aware of how trapped she was.

A week, she reminded herself firmly. A whole week for herself and her crew to refresh and renew themselves. It occurred to her that before being married, she might not have allowed this break at all, that her obsessive nature would have driven herself and her people without consideration, without accepting the need for an interruption to rest. Perhaps Janeway only had to pay attention to the lessons being with Seven was teaching her, and somehow, she would make it through. In the meantime, there was a beautiful woman waiting for her in their quarters, and the captain needed to concentrate on that rather than regretting what she couldn’t have.

She left the bathroom and picked up the thermos on the coffee table, shaking it to discover that there was nothing left within it. Sighing, she glanced at the time, realized that she only had a couple of hours to go and decided to get a jump on this month’s personnel reports. If that didn’t kill her out-of-control ardor, nothing would.

Relieved when 1600 hours rolled around, she shut down her board. Chakotay was lounging in the first officer’s chair, the only crewmember currently left on the bridge to monitor the ship’s status while on the ground. When his relief showed up in another hour or so, he would also be on leave, as per her orders. Sun streamed through the transparency in the ceiling and pooled in a circle of light on the deck, the edge just beyond the commander’s feet. Janeway hesitated as she saw him, and then realized she could not let this lie. Taking a deep breath, she went over and sat beside him, finding that she was having a certain amount of difficulty looking him in the eye.

“I suppose,” she said finally, “you find this remarkably unprofessional.”

There was a low chuckle beside her, and she dared to glance at him. He shook his head ruefully. “Do you know why I take every opportunity I can to tease you?”

Janeway set her jaw. “I presume it’s because it amuses you.”

“No, it’s because it gives me a chance to reach another side of you. I know you don’t really like being teased, but you take it and frankly, it gives me and the crew a chance to see that you’re Human. That’s something that, for a long time, you seemed to want to forget … until you met Seven and she shoved it in your face enough that you had no choice but to accept it again. I guess I failed you in this. I should have been able to help you ‘be Human’ from the start, Kathryn.”

Janeway was astonished. “It’s not your fault,” she ventured slowly. “I’ve always believed that to be captain, to be a Starfleet officer, meant I had to be … more than ‘just Human’.”

“But it was my job to teach you differently.” There was a touch of sadness in his tone. “Maybe it’s an occupational hazard because sometimes I forget myself.” He looked at her. “I’m glad you and Seven found each other. I’m glad that she can make you Human enough that you can occasionally throw protocol out the airlock, and be wild with her in the ready room bathroom.”

Janeway blushed. “How did you know?” she asked, even as her little voice inside rolled its figurative eyes and wondered how he could possibly not know, considering what she had looked like when he had been in the ready room.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Kathryn, there’s no other place to hide a six foot Borg, and the windows just won’t open.” He snickered. “Though I can picture you actually trying, in that moment of panic. The bathroom was the only logical place.” He looked at her with a vaguely puzzled expression. “Why did you feel the need to hide her? It isn’t unusual for Seven to be in your ready room.”

Janeway looked pained. “It would if she’s not exactly … dressed anymore.”

He started to laugh, and despite herself, she did as well.

“Kathryn, you don’t need to play the prim and proper captain with me all the time,” he told her after they had trailed away to a few chuckles. “You’re a passionate woman. I’ve always known that, and it certainly doesn’t lower my opinion of you that you would indulge that passion for Seven on occasion. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine being married to her, and not indulging that passion every chance I could, regardless of where I was and what I was doing.”

Janeway sighed and leaned her head back in her chair, regarding the ceiling. “Still, there are areas where certain protocols must be upheld,” she said ruefully. “A captain’s ready room is one of them.”

“Is that why you took it into the bathroom? Because technically, it’s not your ready room? In any event, I don’t think that the ship is going to fall apart just because you drop a protocol or two, every so often. Honestly, Kathryn, we’re pretty much all adults here.”

“For the next four months, anyway,” Janeway noted dryly.

“Yeah, there is that.” He paused before following that thought further, his dark features becoming serious. “It’s going to be a big change.”

Her blue eyes darkened. “I know. Not exactly what I had in mind when I accepted the pips … captain of a ship with families. It’s not as if I ever wanted a Galaxy-class vessel.”

He nudged her shoulder with his elbow. “Sometimes, that’s how life works, and every day we learn a new lesson about ourselves.”

She nodded in silent agreement before glancing at him. “I need to get … home,” she said, hesitating over the word. “Seven is probably has dinner waiting for me.”

He smiled somewhat wistfully. “Then you’d better not disappoint her.” She stood up and he added, “Kathryn?”

She paused, regarding him quizzically.

His smile widened. “You look really good … when you drop the occasional protocol, that is.”

His chuckles followed her off the bridge, and she tried to control the blush that raced up her neck and made her face glow pink. Months. He was absolutely going to be living off this one for months.

She stopped in surprise as she walked into the captain’s quarters, astounded by how different things looked. She had grown accustomed to the way the ready room appeared in natural light, but to see her cabin … her home … illuminated by sunshine and blue sky through the windows rather than the eternal darkness of space startled her profoundly. She looked over at Seven who was behind the counter of her kitchenette, preparing something that already smelled absolutely wonderful.

The Borg quirked a knowing eyebrow at her spouse. “Are you still amorous? Or merely hungry.”

Janeway blushed again, and thought that she really needed to get that medically repaired. Ask the Doctor to figure out whichever gland it was that made one blush, and have it surgically removed. It was quite inconvenient for a starship captain.

“Both,” she admitted. “But food first. For energy.”

“Of course,” Seven said.

And smiled.

Seven woke, acutely aware she was being observed and she tensed, opening her eyes to glance down at the foot of the bed. Janeway was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at her with an expression of dreamy concentration. It was hardly the first time Seven had awoken to such scrutiny by her spouse. Indeed, there had even been a few times before they had established themselves as a romantic couple, that she had caught Janeway watching her as she regenerated.

“Kathryn?”

Janeway blinked, then smiled. “Sorry, darling, I was thinking about something.” Her face cleared as she came over and slid into the bed beside her spouse.

“Are you having difficulty sleeping?” Seven asked, curious at her partner’s nocturnal excursion.

Janeway leaned over and kissed her. “I just needed a drink of water,” she replied reassuringly. “I also read a little bit to try to settle my thoughts.”

She leaned back against her pillows as Seven shifted so that her head was resting lightly on the captain’s shoulder, her arm wrapped warmly over Janeway’s stomach. Seven noted that the illumination in the room was coming from the running light over her head, and realized that it must still be dark outside the ship. A glance at the chronometer let her know it was only 0330 hours, and the sun had yet to rise on this, their third day of their shore leave. Seven yawned and settled pleasantly against the warm body of her partner. Yesterday had been spent gloriously catching up on all the lovemaking they had missed the past couple of months … or at least, attempting to. There were parts of her that were still somewhat tender, and she thought that Kathryn must be equally as sore, having noted the somewhat ginger way the captain had walked across the deck to the bed.

She smiled faintly and hugged Janeway. “Do you want to tell me what you were thinking about?”

Janeway made a soft sound, rueful in the night. “Oh, just everything, Annika. Being lost, having children, where we go from here.”

Seven rubbed her cheek lightly against the smooth skin of the captain’s chest. “That is a great deal to consider at this particular time of the morning.”

A gentle chuckle rumbled through her. “For some reason, the darkest hour before dawn is when thoughts like this seem to crowd most deeply in one’s head.”

