textfiles/sex/EROTICA/E/extra.txt

Extra Credit
by L. R. Bowen




   "I am *not* lost," said Kathryn Janeway aloud, although no one was
nearby to hear.
   The tall Douglas firs and the huge, grey-white granite boulders
littering the steep Sierra slope did not contradict her.
   Just to the top of this ridge. I'll see the lake from there, and it
will be down hill all the way back, she thought confidently. I was only a
little turned around a minute ago.
   Losing her tricorder was annoying, since she had input so many class
notes earlier in the day, but she could mostly recreate them from memory.
The map and compass functions would have come in handy just now, but were
hardly essential. She had not strayed far from the trail to take another
look at that little mountain pond, although it had taken her nearly an
hour to find it again once she had gone striding down the needle-strewn
slope. The recordings she had made there were the worst loss.  
   All these tree-covered ridges looked the same, all topped with
glacially polished granite outcrops, all populated with scampering ground
squirrels and squawking Steller's jays. The crystalline pond was a
miniature of the huge blue expanse she knew would lie in sight once she
could survey the area from the height. 
   Lake Tahoe Park was the best destination for the required Field Biology
20 survey trip, so she had been sure to sign up for it early before all
the spots were taken. The professors and her classmates were all napping
back at the lakeside lodge after lunch, but she had taken her tricorder
out again on her own. Cadet Janeway was determined to serve as Science
Officer on the best        starship posting available as soon as she
graduated from the Academy. 
   Three more years...it seemed like a lifetime of study stretched ahead
of her before she could spread her wings to the galaxy. The more she
learned in each class, the better assignment for which she could qualify.
Perhaps she might even be allowed to graduate early. A Science Officer in
two years, at the age of 20? Not unprecedented, but not common either. The
sooner the better, however; if she was going to make captain by 30, every
little acceleration along the road would count.
   She struggled up to the top of the ridge and looked for a treeless spot
from which she could see to the east. The early afternoon sun beat down
with blinding heat at this 2000 meter altitude, reflecting off the bright
stone slabs with dazzling effect. After the cool, dim shade of the mighty
trees, her eyes squinted painfully as she tried to spot a glimmer of water
in the distance.
   Where was it, anyway? Lake Tahoe was 35 km long and 19 wide; it wasn't
exactly easy to hide even among high ridges and the great granite slopes
of the Sierra Nevada. She had headed west from the lodge, up into the
fragrant forest along a well-marked trail she had just walked that morning
with her entire group. The little pond she had spotted from a ridge was
not on any of the branches or loops of the trail, but she had thought it
worth investigating even if it took a hike to get there. Academy physical
training had left her in superb condition, so the altitude was not too
much of a handicap.
   She took another drink from her canteen and wiped the streaming
perspiration from her brow.  A few long tendrils of chestnut hair had
escaped from her firmly pinned bun and were pasted down and darkened with
moisture along her fair-skinned forehead and cheek. Without her sunscreen
pills, she would have been lobster pink by now from hiking in the alpine
sunshine for hours. The flush on her face was one of exertion.
   Well, shoot. The lake was nowhere in sight. It was eastward of her; it
had to be. Behind that high ridge to the left? Had she really come that
far? She had no way of telling, since her tricorder and pack lay at the
bottom of a deep ravine where she had accidentally dropped them. The
smooth log bridge had not been intended as a passageway for the casual
hiker and the footing had been precarious. She was lucky that she herself
was not lying at the bottom of that ravine. 
   Since the day was warm, she had put her jacket in her pack, along with
the comm badge pinned to the front. All she had with her was a canteen, a
couple of energy bars in her pants pocket, and her own skills and
determination. 
   It was still only about three in the afternoon--no, no, she reminded
herself: 1500 hours. The sun would not set until nearly 2100 hours in this
midsummer season. Her canteen was full of cool lake water and could last
her for a day. Plenty of time and resources to get back safely to the
lodge. 
   She'd have to face Sarpak, her group's teaching assistant, when she got
back, though; they were probably just beginning to wonder where she was.
Rats, she was probably going to miss the discussion this afternoon. But
she had a number of interesting observations from her independent side
trip that should make that dour young Vulcan sit up and take notice.
Perhaps she could go back with a rope or borrow a jet pack to retrieve her
tricorder with the recordings she had made.
   What now? The dark green ridges stretched out in front of her until
they met the high grey peaks of the bigger mountains. Her field of view
was not wide, since the trees blocked her vision to the west and south. At
least, she was fairly sure that was west. She should have paid a little
more attention in the survival skills seminar they had had last quarter.
Investigating in the field, as she would have to do as a starship Science
Officer, was very different 
from dissecting lab specimens and studying holographic samples. Hiking the
woods was a little new to her; her athletic endeavors had been mostly on
the track and playing field until now. Still, she had started out with all
the equipment she would need to have for a day excursion--in her lost
pack.
   Well, she couldn't stand all day on this hot ridgetop. Pick a
direction, Kathryn. She plunged down the slope to the east, intending to
follow the valleys down to the lake. Surely she could get back before
dark.
   It took her a good hour to descend to the bottom of the long, rough
slope. She had to zigzag around steep rocky areas and dense stands of
trees, moving in an erratic line to the north. By the time she stood by
the tiny trickling stream under the deep shade of giant sugar pines, she
was not sure where she was in relation to her observation from the top.
