chapter 10

 

 

If Chakotay was surprised to see the memo from Captain Janeway the next morning, informing him that she was taking a day of unscheduled leave, he wisely said nothing. Although it was unusual for the captain to take personal leave, it was not unusual for her to spend her private time in her quarters, and so none of the crew thought it at all strange that Captain Janeway did not set foot outside her quarters all day.

Behind the sealed door, two women were reveling in the discoveries they were making about each other. Some of those were physical, but many others were the result of talking for hours at a level of intimacy that until now had not been possible.

“When did you first feel this way about me?” Lynne asked, in the time-honored tradition of new lovers.

She and Janeway were sitting on the couch, sipping hot drinks. Janeway’s, naturally, was coffee, but Lynne had opted for tea. She was slowly making her way through the replicator’s various tea programs and informing Janeway at every step whether or not a tea had any resemblance to the real thing she was used to. So far, the replicator had failed utterly at Scottish breakfast and oolong, but she felt it did all right with Earl Grey. Janeway thought tea was a terrible waste of caffeine and had no compunctions in telling Lynne so. The battle lines were instantly drawn, and they were having a fine time teasing each other.

Janeway sipped her coffee contentedly and thought about the question. “I felt something for you the moment I met you,” she said at last. “Though it wasn’t love at first. I was intrigued by your strength of will and your obvious intellect, and I enjoyed watching you discover new things. You have such a unique point of view; it’s very refreshing. But I didn’t know I loved you until our second dinner. I’d been thinking about you all week, to the point of distraction, and then when I finally saw you again, it was like I’d never seen you before. I suddenly realized that you were beautiful, and wondered why I’d been so blind.”

“You weren’t blind,” said Lynne. “I was a skinny, starved wreck before that. It wasn’t until that dinner that I reverted to my normal beautiful self.”

“As I was saying,” continued Janeway, reaching out and giving Lynne a playful shove, “I couldn’t get enough of looking at you and listening to your voice. I wanted desperately to touch you. That was the first time in a long while that I lost track of time and had to be kicked out of someone’s quarters.”

“Oh, believe me, I didn’t want to kick you out,” said Lynne. “You were, and still are, the only person on this ship that I could talk to like that. I looked forward to our dinners like a drowning person looks forward to the lifeline.”

Janeway was impressed. “You have a hell of a poker face. I never had any idea you felt that way about our time together. You were always so warm and polite and such good company, but there was a reserve that I couldn’t get around. You hide your feelings quite well.” Her voice became low and teasing. “Ever thought about going into command?”

Lynne snorted. “I’ve been in command, Kathryn. You try leading a dozen smart-ass teenagers on a mountain climb, when their lack of attention could result in someone getting hurt or killed, and see how far you get without a command persona.” Then her expression grew serious. “The truth is, I looked forward to our time together, but I didn’t feel anything except desperate relief at having a friend. Beyond that, I couldn’t feel anything at all for at least two months after coming here. It was like my emotions had been turned off. I had one good cry my first night in my quarters, and that was the end of it. If I opened my heart even a crack, all I felt was pain and grief, so I just kept everything locked up. But then I started to notice you more—how you move, the tone of your voice, the way your whole face lights up when you smile—and before I knew it, I was falling in love with you. Then for awhile I felt guilty about Cole, like I was betraying his memory. That didn’t last long once I reminded myself that he’s far beyond caring and would probably want me to be happy with someone anyway. But I never thought you’d return my feelings, so I locked that up, too.” She gave Janeway a wry glance. “As much as I could, that is. Every time I saw you it got a whole lot harder. Eventually it was almost as hard to be with you as it was to be without you. I thought there must be a special place reserved in hell for people who lose everyone and then fall in love with someone they can’t have.”

Janeway reached for Lynne’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then simply held it. Lynne looked at her with an unreadable expression on her face. “Kathryn, do you remember what you said about how if I’d just let go of my self-absorption, I’d see I’m not the only one on Voyager who has experienced loss?”

“Yes.”

“That was really hard to hear.”

“I know,” said Janeway. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. I needed to hear it. That didn’t make it any easier. But you were completely right—I’ve been wallowing in my own pain for months now, and it just never occurred to me that anyone could possibly understand. And now, knowing about your father and Justin, and crewmembers you’ve lost along the way, and then hearing about the Maquis and the Borg and the people who have lost family and friends in those battles—well, I have to say I’m a little ashamed of myself for being so self-involved. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Janeway squeezed Lynne’s hand again. Few people in her acquaintance could be so honest with themselves and others, and she respected Lynne’s willingness to take a hard look at herself and speak openly about what she saw. “You’re welcome,” she said. “But you have no reason to be ashamed, and every right to the grief you’ve been feeling. I just didn’t want you to be alone anymore.”

Lynne set her cup of tea on the table and moved so that her face was inches away. Looking intently into Janeway’s eyes, she said, “I don’t want you to be alone anymore, either.” She lowered her head and kissed Janeway very gently. Then she turned around, leaned her back against Janeway’s chest, and let her head fall back on her partner’s shoulder. Janeway wrapped her arms around Lynne’s waist and they sat like that for a long time, neither one feeling the need to speak further.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 11

 

 

Naturally, the entire ship knew about the captain’s romance within forty-eight hours, and by the time a week had passed, most of the crew knew that these two were meant for each other. The difference in the captain’s demeanor was a source of amazement to all who worked with her, but nobody complained—a happy Janeway was infinitely more enjoyable to be around than an unhappy Janeway. She laughed more often, was more tolerant of ship and personnel issues, and seemed more relaxed than the crew had ever seen her.

Their new shipmate seemed different, too. Many of the crew only knew Lynne Hamilton by the stories about the 400-year-old woman, but had never actually seen her. Now she was appearing in the mess hall, often with the captain, and could be seen socializing with a number of the crew. She smiled at people in the corridors and made an effort to learn names. Before long, the woman who had been little more than a myth became a well-known member of the ship’s complement, and liked by many. Not all, however. Gossip was whispered in the lower decks about the captain and the new woman, and those of the crew who wanted their captain to be bigger than life resented the intrusion of this unpleasant reality.

It was during this time that Lynne ran afoul of B’Elanna’s famous temper.

B’Elanna had just ended a stressful shift and was, to be honest, a little jealous of Lynne’s relationship with the captain. Not that she’d ever thought about the captain in that way. But it had taken her five years of hard effort to achieve a comfortable and cordial working relationship with Janeway that only occasionally spilled over into her personal life. She treasured those rare moments when she and Janeway spoke as friends, rather than captain and lieutenant, and it irritated her that this woman had waltzed in and passed them all up within mere weeks, finding a closeness with the captain that nobody else could do more than dream of.

On this particular day B’Elanna was sharing a table with Tom and Harry, trying to take the edge off her mood with some Romulan ale. As she described one of the seemingly endless problems that had plagued engineering that day, Lynne walked by the table, tall and cool and looking like she owned the place. B’Elanna watched her go past and was suddenly unable to keep her jealousy from leaking out.

“Well, if it isn’t the fossil,” she said, showing her teeth in something less than a smile. Lynne stopped in her tracks, and B’Elanna felt a savage sense of satisfaction. Then she assumed an artificial tone of concern. “I hope you don’t mind if I call you that.”

Lynne turned on her heel, walked back to the table, and bored into B’Elanna with one of the most piercing stares she’d seen this side of Janeway’s famous Death Glare. “Not at all,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind if I call you Bonehead.”

Tom and Harry immediately put down their forks, preparing to step in and stop B’Elanna from making a mistake they’d all regret. B’Elanna felt her blood rising and abandoned all pretense at concern. “Maybe you’d better go back and read up on Klingons,” she said. “Then you’d know how dangerous it is to piss one off.”

“B’Elanna,” said Tom in a warning tone. Both women ignored him.

“Actually, I’ve already read about Klingons,” said Lynne. “So you’re supposed to be able to insult me, and I’m supposed to just accept it because you’re Klingon? What a bunch of bullshit. I’ve worked with teenagers scarier than you. If you want to dish it out, you’d better be able to take it.”

B’Elanna was ready to kill. “If you weren’t the captain’s girlfriend, I’d invite you outside right now,” she said in a voice just below a snarl.

“And do what? Beat the shit out of me? How much honor is there in pulverizing someone with no combat skills?”

This stopped B’Elanna for a moment. With her blood singing in her veins, she hadn’t really considered what she would do to this woman. It annoyed her to realize that Lynne was right—she wouldn’t get any satisfaction out of pummeling someone who couldn’t fight.

Lynne took advantage of B’Elanna’s momentary silence, pulling a chair over from the next table and sitting down. “Besides,” she said, “I don’t think you really mean it. Captain Janeway speaks very highly of you, both professionally and personally. What she’s told me about you and what I’m seeing right now don’t match. I trust her, so I have to think that this isn’t really you.”

B’Elanna deflated. Lynne had hit her right where it impacted the most by mentioning Captain Janeway’s opinion of her. She’d worked long and hard to earn that good opinion. Did she really want to throw it all away by pounding on Janeway’s girlfriend? She felt her anger ebbing, and realized that Lynne had won this fight without striking a single blow. Looking at her opponent with new respect, B’Elanna no longer wondered what it was that the captain saw in this woman—Lynne was almost as devious as Janeway.

“Does she really speak that highly of me?” she asked. She felt like an idiot, but she had to know.

“Absolutely. She says you are hands down the most brilliant engineer she’s ever worked with, and that you’ve grown into a fine officer as well. She also considers you a friend.”

“She does?” B’Elanna looked at Tom and Harry. Tom still looked ready for the worst, but Harry was nodding. She could feel a grin spreading over her face, despite her efforts to keep it off. When she looked back at Lynne, though, the other woman’s face was still quite serious.

“Thank you for telling me that,” B’Elanna said. She put her hand out and offered her version of an apology. “You’re right, I didn’t really mean to insult you—I’ve just had a bad day and you walked by at the wrong time. But if you ever call me Bonehead again, I will kill you.”

Lynne shook her hand. “You’re welcome, and I never actually called you Bonehead in the first place. I just asked if you’d mind.”

