Traditionalist Colony, Indiana, Terra
Stardate 56652.7
August 28, 2379 Earth Calendar
The captain is in San Francisco today. She was supposed to return to Starfleet last week but received a message canceling her appointment. The admiral put off her meeting until today. The captain was very angry about the message and it's wording. "No better than a cursory note to a cadet not to report for his physical," she said. I believe that the captain's anger is based in part on her being accustomed to controlling her own destiny. No one seriously challenged her authority during the long voyage in the Delta Quadrant. I questioned her decisions on occasion, but never her right to make them.
We visited a memorial to Voyager yesterday. It is located at Kathryn Janeway Elementary School in the local village. A statue of the captain leading a small child by the hand is displayed in a small courtyard there. It is very lifelike. The children recognized her at once and crowded around her. She told them a story of our encounter with the Paklids. They enjoyed it very much. I noted that although she was not wearing her uniform, she displayed a sense of command with them and they behaved very well for small children.
After the children were called back to class, the captain stood in the courtyard for a long period of time. She was fascinated with the base of the statue, which is engraved with the names of all the crewmembers of Voyager. She stared for some time at the list of those who did not make it back to Terra. The visit to the memorial was difficult for her yet she insisted on taking me. When I inquired why she would want to do something that was clearly painful for her, she replied that she wanted to remember what was important. Later, as we walked along the water, she spoke at great length of the human cost of her mistake. I pointed out that much good came from the journey and I believe she accepted my point. She is still upset.
Our conversation allowed me to see that although she is strong for a human, she also displays their characteristic weaknesses. She admitted that she fears for her future. I did not understand until she explained that Starfleet was her collective. It has shaped her entire life and she does not think she knows how to survive without it. I told her she was incorrect. She took me from a collective far more restrictive than hers and I have survived. I am much happier. I thanked her again for releasing me and aiding me in rediscovering my humanity. I told her that she was much stronger than I and that she will find another position in life, if it is really true that Starfleet does not want her.
When I asked the captain if we could go swimming, she laughed. I was not offended because I was glad to see her spirits lifted, even at my own expense. She answered my question this way. "Seven, do the math. You'd sink like a stone." I assume she meant that my body mass would make it impossible for me to stay afloat. I had assumed that I would wear a floatation device, but the captain did not consider this.
I am having trouble adjusting to the variance in temperature of the summer in Indiana. It is very hot and humid. The captain has insisted that when we are in public I should wear civilian clothing and she does the same. The clothing is comfortable, but my suit is much more adaptable to the heat. I find that I view her differently when she is not wearing her uniform. She seems smaller, almost fragile, which I know is not a truthful representation of her character.
The captain's family has been most kind to me. While employed by the science project, the others regarded me as a specimen. I was included in the invitation to social gatherings but rarely went. I thought all humans on Terra behaved this way until I arrived in the Janeway household. Mrs. Janeway and Phoebe have treated me as one of the family. They exercise great patience in educating me about life without technology. I look forward to my conversations with both of them.
I am finding that I am able to tolerate the life of traditionalists. Nutritional supplement has an enhanced flavor when you have labored to prepare it. Mrs. Janeway is an excellent cook. I have learned many new techniques for preparing various fruits and vegetables. I also enjoy the attention of the family pet. She provides a warmth and affection that humans are sometimes reluctant or unwilling to share.
I have served as an artist's model for Phoebe on several occasions. She was embarrassed to ask me to pose without my body suit. I informed her that she was the artist and it was her painting. I enjoy watching her work. She talks to me at great length about the captain and her childhood as she draws. She has also offered to teach me the basics of drawing, painting or sculpting. I look forward to the experience.
I have never spent extended time with members of the same family. It is fascinating how they are alike and yet not alike. There is no mistake that the captain and Phoebe are sisters, but they are entirely different people. They enjoy baiting each other into pointless arguments. The captain's mother stands it for a specific period of time and then tells them to "take it outside." I have read it is a dynamic of sibling rivalry. Phoebe has begun to exhibit the same behavior with me. I interpret this to mean that I have been accepted into the family unit.