Well, if she followed the stream, obviously it would lead to the lake. She
set off through the undergrowth, checking for poison oak.
   Another two hours elapsed while she struggled through the roughest
terrain yet. Her clothes were ripped in spots, her face was scratched, and
she acquired a marvelous set of bruises from a fall off a big mossy
boulder. The stream had swept up enormous logs in the winter's rainy
torrents and deposited them all along the bed. Each of these, resting on
nearly vertical ravine walls and giant chunks of granite, had to be
separately hurdled. Kathryn had to rest often and made slow progress.
   Probably between 1800 and 1900 hours now. Hungry from her exertions,
she opened an energy bar and downed it in two bites. She took a long
swallow from the canteen and felt better. How close was she to the lake?
There was no way to tell; the steep walls rose all around her and cut off
all but a narrow wedge of sunlight. She could hear nothing but the trickle
of the stream and the crackle of branches as the squirrels leaped and
chattered. Nowhere to go but onward. She got up and continued down the
valley.
   Kathryn rounded a bend in the stream and stopped dead. Well, it was
about time she saw some sign of human activity. A narrow board footbridge
crossed the stream about a hundred meters ahead. It connected trails on
each side of the ravine that wound up the mountainsides in long
switchbacks. She could see only the first bend of each switchback, as the
trees were too thick and the sunlight did not penetrate down to the stream
where she stood.
   She clambered up the bank to the bridge and stood on it for a moment,
realizing that she had gradually moved towards a feeling of isolation and
loneliness on her long expedition. Until she saw the trail, she had not
realized how much she had wished to find something, someone, anything to
lead her back home. Now that she had a guide, and the going would be much
easier, her sense of relief at not having to depend entirely on herself
was embarrassingly strong. 
   All right, now, which way? The stream had taken many turns and
meanders, and the trail lay perpendicular to it. Which direction would
take her to the lake, and which deeper into the wilderness? There were no
trail signs, since there was no fork; only two choices. She took the left,
as it seemed to tend to the east. In any case, this was a sign of
civilization. If she stayed on the beaten path, she might even meet
someone. There were a number of lodges and campgrounds in the mountains
and along the lake shore besides the one used by the Academy. 
   Up the winding trail she doggedly climbed, coating her damp boots in
fine dust. She felt a resurgence of confidence at the ease of travel
compared to the rough slopes and stream bed. 
   Slowly the light grew more golden, the air cooler. 2000 hours or so.
She had missed dinner now and they would all be worried about her. Sarpak
would be informing the professor, and the professor would be calling the
director of the lodge, and--oh no! her parents--and they would be talking
about search parties--how embarrassing! When she walked into the
courtyard, they were going to make such a fuss. 
   Cadet Janeway reached the top of the ridge and looked around hopefully
for a sunset reflection off a huge oval lake. What she could see through
the trees told her only of more trees, more ridges, more great granite
monoliths transforming to bronze with the late sunlight's alchemy. She was
facing southeast along the general direction of the trail, which seemed
right. There was still a long time before the light would go entirely, and
the trail would not be too hard to follow even in the dark. The moon was
nearly full and would light her way. 
   She had barely started down the other side of the ridge when she heard
a faint, slow jingling that brought every hair on her body erect. Someone
was coming up the trail towards her. Again she was surprised at the rush
of relief. Someone to tell her where she was, which way she was going, and
how to get to her destination. And maybe even give her something to eat
for dinner besides one energy bar. Her stomach growled and she sat down to
wait for the traveler. 
   The rhythmic jingling halted. Kathryn's ears pricked up to listen, but
only the evening winds sighed in the trees. The sun sank lower behind her
and the granite took on the hue of copper. Huge and yellow on its first
rising, the moon floated one edge above the peaks. 
   Silence. 
   She began to wonder if she had imagined the sound or twisted some bird
song into a human echo. The mountains began to deepen in color. 
   If she was going to get off this high spot before dark, she had better
do it now. The wind was beginning to pick up and she shivered in her thin
shirt. The big fireplace at the lodge sounded very welcome at this moment.
Kathryn slid off the rock on which she sat and started down the trail
again.
   A long switchback curved down into the trees, where the light was now
very dim. She could see down the trail where the branches parted slightly
above the cleared path, but the gloom of the forest itself closed in on
both sides. The primal human fear of the dark and of isolation slowed her
steps for a moment, but she chided herself fiercely. She intended to be a
starship captain; who went so far into the outer darkness, so far away
from the community of life as they did? How could she be afraid of a
little mountain trail?
   By the time the rider came around the bend, she was striding as
confidently as anyone could in the barely adequate illumination. Her own
footfalls drowned out the sound of his approach until he appeared not
twenty meters in front of her at the turn of the switchback.
   "Good evening," he said cheerfully.
   Kathryn was so surprised at the sudden sight that she merely nodded and
continued on her way down the trail. The rider and horse came into clearer
focus as she approached them. The man was no more than medium height,
slender and athletic-looking. He rode a fine bay mare with white socks on
the forefeet and a Western rigged saddle, although he himself was dressed
in a tweed jacket and jodhpurs. 
