Just Between Dreams 
G. L. Dartt

 
The rock face was rough against her back, jabbing through the layers of sweater and tunic as beneath her feet, the ledge barely supported her. A wind, chill and damp, whipped through her like the sharp edge of a knife, penetrating her body, and weakening her desperate grip on the precarious handholds. She took a breath and tried to press closer to the cliff side as she looked up, blinking against the icy rain that drove into her upturned face. 
The cliff rose perpendicular to her, disappearing into the grey mists of cloud looming above that flashed with hidden lightning. A glance down saw sheer rock plunge to unseen depths glowing with an eerie crimson tinge. Directly across from her, too far to jump, there was another ledge, and a wooden door, framed by stone carvings, alien and unrecognizable. She knew she had to make it over there, knew she had to go through the door somehow, though the reason why was an absolute mystery to her.
There was the sound of moving rock and she looked down, horrified to see the ledge beginning to crumble beneath her. Pebbles and fragments dropped off, disappearing into the glowing depths without any sound to indicate they ever landed. Her footing started to give and she scrabbled helplessly against the unforgiving stone, splintering her nails on the granite, crying out as she began to fall.
Spiraling down to a horror that seemed far worse than death.

​

Captain Kathryn Janeway woke abruptly, heart racing as the sweat suddenly dried on her body, chilling her as she rose onto her elbows, staring blankly into the night. She swallowed hard, trying to understand where she was as she listened breathlessly to the sounds around her. The steady hum of her ship's warp drive, the whisper of the air recycle system, the soft respiration of the body lying in the bed next to her, all combined to cause the pounding of her pulse to gradually slow. Looking over at her peacefully sleeping companion, she sought out the beloved features of her partner in the shadowed illumination of the night watch lights lining the window that loomed over the head of the bed. 
Seven of Nine, late of the Borg Collective, was a imposing young woman with blonde hair and eyes the color of bluish ice. Formidable when she was at her full six foot height, she seemed somewhat more innocent and childlike while lost in slumber. A metallic grey implant framed her left eye, and a small starburst adorned her right cheek, stark reminders of her time as a drone. She was laying on her back, her face turned slightly away from Janeway, her right hand laying palm up by her head, elbow at right angles to her body while her left hand, covered in a mechanical mesh, rested on top of the blankets, across her abdomen. Her lean, lanky body sprawled the length of the bed, taking up a good portion of the mattress.
Janeway had read somewhere that this was called the 'royal' position, that the person who slept in such a way was strong and unafraid, with a sense of self assurance bordering on the arrogant ... as a king or queen might, hence the name. That described her partner quite well, though it left out the gentle and loving nature or the warm heart that lay beneath the cool exterior.
The captain wondered why Seven had not woke when she had, especially when she considered that the Borg's enhanced senses tended to alert the young woman to the slightest unusual sound. Then the captain realized that her nightmares had become such a regular occurrence over the last little while, happening with such frequency, that Seven had apparently adapted to Janeway's nocturnal struggles and now slept through them. Sighing soundlessly, Janeway moved closer and lay her head down carefully on the young woman's shoulder, snuggling lightly against the warm body. She didn't know if she should feel gratified or guilty when Seven suddenly stirred, gathering her in as she slid her left arm beneath the captain's torso and turning her head to rest her cheek on top of the captain's auburn hair. Janeway hadn't meant to disturb her partner but she could not deny that the embrace was a soothing source of comfort, making it easier to push the nightmare away.
She huddled against Seven, pressing her face into the soft hollow of the young woman's neck, smelling the Borg's delightful fragrance while she rested her hand on the smooth slope of her chest. Janeway slipped her leg across the younger woman's groin, feeling the tickle of the thin thatch of blonde hair against her inner thigh as she brushed over it. Seven's body heat was like a fire in a hearth, welcoming her in from a winter's night, chasing away the chill and loneliness, surrounding her with a sense of home and belonging.
"Kathryn?" Seven murmured softly.
"Mmm, bad dream," Janeway whispered back, not wanting to go into it. "Sorry I woke you."
"S' right." The captain knew the young woman must be drowsy indeed to be speaking in such a slurred manner; totally unlike her normal, crisp, defined tones where each word was precisely enunciated.