B’Elanna let out a shout of laughter and smacked Lynne on the shoulder. Turning to Tom and Harry, she jerked her thumb toward Lynne and said, “She’s all right.”

That was the beginning of an unlikely friendship. B’Elanna enjoyed Lynne’s company and found her a good intellectual match, though the woman was absolutely hopeless when it came to anything to do with engineering. She also loved to stir up Lynne’s fiery spirit, and took her first shot at it during their very next meeting by calling her “Fossil,” clapping her on the back and giving her a big smile while doing so. Lynne’s eyes narrowed and she raised her finger, but in the face of B’Elanna’s toothy grin she ended up smiling herself. “All right,” she said. “As long as you mean it in a nice way. But if anyone else calls me that, will you kill them for me?”

B’Elanna laughed and promised she would. So “Fossil” became her affectionate name for Lynne, and no one else dared to use it.

Lynne and B’Elanna could frequently be seen lunching together in the mess hall. Laughter often rang out from their table, and since both women tended to throw their heads back and laugh without reservation, everyone in the area knew when they were having a meal. Through B’Elanna, Lynne came to know Tom, Harry and Chakotay quite well, becoming a part of the senior staff social circle.

There was just one person missing from this circle. Lynne brought it up one day, while she and B’Elanna were sharing dinner in the mess hall after the alpha shift.

“B’Elanna, why don’t I ever see you socializing with Seven of Nine?” asked Lynne, tilting her head in the direction of the woman in question. Seven of Nine sat quietly at a table in the corner, alone as always, drinking her nutritional supplement while apparently reading four PADDs at once.

B’Elanna glanced at the corner table, frowned, and looked back at Lynne’s questioning face. “Because Seven is the most irritating and patronizing person on this entire ship,” she said. “Nobody likes her except the captain, Neelix, Naomi and Harry. And Harry only likes her because he wants to get into her biosuit.”

“Well, I can certainly see Harry’s point,” said Lynne, observing Seven with an appraising expression. B’Elanna smacked her on the arm.

“Watch it. You’re the captain’s woman; no wandering eyes allowed.”

Lynne grinned. “I’d have to be a dead woman to not notice Seven of Nine. She’s stunning. But don’t worry, I happen to think the captain is also stunning, and I have no intention of straying.” She looked back at Seven again, her grin fading. “I just hate to see anyone so alone.”

B’Elanna followed Lynne’s glance. Seven wore her usual impassive expression, seeming to indicate her extreme disdain for everyone around her. B’Elanna could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising from just looking at the woman. Nobody on the ship could piss her off so quickly and thoroughly as Seven could.

“Don’t feel sorry for her,” B’Elanna advised her friend. “Seven is alone because she wants to be. She makes it obvious that she doesn’t want or need anyone around her, except the captain and Naomi, of course. She’s still Borg.”

“Sometimes it’s people like that who need compassion and friendship the most,” said Lynne.

B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “Now I see what you and Janeway have in common. You’re both suckers for hard cases.” She stood up, holding her dinner tray. “I have to get back to engineering to check on a test I left running. Feel free to go over there and get rejected. All I ask is that you tell me about it tomorrow at lunch.”

Lynne gave her a mock glare, and B’Elanna laughed. Then she took her tray back to the counter and left the mess hall, shaking her head. Lynne and Janeway really were meant to be together. Lynne obviously had no idea what she was getting into, just as Janeway hadn’t when she first took the Borg under her wing. B’Elanna couldn’t wait to hear the story the next day.

 

 

-----

 

 

Seven of Nine sensed a presence at her table. Looking up from her PADDs, she identified Lynne Hamilton, their newest passenger and, by all accounts, the lover of Captain Janeway. Seven had been astonished when she’d first heard the gossip—from Harry, naturally—because it had simply never occurred to her that the captain could love anyone. She was the captain, after all, cool and in command and always leading, never sharing. Seven hadn’t been inclined to believe Harry’s story until she herself had seen the couple walking down a corridor together. There was something in Captain Janeway’s bearing that she hadn’t observed before, something softer. Janeway had given her a smile of genuine delight, introducing Lynne to her in tones that indicated her belief that Seven and Lynne should be great friends. Seven had greeted the woman with a courteous nod of the head, but felt no immediate stirring of friendship. Rather, she felt a sense of dislike. It took her a while to identify the emotion as jealousy. Weeks went by with little contact from Janeway, and their regular Velocity games—a competitive version of racquetball using phasers and a disc—became sporadic. The worst part was that Seven no longer felt welcome in the captain’s quarters for late night discussions of philosophy. It seemed that whenever Seven was in the mood for such a discussion, the captain was either in Lynne’s quarters or Lynne was in hers. It was all very disconcerting, and Seven had no idea how to deal with the loss of Janeway’s attention or her own disorderly emotions. These days she felt more alone than she ever had before, and now the cause was standing at her table.

“Hello,” said Lynne. “May I sit with you?”

Seven didn’t feel overjoyed at the prospect, but nodded her head nevertheless.

“Thank you,” said Lynne, sitting across from Seven. She held a steaming mug in her hand, and Seven detected the distinct odor of tea. Tuvok often drank a Vulcan blend, so she was familiar with the general olfactory signature. She found it far less offensive than Janeway’s coffee, but still wondered why anybody would drink such a bitter brew.

“I’ve been wanting to talk with you for some time,” said Lynne.

Seven tilted her head. “Why?” she asked.

“Why not?” countered Lynne.

Unable to think of a response, Seven said nothing at all. She’d often found silence to be a useful weapon when dealing with people she didn’t like, since it usually made others uncomfortable enough to leave her alone.

Lynne, however, just settled back in her chair and gave every indication that she wasn’t going anywhere. “You and I have something in common—we were both brought on board Voyager after having been severed from everything we knew before. I’m interested in hearing about your experiences, and…well, I was hoping that we could get to know each other better.”

Seven hadn’t known what to expect when Lynne sat down, but this was certainly not it. She could not immediately discern an agenda on Lynne’s part, but she knew that people did not offer her friendship without some ulterior motive. Harry had made friendly overtures, but they were motivated by sexual attraction. The same held true for several other social interactions she’d had on board. In her experience, offers to “get to know her better” were really thinly disguised offers to copulate, and nobody other than the captain or Naomi had ever seemed to want to pursue a friendship simply because they thought she was worth knowing. She had no idea how to proceed, or even if she wanted to. She had become accustomed to disliking Lynne Hamilton, and the feeling was…familiar. To change it would be less comfortable than to let it remain.

She raised an eyebrow and stared evenly at the woman across the table. “I am not certain that I wish to know you better. My impression of you is not favorable.”

Lynne looked taken aback, but only for a moment. Then she smiled. “Kathryn said you were very direct. It’s refreshing, because it means I can be just as direct, which is so much easier than being polite and tactful.” Leaning forward, she raised her own eyebrow. “Why do you have an unfavorable impression of me? You must have a good reason.”

This response was also unexpected—Seven had been fairly certain that her cool statement would cause Lynne to get up and leave the table in anger. But the question demanded an answer, and as always, Seven was nothing if not truthful.

“You have been the cause of a significant reduction in the amount of time that Captain Janeway spends with me. Since you and the captain became involved, our Velocity games have dropped to forty-two percent of their previous level, and I have seen her only once for a philosophical discussion. I am not satisfied with our current level of interaction. Nor do I foresee a reversion to our former levels of activity as long as you and the captain are lovers.”

Lynne sat back, and Seven was surprised to see a look of sympathy cross her features. “Oh, Seven, I’m sorry. I had no idea that Kathryn wasn’t spending time with you. I’ve been where you are now, and it’s no fun at all.”

Seven found this response bewildering. “Why would my current location be ‘fun’?”

Lynne’s mouth twitched, but she looked earnest as she said, “That was an idiom. What I meant was, I’ve experienced the same feelings you’re experiencing now. It’s painful to have your friend stop spending time with you because she’s spending every minute with a new lover instead. If I’d known that was happening here, I’d have done something earlier.” She thought for a moment. “Would you be interested in having dinner with us this week?”

Seven hesitated. As much as she wished to spend time with Captain Janeway, she wasn’t sure she was prepared to share her with someone else during that time. Her discussions with the captain had always been one on one, intense and intellectual and often at a philosophical level of debate that she could never achieve with anyone else on board. If Lynne were there, her presence would doubtless serve to keep the conversation at a much less interesting level. On the other hand, even one-on-two time with the captain was a higher quality than what she’d had over the last few weeks. She quickly decided that she would rather have some time with the captain than none at all, and called upon her socializing lessons for the appropriate response.

“Yes, I would…appreciate that. Thank you for inviting me.”

Lynne looked genuinely pleased. “Good!” she said. “I’ll check with Kathryn and get back to you with a time.”

It took Seven a moment to translate this statement. Gathering her PADDs and standing up, she said, “I will await further contact from you.”

Lynne stood as well, meeting Seven’s eyes in a level gaze. Seven noted with some surprise that Lynne was her height—something else she was unaccustomed to.

“Thanks for giving me a chance, Seven. I hope that we can be friends. But if you do continue to dislike me, at least do it based on a knowledge of who I am and not because Kathryn is spending less time with you.”

Seven simply nodded, then turned and left the mess hall. Her distaste for this woman had lessened in intensity to some degree. She appreciated Lynne’s directness; it was similar to the way that she and Captain Janeway conversed. Perhaps a dinner with both of them would be interesting after all.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 12

 

 

Two days after her short conversation with Lynne Hamilton, Seven of Nine waited outside the door to the captain’s quarters. She felt discomfort in her abdominal region and recognized the sensation as a physical response to nervousness. She was still getting used to the concept of the captain in an intimate relationship, and was now about to spend several hours in a social situation where this relationship would be prominent. She was unsure how much of her normal interaction with the captain would be appropriate in this new dynamic, nor how well she would adjust to the different type of interaction that might be required.

She had reviewed her socializing lessons in preparation for the evening, but found much of the content to be inappropriate due to its romantic nature. Extracting the useful segments, modifying others, and cross-referencing the results with Voyager’s databases, she felt reasonably well prepared for the etiquette demands of the evening. But that would be the easy part. Dealing with her own emotions would be much harder.