My relationship with the captain is different now. She is still a captain, but she is no longer in charge of my well-being. We do not have others around us and spend much time together alone. At first I did not think I would welcome such close attention from one person, but I have adapted. I find that I enjoy our talks more because I learn more about her. She no longer needs to protect herself or her authority from me.
I have realized that loneliness is an emotion that all humans feel. It is most acute when you are separated from those you have spent much time with. The captain has shown me that physical closeness relieves the emotion of loneliness. Whenever I sense that the captain is becoming melancholy, I attempt to hug her. She sometimes squeezes my ribcage very tightly. However, I am able to adapt.
I have gathered numerous images in my cortical node. I find that many of these have come from my short time here at the Janeway residence. I am forced to download them on a regular schedule for more efficient archiving and to keep a permanent record. There are many images that I have deleted again and again that have remained with me. They are mainly related to painful experiences. They seem to be stored in that part of memory that is human.
The images that recur most frequently are those associated with strong emotions. The captain says that is normal. It is a human character flaw to relive moments of intense emotion. I still do not fully understand the nature of emotion. It is very inefficient. When I mentioned this to the captain, she informed me that the most efficient route is not always the most enjoyable. So, I am attempting to assimilate the skill of living inefficiently but I am failing. The captain says that I have been immersed in technology for too long. I need to slow down and smell the floral arrangements.
The captain also says that life is a journey of discovery. I remind her of this whenever she says that her trip to the Delta Quadrant was wasteful.
********
"We can't use her."
"What?" Kathryn leaned forward in her chair. "You mean you won't. She knows more about . . . "
"I am well aware of her knowledge, Captain. I am not questioning her abilities. She would be a disruptive influence." Admiral Necharev stood behind her desk, arm resting on the back of her chair.
"You mean she's not worth the political fallout."
"We have a lot of officers who lost colleagues and friends at Wolf 359. It would be difficult at best."
"If you had this opinion about the Klingons, we'd still be at war."
"We formed an alliance with the Klingon empire. It was a formal agreement. We have no such contract in place with the Borg, nor is it likely to ever happen."
"So we don't even try."
The admiral swivelled the chair toward her and sat down. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm afraid she did not make much of an impression on the reintegration study she was assigned to. They said she was short-tempered and contributed to the project only when she pleased."
"She has some rough edges, sure. She has little patience for fools or scientists more interested in politics than knowledge."
"But that's the way the world works, and you know it. Everyone has to get along. They don't want her back, even if she could be found."
"But you said that we can use everyone we can get. Especially if the rumors about Species 8472 are correct."
"Rumors. That's all they are. I'm much more concerned about the problems at hand than some talk from the other side of the neutral zone."
"But, Admiral "
The small woman raised her hand. "Enough. This discussion is over." Kathryn leaned back in her seat "Kathryn, I can understand your loyalty to a member your crew, but remember that she is not Starfleet. You are."
"I understand, Admiral."
"Good." Necharev sighed as picked up a padd. "Report to Piper in Special Projects. You'll be helping him part- time until I can get the counselor to release you." She held out the padd for Kathryn to take. "Dismissed."
Kathryn stood to go, reaching for the padd, feeling a deathly pallor overtake her. Special Projects. She would be earning her way back onto a bridge. Only the discipline of many years of command kept the bitterness and surprise out of her voice. "Thank you, Admiral."
She was almost to the door before the Admiral's voice caught her. "And if you know where this Borg is, Captain, I would advise you to tell her that we can't use her."
Kathryn looked back at the desk, but the Admiral had not looked up, had not even skipped a beat in the report she was tapping into a padd. She had just said it in a tone that implied she knew precisely where Seven was.
"Yes, Admiral."
********
"Come in, Seven." Phoebe set down the sketch she was working on and stood up to greet her visitor. "How are you?"
"I am fine. How are you?" She was glad to practice her improved social skills. Mrs. Janeway has proved most informative.
"Glad to see you. You always brighten my day, you know that." Seven quickly averted her eyes at the compliment. "Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you." Seven sat down neatly on the model stand.