“Indeed.” Seven rubbed Janeway’s stomach idly with her palm, her fingers spreading wide over the warm swell of her spouse’s abdomen. “Sometimes,” she added uncertainly, “I wish you were not captain.”

Janeway did not answer immediately, and Seven wondered regretfully if perhaps her words had hurt the other woman. Then Janeway kissed her forehead gently. “Sometimes,” she admitted in a low voice, “I wish that, too.” Then she inhaled deeply. “At the same time, I can’t imagine being anything else.”

Seven sighed her agreement. “It is something that is very much a part of you, just as I am Borg. Sometimes I resent that I am, sometimes I regret the circumstances that made me such, and sometimes I dislike what it means to be Borg, but I always know that it is part of what makes me who I am.”

“Hmm, you’re quite insightful, considering how early in the morning it is,” Janeway teased gently.

“I have had much to think on lately, as well.” Seven listened to the steady throb of her spouse’s heart in her ear. “Kathryn, did you always want to be in Starfleet?”

“Yes,” Janeway said without hesitation. Her fingers meandered over Seven’s arm, lightly tracing the starburst implant embedded in the young woman’s bicep. “From the time I was very young.”

“You never questioned it?”

Janeway considered it. “I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully. “You have to remember, Annika, my father was an admiral and my family’s lives were immersed in Starfleet.”

“Phoebe did not join Starfleet.”

“No, she didn’t.” There was a pause. “Maybe,” she began, hesitated, tried again. “Maybe she didn’t have the need to … connect with Dad the way I did. Starfleet holds many attractions for me, Annika: the opportunity for scientific achievement, the possibility for exploration, for contacting and studying different civilizations. I also like the discipline and organization to it, the sense of belonging to something greater than one’s self, the knowledge that I am contributing to the Federation, that my existence means something. But I won’t lie to you, or even myself anymore. I was driven to be the best because I wanted to please my father. I wanted to do something for which he could be very proud. “

“I am sure he was always proud of you, Kathryn. You are remarkable.”

“He was proud of me,” Janeway explained quietly, hugging the young woman to her. “But he didn’t always let me know, just as I don’t always let you know how remarkable you are, darling. Sometimes, we don’t always say what we need, assuming that the other person just knows, but often that isn’t the case. Frequently, our silence is taken to mean the exact opposite, which is sad. It takes so little effort to tell someone we love them, that we are proud of them, that they have done well … and it means so much.”

She nuzzled Seven, kissing her temple. “It’s been a hard lesson to learn, darling. Know that, even when I seem to be disagreeing with what you do, I’m always so very proud of you. Sometimes, when I think of all you’ve been through, of what happened to you at such a young age and how you overcame it to become this loving, warm and quite wonderful person … it just awes me, Annika. You’re my hero.”

Seven blushed, pleasure spreading through her. “Your opinion means a great deal to me, Kathryn.”

“I know, darling,” Janeway murmured. “I just hope…” She trailed off, and Seven raised her head slightly.

“Yes, Kathryn?”

“I just hope it doesn’t mean so much to you that you would do something just because you think I would want you to,” the captain finished finally.

Seven took a few seconds to work that out. “You mean, attempting to join Starfleet?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

Seven nodded. “In truth, that is why I first agreed to do this. But now I know this holds a greater potential for me than that. Voyager is my society, Kathryn, and I am most comfortable when I am a fully functioning member of my society, just as I was with the Collective.” She took a slow breath. “Voyager is a Starfleet vessel.”

Janeway took a moment to think about it. “Seven, Starfleet isn’t necessarily reflective of the Federation. It has its own set of protocols that civilian society doesn’t have. You might find every day life quite different when we return to the Alpha Quadrant. Do you understand that?”

“But Starfleet, at any given time, reflects what the Federation needs and wants as a whole,” Seven argued gently. “For Voyager, that was five years ago. The protocols on this ship cannot reflect what the Federation is now, or will be in the future. It may have certain, constant similarities, but overall, the society on this vessel has become distinct in its development. I learned that in class recently.”

Janeway was silent for a moment. Finally, she let her breath out with a small sound. “Your classes have been instructional. Even I haven’t let myself think about that one. The possibility that the Federation may have left us behind, I mean.”

“Commander Chakotay is an interesting teacher,” Seven said, oddly pleased that she had confounded her partner. “He allows us to explore many speculative aspects about the Federation and Voyager. Tuvok, in contrast, teaches us about what actually goes on, and uses logic to explain the ideals we profess to aspire to. He shows why it is advantageous to pursue one ideal rather than another, and does so in a comprehensive manner. As for the Doctor, he is the most like us. He is learning as he teaches and together, we discover many new and unexpected things about the history of the Federation, and of the ship itself.”

“I’m astounded,” Janeway said finally, after taking all of this in. “One of my greatest concerns was that you wouldn’t be exposed to things beyond Starfleet, and that your boundaries for self-discovery were too defined. I guess the people who volunteered to teach these classes are more than capable of offering all aspects of an educational exporation.”

“Perhaps you should take the class,” Seven offered in a teasing voice.

“Perhaps I should. I had thought to teach a few, but now I see, I’m way out of my depth.” Janeway entwined her fingers with Seven’s hand. “I’ll be interested to see where this leads you.”

“It will be interesting to see where it leads us,” Seven corrected. “I know that what affects you, also affects me, Kathryn. I believe that the reverse must also be true.”

Janeway made a face, one of rueful agreement. “You’re absolutely right. I need to remember to take that into account, too.” She brushed her lips over Seven’s hairline. “You may have no use for an old Starfleet captain by the time you’re done.”

“That will never happen,” Seven said with infinite certainty. She lifted her head so that she could look directly into her partner’s eyes, rising up a little on her elbow. “You are hardly ‘old’, Kathryn, but you are why I want to learn more, and that is not a bad thing, though sometimes, I think you feel that it is. We are all influenced by the people we love and who love us. You became a member of Starfleet because of your family, but I do not think they made you a great captain. I may want to learn all I can about the Federation and Starfleet because of you, but that does not mean I cannot make up my own mind about what I learn. You taught me what it is to be an individual, but it is I who must live as that individual. I want to be someone you are proud of, Kathryn, but I also want to be someone I can be proud of.”

Janeway regarded her in the dim light, her steady blue-grey eyes filled with emotion. “You are, Annika. You always have been, and you always will be.”

“Even if I decide that Starfleet is not the path I wish to follow?”

“Even then,” Janeway said. “I’ll always be proud of you, my darling. No matter what.”

Seven nodded, satisfied. “You must also follow your path, Kathryn, even when I do not agree.”

Janeway grinned crookedly. “Have you ever known me not to?” she asked in a wry tone. “I think you’re quite aware that I tend to forge my own way.”

Seven smiled faintly. “True.” She felt very close to her partner at this moment, almost as if they shared one mind … which was ironic because she suspected that deep down, she and Kathryn were fundamentally different types of people. That sudden thought struck her as odd, and she pursued it briefly, but it was like quicksilver, fleeing her grasp before she could pin it down.

“Annika?”

“Yes, Kathryn?”

Janeway smiled. “You went away from me for a second.”

Seven reached down and kissed her spouse gently, lingering over the tender mouth. “Never for long,” she promised. She kissed the captain again, deepening it, letting her tongue slip out to touch Janeway’s wine shaded lips, then parted them, teasing lightly with hinted desire.

Janeway accepted the kiss readily, but groaned immediately, chuckling ruefully. “We can’t, darling. I’m sore in places I didn’t even know existed.”