She activated the chime the second that her internal chronometer indicated 1900 hours, hearing Captain Janeway’s voice through the comm panel almost immediately. “Come in.”

Seven stepped through the door, taking in the room with one sweep of her eyes. Her eidetic memory noted that the captain’s quarters looked exactly the same as they always had. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected something different, but felt an unaccountable sense of relief at the familiarity. The table was set for three, and Captain Janeway was coming toward her with a welcoming smile.

“Seven! It’s good to see you. Please come in and make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you. May I have a glass of water?” Seven hardly ever wanted a drink, but had learned that this was part of the protocol of a social evening. Water was the least offensive of the various liquid refreshments that Voyager’s crew drank, most of which were vile.

Janeway looked toward Lynne, who was already near the replicator. “Coming right up,” called Lynne. She brought two glasses over to Seven. “Here’s your water,” she said, handing over one glass, “and here’s something I put together for you.” She pressed the second glass into Seven’s free hand. “Kathryn told me you like champagne but that synthehol impairs your cortical implant, so I programmed an old drink recipe into the replicator. It’s carbonated apple cider—same bubbly action as champagne, but no synthehol.”

Seven put the water down and held up the second drink. It had a similar appearance to champagne, but smelled sweeter. Carefully, she took a small sip. The apple flavor was palatable, and the carbonation tickled her mouth. She found the drink quite pleasant.

“It is very good,” she said in a surprised tone.

Janeway looked pleased. “Well then,” she said, “let’s put that drink to use.” She picked up two glasses from the coffee table, handed one to Lynne, and held hers up. “To friendships, both new and old.”

“One is silver, the other gold,” finished Lynne. Both Janeway and Seven looked at her. Lynne rolled her eyes. “Honestly, didn’t anything make it into the twenty-fourth century? You never heard that?”

“No,” said Janeway and Seven simultaneously. Seven felt a sudden rush of warmth at the sound of their joined voices, as if she and Janeway were a team again. The uncomfortable sensations in her stomach eased a little. “Why would you compare friendships to base metals?” she asked.

“It’s an aphorism,” said Lynne. “It refers to the relative value of both types of friendship, and dates back to a time when Earth’s economy was cash-based. Silver was valuable, but gold was more valuable still.”

“So you are saying that old friendships are more valuable than new,” said Janeway.

“Sometimes and in some ways, yes.”

Janeway turned to Seven. “In her extremely diplomatic manner, Lynne is reminding me that my friendship with you predates my relationship with her, and that my investment in our relationship over a longer period of time gives it a great value.” She paused for a moment, an expression on her face that Seven hadn’t seen since her return from the Borg Queen’s ship. Her voice was soft as she continued. “And while I’m not prepared to assign greater value to one relationship or the other, the truth is that my friendship with you is very important to me, and I have been neglecting it lately. I owe you an apology, Seven.”

“You do not owe me anything,” said Seven, feeling odd at the turn of the conversation. Janeway did not apologize to anyone, so far as she knew.

“Oh, but I do,” said Janeway. “You may not realize it, but I do and so does Lynne—she gave me quite a lecture after seeing you in the mess hall.” She glanced briefly at Lynne, whose lips quirked as she looked down at her drink. Turning back to Seven, Janeway added, “Friendships bring with them a certain obligation. They require consideration and time and thoughtfulness to survive, and I’ve fallen behind on all three with you. My only defense is that I felt I deserved some time, after five years, to let go of being the captain all the time and just enjoy being Kathryn on my off hours. But Lynne reminded me that I have two relationships with you, one as the captain and one as your friend. The first I could let go after my shift. The second is not so expendable, and I am truly sorry if my lack of time for you hurt you in any way.”

“Captain, I am not damaged,” said Seven. “Though I will admit that my emotions over the last several weeks have been—unsettling. I did not realize that I had any right to expect you to spend a certain amount of time with me; I only knew that it was not forthcoming and that I did not feel happy. Are you telling me that I do, in fact, have this right?”

“To a degree, yes. And you also have the right to come to me if I’m not coming to you. Seven, I was wrapped up in my own feelings and didn’t realize what it was doing to you, but if you’d said something to me I would have rectified the situation earlier. I care about you. Your happiness and well-being are important to me, not just as a captain, but as a friend.”

Seven’s feeling of discomfort was now rapidly dissolving into something warm and pleasant. This was not what she’d expected upon her arrival, but she didn’t mind at all. “Thank you, Captain. I also care about you, and you are important to me as well. I have missed our philosophical discussions.”

Janeway’s expression was soft. “Perhaps we can have one tonight. If the mood is right.” She gestured toward the table, and Seven obligingly moved to a chair. Lynne and Janeway took their seats, shaking out their napkins and putting them in their laps. Janeway reached toward the salad bowl, paused, pulled her hand back and fixed Seven with an intent gaze. “Seven,” she said quietly, “since we have both a professional and a personal relationship, I’d like to distinguish between the two. When we are off duty together, I’d like for you to call me Kathryn.”

Seven was stunned. She was aware that no one on the ship other than Chakotay and Lynne had been given this privilege. It was possibly the highest proof of the regard in which Janeway held their friendship, and Seven felt pleased and proud.

“I am cognizant of the import of your offer, Kathryn,” she said, pausing only slightly on the name. “I am also…honored by it. However, it may take me some time to become accustomed to using your first name.”

“It’s weird at first, but you’ll be surprised at how quickly it feels natural,” said Lynne, speaking for the first time since their toast.

Seven turned to her. “You are responsible for this.” It was a statement.

Lynne shifted in her chair, though Seven couldn’t see any reason for her discomfort. “No, I think you and Kathryn are,” she said. “I just got you in the same room together.”

“That is incorrect,” said Seven. She observed Janeway’s smile in her peripheral vision. “Kathryn stated that you ‘gave her quite a lecture.’ This implies a greater involvement than you are admitting to. Why would you not wish to acknowledge it?”

“Damn, Seven, your style is going to take some getting used to.” Lynne gave her a wry grin and took a sip of her drink. “I guess I want the focus of this evening to be on you and Kathryn, so I’m trying to figuratively remove myself.”

“Then why be here at all?” asked Seven, genuinely curious. Her voice did not carry any of the negative overtone that the words implied.

This time Janeway laughed out loud. “Yes, Lynne, why are you here?” she asked in a teasing voice, reaching toward the salad bowl once more and serving herself.

Lynne gave her a mock glare. “Very funny.” She gestured toward Seven, who took the salad tongs and placed a much smaller portion of food on her own plate. “I’m here because an unwritten rule dictates that I meet anyone of importance to Kathryn, and hopefully win their approval. It’s part of the dating process. I’ve met everyone else; you were the last one. So now I’m done and you two can just go off and do your own thing together.”

Seven processed this for a moment as Lynne served herself and glanced at Janeway. Both women began eating simultaneously, prompting Seven to pick up her fork. She tasted her salad, found it pleasing, and took a larger bite. When she’d swallowed, she asked the next question on her mind.

“Ms. Hamilton…”

Lynne, still chewing, waved her hand in interruption. Seven waited politely. “Please,” said Lynne when she could speak. “Call me Lynne.”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “I am already being asked to alter the captain’s name. Changing two names in one evening may overtax my cortical implant.”

Janeway snorted and immediately covered her mouth with her napkin. “Sorry,” she said. “Lynne, did I mention that Seven is developing a rather dry sense of humor?”

“Dry isn’t even the word for it,” said Lynne. “Desiccated is more like it.”

The warm feeling in Seven’s stomach had by now expanded into a feeling of comfort that she could not remember ever experiencing before. She felt—relaxed. She knew that both Janeway and Lynne were teasing her, and she also knew that for humans, gentle teasing was a sign of affection. Janeway had made it clear that she considered her a friend, but why Lynne would feel affectionate toward her, she could not fathom. Nevertheless, it was a pleasing sensation to know she was liked by everyone in the room, not to mention a complete novelty.

“Lynne,” she said, returning to her unspoken question. “Are you saying that my purpose for being here is to meet and approve of you relative to your relationship with Kathryn?”

“Well, yes, that’s one of your purposes,” said Lynne, looking a little wary.

“Then I can inform you that I did not approve of you earlier, but I have altered my opinion. In your presence the captain seems relaxed and happy, and as her friend I am pleased to see it. I also appreciate your direct method of communication. It is efficient.”

Janeway waved a fork at Lynne. “That, coming from Seven, is a compliment.”

“I see,” said Lynne doubtfully. “Efficiency is good?”

“Efficiency is a means to perfection,” said Seven firmly. “Adjusting to the general inefficiency of humans has been one of the most difficult challenges I’ve encountered since my separation from the Collective.”

“I don’t blame you on that one,” said Lynne. “The general inefficiency of humans is one of the reasons I’ve spent most of my life outdoors. Living outside tends to foster efficiency.”

“How does living outdoors accomplish that?” asked Seven.

“No cars, no cell phones, no computers, nothing that you can’t carry on your back or operate without an electrical outlet. In my experience, people tend to surround themselves with noise and distraction. I like being able to hear myself think.”

“Ah,” said Seven. “In the Collective, I could hear the thoughts of billions.”

There was a short silence as Seven’s statement sank in.

“Seven,” said Lynne, “if I may ask—what was it like living with the Borg? You don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable,” she hastened to add, “but I only know what I’ve read, and that doesn’t tell the real story.”

Seven did not understand why people thought talking about the Borg could possibly make her uncomfortable. It was, after all, a lifestyle with which she was far more familiar than her current situation.

“It does not trouble me to speak of the Borg,” she said. “My initial assimilation was difficult and painful, and my most recent experience with the Queen was frightening, but in general my life with the Borg was extremely rewarding.”

“How so?” asked Lynne. “I mean, from what I’ve read you had no individual will. How could that be rewarding?”

Seven detected none of the usual prejudice that she was accustomed to hearing when asked that question. It seemed that Lynne was simply seeking information, a goal she approved.