Phoebe pulled up her chair to face her. "Well then, what pose would you like to do today?"
"You are the artist. You choose the optimum positioning for the effect you wish to capture."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean you don't have a say. What pose would you like to see?"
Seven shifted a little. "I have not considered it."
"Don't you know which is your best side?"
"Best side?"
"Sure. Everyone looks better from one side than the other. It's because we are organic beings. We're not perfectly symmetrical."
"I see. I am not symmetrical because my implants mar my appearance."
Something in Seven's tone told Phoebe to keep it light. She stood up to set a clean canvas on the easel. "I think they make you look exotic."
"Exotic. Is that good or bad?"
"That's a good thing, Seven." She turned suddenly to look at her companion carefully. Phoebe had realized early on that although Seven had no modesty to speak of she had been posing nude for several weeks now she still had little awareness of her own body. "You are a beautiful woman. Do you not know that?"
Seven turned up her chin, uneasiness clouding her eyes. "I have been informed that I am aesthetically pleasing. Beauty is irrelevant."
Phoebe kept her eyes on the easel in front of her to keep Seven from seeing her surprise. "In some ways, I guess I agree. It depends on what kind of beauty we are talking about." Seven relaxed a little.
"Elaborate."
"Physical beauty has its own appeal. As an artist, I am certainly drawn to people with a beautiful outward appearance. But it's been my experience that beauty can easily be just skin deep."
"Skin deep? Explain."
"Something or someone may appear very beautiful on the outside but as you examine it more closely, you find that it is actually very ugly."
"I see." It didn't sound like it.
"By the same token, something which appears ugly on the outside can house beauty that can move you to tears."
"So it is your opinion that the test of beauty is scrutiny."
"That's kind of a scientific way of saying it, but yes, true beauty will always withstand scrutiny." She looked carefully at Seven to gauge her reaction. "So, when I say that you are a beautiful woman, it is not based on a cursory opinion. It is based on examination. In addition to your obvious physical attractiveness, you are also a wonderful person."
For just a moment, she had a sense that Seven was going to cry. It was not any real expression that changed, just the set of her shoulders, the eyes a little wider. "I understand."
"So, have you met anyone who you consider beautiful?" she asked almost too casually. If you don't ask, you'll never know.
"I witnessed the stabilization of Particle 010 for 3.2 seconds. It was perfection. It is the standard by which I judge beauty."
"Yes, but that's not a person. Have you known someone beautiful?"
Seven returned to embarrassment. "I have not considered it before. Beauty is irrelevant."
"Then Particle 010 is irrelevant."
That fixed her. Seven stood up quickly and remained motionless for several minutes, hands clasping and unclasping behind her back, staring off at the far wall of the studio. Her anger gradually melted into retrospection. She was considering Phoebe's words carefully. Phoebe waited for the emotions to catch up with her infallible logic.
Finally, Seven looked back. "You believe I am beautiful."
"Yes. Goodness, Seven, to start with, do you not see how everyone in the room perks up when you come in? Especially the men?"
"I assume it is because I am Borg. I make them uncomfortable."
"Come on, Seven. The men can't hide what they are thinking. You can't have missed that." Phoebe tried to ease over the conversation, to make it less embarrassing. "Do you like their attention? I mean, their ogling of you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Seven thought about it for some time. "Because they do not know anything about me. They only see my body, not me."
"Right. All they see is your body, not you. The trick is to find someone who cares about all of you. Those kind of men would take you to bed without a thought for your feelings. "
"It is a human biological need to procreate."
Phoebe chuckled at that. "Not procreate, Seven. Recreate."
Seven tilted her head. "Is not the purpose of sexual relations the procreation of the species?"
"Yes, I suppose in the grand scale of things, that's true. But sex is also fun. And there are many couples who have sex even though there is no chance for a baby."
"Infertile couples."
"Yes, or same-sex couples." That got her attention.
"That is acceptable?"
"Yes."
"I see."
Phoebe could almost hear the circuits trying to burn out. She cleared her throat. "So, what pose would you like to do today?"