Seven’s smile widened. “I am aware of that. Yesterday was … very focused on our being together. In fact, it began the day before in your ready room, and never really stopped except for food and a little sleep.”

“But it was fun.” Janeway wrapped her arms around Seven’s neck, looking up at her fondly. “I’ve finally found someone who can keep up with me. How wonderful is that?”

“Very wonderful, but I must point out that it requires Borg enhancement on occasion.”

Janeway waggled her eyebrows. “Especially that bit on the kitchen counter,” she reminded her impishly.

Seven quirked her own eyebrow. “It is fortunate it ended quickly. We might have disturbed the neighbors otherwise.”

“Even I’m not vocal enough to defeat sound-proofing, darling,” Janeway smirked. “Besides, Jake didn’t mean to bark so loud. He’s just not used to being locked in the bathroom.”

Seven bent her head, nuzzling it into her partner’s hair, rubbing her cheek against the captain’s. “You must learn to be more discrete,” she whispered into Janeway’s ear. “It is my intended goal to make love to you in every room on this vessel.”

Janeway started to laugh. “Oh god, I thought I was ambitious. What about the other people living in their quarters?”

Seven raised her head. “I should have clarified. Every functional room, which includes the bridge, and the conference room. I consider the program we ran to represent only the holodeck in this. Nor does the bathroom in the ready room, count as the ready room itself. It is my intention that the desk shall be utilized some day.”

Janeway regarded her closely, obviously attempting to gauge her sincerity. Seven kept her expression as one of absolute determination, carefully hiding her smile.

“Oh, god,” Janeway said again, and covered her face with her hand. Then to Seven’s surprise, added. “Fine, but we’re going to have to have some ground rules.”

“Indeed?” Seven had been attempting a joke. That Kathryn would take her seriously … and furthermore, apparently be willing to go along with such a proposition … Seven was astounded indeed. Not to mention, wildly intrigued.

“We cannot do anything that would disrupt the function of this vessel in any way,” Janeway told her.

“Understood.”

“And the risk of being caught has to be both reasonable and manageable,” Janeway insisted. “I refuse to appear as less than professional to my crew, so I don’t want any more attempts at luring me away from my duties.”

Seven nodded. “Off duty rotation only.”

Janeway hesitated, dropped her hand and looked at her partner. “There are some places that will simply be impossible,” she warned. “No matter how much we try.”

Seven smiled fully.

“Impossible is a word that Humans use far too often.”

Janeway stood under the shelter of the spreading tree, huddling in her thin shirt and shorts as water descended from the heavens. Though it remained pleasantly warm, the captain was disgruntled that the one time she had decided to take a long walk outside, it had promptly started to rain. No, actually, rain was far too kind and gentle a word for it. This was teeming down in sheets, pouring down in absolute buckets, cascading like a waterfall to drench the landscape. She glowered as she felt her hair plaster itself to her scalp, a thin stream running down the back of her neck and trickling down her spine. At this point, she must be doing a fairly good impression of a drowned rat and the worst part about it was that it was clearly a temporary shower, with blue sky not too far distant, sunshine actually sparkling off the rain to create a glorious rainbow arching over the forest.

Janeway’s companions, in contrast, were far more appreciative of this natural display, splashing happily through the puddles forming on the ground in obvious belief that the rain was simply not soaking them enough. Yet, Janeway could not find it in herself to condemn the situation entirely. Seven’s slate blue t-shirt clung to her torso, delineating every bit of flesh beneath, nor would the captain ever object to that bright, happy expression on the young woman’s face. Jake’s long, red hair, on the other hand, would take absolutely forever to dry out, and Janeway had no intention of letting him back in their quarters until he had.

“Join us,” Seven urged, gesturing to Janeway, indicating she wanted the captain to come out from under the tree to face the full fury of the shower.

“I think not,” Janeway demurred darkly, sticking to her meager shelter.

“It is fun, Kathryn,” Seven insisted. She came over, and before Janeway knew what she was going to do, or could otherwise raise an objection, the Borg had picked her up over her shoulder and carried her over to the nearest large puddle, dropping her inelegantly into the deepest part.

Captain Kathryn Janeway sat in the middle of a spreading pool of water, her arms crossed over her chest, her legs spread out at odd angles, glaring absolute daggers at her spouse. Seven looked back, completely unrepentant, her eyes bright, her face alight with a laughter she could not, or did not know how to, express. Jake sat on his haunches, also regarding the captain with his tongue lolling, jaws parted wide in a doggy grin. Finally, the sheer absurdity of her position struck Janeway, and she started to laugh. Deeply, fully, from the very pit of her stomach, absolutely howling at the sight she must be presenting.

Waiting until the bout of mirth had mostly subsided, Seven plopped down beside Janeway in the puddle, and splashed her whereupon, the captain splashed her back and before she knew it, they were wrestling around happily in the water and the mud. The Borg took great care not to overpower the smaller woman until finally, their wrestling turned to an embrace and there, completely oblivious to anyone passing by … though in one coherent moment, Janeway did consider the fact that probably no one else would be silly enough to be out in the rain … they made love joyfully. For once, Jake did not try to interrupt. He merely wandered over to the shelter of the tree that Janeway had vacated, and collapsed, resting as his mistresses indulged in their favorite form of play under the clearing skies and pouring rain.

Afterward, hand in hand, Janeway and Seven walked back to the ship, not speaking, merely sharing the secret smile that lovers do. Jake bounded energetically around them, dashing here and there, absolutely thrilled to be loose in an entire world filled with unfamiliar sounds and smells. By the time the trio had made it back to Voyager, the shower had finally ended and the sun was out fully, steam rising from shimmering pools as their clothes dried stiffly upon them. When they ascended the ramp and entered the lower deck, Jake abruptly divested himself of his excess moisture by shaking furiously, re-soaking his people, as well as the unfortunate member of the skeleton crew who was monitoring the traffic in and out of the ship.

Janeway decided that it would take weeks before all the mud that was currently being tracked into the carpet in these lower deck corridors could be removed. Then she decided that she had other things to worry about as she noticed that Seven’s shirt was still semi-translucent. She frowned and commandeered the Starfleet tunic from the crewman who was not so discreetly ogling the Borg. The young officer, now clad only in his undershirt, carefully kept his eyes forward as he informed the captain that most of the crew had the sense to come in out of the rain long before now … though he didn’t express it in quite those terms … and were only now straggling down to go outside once more.

It did not occur to Janeway that her own attire was somewhat less than authoritative until she returned to their quarters where the odd looks she had been receiving from the various crewmembers they passed in the corridors suddenly became clear. The reflection staring back at her from the ensuite mirror was not the slightest bit flattering in any way, shape or form.

“Honestly, Annika, I’m completely losing all my credibility with this leave,” she complained to Seven after she had changed and dried her hair. “How can anyone respect a captain who drags in looking as if she was wrestling an alligator in the mud?”

Seven flicked an eyebrow at her as she worked on the dinner she had started, already having changed in a dry pair of shorts and a new t-shirt while Janeway had been in the ensuite. Her hair was still damp, but hung loose around her narrow features, and Janeway thought she looked exquisite. But then, she always did, the captain mused as she perched on the stool on the other side of the kitchenette counter.

“You looked much better today than when you returned from the Barellan prison,” the Borg pointed out logically and smiled faintly. “Besides, you were not wrestling ‘an alligator’, you were wrestling with me. Many of them are envious of you.”

Janeway blushed. “I didn’t realize you were aware of that.” She accepted the glass of white wine Seven offered her. “That others wish they were the ones involved with you, I mean.”