“Because I was raised by the Borg, I value goal achievement, progress toward perfection, and unity of intent and action more than anything else. The Borg excelled at all those things. In addition, the lack of individual will was irrelevant—when all are working toward the same goal, there is no need for individual will. I was in continual contact with billions of minds, all striving for the same things, and all understanding with complete confidence that we held worthwhile places within the system. The Borg are a community of the highest order, and to be a part of that community is to know exactly what you are, what your goals are, and what you should do. Being human has none of that certainty, none of that mental connection, and only the barest whisper of that community. It has taken me a long time to become accustomed to the silence in my mind, and I am still not accustomed to the lack of certainty, common goals, or community. On Voyager I am disliked by most and feared by many. Here I have experienced emotions for the first time, and while some are positive, many others are not. There are times when my thoughts turn toward my time with the Collective with such intensity that I feel a strong desire to return to it. In many ways, I…miss it.”

Seven was unaware that her voice had grown softer as she spoke, and that her normally impassive face wore an expression of yearning. She was therefore surprised to feel a warm hand cover her own, and turned to see Janeway looking at her with an expression of deep sorrow and great affection.

“Oh, Seven,” she said, “I knew it was hard for you in the beginning, but I had no idea that you still felt that way.”

“You did not ask,” said Seven simply.

Janeway looked taken aback, then nodded slowly. “All right. I suppose I deserved that. I admit that my focus has been largely on what I wanted for you, and I’ve overlooked—or maybe didn’t want to acknowledge—the possibility that your adjustment was still difficult. But Seven, you must also take responsibility for your side of this relationship. I can’t read your mind. If you don’t tell me what you’re feeling, I can’t help you—and I truly do want to help you.”

“It is difficult for me to speak of my feelings,” said Seven. “Particularly when I know they will disappoint you.”

“Seven.” Janeway’s voice was soft. “You have rarely disappointed me, and your feelings can never do that. Only actions can, and your actions have been above reproach for some time now.” As she spoke she squeezed Seven’s hand, surprising the Borg. She was accustomed to the captain touching her shoulder or elbow, but not this. Seven wondered if the captain’s new relationship had affected her physical mannerisms. She did not know what to say in response to this, besides a simple “Thank you,” and instead focused on her salad. A moment of quiet descended on the threesome.

Lynne finally broke the silence, speaking in a thoughtful tone of voice.

“Seven, is it possible that one reason it’s hard for you to speak of your feelings is because you’ve never had to before? I mean, if you’ve spent your whole life connected mentally to others, it must be difficult to remember that you must now speak your thoughts aloud in order for them to be understood.”

Seven considered this. “Your question is relevant,” she concluded. “It is true that I am still not accustomed to having to verbalize my thoughts. However, I do not believe that I must speak all of my thoughts aloud in order to be understood. On three occasions this evening I have noted nonverbal communication between the two of you. Obviously you understand one another without having to speak.”

Both Lynne and Janeway looked surprised, then thoughtful as they attempted to recall their communications. Seven saved them the effort.

“When I requested a glass of water, Kathryn asked you to retrieve one from the replicator simply by making visual contact with you. Then, when Kathryn referred to the lecture you gave her after speaking with me in the mess hall, she looked at you again, communicating something that I could not discern. And just now you signaled to Kathryn to proceed with her consumption of food with another visual contact. It is obvious,” she concluded, “that words are not necessary in some situations or some types of relationships. You have more of a mental connection than you apparently realize.”

Lynne leaned back in her chair, eyeing Seven with respect. “You’re extremely observant, Seven,” she said. “I wasn’t even aware of those three instances, but now that you mention them I know exactly what you’re talking about. You’re right; verbal communication is not always necessary. But deep-seated feelings are difficult to communicate non-verbally. I doubt you could have communicated your feelings about missing the Borg without speaking.”

“I have difficulty communicating any feelings at all without speaking,” said Seven. “As yet I do not comprehend how it is done, though I recognize it when I observe it.”

“In many cases, it requires great familiarity,” said Janeway. “The person receiving the communication needs to know the person making it very well. Lynne and I have spent a great deal of time together, and we’ve learned enough about each other to be able to communicate silently in many instances. Had we spent the same amount of time simply working together—without the personal relationship we’ve developed—we would still have learned enough for some non-verbal communication, but not nearly as much.”

“You are saying that should I engage in the type of relationship you have with Lynne, I too would learn this type of communication?” asked Seven.

“Yes, I believe you would in time,” Janeway answered.

“Is that the attraction of copulation for humans? That it leads to nonverbal communication techniques?”

Lynne, who had been taking a drink from her glass, was suddenly overcome by a fit of coughing. She set the glass down and turned away, covering her mouth with her napkin. When she turned back her face was flushed. “Pardon me,” she said, her voice raspy. “That went down the wrong tube.” She coughed again, but this time Seven thought she could hear a hint of laughter in the sound. “You want to take that one?” she asked, looking at Janeway.

Janeway lowered her eyebrows and glared at Lynne briefly, but when she turned to Seven her expression was neutral. “That isn’t the attraction of copulation, Seven, but it is one of the attractions of an intimate relationship. There can be a great deal of comfort in having someone know you well enough to understand you without words.”

“On the other hand, Kathryn,” Lynne said, apparently having recovered from her fit, “you are quite capable of inspiring nonverbal understanding in people you barely know. For instance, I have it on good authority that you can drop an ensign at twenty meters with your Glare O’ Death. You don’t even have to know the poor sap’s name.”

Seven looked from one woman to the other, fully expecting the captain to singe Lynne with some form of that well-known glare. In her experience, Janeway was comfortable teasing others, but was not the type to take teasing well herself. But to her surprise, Janeway just grinned.

“Ah, now that’s different,” she said. “They teach us that look in command school. It’s more a matter of efficiency than intimacy.”

Seven was finding this conversation to be fascinating in the extreme. Her concerns about Lynne’s presence hampering the quality of conversation with the captain had been entirely unfounded—this evening was proving to be most enjoyable. If anything, it was even more interesting to have two people explaining human behavior, particularly when both individuals were equally intelligent, broad-minded and ready to share. In addition, she had rarely seen the captain this relaxed and open. If this was a consequence of her relationship with Lynne, then Seven was entirely in favor of it.

Their evening progressed through a discussion of intimacy versus efficiency in human relationships, the role of body language in overcoming verbal and social barriers, and the purpose of copulation when not being used for procreation. This last topic was one that Seven had never had answered to her satisfaction, and she was eager to bring it up now, when she had access to two individuals who were motivated to help her understand. Janeway seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the ensuing conversation, but Lynne appeared to have no such issues, answering Seven’s rapidfire questions openly and with careful consideration.

At last their evening drew to an end, and Seven was escorted to the door by her two hosts. She stopped and looked back at the women, observing their ease and comfort with each other, and suddenly understood what she had been trying to define all evening. “I have come to the conclusion that Harry Kim was wrong,” she said.

Both Janeway and Lynne looked a bit bewildered. “About what?” asked Janeway.

“He informed me that the two of you were lovers,” said Seven, noting Janeway’s immediate blush and Lynne’s faint smile. “But that is an insufficient designation for you. Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres are also lovers, but I have not observed them engaging in the same level of mental and emotional intimacy that you have. I do not know of a term that describes your interaction.”

Janeway slipped her hand into Lynne’s and spoke. “You’re right, Seven. The word ‘lovers’ can denote simple physical intimacy, a relationship involving a deep level of emotional intimacy, and everything in between. It is rather lacking, but I’m not sure a term exists that exactly describes our relationship.”

“It does,” said Lynne emphatically. “We are more than lovers. We’re partners.”

“Partners,” repeated Seven. “A term denoting a relationship between two equals. Yes, I believe that fits.” She bade her hosts goodnight, grateful that her social lessons made this part, at least, very simple. She was ten meters down the hallway when she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw Janeway standing in the corridor.

“Yes, Kathryn?” she inquired.

The captain smiled. “Velocity tomorrow? Fourteen hundred?”

Seven felt a rare smile break across her own face. “I will be there.”

Janeway nodded and stepped back into her quarters, leaving Seven to stare at the empty corridor for a moment before turning and making her way to Cargo Bay Two. As she walked she noted with some surprise—and no little satisfaction—that her earlier feelings of separation from Janeway had vanished. The evening had reconnected them, and on a deeper level than ever before. Their philosophical discussion had been different than what she was accustomed to—quieter, more relaxed, with none of the confrontations that had often occurred in the past. Though she had no objections to their conflicts and sometimes even appreciated them, they did not leave her with the feeling of warmth that she was currently experiencing. It was a most enjoyable sensation, and one she hoped would be repeated in the near future. She had also been left with a great deal to consider regarding dating. The many ideas, theories and truths that had been discussed this evening, as well as the example that Janeway and Lynne set by their own behaviors, made Seven realize just how far her own “date” had been from realizing the potential she sought. Perhaps in the future she would reopen her investigations into this concept—and this time, she would have far better reference sources than the Doctor.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 13

 

 

Although the captain’s relationship had been the gossip of the century at first, it soon lost its fascination when nothing exciting happened. Janeway and Lynne did not try to hide their relationship, instead displaying their affection for each other in such a quiet manner that nobody could find anything to point at and talk about. Eventually the captain’s new love became old hat, and was accepted as the norm by nearly all the crew. There were still a few holdouts who thought the whole thing just wasn’t right, that a captain should be above this sort of thing, but they were in the minority. In general, the atmosphere on Voyager grew more mellow as her captain’s happiness became apparent.

And Janeway was outrageously happy. Sometimes she worried about how happy she was, and thought that it was tempting the gods for anyone to feel this good. She was in love, her love was returned, and best of all, her lover was a civilian and not under Janeway’s direct command. There were no ethics to be compromised, and for the first time in five years she didn’t have to worry about separating the captain from the woman. With Lynne she was just Kathryn, who happened to command the ship they traveled in. She reveled in her newfound freedom to be herself, to let down her guard, and to know she was loved even if she wasn’t perfect. The sense of quiet contentment she felt while in Lynne’s presence was something she had never experienced in her adult life, and she grew accustomed to it so quickly that soon she could no longer understand how she’d survived so long without it. And on top of everything else, she didn’t have to worry about Lynne’s safety. Her partner’s job held no danger, and since she was not a member of the crew, she did not take part in away missions and so was never in harm’s way—unless harm came directly to the ship. It seemed that their relationship was perfect in every way as far as Janeway’s command was concerned, and she basked in the glow of their joy and increasing intimacy. Lynne had even turned out to be a worthy Velocity opponent—Janeway had initially taught her the game as a way of channeling her anger and giving her an outlet that didn’t involve breaking furniture. Lynne had launched herself into the game with a physical abandon that made her formidable, regardless of whether she actually scored any points. Her body checks were something to contend with. As the weeks passed, however, Lynne’s physical power began to give way to a cagey finesse, and as her marksmanship improved she developed into a player nearly as adept as Seven of Nine, and far less predictable.