When Seven returned a blank look, she took the tall blonde by the hand and led her to the full-length mirror. "Stand in front of the mirror and look at yourself."
Seven still stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back.
"You decide while I finish setting up."
Seven began turning in front of the mirror, checking one side and then the other, touching her implants as if to hide them from view. She was wearing her bodysuit because the captain was at Starfleet today. Seven loosened her hair and shook it out, splaying it over her shoulders. She saw Phoebe in the mirror, moving her easel to the right spot. Seven reached up and released the catch on her suit, peeling it off quickly. She continued her scrutiny in front of the mirror.
Phoebe finally called to Seven, having stalled for as long as she could. She had moved her tools and supplies back and forth from table to easel at least ten times.
Seven left the mirror, looking back at her retreating figure. Phoebe had a sudden fear that she might have been too successful she wondered if she had created a narcissistic monster. Seven stepped up to the model stand and sat down.
"So, what did you decide?"
Seven still watched her own image in the mirror as she spoke quietly. "Which pose would the captain prefer?"
Phoebe just managed to keep her eyes from bugging out. "Kathryn?" she said weakly.
"Yes. I would like you to draw me in a beautiful pose for the captain." She looked back to Phoebe with clear blue eyes. "I owe her my life."
"Okay." Phoebe didn't sound too sure.
"You are her sister. You know what she prefers."
"Well, yes, I'm her sister, but understanding anything like that, well . . . "
"I see." Seven looked back at the mirror, clearly still trying to clear her head.
Phoebe suddenly decided that it wouldn't matter. Kathryn would be stupid not to like any picture with Seven in it.
"Okay, lie down. Head this way, legs turned over here. Let me get the blanket." She said it firmly, knowing that Seven would trust her.
********
Gretchen had always dreamed of someone she could teach traditional cooking methods. It was her curse to have two daughters whose only interest in food was when it was going to be served. So it was with great enjoyment that she and Seven now stood side by side in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
She gave the younger woman a sideways glance. Seven was by nature a quiet person, but tonight seemed even quieter.
"Are you all right, Seven? You seem a little distracted."
"I am functioning within acceptable parameters."
Gretchen laughed out loud. "It must be something serious. You haven't said something like that since your first night here."
"I spent the afternoon with Phoebe." Seven said thoughtfully. "She challenges the function of my cortical processor."
"I understand. She can scramble the best minds of the Federation. She never lost an argument with her father, that's for sure. He'd always give up after the first hour or two." Gretchen returned to the sauce she was stirring. "What are the two of you up to, anyway?"
"I am posing for her. She has not yet decided which pose to use for the final painting."
"I see."
"She is most informative." Seven paused, considering her next comment. "She is very different from the captain."
Gretchen laughed again. "Yes, she is. Night and day. Oil and water."
After a long pause, Seven continued. "She speaks to me of things that the captain never has."
Gretchen turned to look Seven full in the face, eyebrows raised. "Like what?"
But at that moment, Kathryn banged in the front door. That was never a good omen, especially on Starfleet days. And Seven's expression did not light up as it usually did when Kathryn returned home. What had the two of them been talking about?
********
Kathryn made a transport reservation for the following day on the console in the foyer, her mother's one concession to modern communications. She was to report to Special Projects in the morning. The road back to command leads through Special Projects. She thought if she just kept saying it, she would get used to it.
Gretchen had left just after noon for Aunt Karen's house in upstate New York and the house seemed very empty without her. They had a short furious conversation before she left, started by Kathryn and her temper while watching her mother pack.
"Can't you put it off?"
"Kathryn, you know I go the same week every year. It's the harvest festival. I can't miss it."
"But you are needed here."
"Kathryn, you are a commissioned officer in Starfleet. You have battled aliens and stared down the Borg. You have brought back a ship from the far reaches of space. You can stand a week alone in this house. No, I take that back. You won't be alone, you'll have Seven."
Kathryn stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, watching her mother calmly continue to place items in her suitcase.
She finally moved to the hallway, leaning back against the doorframe. Gretchen glanced up and saw that she looked like an abandoned puppy.