   "Magnificent sunset just now," he said as she came up to him. His
accent was British, but with a lyrical undertone that gave it greater
musicality than the usual clipped syllables of an Englishman. "I was
watching it for quite a while down the trail a few hundred meters or so.
The color will all be gone when you get to the viewpoint, I'm afraid."
   "Oh," was all she could think of to say. She looked up into his face
and saw a pleasant smile under a big, well-shaped nose and eyes that
nearly disappeared into deep sockets. He looked about thirty-five, but
could have been somewhat younger or older. The bones of his almost-gaunt
face were prominent and striking in the shadowy light.
   When Kathryn did not respond further, he bowed slightly and continued
up the trail. She stood irresolute for a moment, debating whether to call
to him and ask for help, or continue down the slope into the growing
darkness. What if the lake was just over the next ridge? She would look
silly and helpless.
   The decision was taken out of her hands when the rider reined in and
turned again to her.
   "Excuse me, Ms, but is there a campground nearby? I don't wish to
intrude on your privacy (he pronounced it with a short "i") but I suppose
I should stop soon for the night, as it will be dark in half an hour."
   "I-I don't know," Kathryn replied truthfully.
   "Ah, you are camped on your own? I will retire to a discreet distance,
then," he said with a twinkle.
   "I'm not camped at all. I'm trying to get back to the lodge," she
blurted out. There, she had admitted it: she was lost.
   "The lodge? I thought there were none in twenty kilometers," he replied
in puzzlement.
   "That far?" she whispered in disbelief. That would take all night and
half the morning. How had she come so far out of her way? She glanced down
the trail again.
   "There are certainly none in that direction," he said with a question
in his voice.
   Kathryn could not answer. She felt on the verge of tears and absolutely
refused to indulge in front of a stranger, even a kind one.
   He seemed to understand her need for dignity and said mildly, "Ah, I've
taken a good many wrong turns myself the last few days. If the horse
didn't know the territory, I have no doubt I'd be heels up in a ditch by
now."
   Kathryn chuckled gratefully.
   "May I be of any assistance to you, Ms--?"
   "Janeway. Kathryn Janeway."
   "I am Jean-Luc Picard, at your service, Ms Janeway. As I say, I am
merely looking for a good spot to camp before I stop for the night. May I
invite you to join me?"
   The words were innocent and friendly, the speaker sincere, but the
implications suddenly hit her. Alone, no one else for kilometers around,
with a man she had never seen before he came up the trail. She had
literally never spent a night alone with any man outside her family. 
   Picard saw her hesitate and did not wonder why. She didn't know him,
and he would have to be careful not to frighten her, but she had no gear
or even a hand light and he could not just leave her in the trail. At
first, he had assumed she was staying in the area and was out for an
evening stroll; he had spoken to her because he had enjoyed the lovely
sunset and wanted to share it with someone. 
   There had been enough light to see that the reddish tint of her hair
was not all from the hue of the sky. He had a soft spot for women with
long red hair. He judged her to be about twenty-seven or eight; her stride
had the confidence and her face the character that age would be beginning
to assert. Her erect posture and open, level gaze spoke of independence
and self-reliance, perhaps to a fault--she had apparently bitten off more
than she could chew in her choice of a hike. Dust, sweat, fatigue and
tattered clothing notwithstanding, he could see that her figure was firm
and muscular, her lines gently curvaceous. 
   All in all, a very appealing young woman, and obviously in need of
help, even if she didn't want to admit it. He would have to suppress the
attraction, unfortunately. The situation was not conducive to any kind of
amorous interest on his part. Perhaps once they reached civilization...but
of course, his leave was over in a few days, and that was not much time to
develop an acquaintance to the point of--
   Scratch that thought, he told himself. You want to help her, and she
has to trust you in order for you to do so. If she picks up on anything
like what just crossed your mind, she will be tense and defensive even if
she accepts. 
   "I'm afraid I have been camping for some days now, and so have only
freeze-dried spaghetti and similar monstrosities to offer you--"
   "That sounds a lot better than going hungry," she replied with
decision. Picard smiled and dismounted as she came up to him. Her height
put her eyes nearly on a level with his. 
   "Please, take my horse. I am sure we won't need to go far, but you look
as if you have walked a good distance." His deep-set eyes--grey? hazel? it
was too dark to tell now--glanced over her torn clothing, carefully
avoiding any symbolically loaded parts of her body.
   "I've never ridden a horse," she confessed. 
   "Ah. Well, this sort of saddle makes it no trick at all. It's rather
like sitting in a high-backed chair. I feel quite lazy, although I've been
out for the better part of a week." He held out both hands cupped together
at the level of the horse's knee for her to step in and mount.
   "That's it. She's a strong little filly," he said as she swung into the
saddle. "I shall be quite sorry to see the last of her tomorrow."
   For a fraction of a second Kathryn thought he was referring to her.
"Oh, this is not your horse?"
   "Sadly, no. I haven't owned a horse in years. A career in Starfleet
doesn't really allow for such luxuries--but I shall certainly create a
version of her for the holodeck. She has given me a memorably pleasant
trip."
   "Starfleet? You're a Starfleet officer?" Cadet Janeway lit up.