The only flaw in Janeway’s life, so far as she could see, was the work that seemed to pile up on her desk. Because of it, she wasn’t able to spend nearly as much time with Lynne as she wanted. Two or three nights a week was all she could manage, but those nights were worth the wait. And Lynne never seemed to mind, apparently understanding that Janeway’s duties sometimes had to take priority.

This happy situation continued for a glorious six weeks before it all came crashing down around Janeway’s ears. That was the day that Lynne walked into the ready room and sat down for an interview with the captain.

“Lynne! What can I do for you?” asked Janeway in surprise as Lynne entered. Except for that day shortly after her arrival when she’d asked for a job, Lynne had never set foot in the ready room until now. By unspoken agreement, she left Janeway to her work during their duty shift and never contacted her except during the lunch hour. For her to walk in now meant that something big was going on, and Janeway was immediately worried.

“Hello, Kathryn,” said Lynne, taking the chair across the desk. “I have a request to make of you as the captain, so I thought I’d better do it formally, in your office.”

This sounded like trouble. “What is it?”

Lynne did not prevaricate. “I want to be put on away mission duty.”

“What!” Of all the things Lynne could have said, this was the most unexpected. Janeway was stunned, and instinctively stalled for time. “Why?”

Lynne looked at her partner with an earnest expression. “Because I need to be under a sky again, Kathryn. I’ve spent my whole life either working outdoors or fidgeting indoors and scheming various ways to get back outside again. I’ve always been most comfortable with dirt under my feet and sky over my head, and on Voyager I have neither. It’s been over four months since I got here, and that’s just too long for me to go without fresh air. I need to get onto a planet. I need to do something besides discuss social politics and historical events that really don’t matter anymore.”

By now Janeway was regaining some of her composure. “Lynne, that’s exactly what the holodecks are for. Starfleet engineers knew that a ship’s crew would go space happy if they never had a diversion from a ship’s controlled environment, so they enabled us to go anywhere we want to. If you need to get out, we could go to the farm after the shift. Or I could help you write your own program. You can go to the mountains, the beach, put yourself on a rock wall, go skiing—whatever you want.” Shortly after they had become intimate, Janeway had taken Lynne to the holodeck for a program that she had never shown anyone before. It was a faithful representation of her mother’s house on the farm in Indiana; a place she went to for comfort when her loneliness and homesickness threatened to overwhelm her. This visit, however, was filled with laughter and joy. Lynne had marveled at the technology, and they’d spent a great deal of time exploring the various places on the farm that were conducive to new lovers expressing their desires for each other. Janeway felt a little warm just thinking about that.

But Lynne was unimpressed with this offer. “Thank you, Kathryn, but that’s just not good enough. I understand the purpose of holodecks, and god knows the technology is just amazing, but it’s not real. Maybe you can fool yourself, having been brought up with the concept, but I can’t. The smells aren’t right. The air doesn’t feel right. It’s a wonderful getaway, and I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your farm program, but I can never forget that it’s really just a masterful imitation. I need the real thing.” She took a deep breath. “From what I understand, the only way to get planetside is to go on away missions, so I’m asking you for help. How can I get on that duty?”

“You can’t,” said Janeway flatly. “Lynne, I don’t mean this unkindly, but your position on this ship doesn’t warrant placement on away missions. You’re a historian, and I can’t see that you could do your job any better on a planet than you could here on the ship. I simply could not justify putting you on a team unless you could be an active asset. Otherwise, you’re putting yourself and others at unnecessary risk.”

Lynne’s eyes flashed. “I am not a historian.” She waved her hand. “Okay, it’s true that I’m working as a historian, but that’s not my vocation and you know it. I’m trained in outdoor pursuits—mountaineering, rock climbing, glissading, skiing, spelunking, navigation, wilderness first aid, survival skills—I could contribute a lot to any team that needed to move around on rough terrain. And as for risk, I put myself at risk on a continual basis in my old life. You know as well as I do that danger is an unavoidable part of certain lifestyles, and that there are many ways to minimize it.”

“Yes, there are, such as sending the right person for the job. You certainly have useful skills, but you’d need more than that for away missions. Depending on the mission, we may send engineers, security, botanists, diplomats—knowing how to get through terrain is usually the least of a team’s concerns.” This was not entirely true, and Janeway could think of many occasions when Lynne’s skills would have come in handy. But they all involved more than a little risk, and the idea of sending her lover into known danger made her throat catch. She had to talk Lynne out of this.

“Fine! I have a degree in biology—let me help the xenobiologists collect specimens. Send me with the botanists to help collect plants. Let me take security training—I’ve certainly been getting a lot of practice with a phaser. I could be an asset if you’d just give me a little training.”

“It’s not that easy. Nearly everyone who goes on away missions has received four years of Starfleet training in addition to their particular area of expertise. We can’t just give you a few lessons in one area and expect you to perform to the same standards as everyone else. You’re not a member of the crew.”

“Then make me one! Put me through whatever training you have to; I certainly have the time. Let me learn whatever I need to catch up. I didn’t expect that it would be easy, Kathryn, but I know I can do it. Just give me a chance.”

Now Janeway was really alarmed. Her efforts to deflect Lynne had simply diverted her into an even more problematic desire. If Lynne were to become a member of her crew, everything between them would change, and Janeway had no idea how she could handle it. Desperate to head this off, she went on the offensive, pushing her chair back and standing up with her hands on her desk. Leaning forward, she said, “Lynne, Voyager is not a training ship. We’re all alone out here, much of the time in unfriendly territory. I’m sorry, but I can’t spare the people or the time to spend months training one person to do what others are already trained to do!”

Lynne was not intimidated by Janeway’s deliberate physical stance. She immediately stood up as well, put her hands on Janeway’s desk and met her stare just inches away. “I know for a fact that Commander Tuvok has already spent considerable time doing just that, training some of your Maquis crewmembers.”

“That was different. They were already members of a ship’s crew.”

Anger suddenly flashed across Lynne’s face. “Dammit, Kathryn, I know this is not an unreasonable request! I did my research before walking in here, and I wouldn’t have come if anything had indicated that I was out of line. I came in here expecting your support, but instead you’re throwing up every block you can think of! Why are you fighting me so hard on this?”

Janeway held her stare for a few seconds longer, then slumped back into her chair with a sigh. It was a posture of defeat and something she would never have done in front of anyone else on this ship. But Lynne wasn’t anyone else on this ship, and besides, she was defeated. She had run out of excuses and would have to tell the truth. Part of it, anyway. Looking up, she said quietly, “Because I can’t date a member of my crew.”

Lynne stared at her in astonishment, all signs of anger gone from her face. With none of her usual grace, she fell back into her chair, and the two women regarded each other over the desk.

“So that’s what this is all about? Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the unmistakable signs of an incipient headache. “Because I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to influence your decision based on my own personal needs in this relationship.”

“When, in fact, that’s exactly what you were doing.”

“Well, in a word—yes.” Janeway looked down at her hands, suddenly ashamed.

Lynne got up from her chair, came around the desk and knelt in front of Janeway, resting her hands on her partner’s thighs.

“Kathryn, it’s okay to have personal needs in a relationship. That’s what makes it a relationship. All I ask is that you be honest with me about those needs.”

Janeway put her hands over Lynne’s. “All right then—I need for you to not be part of my crew.”

Lynne’s voice was gentle. “Would you really just let go of everything we have if I did become a member of the crew?”

Janeway sighed. “I don’t know, Lynne. It would kill me to do it. But Starfleet protocols are very clear on the issue of captains dating subordinates. Besides that, how would I handle having to command my lover? How would you handle it? Our lives would become divided into on duty and off, and you know as well as I do that my time isn’t always that easy to separate. And then there’s the issue of what it would do to crew morale to have the captain in a relationship with a crewmember. They’d be watching to see if I showed any favoritism, or if you took advantage of your position. It’s a Pandora’s box, and I honestly don’t know if I could deal with it properly, even assuming that I could conveniently drop my ethical beliefs and break a Starfleet protocol because it inconvenienced me. It would be rather difficult for me to enforce regulations among my crew after that. The captain of a ship has to set the standards.”

They looked at each other for several moments, and then Lynne stood up without a word and returned to her chair. Janeway felt chilled as she watched her partner deliberately put distance between them.

But Lynne just pulled her chair closer and leaned her forearms on the desk. “Okay. I’ll stay a civilian. What we have means too much to me to put it at risk. But Kathryn, please help me with this. I really do need to get out and do something.”

Janeway breathed a sigh of relief at Lynne’s agreement. Even the issue of her partner going on away missions seemed far less frightening now that she’d eliminated the much greater danger to their relationship. “Thank you,” she said softly. “And I’ll do what I can.” A thought occurred to her, and she tilted her head curiously. “Tell me, why is it so important to you to go planetside? I understand what you’re saying about holodeck programs being imitations, but I don’t think that’s the whole story. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Lynne leaned back in her chair and gazed at Janeway with an odd expression, and then, surprisingly, she looked away.

“Lynne?” Janeway had never seen her react this way. Lynne could normally bore holes through solid duranium with the force of her stare, and she never broke eye contact until she’d made her point.

After several more seconds of silence, Lynne finally looked back and answered. “I’m worried, Kathryn. You say you love me, but despite all of our time together, you don’t know who I really am. To you I’m a historian with an interesting point of view.”

“That’s not—” Janeway began, but Lynne held up her hand.