"What are you afraid of, Kathryn?"
"I'm not afraid." She was still angry.
"It's okay, you know. All of us mere mortals are afraid now and then."
"It's just that since I've been home, I've never really been on my own."
"As I said, Seven will be here. She seems to have a knack for taking care of you."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning nothing. She is a sweet, generous friend that you seem to take for granted."
Kathryn winced at her mother's words. It was the truth. Although Seven had benefitted from being in a family environment, she had given much more than she had ever taken. The long talks about Voyager did more for her mental state than any counseling session ever would. Seven reported events of the Delta Quadrant with relentless honesty, calling her to task for blowing things out of proportion. She was the one person in Kathryn's life she could not fool.
So, Gretchen had left.
She wandered into the kitchen, looking for Seven. There were several pots putting out steam with wonderful smells. There was a book on the counter, opened to a recipe page marked "Sunday." She flipped the page to see another page labeled "Monday," and so on through the week. She smiled at Borg efficiency.
She stepped out on the back porch to check the shed, but the door was propped open and it was obviously empty.
She walked back inside and called out.
"I am upstairs, Captain."
Kathryn went up the stairs slowly, still mulling over her mother's words. She stopped abruptly at the top. Seven stood in the hallway, completely nude, considering herself in the hall mirror. Kathryn stepped up to lean against the wall. Between her point of view and the image in the mirror it was a surreal vision of both front and back views.
"Seven?"
"Captain."
"What are you doing?"
"Do you think I am beautiful?"
Kathryn took in a large breath and swallowed hard, trying not to let her eyes wander too much. Usually she could count on being able to focus on the bright metal of an implant or a combadge. But in the dim light of the hallway, technology blended into skin tone.
Seven turned to look at her directly. "Captain?"
Kathryn's voice was very quiet. "Yes, Seven, I think you are very beautiful. I can't think how anyone would say different."
"Is it merely physical attractiveness? Phoebe has explained the difference to me."
There were definite tears in Kathryn's voice now as she swallowed again before answering. "No, Seven, you are beautiful in every sense of the word."
Seven's eyes took on a warm glow as she turned back to the mirror. "Thank you, Captain. I am glad you think so. I had not considered it before yesterday. Phoebe informed me that real beauty is not skin deep."
Kathryn thought there was just an outside chance that this could turn into a normal conversation. "So, what's for dinner?"
"Spaghetti with meat sauce, broccoli, garlic bread, salad and wine. Cheesecake for dessert. However, it is not the dinner hour yet." Seven turned sideways, smoothing her hands down her thighs and then back up over her buttocks. Kathryn definitely could not keep her eyes from wandering.
Seven turned back to face the mirror and drew in a sharp breath as she felt the captain's hands on her shoulder blades, caressing, her muscles flexing under the touch. Her eyes closed when she felt fingertips graze down her back, bumping along her rib cage, tickling, down to the implant.
"I think you are very beautiful," she heard in a low husky drawl.
Seven thought she sensed the pressure of lips on her left shoulder blade, trailing across her back. It made shivers skitter down her spine. Then she turned around in response to hands on her upper arms. She looked down into eyes shining with unshed tears. Kathryn reached for her head and pulled her down into a soft, sweet kiss. It lasted for some time, and when they parted she realized that her respiration had increased dramatically.
"I was not aware that this was a ritual between friends. I thought it was strictly utilized by lovers."
"Yes, that's true." It took a few pounding heartbeats to sink in.
"Are we now lovers?"
"It depends. Do you like it?"
"It is . . . acceptable."
Kathryn chuckled. "Only acceptable?"
"I have no experience in a romantic relationship."
Kathryn still smiled. "Do you want to pick up some?"
"That would be "
"Acceptable?"
"I was going to say very acceptable."
"Good."
And Kathryn kissed her again, reaching around the small waist to cradle her tenderly. She ran fingertips along the spine, bumping over an implant. She felt Seven take a deep breath and felt a stab of satisfaction run through her. It seemed as if the world suddenly came to square and a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with her rising hormonal levels.