“I understand that certain members of the crew are attracted to me,” Seven said, slicing up vegetables and chicken protein for a quick stirfry. “Of course, it is only in a superficial, physical way. No one else has ever taken the time to know me that well, and certainly no one else can love me as you do.”

“Except for B’Elanna,” Janeway said, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them. She kicked herself mentally as Seven glanced at her quizzically.

“B’Elanna is not attracted to me,” the Borg corrected in a puzzled tone. “I was the one attracted briefly to her breasts. Do you not remember?”

Janeway smiled. “Of course, I do,” she said mildly. “That’s what I meant.”

If Seven didn’t know about the engineer’s attraction to her, then it was all to the better. In fact, it would be best if Janeway just forgot about it herself and how she found out. After all, it wasn’t as if B’Elanna would ever attempt anything as long as Janeway and Seven were together, and it was beneficial in that it gave Janeway fair warning that she’d better treat her wife well. The constant knowledge that there were plenty of others who would be more than glad to take over the job if she wasn’t up to it, kept her on her figurative romantic toes.

“Kathryn, please try this,” Seven requested, offering the captain a slice of vegetable that Janeway did not recognize. It was a pale yellow, almost resembling a potato but not quite, its flesh solid and of a crispy consistency. Obviously a root vegetable of some kind.

Carefully, the captain nipped it from her partner’s fingers, chewing it slowly. As she did, she felt a contented warmth settle within her. It had been so long since they had been able to be quietly domestic like this, and it was like returning to a much loved place.

“It’s good,” she mumbled around the slivers in her mouth. “Nutty, like almonds.”

Seven looked satisfied by the comment. “I think so, too. Biometrics discovered it on this planet. It is perfectly safe for Human consumption, but that does not always mean it will be acceptable in taste.”

“Well, I like it.”

Seven nodded. “I will add it to the stirfry. I understand that it maintains its flavor while cooked, but it will be interesting to discover if it is altered by the other flavors, or if it instead, alters the taste of the other ingredients.”

Janeway tilted her head as she studied Seven quietly. Her partner looked as if she was conducting an experiment of the utmost importance, a chemical combining of elements to create a new and previously undiscovered compound. At the same time, the Borg’s face had a quiet glow of enjoyment, the joy of creation filling her eyes. It made Janeway feel privileged to be able, not only to witness it, but to somehow share in it, and she waited until Seven had finished slicing the rest of the vegetables before leaning over and kissing her.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Seven’s pale eyes glowed warmly. “I love you, my Kathryn.”

Janeway smiled and watched as Seven scooped the vegetables up and added them to the chicken sizzling in her wok. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” the captain began.

“Should we be worried?” Seven interjected, and then immediately appeared startled at what had just issued from her lips. “I am sorry, Kathryn. It is my standard response to B’Elanna when she begins a sentence with that phrase. I did not mean to use it with regards to you.”

Janeway waved it off, amusement lightening her eyes to more blue than grey. She was well aware that the relationship her wife shared with the chief engineer was considerably more … ‘aggressively playful’ than what they had.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started again, paused and eyed Seven expectantly. The Borg’s lips twitched, knowing she was being teased, but she didn’t say anything. “We should hold your birthday party this week.”

Seven looked immediately intrigued. “Yes?”

Janeway nodded. “In fact, I’d like to combine it with a sort of … ‘welcome to the ship’ for our expected additions.”

“A baby shower,” Seven noted accurately … and somewhat surprisingly.

Janeway sipped her wine. “Would you mind combining them?”

Seven considered it and shook her head. “I believe that it is an efficient way to hold both celebrations. In fact, we could also combine it with the ‘blowout’ that is customary at the end of shore leave.”

Janeway paused, her wineglass halfway to her lips. She knew what a ‘blowout’ was, of course; the last night of full ship-leave celebration, usually including certain drunken adventures that would be told for weeks afterward in various Jeffries tubes and messhall booths. It was something that had been celebrated on every starship since Starfleet launched its first, and always hosted by the captain, even when one was not the party type. But i had been so long since Janeway had participated in one that it simply hadn’t occurred to her that of course, she would be expected to host one now. No doubt, her crew was already discussing it, which was possibly how the Borg had heard about it.

“Did you have anything in mind? For the type of party you want it to be?”

Seven stirred the food frying in her wok, looking a trifle pensive. “Do you know what a ‘barbeque’ is, Kathryn?”

Janeway blinked. “Yes, I do.” My, Seven was just full of surprises this day, wasn’t she? “They were a common form of social interaction in the agricultural park where I grew up. In fact, I can’t think of a weekend in the summer months when we didn’t attend one at someone’s house.”

For a second, those lazy, humid Indiana evenings came back to her, with the scent of smoke and the murmur of good friends gathered around a picnic table, the flavor of a juicy, marinated steak filling her taste buds. For the children, there were games and races as well, which a young Kathryn frequently won. The very rare times that Admiral Edward Janeway had been home to attend the events with his family, were memories that Kathryn numbered as her most fond.

“That is how I wish to celebrate my birthday,” Seven said, satisfied that her spouse knew what she was talking about. “With a barbeque on the beach. I think it would be an appropriate type of celebration to complete our leave.”

“There might be insects or bad weather,” Janeway warned.

“Acceptable parameters,” Seven responded easily. “I understand they add to the experience.”

Janeway raised her glass. “Then darling, a barbeque is what you shall have. I’ll talk to Chakotay and Neelix about what preparations need to be made. It’s a good idea to combine them all. That way, it can be savored fully rather than splitting our attention between two or more parties.”

Janeway made a mental note to ask for volunteers to do the actual cooking of the replicated raw meat, though she suspected that they wouldn’t have much trouble finding any. For some reason, unfathomable to her, there were a great many people, particularly male, who loved to slap animal flesh, simulated or not, on a grill and cook it, even though they would not be caught dead preparing any kind of other meal from scratch. She supposed it hearkened back to Humanity’s primitive roots, and the hunter/gatherer instincts. Her mind began to tick over the requirements that would be on the equipment and food replicators for such a party, and happily realized that this was actually the most cost effective way to hold a celebration for this many people all at once. She wondered if that was why Seven had chosen it.

“Kathryn,” Seven said, interrupting the captain’s train of thought.

“Yes, darling?”

“Set the table.”

“Yes, darling.”

As she hastened to obey, she was amused that only in here, could she be ordered to perform manual tasks, and in such a presumptuous tone. But then, the captain decided, that’s what spouses were for. To keep one solidly connected to what was most important, as well as keeping one’s priorities absolutely straight.

The sun was setting low over the water as Voyager’s crew gathered on the beach, the smell of barbequing food and that unique odor of burning coals wafting over the crowd as they partook of the grilled steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, and pieces of chicken. Picnic tables, constructed from odds and ends found in engineering, groaned under the bowls of various salads, platters of corn, mounds of fruit and notably, a gigantic cake, all of which were surrounded by the shimmer of stasis field to keep out insects … though not the crew who disabled the fields easily to serve themselves before reactivating the protective barriers.

Many crewmembers played in the surf, swimming and splashing in the clear, salt water while others lay on the white sand, soaking in the last rays of honest sun they would see for what would probably be some time. This last night of full ship-leave promised to go out in proper style, and the mood was very festive and happy, the leave having accomplished exactly what it had been intended to do. The crew was fully ready to tackle whatever the morrow might bring, completely replenished by this time granted them by their benevolent, and much loved captain.

Tonight, they would party long and they would party hard because they knew unquestionably that it would be a while before they would be able to do it again, and it was all the more sweet for just that reason.