   "Yes, I am a lieutenant commander--but if you promise not to tell
anyone, I can say with confidence that I will take a step up very
shortly," he smiled. Picard had noticed her interest spark at the mention
of Starfleet and allowed himself to hope for a moment that she would
herself take the initiative in the matter of--
   Stop that, he told himself. Anyone would think you had not learned a
thing over the past fifteen years. Reckless behavior, wild oats and such
are all very well in the Academy, but a commanding officer needs
self-discipline. Kindly restrict yourself to thoughts of food and fire. 
   The mare chose that moment to step in a ground squirrel burrow and
lurch suddenly to the side. Kathryn seized the saddle horn in both hands
and managed not to fall off entirely, but slid halfway out of the saddle
to the side on which the lieutenant commander walked as he led the mare by
the bridle. She had barely registered his name, something French, before
he had made the suggestion that they camp together; the fact that he was
in Starfleet had made much more impression on her. He caught her by the
waist and knee, supporting her and giving her a boost back into the seat.
   "Just a moment," he said, once she was secure again. He bent down and
checked the mare's leg, feeling carefully for any sign of a sprain. When
he was satisfied the animal was unhurt, he said, "Front or back?"
   "Excuse me?"
   "I think that we shall have to ride double to keep you safely seated.
Would you prefer to sit in front of me or behind me?"
   Kathryn felt her face flush as red as the last glow of the sun. Was he
actually making a pass at her? She glanced warily down at him, but saw no
sign of ulterior motives in his expression. If he had been ten years
younger, she would have suspected him of anything, but his receding
hairline gave him an air of middle-aged respectability. And after all, he
was a Starfleet officer, a high-ranking one. It occurred to her that she
should have stood at attention and introduced herself as an Academy cadet,
but she felt a little ashamed to admit that even a first-year cadet could
be so utterly turned around.
   "Um--whatever works best," she replied in answer to his query. "I
really don't know much about riding."
   "In back, I think. You can hold on to me and be quite secure that way.
Just sit as far back in the saddle as you can--"
   He put his foot in the stirrup to mount, and she trembled suddenly all
over at the thought of his slender body pressed close against her. Half
fear of the unknown, half longing for the unknown. He had not struck her
as dangerous, or even particularly attractive, but he was a man and a
stranger.
   "Perhaps I'll just get off and walk," she said, and began to slide down
the opposite side of the mare.
   "Ah--don't do that," he said and caught her arm. "A horse is trained to
be mounted and dismounted from only one side. She may shy if you try it
any other way. Sensitive creatures, horses."
   He let go of her arm as soon as she returned to the saddle, but she
felt the contact all up and down from shoulder to fingertips. This was
getting a little weird. Kathryn made to get off on the side he stood on,
and he held out a hand for her to take.
   "Are you sure?" he asked with some concern. "You look very tired and
footsore. I certainly cannot ride while you walk."
   His melodious voice and gentlemanly manner checked her in action. Her
feet did ache, and the bruises and scrapes on her side were stiffening up.
The mare's rolling walk was soothing. Was it really so disturbing to think
of leaning against a kind stranger's back for a little while? 
   "All right," she said, and scooted back in the saddle.
   The lieutenant commander mounted easily, swinging his lean leg over the
mare's neck, and settled down in front of her.
   "Put your arms around my waist, if you will, Ms Janeway," he directed.
She leaned forward and did so, a little tense, trying not to touch him any
more than necessary. Her hands clasped each other and she held her arms in
a stiff circle to avoid an embrace.
   Picard felt her tension and tried to empty his mind of any impure
thoughts. She had a right to be apprehensive, poor woman. He would not
have liked to have been in her position, having to put her trust in a
strange man so far from any other possible assistance. At least he knew he
was trustworthy. She had nothing to fear from him at all.
   The bay mare ambled gently up the slope, passing the rock where she had
waited after hearing the clink of the bridle on the trail below.
   "Ah, you came this way, of course, Ms Janeway. Did you happen to spy
out any pleasant camping spots?" he asked.
   "I wasn't really looking for any, just trying to get back before dark,"
Kathryn replied. She laughed a little shamefacedly. "I had no idea I was
so far from the lodge."
   "Well, we shall get you back to it tomorrow without fail. Which one do
you come from, by the way?"
   "The Stargazer."
   "The Starfleet lodge?" His voice was animated. "What a pleasant
surprise. You must have arrived after I departed on my ride last week."
   "Yes, the class just got in last night."
   "Oh, you are affiliated with the Academy?" So Ms Kathryn Janeway is an
instructor or assistant, then, he thought with a little twinge of
satisfaction. Perhaps he might see something of her in future after all.
"What is your field?"
   "Sciences--biology at the moment."
   "A field trip? I remember taking those myself as a cadet," he said with
a chuckle. "Those really were more valuable for social interaction than
research, as I recall."
   "Yes..." She did not want to say too much to him; the sound of his
voice was very pleasant and she did not want to interrupt for any length
of time.
   "Have you seen the tables in the dining hall?"
   "With all the names carved on them?"
   "Yes--some of those are quite old. I found my own name still there
after some searching. It's traditional not to scratch out anyone's
graffiti with your own. Even the undersides of some tables are well
inscribed. You must be sure to leave your mark before you go."
   "I will," she said, and meant it.