It was a gentle kiss, one that communicated more affection than desire, but it seemed to rocket through Seven. Without understanding why, she reached around the smaller woman, pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss. She felt buttons scratch her bare breast. She ran her hands up the captain's back, underneath the blouse, and felt the twitching response. She then felt the muscles relax, the smaller women giving way to her welcoming arms, allowed Seven to explore. When the embrace was not efficient enough for the Borg, she backed Kathryn into the wall, pressing with whole length of her body. Kathryn felt the edges of the abdominal implant rasping against her belly. She moaned and suddenly it was open mouths and dancing tongues. Her groin caught fire and she did not resist the urge to wrap a leg around the young woman who was now lifting her off the floor.
Kathryn wondered at how quickly she had lost control of the kiss, how quickly it had become sexual. Somehow, she didn't think it was Seven's assimilated knowledge that brought it about. Seven was responding to feelings and sensations she had never known or perhaps held in check.
When she did finally clear her head and come up for air, Seven was kissing her neck intently, cupping one buttock with her left hand while her right hand was making its way to her breast under her blouse. "Seven," she croaked, and captured the wandering right hand in her own.
The tone in her voice stilled the tall blonde's exploration, lips on her neck, left hand stopped mid-squeeze. "Yes, Captain." Her voice was smoky with desire.
Eyes still closed, Kathryn swallowed hard and licked her lips. "The food. On the stove."
Seven did not move. "I am not hungry, " she finally said, and tentatively began caressing her again with left hand and mouth.
Janeway hardened her voice. "Seven, you need to turn it off. The heat under the food. It will cause a fire."
Seven reluctantly pulled away and Janeway groaned at the cool air hitting spots that had been so intimately warm. "I will comply," she said tentatively. Seven did not yet understand this human trait of saying one thing while obvious physical signals said something else. It would be some time before the boiling food posed a danger. She didn't move away immediately, hoping for a change of heart.
The captain had not opened her eyes, and thought for a moment that she would have to say something else. Instead she felt the gentle kiss on her lips that had started all of this. She wrapped her arms around Seven's neck, but this time did not allow it to go too far. After what seemed like only a moment or two of absolute bliss, but could have been quite some time for all she knew, she tipped her head back and released Seven pushing that wonderful body away from her own.
"Go."
"I will comply."
Kathryn groaned as she pushed herself off the wall and strolled dizzily down to her room, removing clothing as she went.
Seven was back in what seemed half a second and helped her shed whatever was left most efficiently. The kisses seemed to start all over again, soft and sweet, and Kathryn thought she would not survive it. As Seven's demands increased and they fell on the bed, it was all elbows and knees at first, but Kathryn managed to slow down her enthusiasm a little by demonstrating the advantage of long kisses and caresses. And the lessons began in earnest.
********
In the light of grey dawn glowing from the window, Seven studied the face before her. Kathryn, stretched out on her left side with her head propped on her left hand, stared out of the window, deep in thought. Her right hand rested on Seven's chest, her thumb idly caressing Seven's breastbone, fingertips tracing the line of a collarbone. Her mussed hair splayed over her shoulders, highlights illuminated from the light.
Seven's right arm was trapped beneath the warm weight beside her, right hand cupping a buttock. She was content to watch the flickering expression on the captain's face. She had never seen that face in such a light, so relaxed. She reached up to cup the elbow draped on her stomach and the captain turned from the window to look down on her. She never knew such tenderness existed. It was knowledge that changed her forever.
The captain did not speak for some time. She was content to drink in the perfect features of the narrow face before her, feel the firm, precise heartbeat under her palm.
"I would ask if you are all right, but I think there's no question of that," she finally said with a wry grin.
"I have never desired to be kissed like this before. Now it seems I cannot get enough of it." Seven nudged the captain with her right arm and she responded immediately by leaning over to kiss her tenderly.
After some time, she pulled back to study the young face before her again. She threaded fingers through the blonde hair, touched a soft cheek, ran fingertips over the full lips.
"You look tired. Do you need to regenerate?"