Janeway closed her eyes and tried to reclaim some sleep before morning watch, annoyed by these constant nightmares that had plagued her the past few weeks. She knew they were most likely a result of her recent imprisonment, the aftermath of being brutalized in an alien penitentiary before Seven had managed to rescue her. She also knew that the subconscious disturbances were probably very much a part of her healing process, but she regretted the sleep she was missing. It was hard enough for a starship captain to get enough rest at the best of times, let alone a captain in the position she was in, with her ship stranded in the Delta Quadrant, 40,000 light years away from the Federation and Starfleet. 40 years at high warp away from home.
She found she was pressing closer to Seven, profoundly grateful for the sensation of the young woman's body against her. It occurred to the captain that to be able to reach out in the dead of night for this beloved form, to feel the comfort of those arms drawing her into their sheltering embrace, made the difficulties in her life a whole lot easier to bear. Janeway could not remember what it had been like in those early years before Seven's arrival, before she had developed a relationship with the young woman, nor was this was not entirely due to the fact that an injury a few months earlier had cost her  memories stretching back three years. It was just that she could no longer imagine how she had ever coped with all the challenges and problems of command without Seven being such an integral part of her life. Janeway rubbed her cheek gently against the silk smooth skin, and felt a peacefulness seep over her, forcing aside the uneasiness the nightmare had generated.
She felt Seven's right hand quietly slip beneath the covers to reach down to the captain's leg, lightly rubbing her fingertips back and forth along the outside muscle without any particular intent. Janeway's lips twitched, a sleepy smile curling the corners of her mouth. It was not entirely serious on Seven's part, the captain knew. If she didn't respond, or if she surrendered to the slumber that had seemed so desirable only a few moments earlier, the caress would eventually slow and stop as Seven fell asleep once more. Instead, Janeway pressed her leg gently down against the Borg's groin, letting her partner know that while she wasn't all that enthusiastic about where these caresses could lead, she wasn't entirely adverse to them continuing either.
Janeway felt the metal tips of Seven's left hand press into the small of her back, circling gently in a soothing manner that nonetheless, pulled the captain ever closer to her. Janeway shifted a little, pressing her mound against Seven's hip, the tender inner lips parting to allow her moist flesh to press silkily against the protrusion of bone and warm skin. Seven responded by running her right hand along Janeway's buttock, then up along her side and rib cage, still very slow and lazy; not passionate exactly, but very gentle and loving.
Janeway slipped her left hand beneath the blankets, resting it on the muscled plane of the Borg's stomach. Her thumb stroked lightly along the faint trace of scars, the only reminder of Seven's abdominal implant that had been removed after being assimilated not so long ago.  She loved the feel of Seven's silky smooth skin and she suckled at her lover's neck, biting gently against the vein that throbbed beneath her lips
Seven's lips brushed across her forehead, the tender touch moving along her hairline and Janeway raised her face to it, seeking out the kiss that trailed down her nose, accepting the connection of Seven's mouth over her own. The full, expressive lips pressed against hers and the captain made a soft sound in her throat that was both loving and happy. She shivered as the hand on her rib cage slipped fingertips along the underside of her breast, stroking the side casually. Janeway pulled back a little to grant greater access, a ripple of pleasure going through her as Seven idly rubbed the back of her knuckles over the nipple that reacted to the caress with small tingles of delight.
It was so wonderfully lazy, still halfway between desire and relaxation, between the escalation to physical joining or the slide into welcoming slumber. It could easily go either way at this point. Rest or restoration ... such a difficult decision yet both so incredibly healing in their own way.
"Kathryn," came the whisper out of the darkness. A name, but a benediction as well, the word uttered with such love that Janeway felt her heart thump almost painfully in her chest. 
Questioning.
"Darling," the captain replied quietly, the soft acknowledgment of her lover, her voice a throaty trill. "Oh, yes."
Seven turned her hand, taking the velvet soft nipple between her forefinger and thumb, rolling it gently between them, the flesh hardening sweetly in response, and Janeway knew she had made the right choice. She smiled and she let out her breath in a slow exhalation, pressing tighter to Seven, feeling the hip grow slippery beneath her and knowing it was her moisture causing it. So much moisture and Janeway laughed deep and low, too warm all of a sudden, the last lingering coldness from the nightmare dissipating without a trace.
More kisses now, so deep, shattering, openly desiring, and incredibly intense while Seven's hand firmly massaged the captain's breast, squeezing it gently. Janeway gladly lost herself in the sensation, absorbed herself in the touch and taste of her partner, the silky sweetness of her, the utter devotion and passion from her. Seven shifted to her side to roll them both over and the captain found herself being pressed down against the mattress, the weight of the younger woman covering her, making her feel loved and secure.