Seven of Nine found a large hunk of drift wood and sat down, a plate of grilled chicken breast and salad on her lap, a bottle containing reddish, carbonated liquid resting in the sand by her feet. She was dressed in blue shorts, sandals, and a grey t-shirt with the Starfleet Academy logo embroidered on the breast, while a wide-brimmed hat shaded her eyes from the sun. Occasionally, someone passing by would wish her a boisterous ‘Happy Birthday’ to which she would reply in a politely grateful manner, observing with amusement as they inevitably staggered off. The brown bottles, determined to be as necessary for such an event as the charcoal fuel, were in great profusion amidst the crowd, filled with something called ‘beer’, and retrieved from large, ice-filled containers that seemed never to empty entirely.

Seven had chosen a soft drink known as ‘cream soda’ instead, not liking the yeasty flavor of the ale the one time she had tried it. She remembered well the last time she attended a birthday party, how she had mixed wine with various, large samples of junk food. She spent the rest of the evening throwing up most of it, much to her dismay and her partner’s bemusement. Seven had decided afterward that there could be absolutely no question as to the extent of Janeway’s love and devotion to her spouse. That night, the captain of Voyager alternately held Seven’s head as she vomited, comforted her when she wasn’t, and the few times the Borg was unable to quite make it to the waste disposal unit, Janeway cleaned up the resulting mess without complaint.

Seven had no intention of putting herself or her partner through that ever again.

The Borg could see the distinct form of her captain much further down the beach, as Janeway and others set about discovering if a brightly colored plastic disc could be fired fast enough and far enough so that it could somehow escape the speed and accuracy of the couple’s Irish Setter. So far, Jake had retrieved every throw in record time, even those which had ended up in the water, bringing it back promptly so that these biped beings would try again. Seven, meanwhile, was content to sit on the log, eat her meal and watch the rest play, feeling quietly happy in a way that seemed to start from some bright spot deep inside and radiate ever outward.

She raised an eyebrow as B’Elanna Torres came over, and sat down beside her.

“Hey, ‘Nik,” she greeted.

“B’Elanna.” It had been awhile since the engineer had used the diminutive of her name. She wondered why … and what had changed so that B’Elanna was utilizing it once again.

“This was a great idea of the captain,” the engineer mused, taking a long swallow from her beer. “You can tell her I told you that.”

“Can you not tell her yourself?” Seven asked curiously.

B’Elanna grinned, showing slightly pointed teeth.

“I don’t want her to think I’m being presumptuous. The water’s a heck of a lot deeper than that swimming hole was.”

Seven allowed herself a faint smile, remembering the incident in question. She glanced around. “Where is Ro Laren?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t as soon as it left her mouth. It occurred to her belatedly that perhaps there was a reason the two women were not together.

“She’s getting us some food,” B’Elanna said, unperturbed. She lifted the three unopened bottles of beer she held in her other hand. “I secured the beer.”

“Of course.” That made perfect sense. Seven hesitated. “Why did you not acquire any for her?”

B’Elanna nudged her, shooting her a grin. “That was actually a good one,” she complimented. “You might develop a sense of humor after all, Borg.”

“Considering I learned most of my humor from a Klingon, I am not sure that is advantageous.”

B’Elanna mimed being shot in the heart by an arrow, and fell over onto the sand. Dressed in a white t-shirt and blue, denim shorts which had a ragged hem, her feet bare, she lay on her back and regarded the Borg with bright eyes. “Two zingers in one breath. Can I survive it?”

“Is Lt. Torres bothering you, Seven?” Ro Laren asked as she finally arrived, burdened by two plates loaded with steaks, corn and several types of salad. Carefully, she sat down on the spot B’Elanna had vacated, somehow managing not to let anything spill. Her slender form was clad in a black bathing suit over which, a light, short-sleeved shirt protected her back from the sun. Her dark hair was held back by a red headband.

“If I say yes, will you arrest her?” Seven asked her hopefully.

“Yes, Lt. Ro,” B’Elanna offered from her nest in the sand. “Will you arrest me?” She leered as she spoke, and Seven decided that the engineer could do with some lessons from Kathryn in the art of looking wanton while still appearing elegant.

“No,” Ro told them both. She nudged B’Elanna’s side with her toe. “Are you going to just lie there, or do you want to eat?”

“I’ll be good,” B’Elanna promised, sitting up and accepting the plate from the Bajoran. She turned so that her back was to the security officer, leaning comfortably against the log between the Bajoran’s legs. Seven noticed that Ro did not object to this somewhat familiar positioning, and the way they exchanged offerings of food, urging each other to try the various flavors, was interesting indeed.

“So here’s where the real party is at,” Harry noted cheerfully as he dragged over two folding chairs, accompanied by his wife. Megan was holding their plates. When she sat down, she passed the less burdened one to Harry before proceeding to attack her own, literally inhaling the food. Seven watched with undisguised fascination, never having seen anyone eat like that, not even Kathryn at the height of her nanoprobe outbreak. The Borg wondered if it had anything to do with the young woman being pregnant.

“Hi, Starfleet,” B’Elanna offered in a friendly tone. “How’s married life treating you?”

Harry beamed. “Couldn’t be better. Did you know, we can feel the baby move now?”

Seven noted that the young man had seemed to have gotten over his initial shock at finding out he was going to be a father, and no longer had that pinched, panicked expression that he had worn so often in the early days of Operation Newborn. In fact, it was true that marriage seemed to agree with him; his dark eyes brighter, his white flash of smile wider … as was his midsection, Seven noticed … his disposition even more pleasant than his original demeanor. Seven was happy for him, and she took a second to remember that hesitant, stammering young man who, despite his inane crush on her, made an honest effort to reach out and be a friend to a frightened, lost Borg drone.

We have all evolved greatly in the past few years, she thought to herself.

Uncertainly, Tom Paris drifted over, and when B’Elanna didn’t leap up and promptly go elsewhere, he sat down as well. Seven hoped he didn’t think that meant anything about the engineer’s current opinion of him. It was obvious to the Borg that the Klingon’s good mood could be directly attributed to the attention Ro Laren was paying to her.

The Doctor and Sek came over to join them, both holograms dressed in matching outfits of colorful, flowered shirts and white shorts. Seven wondered if they had planned it that way, or if the holographic emitters only provided a limited selection of wardrobe to each hologram. They weren’t eating, of course, but they were more than glad to add to the conversation. Neelix, Samantha Wildman, and Naomi were the next to arrive, the Talaxian dragging over a large ice chest so that the group rapidly gathering around the Borg, would not run the risk of going thirsty. His gesture was loudly and enthusiastically praised, particularly by B’Elanna.

Finally, Janeway made her way into the group, striding up the beach with Tuvok on her left, Chakotay on her right, just as it was meant to be in some unfathomable way. The captain cheerfully accepted the plate someone offered her, and sat down on the log that Seven had yielded to her partner so smoothly that it was doubtful anyone noticed. As the Borg settled cross-legged on the sand at her partner’s feet, next to B’Elanna, she felt the captain’s fingers linger briefly at the back of her neck in acknowledgment, and Seven smiled faintly before involving herself with the technical conversation that the engineer and Harry were sharing between their intake of corn and hamburgers.

There was no longer any need to get up for refills. A few crewmembers maintained the four barbeques, but it seemed that everyone else had settled into a circle that radiated outward from the captain and senior staff in the center. Food and drink was passed hand over hand to whoever requested it, the occasional spill accepted with good natured grace, and cheerful jibes at the one who had fumbled it, while the conversation rose and fell, always lively, powered by the very tasty meal and the foamy ale. Seven ate as much as she could, far more than she ever had before, trying a little bit of each dish, including Neelix’s leola root salad.