“Please, let me finish. I know you see more in me than that. But my life right now is nothing like what it should be, and—with the exception of my relationship with you—nothing like what I want it to be.” She closed her eyes briefly and rubbed the bridge of her nose in an unconscious imitation of her partner. “I've always lived my life by the philosophy that I can accomplish anything if I set my mind to it, and that's seen me into and out of some amazing experiences and some breathtaking places. It’s what defines me. But here, it feels like I’ve lost my way. Every day I go to the lab and talk about what to you is distant history, and then I go home and read Voyager’s mission logs and think, wow, what astonishing things they’ve done. People used to say that about me. Now it feels like I have almost nothing to offer you, and...” She paused, then finished in a quieter voice. “I’m afraid you’re going to get bored with me.”

“Oh, Lynne.” Janeway’s heart went out to her lover. “You’re so much more to me than you seem to realize. I’m in love with you, not with what you do. You’re a unique and very special person, and I can’t imagine ever getting bored with you.”

“But that’s just it! You’re in love with someone you don’t really know. I want to show you who I truly am—I want to earn that love.”

“You’ve already earned it!”

Lynne shook her head. “I’m not doing a good job of explaining this. I guess what I’m really saying is that I want more. I want your respect and admiration, too. Kathryn, do you know how proud I am of you? You’re the captain of a starship, for god’s sake. You’ve had a profound impact on the lives of many people—hell, on entire cultures. You make a mark wherever you go. I can hardly believe that you’ve chosen me to be with, but you have and frankly, I’m starting to feel unworthy. And it’s all tied in to the fact that I’m not doing what I want to be doing, and you’ve never seen me in my own element.” She looked at Janeway with a pleading expression. “I don’t need to influence whole cultures, Kathryn. I just need to be myself again, to have some pride in what I do, and show you who I really am. And from what I can see, the only way I can do that is to go on missions.”

Janeway let her breath out slowly. This was much bigger than she’d realized. Her initial thought when she’d agreed to help Lynne get planetside was that scheduling a little shore leave might do the trick, but it was obvious now that such a temporary fix would accomplish nothing. There was no easy way out of this one—or at least, no easy way that would keep Lynne safe. But she was beginning to realize that protecting Lynne from danger was something like keeping a bird in a cage:  it might satisfy her own needs, but it would kill Lynne by centimeters.

She nodded her head. “All right. I think I understand what you’re saying, and I’ll try to figure out some way to get you on an away team without compromising your civilian status. But it won’t be easy, and I can’t make any guarantees.” Her control slipped a little. “How ironic. If I keep you on board, you’re going to be miserable, and if I let you go, I’m going to be miserable.”

Lynne looked bewildered. “Why would my going on away missions make you miserable?”

“You’ve looked at the logs. Surely you must realize that away mission duty is the single most dangerous duty on a starship. You’re asking me to make it possible for you to be put in situations where you might get hurt or even killed. How could I not be unhappy about that?”

There was a moment’s silence. Finally Lynne put her hand over Janeway’s and said softly, “I don’t have a good answer for you. Everyone who has ever loved me has had to live with the knowledge that to be happy, I had to be doing things that weren’t always safe. But Kathryn, you’re the same way. You don’t exactly lead a quiet life. I have to accept the same thing about you, and believe me, it’s not easy. You’re quite literally all I have, and the idea of losing you is something that I can’t even think about without getting panicky. But it’s who you are, and part of why I love you. What I need for you to realize is that it’s who I am, too.”

Janeway was rocked by this statement. She hadn’t considered it from her partner’s side of the equation, but it was true that Lynne had to accept a certain amount of uncertainty about Janeway’s own safety. Lynne was right—it was unfair of her to expect her lover to accept that risk of loss, but not be willing to accept it herself. She sighed, knowing that she could not address this issue without forever altering the perfect happiness she’d felt over the last month and a half. Then Lynne’s words triggered another thought, and she smiled at her lover in spite of herself. “So, you came in here telling me you just wanted to feel the dirt under your feet, and now it turns out that this is about what makes you who you are. Sounds like you weren’t being entirely honest with me about your needs.”

Lynne opened her mouth to retort, then snapped it shut again as she realized that her own words were being used against her. Her lips quirked in her trademark half-smile. “You know, I hate it when I’m hypocritical. And I hate it even worse when someone catches me at it.”

Janeway laughed as she got up from her chair and came around the desk. Lynne rose, and Janeway pulled her lover into an embrace that was intended to be a quick hug—she was still on duty after all—but somehow melted into something else entirely. She suddenly felt as if she could never let this woman go; that this moment was all there was and when she allowed it to pass, nothing would ever be the same. When they finally pulled apart, she tried to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes, but Lynne noticed immediately. Reaching up to cup her partner’s cheek, she said softly, “What’s wrong?”

Janeway wasn’t sure she could explain it. “I must really love you. I’m about to let you go out and possibly hurt yourself, and me in the process, all because you asked me to.”

Lynne squeezed Janeway’s hand. “Did the proverb about loving something and setting it free make it to the twenty-fourth century?”

“It doesn’t sound familiar. What was it?”

“Supposedly it was an ancient Chinese proverb. I never did find the original source. For awhile it hit mainstream American consciousness, and the first part of it got so overused that it became a joke. But the full proverb is timeless and very true. It said, ‘If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was. We do not possess anything in this world, least of all other people. We only imagine that we do.’” She reached for Janeway’s other wrist and held their clasped hands between their bodies. “I will always come back to you, Kathryn, if there’s any chance in the world. And I am so grateful to you for loving me enough to let me go.” She leaned in for a kiss, then straightened up again as if remembering where she was. But Janeway needed that physical affirmation. She pulled her lover close and their lips met in a kiss that began as a gentle, tender contact and quickly spiraled up to something that threatened to get out of control. It was Lynne who finally broke it off. Leaning her forehead against Janeway’s and breathing hard, she said, “Come to my quarters tonight? We can finish this conversation, and I promise to never let you go—at least, not ‘til morning.”

Janeway swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Lynne squeezed her hands, dropped them and walked out, leaving Janeway to stare at the closed door, her body tingling with a desire that had no outlet. She made her way to the upper deck and got a cup of coffee from the replicator, wishing that she could get something a whole lot stronger. Well, she only had to make it through a few more hours. Dropping onto her couch and sipping the hot brew, she grimaced as she thought about her promise to Lynne. How on earth would she convince Chakotay to put her lover on away team rotation when she was neither trained nor a member of the crew? Her physical response to Lynne quickly ebbed as she turned her mind to strategic considerations. Her arguments would have to be more successful with Chakotay than they had been with Lynne.

Three hours later, Janeway logged off her terminal and left the ready room. She had scheduled a meeting with both Chakotay and Tuvok for 0800 the next day, but any concern she had about that was already forgotten as she said goodnight to the beta shift bridge crew and stepped into the turbolift. Her mind was so full of what waited for her in Lynne’s quarters that she had no time to worry about tomorrow. And that, for a starship captain, was a rare and wonderful thing.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 14

 

 

Commanders Tuvok and Chakotay sat in the conference room, waiting for their captain to arrive and start the meeting. She was already five minutes late, which was unusual in the extreme. Chakotay was just wondering how much longer he should wait before asking the computer for the captain’s location—after all, the only reason he could think of for the captain to be late and not notify him was if she were somehow in trouble—when the doors swished open and Captain Janeway strode in. One look at her flushed face and Chakotay realized that there was at least one other potential cause for her tardiness, and it was probably not worth the risk to his life to mention it.

“Captain,” he said, acknowledging her arrival in a carefully neutral tone. Tuvok spoke his greeting at the same time.

“Commanders.” Janeway took her seat and placed three PADDs on the table in front of her. “I’ve received an unusual request, and would like your input before proceeding with it.”

“What was the request?” asked Chakotay, when she did not immediately explain.

Janeway pushed one PADD to each man, then said, “Ms. Hamilton has asked me to put her on away team duty.”

Chakotay was completely surprised by this one, but Tuvok seemed almost to expect it. “Does she wish to join the crew?” the security chief asked.

“No, she does not. Therefore I would like to examine the option of assigning her to away team duty on a contractor basis.”

Chakotay knew the captain had a personal agenda here, and he wasn’t going to make himself popular by pointing out the problems. But it had to be done. “Captain, that’s highly irregular.”

“It may be unusual, but it is not irregular,” said Tuvok, surprising Chakotay. “Starfleet will contract certain jobs out to individuals who are especially qualified for the specific task. In order for a contract to be approved, the individual being contracted must be proven to be better suited to the task than any available Starfleet member.”

“Yes, I’ve read the regulations,” said the captain. “I believe that for away missions involving movement through difficult terrain, Ms. Hamilton can indeed be proven extremely well suited to the task. She does not need to be better than any available Starfleet member, because we do not make a habit of sending out away teams of one. She needs only to be as good as the best here.” She indicated the PADDs. “You will find Ms. Hamilton’s resume on your PADDs. I believe that you will find her experience quite relevant to our needs.”

The room was quiet as each man perused his PADD. Tuvok looked up first. “This is an impressive range of skills.”

“Yes, but many of them are outdated,” said Chakotay. “Wilderness first aid from four hundred years ago? How relevant is that?”

Janeway’s eyes flashed, but she gave no other indication that Chakotay was treading on thin ice. “In situations where our medkits are unavailable or inoperative, I believe that such knowledge would be extremely useful, Commander. First aid without benefit of powered healing devices hasn’t changed much. Or have you not been through Starfleet’s survival training?”

She knew damn good and well that he had, Chakotay thought. He might as well hit this head on. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I have to ask this question. Is it possible that you are bending regulations in order to satisfy the request of someone with whom you have a personal relationship?”

Janeway didn’t move an eyelash. “I expected your question, Commander. And I expect every other crewmember aboard Voyager to ask the same one. The answer is no. I have always done my utmost to satisfy the needs of everyone on this ship, whenever it was possible to do so. This is no different. We have a passenger on board this ship who feels that her skills are not being used to their fullest, and she has offered us her services. Given that we have a use for those services, I fail to see why taking advantage of her offer would be considered bending regulations for personal reasons.”

Chakotay had nothing to say to that. Fortunately, Tuvok spoke up, saving him the trouble. But he surprised Chakotay a second time.

“I submit,” said the Vulcan, “that we should invest more time in determining how best to utilize Ms. Hamilton’s obvious intelligence and skills, and less time concerning ourselves with whether the crew will think the captain is showing favoritism. It is not to the benefit of the crew or the ship to refuse the services of a skilled individual out of a misplaced concern for what others may think.”