Janeway ran her hands restlessly over the smooth skin of Seven's back and shoulder blades, stroking the bumpy ridges of spine, aware of the full breasts falling over hers while Seven positioned herself to allow her hand to caress the captain freely. Janeway's head fell back as Seven tangled her fingers in the auburn triangle at the juncture of her thighs while the Borg kissed along her neck, her lips against her throat then up over her jaw to her ear.
"Spread your legs," Seven requested softly, in a whisper that thrilled all the way through Janeway, making her tremble weakly as she obeyed.
The captain caught her breath as she felt the gentle touch of Seven's fingertips slide along the crease, dipping into the wetness before finding the sensitive ridge of flesh, fondling it with tender insistence. She spread her legs wider, bringing her knee up to allow Seven in, the Borg's fingers slipping into her so very easily.
"I'm so wet," Janeway murmured.
"You are," Seven whispered. "An indication of arousal."
"Oh yes," Janeway hissed. "You do that to me, love. I want you so much."
She gasped for breath as her hips began to move against the hand that penetrated her, touching inside so deeply now, as far as Seven's fingers could reach before the young woman withdrew, searching for the spot.
"Uh ... no, love ... wait ..." Janeway protested, swallowing hard. "I want you all the way in."
Seven hesitated briefly before pushing her two long fingers inside once more, flexing against the smooth walls as her thumb rasped over Janeway's tender nodule, slippery with lubrication, allowing Janeway the time to savor and appreciate the pleasure. Both were keenly aware that once Seven found that particular spot just an inch or so inside Kathryn and began to caress it, the whole experience would be over rather quickly.
Quite wonderfully, mind you, but very quickly.
Janeway didn't want it to be so fast and intense this particular instance. She wanted to enjoy the sensation of Seven inside her, to linger over the fingers that pressed inside her, that stroked ever deeper to touch her most intimate and internal places.
Janeway's head fell back as she squeezed, setting up a regular pulsation with her interior muscles. Seven fell into a countering flex, increasing the pleasure steadily and slowly. The captain's breath came in abrupt pants, little choked sounds of delight, loving what the young woman was doing to her, and how Seven was finding exactly the right rhythm to draw out the experience.
This was slower, but in its own way, a much hotter experience for the captain ... and certainly required more physical expenditure. Janeway  trembled, driving her hips against the gentle hand, undulating with an effort that brought beads of sweat to her brow, that covered her entire body with a slick sheen of perspiration. Finally, she was there, hovering for a timeless instant on the brink before gladly leaping off this ledge, tumbling into orgasm with a joyful cry.
Seven held her tightly, kissing her as the spasms finally ceased and Janeway relaxed under the weight of her lover, needing that strength on top of her.
"Oh Annika," Janeway whispered, feeling drained and completely sated. "You're so good to me."
"I love pleasuring you, Kathryn," Seven replied softly, moving over her. "Lie back, now."
Seven straddled her partner, opening herself up to press against Janeway's leg. Raising it in response, the captain felt the damp, hot flesh skid over the top of her thigh with delicious pressure. She was grateful that Seven seemed willing to do all the work tonight, though she did feel a tinge of guilt as well as she looked up at Seven move energetically back and forth over her. She rested her hands on Seven's hips, helping her push while the Borg braced herself with her arms to either side of Janeway's body. Suddenly, she threw her head back, gasping for air, rocking steadily, then quicker, harder, surging against the captain's leg. Janeway stroked the muscled thighs, encouraging her with her fingertips, with her eyes, trying to communicate her love and desire.
"Yes, my darling," she said, deliberately making her voice as deep and throaty as possible. "Come for me."
Seven did, a guttural sound catching in her throat as she arched and shuddered and finally relaxed, sinking down onto Janeway who kissed her lovingly, soothingly. For an instant, Seven's entire weight rested on the captain before she managed to position her elbows under her to support her much denser mass. They remained where they were for long moments as Seven tried to catch her breath, and Janeway gently stoked her back, idly wondering how such a lazy beginning had turned into such a wonderfully physical encounter.
"Kathryn," Seven said finally, quietly, intently. "I love you."
"Oh darling, you're my heart," Janeway replied sincerely, nuzzling her.
The ritual, but still heartfelt words spoken, Janeway clung to Seven as the younger woman settled onto her side, carrying the captain with her until they were lying side by side, face to face, snuggled together in the center of the bed. Janeway smiled with sleepy satisfaction as she cuddled within the embrace, feeling very loved and secure, drowsiness stealing over her with an irresistible lure. Then she groaned as the lights went up to signify morning watch and the computer's even feminine tones recited the time.