"Yes. I usually do so on days you are at Starfleet."
"Ah, I nearly forgot." She moved her hand down to a full breast, slightly squeezing and the look on her face turned a little evil. "Maybe I can call in sick today."
"That is unacceptable." Seven reached up to still the hand caressing a nipple. "They have given you an opportunity to return to command." But she didn't let go of the hand. "However, you have 2.3 hours before you have to leave."
"2.3 hours? Wonder what we could do with that?" and she began to work her hand loose under Seven's.
"You need a nutritional supplement. You did not eat dinner and expended much energy last night."
"How could I be hungry at a time like this?" She now pushed her body firmly against Seven and began nuzzling the long neck.
Despite herself, Seven leaned into the caress and her voice trailed away as she said, "You must eat."
"Okay, but I don't need 2.3 hours to eat." Now her hand moved to the other breast as her knee pushed in between Seven's legs.
Seven's eyes were closed now, her voice unsteady. "How much time do you require?" Her hand moved down the smaller body, reaching for the other buttock and pulling her on top.
Kathryn rolled with the pressure, kissing her in a long, slow, simmering pressure. In the short moments between the kisses that followed she calculated the time. "I need 20 minutes for a shower and 20 minutes to eat."
Seven was still able to talk. "Then we have 1.6 hours at our disposal."
"Then let's get disposing." Kathryn returned to her attention to the full lips as she rubbed her body against the torso beneath her. Her knee pressed closer into the slippery warmth.
Seven flipped her over quickly, taking control.
As Seven began kissing her in earnest and before she lost all sense of where she was, Kathryn could not resist the jibe. "Have you thought that what we are doing here is very inefficient?"
But Seven did not miss a beat. "What you do is inefficient. I am very efficient."
Seven trailed fingertips down Kathryn's chest and torso, tickling with maddening lightness. By this time, Kathryn had a pretty good idea of what Seven would do next. Even knowing this did not keep her back from arching into the caress, anticipating the ever-increasing pressure, the slow deliberation of someone who knew exactly how much time she had to perform a task. But she had to have the last word. "Yes, but I'm very imaginative."
********
San Francisco
November 20, 2379
I am consumed with Seven, Seven, Seven. She is my life.
I am numb. I shiver with the cold. I don't know how I will live through it.
That first week was one that I will always look back on as one of the happiest of my life. We had the house to ourselves. Even while I lived it, I treasured every moment and stored each one like a precious gem. Long walks and long nights, talks about things I have never told a soul, not even Mark. I felt vulnerable and protected at the same time. I was truly warm for the first time since I'd been back from Voyager, warm right down to the marrow. I remember that my time at Starfleet seemed almost non-existant. I took on everything they would give me and did it in half the time. I could not stand to be idle for a single minute. I have to admit that this was partially because I was determined to not let anything get in the way of my commission.
When Mom returned, she took it all in stride. Seven and I moved into the guest bedroom, thankfully located in the back of the house. Mom adjusted to the arrangements so easily that I suspect Phoebe had sent a message to her in New York. It was obvious she knew about us. She was not at the house very much and when she was, she had a knowing smile on her face. Not that I complained. Seven is worth whatever Phoebe wants to dish out.
As summer softened into fall, we settled into an easy routine. Seven regenerated and worked in her Astrometrics lab in the shed. I went to work every morning, off to the dreaded dog house. The Federation Council finally ended their conference agreeing to disagree about the Borg threat and the politicos moved on to another universe-shattering problem. There was much talk at Special Projects about there being a time for compromise and a time for action. I look around me at Special Projects and see many who will never command again. They are easy to spot. It drives me to succeed in ways nothing else will. I keep my head down politically and my nose to the grindstone. Because of this, they are all a little unsure of me, especially with my experience with the Borg (if they only knew!). I am also the latest command cowboy retread.
There are times I fear that my plan has backfired--that I am doing so well in Special Projects they will keep me forever. But I remain a professional, showing up for work every day, willing to take on whatever they hand me, willing to give it my all. I can do that standing on my head, knowing that Seven awaits me every night. Seven who listens carefully to my pitiful complaints, my problems, and then sorts out what is really important or what is really bothering me. I finally felt like I was hitting on all cylinders. Now I don't know anymore. I'm lost.