As the Borg started on her third helping, she discovered that Janeway was cheerfully matching B’Elanna bottle for bottle in beer consumption. The empties did not stack up, of course, being disposed of in a portable disposal unit that dematerialized them to their component molecules. These were reabsorbed as energy to power the unit, but the young woman was able to note the number of times her spouse seemed to be opening a new bottle. While the other shifts would have almost another full day in which to recover, the alpha shift, which was handling Voyager’s liftoff at 1500 hours, really needed to watch their liquid intake this night. Seven resolved to keep a closer eye on her spouse.

Later, Seven was led to the table with the big cake that boasted twenty-six candles, the tiny flames flickering in the low sea breeze as the entire crew sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her, albeit, several weeks late. She was amused to note that Janeway’s uneven tenor was comfortably lost in the chorus of voices as she took her seat.

“Make a wish, Seven,” Naomi told her with the air of a professional.

“I shall,” Seven promised, smiling faintly at the little girl. She obediently closed her eyes, waited the requisite few seconds, then inhaled before using her breath to extinguish every flame. There was an outburst of applause and cheering, then Janeway offered her a knife which Seven used to cut the chocolate, cherry-filled, whipped cream cake into segments that were distributed to all the various crewmembers who still had room for it.

Then, as people ate their cake, the ten pregnant women were urged to another table where they opened presents the crew had bestowed upon them. There was no need to get them baby supplies since the ship would provide them, but crafty individuals in the various departments had provided things like homemade toys and things for the decor of the baby’s room, while the other crewmembers had provided the ration slips for the raw materials. No one was left out, everyone was pleased, and Seven was struck by how much Voyager resembled a small village community rather than a starship. It was a far cry from the sterile environment of the Borg Collective.

At this moment, she did not find it inefficient at all.

The evening wore on, the sun setting in a spectacular array of golds and reds, almost as if the planet had arranged it somehow to say farewell to its temporary visitors. Stars began to appear in the sky, which darkened to a deep navy, and Seven found herself by a large bonfire, Naomi Wildman curled up next to her as more flickering fires dotted the night down the beach. Nearby, crewmembers with various musical instruments were staging an impromptu sing-along, the raucous sound reaching Seven’s ears through the cooling air. Ordinarily, the Borg would have been intrigued to join such an interaction, but for the moment, she was content to stay where she was, Naomi’s head resting on the Seven’s lap as the little girl drifted off to sleep. Jake was also asleep, curled in a ball, his back warm where it touched Seven’s leg. A few yards away, at a table where a card game was going on, Naomi’s mother and Neelix talked and laughed with others over their play.

Across the fire, Tuvok and Vorik sat quietly, the two Vulcans meditating serenely upon the flames that were consuming the silver driftwood. Seven knew that was their favorite form of relaxation, but she did wonder, as they stared into the element, if perhaps any feelings ever stirred within them. Something deep and primal, existing long before the evolution of intellect and logic. She sensed it stir within herself, and she studied the sensation with suitable fascination.

Seven looked up a little while later as Ensign Wildman came over. “She’s down for the night, is she?” the science officer asked with a smile, kneeling next to the Borg and stroking the strawberry blonde hair of her daughter.

“I believe so,” Seven responded in a low voice, the small form of her friend heavy, and seemingly boneless where it leaned against her.

“I think we should get the little one off to bed,” Neelix said, his gold eyes seeming to gleam in the firelight. Seven assisted the Talaxian in picking the child up. Naomi, obviously worn out by the day’s events, barely stirred as she was lifted into his muscular arms.

“Thanks for watching her, Seven,” Samantha said.

“You are welcome,” the Borg responded, watching as they disappeared into the darkness, heading for the path cut into the cliff which led back to the ship. For a moment, an unmistakable desire came over the Borg to take care of her own precious lifeform, to hold her and love her and when the day was over, carry her home and tuck her lovingly into bed where she would be safe and warm. Seven stared mournfully into the night before the warm arms of her partner enfolding her drew her back to where she was.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” Janeway’s low voice asked in her ear, the husky trill that never failed to fill Seven with the most wonderful of feelings, even as this time, it came accompanied by the boozy scent of beer and a distinct slur. The captain had come up unnoticed, stepping over the log that Seven had been leaning against, and embracing the Borg from behind as she sat down.

“Nothing is wrong,” Seven said with an aching heart.

“Oh, I don’t agree,” Janeway insisted quietly. “Tell me.” Apparently alcohol did not inhibit the captain’s intuitive abilities. Seven wondered briefly at that.

Seven hesitated, glancing around to note that except for the Vulcans across the fire who were paying absolutely no attention to the two women at all. No one else was in earshot, and she allowed herself to relax into the embrace.

“Sometimes,” she said softly, “I regret the decisions we have made.”

“Like waiting to have children?” Janeway guessed with remarkable accuracy. Seven wondered if this ‘beer’ somehow bestowed the one who imbibed with some greater cognitive abilities. Certainly, she had assumed alcohol dulled the senses of the regular individual prior to this … but of course, she reminded herself, the captain was far from a ‘regular’ individual.

“How did you know?”

“I came to find you, and saw your face when Neelix and Samantha took Naomi to bed.” Janeway kissed her partner’s temple gently. “Darling, we can always talk about these things. Nothing is ever set in stone. If nothing else, that’s the lesson we have to take away with us from the virus, and its effect.”

“Yet, we must wait,” Seven allowed sadly. “Despite how wonderful this week has been, it is not the norm for us, Kathryn. We spend most of our existence in the Delta Quadrant, as we have in the weeks leading up to this, occupied with duties and responsibilities that fill our every moment. That is our life, yours and mine. It would not be fair to bring a child into it.”

“No,” Janeway said, hugging Seven closely. “It wouldn’t, darling. As much as I would like to find a way to disagree with you, I can’t. That’s the reality.”

“But sometimes … that reality hurts,” Seven whispered.

“I know, my love,” Janeway told her.

“I know.”

Janeway was not entirely sober as Seven finally steered her back to their quarters, the captain having no choice but to admit that to herself. She consoled herself with the thought that she was nowhere as intoxicated as she had been the night before her wedding. As if that was a good thing, her little voice noted mockingly.

“I am beginning to think that perhaps I should not let you go out,” Seven noted wryly as Janeway missed a step, and the Borg had to move quickly to straighten her before the captain collided with the counter. “I do not believe you can handle your liquor.”

Janeway waved that off with an elegant hand.

“Piffle.”

Seven arched an eyebrow. “‘Piffle’?” she repeated, baffled.

“It means, I can handle my liquor just fine,” Janeway said as she fell, rather than sat, down on the couch. “I’ve been doing it since that night in a haunted house when I was young, and I’ll do it until I’m old and grey. I can certainly out drink you, my lovely Borg.”

“An efficient word,” Seven complimented as she went to the replicator, and materialized a glass of ice water along with something the captain didn’t recognize. “To mean all that.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Janeway asked as her partner came over to her, regarding the small white capsules that Seven had deposited in her palm with great suspicion. “What’s this?”

“B’Elanna suggested them,” Seven told her. “In lieu of the Doctor’s assistance, this is supposed to be effective in forestalling the inevitable results of intoxication. They are considered to be a ‘natural’ remedy.”

“Really?” Janeway asked skeptically.