"No," she muttered. "Not yet..."
"We still have thirty minutes," Seven reminded her quietly. That had been a recent addition at Janeway's request, altering the computer to wake them at 0530 rather than 0600, allowing them an extra bit of time to cuddle in the morning.
"It's not long enough to go back to sleep."
Seven reached up and stroked her partner's cheek. "Are you really so tired?" Her voice was concerned.
Janeway buried her face against Seven's neck, snuggling into that warm hollow. "I'll just have to make a point of going to bed earlier," she mumbled fretfully.
"No, what you are going to do is make an appointment to see the Doctor."
That woke up the captain and Janeway drew back, eyeing her narrowly. "Excuse me?"
Seven did not back down. "You promised me that you would take care of yourself. You have been going to bed at a regular time, more than early enough to afford you a proper period of sleep. Since you are not rested, clearly something is wrong. Therefore, a appointment with the Doctor is in order."
Janeway tried not to sigh. "Darling, I feel perfectly fine..."
"Then you would be rested," Seven countered stubbornly. "Now will you make an appointment voluntarily, or shall I make one for you, pick you up and carry you through the ship to sickbay?"
Janeway's eyes widened and she regarded Seven closely, trying to judge how serious the young woman was. Unfortunately, from the love and concern in her eyes, it was quite apparent Seven was more than willing to carry out such a threat. To the Borg, this clearly was a matter involving their relationship as opposed to their interaction as captain and crew. Janeway held a lot less authority in that dynamic, much to her great chagrin.
"All right," Janeway agreed, rather crankily. "I'll see the Doctor."
"Acceptable." Seven lowered her eyes. "I worry about you."
Abashed, Janeway kissed her. "I know," she said in a gentler tone. "Even though I don't think anything is wrong."
She rested her head on Seven's shoulder, hugging the lanky torso.
"It was just a dream, sweetheart. I have them all the time."
 

The ledge crumbled and she fell, screaming defiance all the way, arms and legs twisting, attempting to strike out at this unseen foe who had brought her here. The air was cold and the wind battered at her body then the mist cleared and she was able to see what caused the eerie red glow, what awaited her plummeting body.
She screamed once more ... this time with fear.

 B'Elanna Torres woke in a panic, thrashing in the bedcovers, sending the sheets scattering across her bedroom. For a moment, she didn't know where she was or what was happening. Sitting upright, her heart pounding, the sweat beaded on her forehead, running down the Klingon ridges to slip off the end of her rather pert nose to drip onto her cleavage. 
She took several deep breaths and checked the time. 0500. Too early for morning watch, but too late to try to go back to sleep. She rolled out of bed with a muffled curse and went into her ensuite, programming the sonic shower to high and slipping out of her nightgown before stepping irritably into the vibration. Once she had finished, she dressed in a fresh uniform, the black and gold of Starfleet covering her stocky form in a way that lent it stature and granted her a self assurance she did not always feel outside of her engine room.
Restless, she left her quarters and headed for the messhall. Though the ship's replicator system was now fully back on line and Neelix tended to spend more time in security than in his kitchen, it still remained the main gathering area for the crew, a place to relax and share food, regardless of whether it was some alien dish prepared in the kitchen or something more familiar from the large replicators. B'Elanna did not want to be alone at the moment, feeling a need to be with others. And an unmistakable craving for her grandmother's banana pancakes. 
But the messhall was mostly empty at this time of the morning and she had to search the room before seeing Lt. Harry Kim sitting in a shadowed corner, working over several padds and a big mug of coffee.
"Hey Starfleet," she greeted after retrieving her breakfast from the replicator and a mug of coffee for herself from the ever present pot perking in the kitchen. "Mind if I join you?"
"Sure, B'Elanna," he said, eyeing her uncertainly.
The Klingon couldn't figure out why he was looking at her so strangely before belatedly remembering that she had been less than approachable to him recently ... ever since he had defended Angela James in a court martial. B'Elanna had not spoken to him for weeks afterward and then, only when she had to. But she was lonely and the fact was, prior to his accepting the saboteur's case, they had been pretty good friends.
"Can't you sleep?" she asked awkwardly.
He shrugged. "Just restless I guess." He seemed to be having a certain amount of difficulty looking her in the eye.