   They rode on in silence for a while, descending the slope the way she had
come. Rocking slowly from side to side, the mare carried them easily,
picking her steps carefully around the rocks and occasional branches in
the trail. A subtle radiance still hung in the western sky and the moon
was rising.
   Kathryn let her arms relax slightly around the officer's slim waist.
His tweed coat was a little prickly through her shirt. Warmth from his
body seeped through her and eased the growing chill of the night air. He
smelled of horse, unsurprisingly, and of himself, and of the redolent
woods.
   Lullingly smooth, the ride soothed her tight nerves and began to
untangle her complicated emotional web of embarrassment, fatigue, hunger,
and suspicion. Her cheek touched the officer's shoulder, rested lightly
for a moment, then she let her face fall against him and closed her eyes. 
   Picard felt the soft contact and leaned back a fraction to support her.
Was she falling asleep? She must have walked a considerable distance this
day to be so far from the lake. He did not expect to arrive at the lodge
until after mid-morning tomorrow, even on horseback.
   "Ah, this looks promising," he said softly. Kathryn's head jerked up,
but he was turning off the trail into a little side path barely visible in
the gloom. "I believe there have been others here before us--there are
usually some indications of the best places to stop."
   They moved through a dense stand of trees, crouching to avoid low
branches. When the vista opened out, Kathryn peered around the officer's
shoulder and smiled. 
   What a beautiful place! It was a little mountain park, an open meadow
nestled in a valley. It had once been a lake, which had gradually filled
with sediment and vegetation until it became a flat, grassy, flower-strewn
expanse. The delicate afterglow of the vanished sun still touched it
faintly; the sunset seemed to take forever to run its course. Long
rippling curves of the surrounding ridges stood out as dark shapes against
the deep-blue sky.
   "Eminently satisfactory," said the officer with pleasure in his voice.
   "Yes, it's lovely," she replied, then straightened up to keep herself
from touching his back. She had brushed his side with her left breast when
she leaned around him to see, and had kept it pressed there a moment
before she realized what she was doing. Well, he didn't show any signs of
having noticed; she was making a big deal over nothing. A middle-aged man
like that probably wasn't even thinking of her that way, anyway. She was
only a kid to him, and he wasn't boiling with underused urges like her
classmates. Gee, he could almost be her father.
   The thought relaxed her suddenly. What was she so worried about,
anyway? He hadn't done anything suspicious, and he didn't deserve to be
treated like a snake in the woodpile. Everything about him said
"trustworthy". No one could maintain a low opinion of him for very long.
Yes, he was definitely a Starfleet officer, if she had doubted his word at
all.
   Picard picked a corner of the meadow just under the shelter of the
trees to dismount and hand Kathryn down from the mare's back. A little
stream wound through the meadow, and he could hear the soft babbling in
the gloom. Taking off the mare's saddle and bridle, he slapped her on the
rump and let her amble out into the knee-high grass. He had no fear that
she would wander far; she was too well-trained for that. If only he could
keep her somehow. She was by far the best mount he had had in years. But
he had his Starfleet career, and a captaincy shining brightly in his
future, and no female of any species would distract him from that goal.
   Jenice...still waiting in Paris, in his last mental image of her. Here
and now, Jean-Luc, here and now. 
   Picard looked at his companion, who had plopped down on the grass and
was leaning back on her hands, gazing up at the emerging stars. Her look
was yearning, but confident, as if she surveyed territory rightfully her
own, some precious jewel she would inevitably inherit. Ms Janeway must be
a very fine instructor for the Academy, but it's plain to see she longs to
travel on a starship, he thought. The open expression on her face made her
seem very young.
   He unpacked his saddlebags quietly, not wishing to disturb her
ruminations. After a few minutes, she leaned forward and clasped her
drawn-up knees, resting her chin between them. She ran one hand over the
stalks and flowers in her reach, softly naming them in Latin as she
touched each one. A studious young woman, obviously. Her long fingers
scratched idly at the nape of her neck, then began to pull the pins that
held her wavy hair in a tight knot (somewhat disarranged with her
travels). The soft tresses fell one by one down her back with the faintest
of slithering sounds, until her shoulders were draped with the silken
cape.
   Picard grew aware that he had ceased all movement soon after she had
pulled the first pin. He set down the camp stove he had suspended in
midair and rummaged through his remaining store of food packs for the
least objectionable selection.
   Kathryn ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her scalp where the
knot had rested. She always took her hair down in the evening to relax
when she no longer had to keep up a brisk, professional appearance. Even
though she was only a first-year cadet, she tried to look like an officer
in every way that she could, at least during the day. She had considered
cutting her long hair, but enjoyed the feeling of release and the dramatic
change in her appearance when the chestnut waves fell about her face. Even
a Starfleet officer needs a softer side, she reasoned. Femininity and duty
are certainly not mutually exclusive.
   She turned to see what the officer was doing, and was surprised to find
that he was already cooking dinner and rolling out a groundcloth. 
   "Um--can I do anything?" she asked.
   "Not a thing, Ms Janeway; you are my guest this evening." He lit a
small lantern and smiled at her in the soft glow.
   In a few minutes, he dished out the contents of the pot into two plates
and handed one to her.
   "I must warn you, Ms Janeway, that for a native of France, I am a very
poor cook."