I am swallowed up whole by Seven. Cocooned by that body. A daily full-body hormone rush. I have more energy than ever yet I am sleeping less--if at all. And I know that it isn't just the sex that makes me feel so young, so energized. It's the comfort of having one person who thinks I am the most important person alive. I have gone a long while without that kind of bond. Sometimes I am afraid of messing it up, it has been so long.
Not that the sex isn't outrageous. She constantly astounds me by her flashes of insight, her complete knowledge of what I want, of what I want her to do. She has mastered the basics and is engaged in endless mathematical permutations like some huge scientific experiment. And she is not modest about any of the details. Sometimes, I think she is too clinical with her endless questions, and two minutes later I am covered in sweat and completely convulsed in a shattering orgasm. I could be that kind of guinea pig forever.
I hate to shower in the morning. I want to bask in the scent of our love-making all day long. Sometimes I tug at the collar of my sweater at work and smell my own scent, now so strongly associated with Seven's that I could swear I missed a spot that morning. Or that Seven is actually there, in my windowless antiseptic office. Some days it is how I survive the low spots, the times when I am unable to completely occupy myself with work.
I return home in the evening, anticipation filling my chest so that it is hard to breathe. I tap my foot impatiently at the transporter operator, wondering where in Hades he received his training. I could certainly move people faster in my sleep than he could on his best day, which I still haven't seen. If he were on my crew, well, if I had a crew. . .
Every evening, Seven waits on the front porch, leaning against the house so she can watch the footpath for me. I see her as I make that final turn around the large silver maple that is now almost barren of leaves. I ask her every evening how long she has been there, waiting. The first night she answered me truthfully. 1.3 hours. After she saw that I was going tease her incessantly about it, she now gives me a random number. Not very efficient, I will say. Very efficient, says Seven. I've been running calculations on this padd while I waited. It is only now that I realize there were no calculations on the padd. It was her log, filled with her raw emotions, her childlike wonder at life, her charming descriptions of our sex with precise calculations about my own body that made me blush when I read them.
My mistake was a common one. I never looked past my current goals, never saw past just living my life with Seven, getting a commission and returning to space. I saw what I wanted to see. I threw it all away.
I had worked a little late tonight, wanting to finish off a project so it could be on Piper's desk first thing in the morning. I've been doing a lot of that lately because I am beginning to have hope of a commission by spring. Seven was not waiting on the porch. It was unusual, but I thought she might be out with Phoebe. Recently she had learned to sketch and she spent a good deal of time with Phoebe in her studio. Besides, I had told Seven on several occasions that she didn't need to wait on the porch like that. But Seven had always insisted.
Mom stood just inside the front screen door, arms crossed. Her expression brought me up short and the bleakness settled in like a chilling fog. That moment will never leave me.
"She's gone."
Mom and I had a fight with words that cut to the quick, words that we may not recover from. It ended with my packing and leaving. I made an attempt to find out where she went before I left Indiana, but could not even determine a general direction. Knowing me as she does, she will have covered her tracks. I requisitioned an apartment near Starfleet from an ensign at Supply with raised eyebrows. I will use whatever resources I can lay hands on at Special Projects to track her down in the morning. No, in just a few hours.
She didn't even leave a message. Maybe because she knew I wouldn't hear her. I wouldn't, you know. I tried to remember how far along she was with her project, but couldn't recall a single conversation we had about it. I have no idea what technology she might have, what she has developed. I always thought she would just move all of it to the starship I would command.
I found the padd wedged in a seat cushion of the chair in our room. Seven missed it when she packed. It held a goodbye of sorts.
The captain is obsessed with gaining a new commission. I would like her to be obsessed with me the way I am with her, but I do not know how to induce that emotion. I am happy when I am with her, but I also have an emptiness that requires satisfaction. I have attempted to communicate this to her but she does not understand.
She does not require my presence. She will adapt.
And now I am lost.