She wondered if he wanted her to apologize for her ignoring him, but it was something she wasn't quite prepared to do. After all, he was the one who chose to defend a woman whose crimes included trying to murder the Chief Engineer on several occasions, as well as setting the explosive that had cost the captain her memories. Not to mention stealing a runabout with Voyager's latest experimental slipstream drive. The subsequent destruction of the Mississippi had set back considerably their research and progress in finding a propulsion system that would shorten their return journey. If Voyager destroying the runabout hadn't killed the woman, B'Elanna thought she most certainly would have.
Though she tried not to say those sort of things out loud anymore.
"What are you doing?" she asked instead.
"I was working on the slipstream drive." He pushed over a padd. "I think if we can just alter the shield harmonics enough, we can coast on the slipstream wave rather than try to fly inside the conduit."
She studied the small screen. "You mean like surfing?"
He tried to control the grin that appeared. It was well known on the ship that the Klingon had been attempting to learn to body surf recently and having very poor results. Not that it was noteworthy other than the fact that she had accused Seven of trying to drown her on three separate occasions in loud outrage, well within earshot of the engineering crew. Those sort of comments tended to take on a life of their own in the lower decks, where the tedium was only sporadically broken by periods of sheer terror. The crew was having a humorous time deciding what would finally take precedence; Seven's ability to teach or B'Elanna's inability to learn. Actual bets had been laid on the outcome.
"Something like that. I think that would take away the damage we're recieving in the integrity fields."
She nodded thoughtfully. "It could work. We'll have to run simulations."
He paused. "I was going to run some this morning in Holodeck two."
"Want some company?"
He blinked. "Of course," he said, somewhat eagerly and B'Elanna realized that he had been feeling isolated from the crew recently, aware that she wasn't the only one who had been less than thrilled with his choices. Now she found she was regretting her rather harsh attitude.
"Listen, I have a departmental meeting first thing, but we can meet around 1100."
"All right." There was another pause and he seemed to be searching for something to say. "Uh, so what has you up so early?"
She frowned, a little reluctant to explain, feeling as if she was being silly and overreacting. But before she knew it, she was explaining the dream to him, of being stuck on the rock ledge, of the cliff and the door.
"So what do you think is behind the door?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. I only know I have to get over to it somehow."
"Well, if you dream it again, take some rope along." Then at her expression, he added, "I mean, if you recognize the situation, you'll know you're dreaming and you'll be able to control it, right?"
Uncharacteristically, B'Elanna felt a shiver go down her back.
"I don't want to dream it again."
He seemed startled by her intensity and he studied her quizzically. "It was just a dream, wasn't it?"
She took a breath. "Sure," she said grimly, picking up her fork to finish the pancakes that she really didn't want anymore for some reason.
"It was only a dream."
 
Tuvok sat cross-legged on the deck of his quarters, his slim form held perfectly erect as his dark eyes centered on the tiny flame flickering from the gilded meditation lamp.  He was utilizing strict Vulcan mental regimes to resume control over his swirling thoughts, to regain discipline over his emotions. 
It was a fallacy that Vulcans did not have emotions. In truth, their emotions were firmly repressed, channeled into logical paths from a very early age. After spending over a hundred years with Vulcan disciplines controlling his life, it was fairly disturbing for him to suddenly require the most elementary of lessons to regain his composure.
To his great displeasure, he discovered he was now as uncertain as he had been as a youth, embarking on his first mental exercises. He supposed this was a result of the past few months, of his dissatisfaction with his recent performance as Voyager's security chief. On his watch, not only had the captain been seriously injured, but the perpetrator had managed to escape, stealing a runabout from a supposedly secure hanger deck. Not to mention Lt. Harry Kim's spirited defense in a court martial that Tuvok, as prosecution, should have dominated. Had Angela James not pre-empted the eventual outcome by making a break for it, the dark-skinned Vulcan with the elegantly pointed ears would have been hard pressed to postulate a favorable outcome on his behalf.
Were the security chief Human, he would have been tremendously humiliated. As it was, he found it increasingly disconcerting to think about the events, unable to view them with his customary dispassionate manner. He had difficulty being in the captain's presence, aware that he had let her down in the most profound of ways, despite the fact that she offered every indication that she had forgiven him any mistakes he might have made, any flaws that he had displayed.
Which embarrassed him even further. Mortified at his lapse, he had initially reacted by trying to control all the external influences, increasing training and drills for all his security teams, lengthening his own sessions of physical workouts and martial art programs considerably, driving himself as hard as he did his people. He had gone over the computer security protocols with level five diagnostics and had generally made it known that any further lapses in diligence within his department would be severely dealt with.
Yet, despite all that, he felt it wasn't enough, that he had not achieved a proper level of adequacy.