She would have preferred a hypospray that would remove the intoxication entirely, along with the resulting aftermath, but the Doctor had stated rather stiffly to anyone who would listen that if the crew was determined to indulge in such a display, they would just have to suffer the consequences without his help. Somehow, Janeway thought he had been utterly sincere with what he said, and she really didn’t want to test the theory by confronting him about it. Sighing, the captain tossed the capsules back, and took a long swallow from the ice water, then another, finishing it thirstily.

“More, please,” she asked meekly, holding her glass out to her partner.

Seven’s eyes narrowed. When Janeway suddenly became meek, it was usually time for Seven to become a little nervous, but she retrieved more water from the replicator without a word. Janeway drained this glass only slightly quicker than the first before offering it once more to be refilled. Seven regarded her for a long moment before she went back, this time replicating an entire pitcher which she placed, along with the glass, on the coffee table. She sank down to the couch beside the captain.

“Do you want to continue our conversation, darling,” Janeway offered, feeling quite mellow suddenly as she sipped at her water slowly. She wondered what the hell had been in those capsules.

Seven glanced at her. “Which one?”

“The one we were having before Chakotay interrupted us, and dragged us over to the sing-along,” Janeway reminded her partner. She didn’t think she would forget that longing, wistful expression she had seen on her partner’s face anytime soon. It had driven deep into her heart like a dagger, and she would give up her life to be able to take such sorrow away from the young woman.

A shadow crossed Seven’s eyes. “There seems little to discuss,” she said with a cool indifference that Janeway knew was completely feigned. “We both agree that our lives are such that children are not an option for us now. It is inefficient for me to indulge in emotion over a situation that cannot be changed.”

“Whether it’s efficient or not, you still feel what you feel.” Janeway blinked. Suddenly, it seemed impossible to keep her eyes open, and stubbornly, she forced her eyelids apart, pressing her glass against her forehead, the shock of the cold revitalizing her momentarily. “I want you to know that it’s okay to regret what can’t be, once in a while. Talking about it might help you feel better about it.”

“I do not see how,” Seven said, her tone gentling somewhat.

“Sometimes it’s just enough to know that it is a feeling that is shared.” Janeway found she was leaning toward Seven, which was not that out of the ordinary for her except for the fact that it was entirely without her volition. She had never felt as limp as she did right this second, and she carefully placed her glass down on the coffee table.

“You regret our inability to have children now?” Seven asked with what seemed surprise.

“Yes, darling, I do,” Janeway mumbled, swallowing to moisten a intensely dry mouth. She abruptly realized she was lying on Seven’s lap all of a sudden. “I can’t seem to sit up.”

There was a pause, then a bit of a rueful sigh from the Borg. “I think that perhaps your day has caught up to you,” Seven said with just a hint of dry humor as Janeway felt the young woman’s hand stroke her hair gently. “Much as it did Naomi.”

“That’s not it,” Janeway protested, and felt the room spin as the Borg carefully heaved her upright, the captain barely able to move as Seven carried her into their bedroom. “It’s the damn capsules. What was in them?”

“Nothing harmful. I made sure of that before I replicated them. However, B’Elanna did mention that they may make certain people … less energetic.”

“Now you tell me,” Janeway muttered, wanting to be outraged, but lacking the energy to do so. “For someone with an eidetic memory, it certainly is selective at times.”

“She also said that the effect would be in direct proportion to the amount of liquor imbibed. Since you can no longer remain erect, I think we both know what that means.”

“That you’re enjoying this entirely too much?” Janeway said and groaned as Seven dropped her onto the chaise lounge opposite the bed. It was so odd. Her mind continued to work perfectly, but her body felt like a generator that’s power source had finally ran out. “Oh god.”’

“Perhaps you could explain to me why a captain who prides herself on her self-control and appearance would drink so much?” Seven asked with honest curiosity as she lifted Kathryn’s legs into the air, first one, then the other as she removed the captain’s sandals.

“Because,” Janeway said, swallowing hard as her legs thudded heavily onto the chaise. “The captain must always share the crew’s blowout.”

“It is part of the ‘tradition’?” Seven guessed dryly. The Borg regarded Janeway’s bared feet with an expression of displeasure. “You have sand all over your feet and lower legs. It shall shed onto the sheets, and be very uncomfortable if it is not removed.”

“What do you suggest?” Janeway responded waspishly, and then regretted it immediately as Seven promptly picked her up again. “Oh no.”

“You are fortunate that I am Borg,” Seven informed her as they went into the ensuite. “I do not think an ordinary Human could take care of you properly.”

“I’m not so sure a Borg can either,” Janeway said peevishly, and then shrieked as she was inserted under a shower where the temperature was not particularly warm.

“A cold shower will grant you a momentary alertness,” Seven informed her as she began removing Janeway’s clothes after the fact, stripping off the flowered blouse and tan shorts.

Shivering, teeth chattering, leaning weakly against the wall, Janeway just glared at her partner as Seven removed her own clothing and stepped under the spray herself … but only after altering it so that it was a much more pleasant temperature.

“I don’t think you like me when I’m drinking,” Janeway said, the revelation coming to her like a bolt from the blue.

“I always like you,” Seven corrected as she unceremoniously scrubbed the captain down. “I do not necessarily like how drinking makes you act, however. It makes you … inefficient.”

“That’s me,” Janeway noted as Seven pulled her out of the shower stall, and leaned her up against the sink counter. “Inefficient as hell. However do you put up with me?”

“It is a ‘dirty job’,” Seven said, toweling her partner off briskly. “But someone has to do it.”

“You got that phrase from someone else,” Janeway accused as Seven dragged her back into the bedroom.

Seven put the captain into the bed and drew the blankets up over her. “Tuvok mentioned it once.”

“Tuvok?” That would not have been Janeway’s first guess. She lay in the bed, looking up at the ceiling, and to her horror, decided she couldn’t come up with the necessary determination to close her eyes. “Annika?”

“Yes, Kathryn?” Seven said, moving close to her under the sheets, and it seemed that her voice had softened considerably. Janeway felt her soft lips brush over her temple, and she sighed.

“I can’t close my eyes.”

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven assured her, wrapping her up in a warm embrace. “You can.”

When Janeway woke up the next morning, the sunshine, streaming into the bedroom through the window above her head, stabbed into her eyes like twin points of ice picks, and she wondered if perhaps she had not closed her eyes at all. Though she knew she had slept … or was unconscious … for a considerable amount of time just from the fact that the last thing she remembered, it had been dark outside the ship.

“Annika?” Her voice was rusty, barely audible.

“Yes, Kathryn?” Calm, cool, infinitely patient, and very close by.

“You know the hangover cure B’Elanna recommended?”

“Yes, Kathryn.”

Janeway attempted to swallow, and failed utterly. “It didn’t work.” She bit off each word individually.

There was a pause.

“How unfortunate.”

Janeway moaned. It was entirely too early for understatements of that magnitude.

“Annika.”

“Yes, Kathryn?”

“I’m on duty now, aren’t I?”

“In fifty-three point six minutes, yes.”

“I have to get up, don’t I?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Please, don’t answer a question with another question.”

Janeway blinked as the face of her partner abruptly appeared in her view, looking down at her with a rather noncommittal expression.

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven told her not unkindly. “You must get up.”

“Oh, god.”

Seven sighed. “Do you want me to call the Doctor?”

Janeway debated for long minutes. “Do you think he would do anything for me?”

“You are the captain,” Seven pointed out. “In addition, I do hold a certain influence with him.”

A muscle in Janeway’s jaw jumped briefly.