   The aroma of the food was perfectly wholesome, and she was ravenous;
she had finished the entire dish almost before he could heat some water
for tea. They sipped at hot mugs slowly, warming their hands as the
temperature dropped. Kathryn shivered a little, raising her shoulders and
hugging her elbows into her body.
   "How remiss of me," the officer said. He rose and looked in a
saddlebag, handing her a long insulated raincoat. "This should keep you
quite toasty." He held it as she slipped her arms through the sleeves, and
lifted her hair clear of the collar. She thought she felt his hand brush
down over it in a smoothing motion, but the touch was so gentle she was
not sure.
   Turning to retrieve her mug, Kathryn was a little surprised to see the
officer standing very still, his eyebrows slightly lowered and his
expression oddly tight. His thin lips had drawn into a straight line, but
twitched as his eyes met hers. Fleetingly intense, his gaze dropped
quickly, and he turned away. 
   What the heck was that? she wondered. She hugged the coat around her.
Maybe he was just thinking about something. He was rummaging in his bags
again, bringing out a hand light and a padd.
   "The stars will be well out in a few minutes," he said. "The full moon
will obscure the seeing somewhat, but every night on a mountain is an
opportunity that should not be lost." Punching up a sky map on the padd,
he doused the lantern and handed her the light. 
   "Lead the way, if you would, Ms Janeway, and we shall see how many of
the systems I have visited can be seen tonight," his voice came in the
darkness. Something about the quality of it sent a little quiver down her
back, a pleasant one. She snapped the light on and aimed it out into the
meadow.
   They had to cross the stream to reach the center of the grassy area,
where they would have the greatest field of view. The officer took her
hand to help her step across the water, although it was barely a meter
wide. When he retained her fingers in his a few moments longer than
necessary, she began to wonder: was he actually trying to convey something
to her? If so, he was being very subtle about it. She was used to the
obvious ploys of teenagers, the shy, sweaty hands, the bear hugs and eager
kisses. Nothing in her experience had ever gone much beyond that. But this
was a grown man. What, exactly, did he want from an eighteen-year-old?
   Probably nothing at all. He was just being polite, at which he was
unsurpassed. Rarely had she met anyone with such finely polished manners.
His very presence was soothing; she could imagine a tense room relaxing
just from his entrance and the sound of his voice.
   "This looks like a good place," she said when she could see most of the
sky. She turned the light off and waited for her eyes to adjust to the
darkness. The moon hung bright in the east, but most of the sky was dark
enough at this altitude to see thousands of glittering points.
   "I have seen extraordinary fields of stars all over the quadrant," he
said quietly, "but this familiar arrangement, the one our ancestors saw,
is still the most inspiring."
   "Yes," she replied, pleased that he echoed her own thoughts. "This is
why humans went into space in the first place. This is why I always wanted
to be a starship officer."
   "Indeed? A science officer?"
   "For starters," she laughed. "I'm going to be a captain someday. I'm
going to lead my own crew in the best research vessel in the fleet."
Kathryn gestured to the great triangle of Altair, Deneb and Vega, her
voice utterly confident. "That's where I belong. That's where I'm going to
leave my mark, out there." 
   Picard heard the ring of conviction in her words and believed in her
determination, but wondered if she knew the obstacles in her path. An
Academy instructor? If she did not yet have a commission and a starship
posting, her goal could be a very distant one. But she had the ambition to
achieve it in sufficient measure. Perhaps he was too pessimistic on her
account. He muttered half to himself,

   "By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
   To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,
   Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
   Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
   And pluck up drowned honor by the locks."

   "That's right," she said. "I liked that character--what's his name."
   "Hotspur," Picard replied. "He does come to a sticky end, you know."
   "Yeah, well--that sounded very nice, anyway. You must like Shakespeare."
   "That might be considered an understatement, Ms Janeway," he chuckled.
   "Call me Kathryn, OK?" she said on impulse. He was so formal and
correct, and she felt like hearing him speak her first name.
   He did not answer for a moment, and she almost wondered if she had
crossed an invisible line. 
   His voice, when it came out of the gloom, was like a caress. 
   "Certainly I shall, if you wish it,--Kathryn. You may call me Jean-Luc,
if you are so inclined."
   "All right--um, Jean-Luc." She couldn't remember his last name, and was
about to ask when he pointed at the sky.
   "There--near the Corona Borealis. I went on board my first Klingon ship
there..."
   He told her wonderful stories for at least an hour, while Spica set in
the west and the moon climbed high. Kathryn laughed when he described his
first taste of gagh worms, listened raptly to an account of a delicate
negotiation that had averted a intraspecies war, and gasped in sympathy
when he mentioned in passing a terrible wound that had left him with an
artificial heart. 
   In all this talk, however, she gradually grew aware that he held
himself aloof from her. He never mentioned his own feelings about
anything, except for superficial reactions, and told her nothing of his
own hopes and inmost dreams. A thin, steely shell seemed to cover him like
a suit of armor. For all his charm and skill as a raconteur, he was
elusive, private, impenetrable.
   The beauty of the meadow, the wonder of the sky, that showed her more
and more as her eyes slowly gained night vision, suffused her like wine.