After all, a mere dream should not have shredded his emotional discipline so easily. Should not have left him feeling so afraid. Should not have made him bolt out of his slumber with a terrified cry.
Clearly, he required more work, more meditation, more discipline.
More control.
 
Captain Janeway glanced up from her computer console as the door hissed open. She had returned to her cabin after her checkup with the doctor, deciding to serve out her shift at her work station in her own quarters.  The dual desks set back to back against the wall opposite the hull windows, afforded her a sense of Seven's presence that her ready room did not.  It bothered her that the Doctor could find nothing physically wrong with Janeway, nor could he explain away the dream, other than suggesting that it was just one more nightmare in the host of others that she had to face in order to regain her sense of self after her ordeal in the alien prison.  The captain was irritated by the fact that she wasn't recovering in a more timely manner.  At the same time, she felt a need to be in more secure surroundings, needed to be home where the feeling of Seven wrapped around her like the scented waters of a warm bath. 
The captain's chair was positioned to give her a clear view of the door, though anyone walking in would not see her immediately. The ship's only child, Naomi Wildman, certainly did not as she entered after her daily play session with the captain's Irish Setter puppy, Jake.  It afforded the captain  the opportunity to study the youngster for a moment or so before Naomi became aware that she wasn't alone.
The youngling was a Katarian on her father's side, small bone flares running down the middle of her forehead to the bridge of her nose. Otherwise, she favored her mother, with Ensign Samantha Wildman's Human looks in the long, strawberry hair and bright blue eyes. She had been born during Voyager's first year of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, her conception having occurred on Deep Space Nine just prior to their mission to the Badlands. While she was only five, Katarians matured quicker than Humans and as a result, she appeared and acted almost eight.
A shy expression crossed her face when she saw Janeway sitting at her desk and she tried to stand very straight, hands linked behind her back, very reminiscent of a certain Borg astrometrics officer. Janeway carefully hid her smile.
"Miss Wildman," she said formally.
"Captain," Naomi replied respectfully. "I apologize for disturbing you. I didn't realize you'd be home or I'd have requested admittance."
The little girl had always presented a fairly confident manner around the captain, less intimidated by the woman who commanded the starship where she lived than others in the crew.  Recently, Janeway was informed that the child's intended to become her bridge assistant and to that end, Naomi had enlisted Seven's help. Despite the Borg's initial uncertainty, the pair had ended up developing a remarkably close friendship, one that alternately surprised and amused the captain. Janeway had also been truly impressed by the little girl's discipline in tackling all the tasks and studies Seven had given her, occasionally wishing that some of her real Starfleet officers would display such an utter dedication to duty.  Certainly, it made the child a lot more self confident around the captain than she would otherwise be. 
"Normally, I wouldn't be home at this time," Janeway assured her. She patted Jake who had promptly loped over to her, pushing his head onto her lap as she scratched him lavishly behind the ears. "Did this guy behave himself today?"
"He conducted himself adequately," Naomi replied smartly.
Janeway kept her attention centered on the dog until she was sure she wasn't going to laugh. The child was so completely serious that it wouldn't do for the captain to let on she found Naomi's attitude lately ... well, absolutely adorable. Possible because it was Seven being imitated so well with the child's lack of contractions, and the advanced vocabulary she was beginning to display.
"I'm glad," Janeway murmured finally. She looked up, regarding the child with an interested expression. "How have your studies been?"
Naomi brightened and moved closer, apparently thrilled that the captain was engaging her in conversation rather than dismissing her immediately. "Very well, Captain," she said, eyeing the desk covertly as well as Janeway's computer console, obviously trying to see what the older female was up to. "May I ask what you're working on? Is it a tactical program?"
Janeway allowed herself a small smile as she turned the screen to the child's view. "Nothing so exciting I'm afraid," she told her. "A captain's life includes a lot of paper work. These are departmental reports from Engineering. "
"I see," Naomi said seriously, studying the screen intently as if she actually understood what she was looking at.
Janeway's lips twitched. Perhaps she did, she told herself in amusement. After all, Seven is a remarkably patient teacher, and the child is very bright. The captain leaned back in her chair and picked up her coffee mug, taking a sip. She noted that Naomi's eyes followed her avidly, carefully absorbing all the captain's mannerisms and Janeway had to fight the sudden urge to straighten up and appear more dignified, aware that she had her tunic unfastened to hang negligently open, revealing the somewhat wrinkled slate-blue sweater.  Which, horror of horrors, wasn't even tucked in.
"Can I offer you something to drink?" she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious.