“I agree,” said Janeway. “Chakotay?”

Chakotay knew when he was outmaneuvered. And truthfully, Janeway had made a good case. If Tuvok in all his logic supported it, who was he to risk the captain’s ire by speaking out against it?

“All right,” he said. “So we have the legal precedent to contract with Ms. Hamilton. The next question is, what exactly will she be contracted to do? And who will supervise her?”

“In a contract situation, the contractor reports directly to the head of the department doing the hiring,” said Tuvok. “Although Ms. Hamilton’s resume includes a knowledge of biology, that seems to me the least valuable of her skills. Her extensive experience with wilderness travel would make her a valuable member of any away team moving through uninhabited terrain. It would seem logical that security would be the department to contract with her, and therefore I would be her supervisor.”

“That is exactly what I had in mind,” said Janeway.

“But Tuvok, you have no evidence of Ms. Hamilton’s skills other than this resume,” said Chakotay. Even without looking he could feel Janeway leveling a lethal glare at him. Hurriedly, he continued, “I’m not saying she would misrepresent herself, Captain, but are we prepared to justify this contract based solely on her claimed skill level? It seems to me that we require more positive justification than that.”

“Of course,” said Tuvok calmly. “That is why I will be testing her.”

“Excellent,” said Janeway. “When will you begin?”

“I am running a security training in the holodeck until 1200, and will need to reprogram the deck afterward for the necessary tests. I believe that I can be ready to test Ms. Hamilton by 1330 hours.”

“All right, I’ll notify her to meet you in Holodeck One at that time. Chakotay, if Tuvok feels after testing Ms. Hamilton that her skills are indeed relevant to our needs, will you have any further objections?”

“No, Captain.”

“Then we are agreed. Tuvok, I look forward to your report as soon as you finish it. Gentlemen, you're dismissed.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Tuvok stood in the holodeck, surveying the results of his programming. A smooth, sheer rock face stretched for what seemed like several thousand feet into the air, and he had set the temperature for thirty-five degrees Celsius, an agreeable temperature for him but one that he knew would be draining to a human. He did not waste his time with easy tests; it was far more logical to test to failure. Then one knew exactly what an individual’s limits were.

The holodeck doors swished open at exactly 1330 hours, and Lynne Hamilton entered. Tuvok was pleased with her promptness.

“Hello, Commander Tuvok,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. She was wearing stretch pants, a long-sleeved jacket and a pair of low-cut climbing shoes. “Wow,” she breathed, craning her neck to gaze up at the rock face. “Maybe I’ve been underestimating the possibilities of the holodeck. That’s a fabulous climb.”

Tuvok raised one eyebrow. “Fabulous” was not the description he would have expected. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hamilton. I presume that Captain Janeway has explained what is expected of you?”

Lynne was removing her jacket as he spoke. The tank top she wore underneath displayed a well-toned upper body, and Tuvok made a mental note of her obvious physical strength. “Yes, she said that you were going to test me in all of my claimed skills, using the holodeck to provide a realistic setting. I didn’t realize you could program in something like this, though. I take it you want me to climb this.” She indicated the rock face with a wave of her hand.

“That is correct.”

“With gear or free climbing?” she asked, looking at the bag of climbing gear at Tuvok’s feet.

“I am not familiar with the term ‘free climbing,’” said Tuvok.

“Sorry; guess that one’s gone out of style. It means climbing with just your hands and feet, using chalk to keep your hands dry. For most climbers, free climbing still allows a safety line, but sometimes I go without.”

Tuvok gazed at the rock face and then back at Lynne. It had not occurred to him that she would even consider climbing such a sheer wall without gear. But if she were capable of such a thing, then he wished to see it.

“You will ‘free climb,’” he said. “You may replicate the chalk you spoke of.”

“Computer,” said Lynne. “Make a tubular canvas bag five inches in diameter and eight inches deep, with an open, rigid top. Fill to within three inches of the top with chalk in the form of fine powder. Put the bag on a belt one inch wide and thirty inches long.”

With a hum, the holodeck deposited the requested item at Lynne’s feet. She picked up the bag, tightened the belt around her waist and turned to Tuvok with a grin. “I’ve already warmed up,” she said. “How do you want to do this?”

Tuvok approved her preparedness. “You have one hour to climb as high as you can go,” he said. “I will then time your descent. You will lose points for slipping, and if you fall the test will be over.”

“If I fall, it won’t just be the test that will be over,” said Lynne.

Tuvok did not see the relevance of this comment, but declined to pursue it. “Your hour begins now,” he said.

Lynne immediately began pacing back and forth at the base of the rock face, looking intently upward. She spent nearly ten minutes of her allotted hour examining possible routes. Then, choosing her starting point, she dipped one hand in the bag at her back, dusted chalk on her hands, and began climbing. Her rate of ascension was beyond anything Tuvok had expected, and he was actually impressed by some of her feats of strength and balance as she made her way upward. For the purposes of his test, she had already passed at the forty minute mark, and still she climbed. When Tuvok called time, he had to crane his neck to see her. She acknowledged his call with a wave, and immediately began descending by the same route she’d gone up. In less time than Tuvok would have thought possible, she was once again standing before him, her shirt stained with sweat and a large grin on her face.

“God, that felt good!” she said happily, wiping sweat off her forehead and adding more chalk dust to the already considerable amount there. “There were a couple of tricky sections up there that were a bit nerve-racking, but what a great climb!”

“Why were you nervous?” asked Tuvok.

Lynne looked at him incredulously. “Because I have no desire to take a fall and kill myself, that’s why.”

“But that would be impossible.”

“Commander Tuvok, I’m flattered by your estimate of my skills, but even the best climbers can fall. If they ever forget that, they’re as good as dead.”

“Ms. Hamilton, I believe you misunderstand me. I did not mean that it would be impossible for you to fall. I meant that it would be impossible for you to be killed.”

She looked at him blankly. “I don’t understand.”

“Has Captain Janeway not explained the safety features of the holodeck?”

Lynne shook her head. “No. We’ve only been here to play Velocity and use one other program, and…well, the program we used didn’t have any dangerous elements in it.”

“I see. The holodeck has safety protocols built into it that prevent serious harm from coming to any individual using the system. For instance, if you were to fall, the holodeck would adjust for you and prevent you from impacting the ground at the normal rate of acceleration. You might sustain contusions, but you would not be seriously injured.”

“You’re kidding.”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” she added, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were not speaking truthfully. It’s just that I never conceived of such a thing.” She turned around to look at the rock face, now marked with tiny blazes of white where she’d made her way up. “Kind of takes the fun out of it, doesn’t it?”

Tuvok would never understand this aspect of humanity. “I fail to see how it could be ‘fun’ to risk serious injury or death.”

Lynne looked back at him. “Maybe that was a poor choice of words. I meant that part of the challenge of rock climbing, the thrill that makes it so rewarding to me, is the knowledge that any mistake could result in a fall and injury. That knowledge makes me very careful, and every time I climb without incident I feel a great sense of accomplishment. Without the risk, the rewards are greatly diminished.” She paused. “Commander Tuvok, do you often use the holodeck to test or train your security forces?”

“Yes. It is an invaluable aid to training.”

“Then how do you know that your people are being as careful as they should be when they know that a mistake won’t cost them anything?”

Tuvok saw the logic in this, and appreciated Lynne’s line of thinking even though it was incorrect. “Ms. Hamilton, you knew that a fall would cause you to fail the test. If you had also known that a fall would not result in injury, would you have been any less careful?”

Her response was immediate. “Ah. I see what you’re saying. No, I would have been just as careful, because to fail would have been almost as fatal to my purpose as falling.”

Tuvok nodded in satisfaction. “Then you understand why holodecks are useful for training even with the safeties on. No one wishes to risk failure. Ms. Hamilton, your performance on this test was exemplary. We will now proceed to the next. Computer, end program and run Tuvok gamma-seven-one.”

The rock face vanished, to be replaced with the foliage of an impenetrable jungle. Tuvok pulled a tricorder out of his belt. “Are you familiar with a tricorder?” he asked.

“I’ve seen them around, but never used one.”

“Your resume lists wilderness navigation as one of your skills. What type of tool did you use for that?”

“I always carried a map and compass, though of course a compass is a bit useless here. I also used a GPS, which was a handheld computer that linked up with orbiting satellites to establish my position. GPS pretty much rendered map and compass skills obsolete, but I always liked to have a backup in case anything went wrong. Maps never run out of battery power.”

“Your GPS unit sounds somewhat similar to a tricorder. I will demonstrate the use of this unit to you, and then you will make your way to a series of preprogrammed target destinations. You will have no other tool besides this, and I will time your efforts. Do you understand the test?”

“Yes.”

It only took Lynne a few minutes to grasp the principles of a tricorder’s navigation function. She commented that it was just like GPS only better, and seemed to look forward to her test. Tuvok had never tested such an enthusiastic individual, and found the experience to be…interesting. He sent Lynne on her way and then watched her progress on a second tricorder tuned to her comm badge frequency. He was most curious to see how she would handle the deep swamp that he had purposely failed to mention, and which was located squarely between two of the destination points. To his surprise, the dot representing Lynne traveled straight across the swamp, losing only a little speed. Twenty minutes later, it arrived at the final destination without ever having moved off the most efficient path by more than a few meters.

“Computer, end program,” called Tuvok. The jungle faded away to reveal the grid pattern of the bare holodeck. Lynne stood at the other end. Quickly she jogged back to Tuvok and handed him the tricorder.

“That is one nice little tool,” she said. “And this holodeck is amazing. I would have sworn I walked two miles.”

“You did,” said Tuvok. “The holodeck adjusts the visual matrix for your position, and I tied the tricorder into the program. The readings it gave you matched what you saw, but not your actual path of travel. You thought you were traveling in a series of straight lines, but in reality you were walking in circles.” He raised one eyebrow. “Your performance was again exemplary, but I must ask you—how did you get through the swamp? I see no evidence of water immersion in your appearance.”