Moonlight shone clearly on the officer's face as they sat side by side in
the grass, casting his elegant features in striking relief and glinting in
his deep-set eyes. He was--well, actually, rather handsome, and that
voice--it was warm and smooth and strong and thrilling all at once. A
muted trumpet, a glass of cognac with honey, a king's velvet robe. 
   Kathryn stared at him and wondered: what would break that reserve? What
would get under that steely skin to the man beneath? What might she find
there? Would she even want to know?
   He turned slightly and looked at her. She was caught off guard, her
stare open and obvious in the bright moonlight. 
   
   "I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,
   I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.
   Press close bare-bosomed night--press close magnetic nourishing night!
   Night of south winds--night of the large few stars!
   Still nodding night--mad naked summer night."

   His voice ceased for a moment, then he resumed, "An American poet,
perhaps more suitable to the setting."
   Kathryn was trembling visibly, her breasts heaving with her uneven
breaths. She dipped her chin into her chest, trying to control the
shaking, but she could not look away.
   "I place myself at your disposal, Kathryn," he gently said, and left
his eyes on hers.
   Now that--was--an unmistakable--pass. At least from *him*, it was
unmistakable. How incredibly restrained the man was! Still, the mere
knowledge that he--wanted her, that he was willing to open a tiny crack in
the shell, perhaps, moved a new ripple of shuddering warmth through her
chest and stomach. He really--? With her--? An almost-commander was
interested in her? Kathryn felt a little dizzy.
   She moved forward, into the circle of his arms. They closed and drew
her in, one hand at her waist, the other sliding around her back and
cupping her shoulder. Instinctively she kept her head ducked, and her
forehead collided with his chest. He bent his head down, caught her lips
with his own, and pressed her up and back. His hand came up from her
shoulder to cradle her skull, lolling back on her suddenly limp neck.
   Picard kissed her more masterfully than he had intended, reacting
strongly to her sweet scent and trembling approach. Careful now, he
thought. It wouldn't do to frighten her again, not after such a pleasant
conversation and its unexpectedly welcome outcome. 
   After a moment, however, her hands shifted from pushing against his
chest to slipping around his body. She returned his kiss as firmly as it
had been given, and embraced him hard. Their lips parted slightly as they
clung together and he felt the enticing wetness of her mouth. A woman of
some passion, obviously. Well, all the better. He did not particularly
relish taking the lead in such matters, preferring to let himself be
pursued, holding out the promise of intimacy and then withdrawing in
himself whenever a woman came too close...
   Kathryn was breathing deeply, drinking from his lips, kneading the
muscles of his back and shoulders with her strong hands. She could sense
that he was holding back, perhaps out of consideration for her youth, but
she didn't want him to. She wanted him to meet her, passion for passion,
two equal measures of wanting. Two souls in communion, standing together
against all threats, comrades flying together to the stars...
   What would provoke him to break his reserve? She opened his lips wider
with her own, stroked her tongue between them, and was rewarded with a
slight groan deep in his chest. He allowed her to plunge herself into his
mouth, responding in kind and working his fingers through her loose hair.
The buttons of his jacket flipped open easily under her hand, releasing
the warmth of his body to her closely-pressed bosom.  His right hand left
her hair and brushed down the front of her shirt. It fell open. The
stretchy sport tank below rolled up out of the way, her high young breasts
revealed. 
   Picard met her eyes in the moonlight, smiling at how she arched up to
him. Her delicately pink nipples quivered on sweet cream-white mounds,
promising delicious nourishment. He bent his head and took one in his
mouth, sucking with appetite. Kathryn stroked his face between her hands.
The brown hair on his scalp was sparse, but he had a noble cranium that
might look all the better if bare. Prickly tweed nudged her ribcage, and
she pushed the jacket off his shoulders and away.
   She wanted him. She wanted him to--to keep his mouth on her breasts, to
run his hands down her body and remove the rest of her clothes, to let her
strip his slender body naked and take him in her hand, in her own mouth,
in herself. A Starfleet commander, and a future Starfleet captain--what
better mates? Kathryn relaxed into the grass, pulling him down with her.
He rose up for a moment to pull the jacket entirely off and toss it aside.
   He was about to lower himself beside her when a shrill buzz startled
them both.
   "Emergency broadcast to all Starfleet personnel in Tahoe Park area,"
said a voice.
   "Good heavens," said the officer, and picked up his jacket and comm
badge again.
   "Missing person alert," the broadcast continued. "Starfleet Academy
cadet Kathryn Janeway, last seen at 1300 hours on Long Ridge loop trail.
Human female, eighteen years old, 168 cm tall, 55 kg. Light reddish brown
hair, blue eyes, fair complexion. Wearing..."
   The officer had frozen still, his face turned away from her, after the
first few words. He put his jacket down slowly and with deliberation,
keeping one hand on the badge. Kathryn could see his jaw muscles clench.
   "Please respond if sighted. Emergency broadcast concludes."
   He remained still for the space of two breaths, then stabbed a thumb at
the badge.
   "This is Lieutenant Commander Jean-Luc Picard. Cadet Janeway is with
me, and--safe. I expect to arrive at the Stargazer Lodge before 1100
tomorrow. Picard out." His voice betrayed nothing. A moment passed, and
another voice broke in, asking for confirmation. He gave it, reassuring
her worried professor that Cadet Janeway was well and uninjured. The
transmission ceased.