"Is that coffee?" Naomi asked eagerly. "I'll have some of that."
Janeway's eyebrow quirked. "I doubt that your mother would approve of my offering you any."
"But you're the captain," Naomi noted guilelessly. "If you wanted to share ..."
Janeway laughed as she got up to go to the replicator. "When it comes to things like this, mothers always outrank captains," she told her, programming in some instructions. "How about some fruit juice instead?"
"Thank you, captain," the child responded dutifully though it was clear she was disappointed that she wouldn't be allowed to participate in the captain's most well known vice. "Mango, cherry and grapefruit, please."
Janeway managed to stifle her wince at the combination and keyed in the flavors, picking up the small glass full of the reddish juice that materialized on the small tray. She carried it over and gave it to the child who accepted it with polite thanks.
"Actually, Miss Wildman," the captain said as she resumed her seat. "I've been meaning to speak with you."
"You have?" Naomi said, surprised and suddenly a little apprehensive.
"It's come to my attention that you've been training for the position of my bridge assistant."
"Seven says that no such position exists," Naomi said honestly, if a bit reluctant to bring that to the captain's attention. She very carefully placed her glass on Seven's work station and granted Janeway her full attention.
"She's absolutely correct," Janeway replied, clamping down on her amusement. "But in the Delta Quadrant, we've been forced to adapt and create a great many positions as required by Voyager. After all, most ships do not carry cooks or native guides, yet Neelix has admirably fulfilled both roles prior to his becoming a security officer."
"That's true," Naomi agreed eagerly.
Janeway assumed a properly serious expression. "I'm curious, Naomi. What do you expect to be doing as my bridge assistant?"
"I would look after any tasks that you're too busy to do," Naomi said promptly.
Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, you could. There's the matter of making sure reports get to the department heads, handling any memos from them, seeing that my ready room is always ready and that my dog is properly exercised." She paused. "You're already performing that last duty."
"Yes, captain," Naomi said proudly. Then she looked a little anxious. "I have been acceptable, haven't I?"
Janeway honestly did not know how she was keeping a straight face through all this. "You have been most exceptionable," she assured her gravely. "Obviously, it's time for us to make your role a little more official." She leaned forward, removing a pip from her own collar and affixing it to the child's. "Naomi Wildman, I am assigning you to the position of Captain's Bridge Assistant. There will be a list of duties placed in your personal computer during a regular rotation of duty shift. Are you ready for this responsibility?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Naomi said smartly, straightening to her best parade attention.
Janeway stifled her grin and relaxed in her chair, linking her fingers across her abdomen as the child beamed at her, feeling absurdly pleased with herself for having indulged the youngster this way.
"As you were," Janeway said smoothly. "Now, why don't you have a seat and explain where exactly you are in your studies. If you're free at the moment, of course."
"I am at the captain's discretion," Naomi replied promptly.
Janeway wondered where she had adopted that particular phrase. It certainly wasn't from Seven, she decided wryly, considering her partner's occasional rebellious attitude to the command structure.
"Please, have a seat," Janeway said, motioning her to the chair in the living area. She took her coffee along as she positioned herself comfortably on the couch. Jake took the opportunity to leap up beside her and plop his head on her lap, sighing gustily, and she favored him with an indulgent expression as she rested her hand on his silky fur.
Naomi proceeded to explain her most recent lessons in biology, astrometrics and mathematics with precise and extensive detail while Janeway listened attentively. She made a mental note that the child was not mentioning any literary or art courses and that the lack should be addressed. The captain remembered that she had not been particularly interested in those subjects when she had been Naomi's age either, but she had been forced by her parents to broaden her horizons nonetheless, and had been suitably grateful for it as an adult. There were few people on her ship who were more skilled in the arts rather than the sciences ... it was a starship after all ... but she would have to find someone to teach Naomi in the non-scientific areas. Perhaps Leonardo from her da Vinci holo-program.
Naomi paused briefly, looking at the captain closely. "I think Seven was incorrect," she said suddenly.
Janeway raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"She said that you were uncomfortable with children," Naomi said with disarming honesty. "But you don't seem that way at all."
Janeway wondered how and when Seven had come to such a conclusion ... not that it was entirely inaccurate. The captain got along with children quite nicely, but only by treating the child in question as an alien lifeform with its own set of protocols, utilizing her diplomatic skills as much as possible.
"I don't have much opportunity to interact with children," she admitted, matching the child's openness. "It's a skill I've never had a chance to really develop."