“I didn’t go through it, I went over it. As soon as I realized how big it was, I knew I’d lose too much time going around, and going through wasn’t an option when I didn’t know what might be lurking in the water. Then I noticed that there were some fairly large trees growing out of the water with good sturdy branches, so I just got up in the branches and used them as a bridge. It saved a lot of time.”

“Did it occur to you that there might be something ‘lurking’ in the trees?”

“Actually, yes, but I figured that at least there I had a chance to see a problem before it was too late. For that matter, there could have been all kinds of things hiding on the ground, too. The tree branches were more open than the undergrowth.”

Tuvok nodded in satisfaction. “Very good. We have four more tests, after which we will move on to sickbay, where the Doctor will review your knowledge of wilderness first aid. Do you require a rest period?” Lynne didn’t know it, but this innocuous question was one of the tests.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind sitting down for a few minutes. I could use some water.”

“Very well,” said Tuvok, pleased with her answer. A good security person needed to know her limits. Any individual who pushed herself physically without taking sufficient time to recharge would soon end up injured or worse. Lynne obviously knew the value of resting and hydration. Tuvok was more and more satisfied that they would be able to fully justify the contract that the captain had asked for, and looked forward to observing more of Lynne’s skills. If her abilities in the next three tests were as impressive as what he’d seen so far, then he would be completely confident in assigning her to an away team. She would just require a short training in Starfleet away mission protocols.

“Okay, I’m ready,” said Lynne a few minutes later.

Tuvok nodded. “Computer, begin Tuvok gamma-seven-two.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway was waiting in her quarters and not doing a very good job at it. During the rest of her duty shift she’d managed to keep busy enough to not think about how Lynne was doing, but as soon as she’d returned to her quarters she could think of nothing else. She had forced herself to sit down upon realizing that she’d been pacing back and forth for several minutes, but within moments had bounced up again. She couldn’t sit still. She felt as if she were the one being tested rather than Lynne, and was not dealing at all well with the suspense of not knowing the results. Finally she gave up and went to the replicator.

“Computer, whiskey and soda.”

As soon as the drink appeared, she picked it up and took a large swallow. The alcohol seared a path down her throat all the way into her stomach, and she welcomed the heat. Soon she resumed pacing, but her nervousness had calmed considerably.

She had actually managed to sit in a chair and read three whole paragraphs of her book when her door chime sounded. “Come,” she said, launching herself out of the chair as she spoke. The door swished open, admitting Lynne. Her face and clothes were stained and some hair had escaped from her normally neat braid, but that wasn’t what stopped Janeway in her tracks—it was the breathtaking smile on her partner’s face, and the spring in her step that she had never seen before. Lynne practically glowed with happiness.

“Kathryn!” Lynne closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and nearly lifted Janeway off her feet in an enthusiastic embrace. “God, that was fun! I haven’t felt this good since I got here, and Tuvok said that my performance was impressive. I passed, Kathryn! He’s going to take me on as a consulting member of security, effective immediately. I start training in Starfleet away mission protocols tomorrow, and I can’t wait. Thank you so much for doing this!” She hugged Janeway again.

“I didn’t do this,” said Janeway somewhat breathlessly, as Lynne’s hug threatened to squeeze the air out of her lungs. “You did.”

“Well, thank you for giving me the chance,” said Lynne, releasing her partner and kissing her happily.

As soon as she could disentangle herself, Janeway held Lynne at arm’s length and looked her up and down. “You look like you’ve been through a battle,” she said, amused. “You must tell me all about it. But first, did you say that Tuvok called your performance ‘impressive’?”

Lynne nodded. “Those were his exact words.”

Janeway felt a surge of pride. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, it means I did well.”

“No, it doesn’t. Tuvok is a Vulcan; he doesn’t use descriptive terms lightly. If he said your performance was satisfactory, that would mean you did well. When he says you were impressive, he means that you were one of the best he’s ever seen. And Tuvok has seen a lot. Lynne, I’m so proud of you!”

She hadn’t thought it possible, but Lynne’s smile grew even wider, and her eyes fairly danced with delight. Taking Janeway’s hands in her own, she said, “You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that.”

Guilt stabbed through Janeway. Had she never said it before? Squeezing Lynne’s hands, she said, “Oh, Lynne, I’ve been proud of you since almost the moment you stepped out of that tube. Didn’t you know that?”

“Well, sometimes I picked up on that, and I really appreciated it. It helped me to feel like I wasn’t just dead weight on board. But Kathryn, you have to understand that it’s a completely different feeling for me when you’re proud of what I am proud of. For the first time you have some idea of what I’ve trained for, what I love—what makes me who I am. And for you to be proud of that means everything to me.”

Gazing into the animated features of her partner, Janeway suddenly realized the truth of what Lynne had been trying to tell her since yesterday afternoon. The person who stood before her seemed fundamentally different from the woman she’d known for the last four months. There had often been a touch of sadness in her smile, but now she saw nothing but joy and excitement. There was an energy about her that hadn’t been there before—it fairly crackled off her skin. Janeway felt her own mood lifting in the presence of the happiness that radiated off Lynne.

“I think I understand,” she said. “And I certainly see a difference in you. It may take me awhile to get to know the new Lynne. But in the meantime—” she tugged her lover toward the table—“I made the old Lynne some of her favorite dessert. I hope the new one still likes tiramisu.”

“Oh, believe me,” said Lynne as she sat down, “no matter where, who, or what I am, I’ll still love tiramisu. And anyone who feeds it to me, as well.” She flashed a brilliant grin at Janeway, who was still a bit startled by this smile she’d never seen before tonight. But she thought she’d walk a long way to see another one.

“Well, in that case,” she said as she brought over the dessert plates, “I’d better make damned sure that this program is blocked on every replicator on Voyager except yours and mine.”

After dessert, Lynne asked to use Janeway’s shower. Permission was granted on the condition that Janeway could join her, and the two women indulged themselves in the sensual feel of their soapy bodies sliding together. By the time the shower ended, they had succeeded in arousing each other to the point that the bedroom was simply too far away. They toweled each other off and resumed their caresses, each taking joy in the clean, smooth skin of the other. When their tongues met in a kiss more passionate than those they’d shared in the shower, Janeway thought that she really couldn’t wait any longer. Without breaking the kiss, she backed Lynne up against the bathroom counter. Lynne winced slightly, and Janeway pulled back in concern.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m just a little sore from today.” Lynne turned her leg out, and Janeway was shocked to see a large contusion on the back of her thigh.

“Lynne, why didn’t you have the Doctor take care of that while you were in sickbay?” she asked.

“Life is pain and so is love,” said Lynne enigmatically. When Janeway gave her a quizzical look, she added, “It’s a quote from a philosopher of my time. Pain is one way to know we’re alive, Kathryn. Except for the Sumak’s little gift, I haven’t been hurt since I got here because I haven’t had the opportunity. I know I can get this fixed, but I don’t want to yet. This probably sounds strange to you, but at the moment, it’s a kind of trophy. It doesn’t hurt except when I bump it, and then it’s just a reminder that I’ve done something I really enjoyed.” She ran her hands through Janeway’s damp hair. “I guess you’ll just have to treat me gently.”

And for a good portion of the night, Janeway did just that.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 15

 

 

For the next several days, Lynne divided her time between the archeology lab, sickbay and the holodeck. Stating that her wilderness first aid experience made her a good candidate for medic training, Tuvok had assigned her to the Doctor’s tutelage to upgrade her skills. Each day, after several hours of medical training, she reported to the holodeck to train in mission protocols under Tuvok’s watchful eye.

Janeway didn’t see much of her lover during this time, as Lynne pleaded exhaustion and went to bed in her own quarters early each night. Even when the official training was over, Lynne continued to work with Tuvok after her shift several nights a week, telling Janeway that Tuvok had agreed to teach her Vulcan physical conditioning techniques, meditation, and martial arts on his off hours. She was thrilled at the opportunity and seemed to have no difficulty continuing to see Janeway only two or three nights a week. Janeway, who had finally caught up on her work and was ready to spend more time with her lover, thought this was an entirely unsatisfactory side effect of the training. Since she tended to spend her off hours feeling lonely and wishing Lynne could be there with her, she soon threw herself into work and fell back into her old habit of working late almost every night that Lynne wasn’t available. After a few weeks, she was surprised to find herself daydreaming about Lynne sharing her quarters. She’d never wanted to share living space with a partner before—even when she’d been engaged she’d still maintained her own apartment. But the more she thought about the pleasure of coming home to a space with Lynne in it, the more appealing it seemed. Then she imagined herself asking Lynne to live with her, and realized that she couldn’t do it. Lynne seemed so content in her own quarters, and she had never given any indication that she wished for more time with Janeway. In fact, thought Janeway with an unpleasant shock, Lynne had never said “I need you” after their first night together. Was it possible that their relationship had been based more on Lynne’s emotional needs of the moment than on a real, long-term commitment?

Such thoughts temporarily robbed Janeway of the self-confidence she’d been feeling in the relationship. But the next evening, Lynne came over to stay the night. Their time together was filled with such comfortable companionship and such physical joy that Janeway didn’t know how she could ever have doubted the strength of their love. Her renewed confidence quickly ebbed, however, when Lynne made no further effort to see her for another three days—when once again they spent a wonderful night together.

Janeway knew that Lynne had begun to socialize more with other crewmembers, particularly B’Elanna, Seven, Harry and Tom, and the realization struck her that what she was seeing now was probably more the true Lynne than what she’d seen during her first four months on board. When they were together, Lynne was every bit as loving and focused on Janeway as she had ever been. She was also more animated, talking with enthusiasm about what she was learning from Tuvok, her friends, and her continued studies of Voyager’s database. But she did not seem to require nearly the same amount of togetherness that Janeway found herself wanting.

One evening, while giving the situation some thought over a soothing but lonely glass of whiskey and soda, Janeway realized that she had always been accustomed to her lovers wanting more from her than she wanted from them. This was the first time she’d ever been on the other side of the equation, and she didn’t find it at all pleasant. But, she thought wryly as she sipped her drink, there was little she could do. She loved Lynne more than she had ever loved anyone, and she would simply have to be happy with whatever her partner could give her. She would not risk what she already had by asking for more.

So she didn’t ask, and Lynne didn’t offer.

 

 

 

book 4 | Past Imperfect main page