“If I have a treatment he refused everyone else, then it would be … unacceptable,” the captain said finally, with not a little dismay. “Besides, it’s tradition to be required to suffer after a full-ship leave.”

“Indeed,” Seven said, in the sort of tone that let Janeway know how little the young woman thought of that convention.

“Sometimes, appearance is everything, Annika.”

“Of course.” Seven did not look convinced.

“Annika,” Janeway whimpered. “I don’t feel good.”

Seven inhaled slowly. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know.” Janeway wondered if she possibly sounded as pathetic to her spouse as she did in her own ears.

Seven, predictably; “I shall research it.”

Janeway felt the bed move as Seven rolled out of it, and she swallowed convulsively. She waited, trying to think of anything but how her stomach felt or how her head felt or how the room was yawing wildly about whenever she moved her eyes in even the slightest fashion.

When the Borg returned, she urged Janeway up into a sitting position, and presented her with a glass full of some reddish thick liquid.

“What is this?” Janeway croaked, looking at it warily.

Seven hesitated. “You do not want to know, Kathryn,” she said with great sincerity.

The captain peered at her spouse narrowly, and it occurred to her that for the brutally honest Borg to dissemble like this meant that Janeway probably did not want to know. She finally nodded, and steeling herself, drank it, trusting implicitly that her partner would never do anything to hurt her. Though the stuff was possibly the most vile concoction she had ever tasted, Janeway managed to choke it down, and for some reason, keep it there even though it was a close thing for awhile. She was amazed however, when her nausea subsided almost immediately, as did did her headache and her dizziness.

“I think I’m hungry,” she said, wonderingly.

Seven looked satisfied. “Acceptable. Prepare for your shift while I make breakfast.”

Later, feeling considerably more like herself as she left the bedroom dressed in her uniform, Janeway sat down to the table and regarded the plate Seven had placed in front of her, piled high with scrambled eggs, back bacon, home fries and toast with butter. That pretty much took care of her required grease intake for the next year, she thought wryly, feeling her arteries slamming shut in anticipation, even though that sort of thing had actually been defeated medically, centuries earlier. Certainly, it should be sufficient to cut through any alcohol remaining in her system. She scooped up a forkful of eggs gingerly, slowly chewing this first bite to determine if she was actually going to be able to eat after all. When nothing particularly bad happened, she took another, along with some toast, her appetite improving steadily, much to her surprise.

While the captain was eating, Seven went into the bedroom and prepared for her own day, the first part of which would be spent in astrometrics before making her way to the bridge to assist in the liftoff. Janeway glanced around the room, absorbing the way it looked with the sun streaming in the windows, the way it actually seemed like a home on Earth, rather than the small living quarters on a starship it really was, imprinting it on her memory to take with her on those dark times in space. Jake was stretched out on his side in a patch of sunlight, obviously content not to move ever again. It occurred to Janeway that he would possibly miss the chance to go outside more than any of them.

She glanced up as Seven joined her, her breakfast a lot smaller and less dense than Janeway’s; cereal and milk, along with a small glass of juice. But then, the Borg did not require replenishing the energy drained away by too much liquor and the two tiny little capsules that Janeway should never have accepted. Which led the captain to thoughts of the previous night, and what they had been discussing prior to the ‘remedy’ taking effect.

“Darling, about last night?” she said regretfully. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to finish our talk.”

Seven shrugged minutely. “It is irrelevant.”

“No,” Janeway said, reaching over and capturing her partner’s hand in her own, looking at her intently until Seven’s pale blue eyes had met hers. “I hate that you’re unhappy.”

Seven squeezed the captain’s fingers lightly. “I am not unhappy, Kathryn. Being with you is wonderful. We just have so much love for each other that at times, I simply wish for another to share in it. I know that one day, you and I shall expand our family unit and until then, I will be patient, and very happy to be able to share my life with you.”

Janeway studied her closely. “Honestly?”

“Have I ever lied to you, Kathryn?” Seven asked curiously.

Janeway smiled wistfully. “Not to my knowledge, darling. I hope that you never feel the need.”

Seven did not answer. Instead, she raised the captain’s hand to her lips, kissing the palm gently.

Janeway smiled fondly, and returned to her meal, finishing it quickly now as she sensed time slipping away from her. She carried her empty plate over to the recycling unit, then dashed into the ensuite to clean her teeth before rejoining Seven in the living area. The Borg had just filled the silver thermos with coffee at the counter, and turned to hand it to her spouse.

“Have a good day, Kathryn.”

Janeway wrapped her free arm around the Borg’s neck, pulling the blonde head down as she kissed her soundly. “You too, my love. I’ll see you at liftoff.”

The bridge was unnaturally quiet when the captain entered, even though it had the full complement of alpha shift personnel. As Janeway trotted down the stairs and took her seat in the command chair, she glanced over at Chakotay. She firmed her jaw, sternly refusing to laugh when she saw how her first officer was sitting very carefully, almost as if he was afraid his head was about to drop off his neck and fall to the floor where it would promptly roll to where Tom Paris sat huddled at the helm, displaying the most distinctive shade of green Janeway had ever seen. At ops, Harry was half hunched over, as if trying to keep his intestines where they currently were, while B’Elanna manned the engineering station, her eyes lidded, her compact form boneless in her chair. Apparently, her remedy did not work any better on her than it had the captain. Ro Laren looked slightly better as she covered the science station, but the Bajoran’s eyes seemed somewhat darker than normal, and her motion lacked the refined grace she normally displayed. Only Tuvok maintained his natural demeanor at his tactical position.

“Good morning,” Janeway said clearly … and loudly.

Bloodshot eyes centered on her, and she was quite sure murder was being contemplated at the moment. She grinned faintly at Chakotay and quirked an eyebrow.

“I suspect the next leave will have to be staggered, rather than ship-wide.”

“I think,” he said slowly in a barely audible voice, “that’s a good idea.”

Maybe I should contact Seven and have her get up here with a supply of her hangover cure, Janeway thought idly. She decided instead, to wait until just before liftoff. If her bridge crew had not recovered most of their sensibilities by then, she would order the Doctor and Sek to do a run through engineering and the bridge to administer a medical solution. Yet, she didn’t regret her decision to allow the full leave. If any crew needed and earned it, it was definitely Voyager’s.

She flipped her monitor around and initiated the process required to take off, drawing in the data needed to once more get her ship back into its natural habitat, the clean vacuum of deep space.

“All hands,” she said on the ship-wide communication band. “Secure stations for final stage of Condition Blue. Prepare to return to space.”

Captain’s Log: Kathryn Janeway recording

Voyager has resumed course to the Alpha Quadrant and my crew is fully recovered from their leave. I am pleased to report that the productivity on many of the Operation Newborn projects has increased to the point where the week’s setback has in fact, decreased to that of only a few days. Apparently, the period of rest & relaxation has more than paid for itself. The crew’s morale is high, and I no longer sense the strain that preceded our temporary deviation from our routine.

There has been a certain amount of resentment from the crew directed to the Doctor for his lack of assistance on the day immediately following our celebration, but he seems unaffected by it. As he has said, it is not his place to deprive the crew of learning the hard lessons of life, and perhaps he is right. The next time, they … and I … shall be more circumspect about our tolerance for enjoying ourselves.

In truth, I do not think we will forget any of the things we’ve leaned here in the Delta Quadrant, regardless of how harsh, or how pleasant they turn out to be. From what we are taught, we grow both as individuals and as a crew, and so we shall continue to look forward to whatever lessons lie ahead.

The End

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