"You'll have to learn," Naomi went on, blithely unaware that this was probably not the sort of conversation she should be engaging in with the captain. "I heard Mom telling Neelix that Seven wants to have children. How can you and Seven make a baby?"
Janeway blinked. Suddenly this had become very awkward. "Uh, well..." she temporized.
But Naomi was continuing without a pause and Janeway suddenly understood that what she thought the child was asking was in fact, far too limited for this very intellectually gifted daughter of a science officer like Samantha Wildman.
"Obviously genetic material will have to be removed from one of you and placed into an egg in the other, but without the XY chromosome to trigger conception, isn't that actually cloning? Will you recruit a donor from one of the male members of the crew to add their genetic matrix to the egg? If not, you'll only be limited to female children since you would only have the XX chromosomes to work with. Which of you intend to carry the fetus to term? Or are you going to germinate it in a generation tube?"
Janeway tried to remember if she had been at this level in reproductive biology at Naomi's age. Come to think of it, she was barely at that level now, being woefully uninformed regarding any future plans of marriage and children that she and Seven may have decided on. She understood that they had probably discussed such things at one time or another but she was unable to remember any conversations pertaining to it. It was times like this that she felt the loss of her memories most keenly.
She took a breath. "I'm sure the Doctor will be able to solve any possible problems," she said, as noncommittedly as possible.
Naomi nodded cheerfully. "I'll ask him."
Janeway wished she could listen in on that conversation. Then she thought about it and decided that she would rather be left in the dark about it. It was bad enough that she had just been left in the dust by a five year old, and she'd be prostrate with embarrassment if she wasn't so damned amused. There was no doubt in her mind that it was time to change the subject.
"Have you seen Flotter recently?" she asked, deliberately ignoring how inept that was.
Naomi blinked, but took the alteration of topic in stride. "I played one of his holo stories yesterday." She frowned, a dark shadow crossing her bright eyes. "I thought he could help me with my bad dreams, but he couldn't." 
Janeway was immediately sympathetic, knowing all too well how uncomfortable bad dreams could be. "Nightmares?"
"Yes," Naomi said, and it was clear to Janeway suddenly that the child was actually quite disturbed. "I don't like them. I always fall at the end. I can never get through the door."
A chill abruptly shot through Janeway, but she forced herself to stay calm. "The door?" she prodded gently.
"Yes, on the other side of the canyon," Naomi responded in a subdued tone. "I know I have to get over there to where the door is, but the ledge always breaks before I can figure out how. Then I fall and fall and I get really scared. Then I wake up. Mom says that I've been reading too many scarey stories lately. I think it's because I can't find Critter."
"Critter?"
"My bear."
"Ah," Janeway said with understanding. "I had a teddy bear when I was young as well. His name was Bobo."
Naomi stared at her in disbelief, either because the captain supposedly had a teddy bear at one point, or at the entire concept that Janeway had actually been young once. Janeway didn't know which was the case, and wasn't sure she should find out. Nor was she sure that she should try to pursue this. On one hand, she didn't want to scare the child any further but on the other, how could the pair of them be sharing the same dream? Was anyone else on the ship also experiencing this?
The door to her quarters suddenly swished open, and Janeway glanced at the time, startled to realize that she had whiled away the duration of her duty shift talking to Naomi. Seven appeared vaguely surprised to see her partner and the girl together, but she smiled faintly when Naomi bounded over to her, very much the young child once more.
"Seven, look what the captain gave me," she exclaimed, showing the pip on her collar to the Borg. "I'm really going to be her bridge assistant!"
"Indeed," Seven said with a tinge of amusement. She darted a glance at Janeway and the captain was abashed by the emotion there, the warm glow of approval. "I am sure you will be wonderful in the position."
"I start tomorrow." Naomi suddenly noticed that if Seven was off duty, then so was her mother. "I gotta go." She looked at the captain and nodded with a formality that made Janeway smile. "Thank you, Captain."
Janeway inclined her head graciously, then Naomi waved a quick good-bye to Seven and dashed out of their quarters. The room seemed a little too still suddenly, as if an energy had gone out of it and Janeway felt the eyes of her partner caressing her.
"I am surprised." Seven sat in the chair recently vacated by Naomi as Jake slide off the couch to greet his other mistress, his tail wagging hard while she patted him.
Janeway relaxed against the cushions of the sofa, stretching out her arms along the back. "What about?"
"I did not think you were entirely comfortable with the idea of interacting with Naomi."
Janeway eyed her briefly, her lips twitching. "Well, I suppose I should get used to doing so, especially if you're intending to have children."