   She could tell that he was very angry. The slope of his shoulders had
changed, hardened to a tense straight line. Sitting with his back to her,
he darted a glance to the sky, then to the earth, turning his head and
looking at the ground next to her.
   "And when," he bit out, "were you going to tell me I was placing my
entire--career--in jeopardy--by seducing--an
eighteen--year--old--Academy--cadet?"
   His voice was all steely trumpet now.
   Kathryn Janeway sat up and yanked her shirt down. "Seducing, hell. I
was with you all the way. Sir."
   "Excuse me, Cadet?"
   "I said, I was with you all the way, sir. Leading, even." What a
cold-hearted bastard he was. After she had kissed him like that?
   "I doubt that the board of inquiry would take that into serious
consideration, Cadet Janeway."
   "Why not? Am I unable to make my own decisions, sir? Am I a child? You
didn't think so a few minutes ago."
   He let out a short harsh breath. "I took you for a woman ten years
older, Cadet."
   "I'm sorry, I guess I should have told you I was a student. But I
thought you knew, sir."
   "I made an assumption based on your--your manner and bearing, Cadet."
   She knew he was referring to her air of confidence and self-command,
which had accompanied her from infancy. "That's just me, sir. That's the
way I am. If you didn't expect that from someone my age--well, neither do
a lot of people. They'll learn."
   He finally turned to look at her. Unsmiling, but with a speculative
frown that told her he had not really taken her spoken ambitions seriously
until now.
   "And what did you expect to accomplish with this--this--"
   "Oh, now I'm seducing you, huh? Sir."
   His eyes dropped for a moment. "I beg your pardon. That was an unworthy
thought."
   "I'll say it was, sir. But..."
   "Yes, Cadet?"
   "I'm going to be a Starfleet captain. I'm not going to be a lonely one."
   Kathryn saw his eyes turn inwards, shutting her out. Like me, you mean,
she could almost hear him say. 
   "You will learn, Cadet, it is to be hoped with less pain then I, that a
committed relationship and a command career are mutually exclusive."
   Whose pain? she wanted to ask. Do you really suffer any pain? Can that
hunk of plastic and metal in your chest break in two? 
   Then he looked up at her again, and the shell cracked, just for a moment. 
    Oh, Lord. He let her in for the tiniest of glimpses before the steel
fused seamless again. She felt her eyes fill with tears.
   Kathryn swallowed hard to keep her voice steady before she spoke again.
   "All right, Commander, maybe they are for you. But don't project that
on to me. I have no intention of giving up half myself and locking it
away. Why would I send a mutilated version of myself out into the galaxy?
Where would the joy be? Where would be my whole reason for living among
the stars?
   "I'm not judging you. You've made the decisions for your life as you
saw fit. But you haven't succeeded in cutting off that part of yourself,
you know. It's still there. It's forgotten, and stunted, and starving for
light down in that little room you've locked it in, but it's still there."
   "I know," he said, and his eyes were barred windows.
   "I don't know if anyone can bring it out for you. That's a decision you
will have to make yourself, if you're capable of it anymore. I can't show
you the way, because I don't know how you got lost in the first place. I
don't intend to get lost at all." 
   She stood up and gave him her hand. He took it and rose to his feet.
   "Cadet Janeway."
   "Yes, sir."
   "It is correct protocol to say, 'Permission to speak freely,' before
addressing a superior officer in that manner."
   "Yes, sir," she replied with an old-fashioned salute, and was answered
with the faintest of smiles. He glanced in the direction of their
campsite.
   "The night is cold, Cadet, and I have only one set of blankets. Would
you be willing to share them with me?" 
   "Doesn't seem to be an alternative, sir--but if you can stand it, so
can I." He set his lips and gave her a quick affirmative nod of the chin.
   "All right, then. Let's go to bed." She snapped the hand light on and
aimed the bright beam to illuminate their path.
   
   "Oh, weren't you *scared*?"
   "Not really," Kathryn replied, downing another forkful of steak and
Bearnaise sauce. "I thought I was going the right way most of the time."
Her friends crowded around her at the table, eating, studying tricorder
readings, and listening to her account of the previous day's events.
   "Who was that officer who brought you in?"
   "Lieutenant Commander...um." Sheesh, she had forgotten his name again.
"Something French. Jean-Luc something."
   "Ooh, Zzhonn-Loooc," giggled several of her girlfriends. 
   "He was kinda cute," said one.
   "Yeah, kinda. Not my type," she said, chewing, and cutting another piece.
   "Cadet Janeway," said a level voice at her elbow. She looked up to see
Sarpak glowering down at her, as much as a Vulcan could glower. Very
controlled, Vulcans were. Very restrained. But they had a sense of
propriety and moral compass that served them very well.
   "What is it, Sarpak?"
   "I have reviewed the readings on your tricorder. It seems to have been
undamaged in the fall."
   "Oh, good. So--what didja think?"
   "As you thought, you recorded a species of algae that has not been
previously detected in this area."
   Kathryn whooped and high-fived several classmates.
   "However..." It was a loaded word.
   "However what?"
   "You obtained those readings by disregarding instructions, placing
yourself in danger, and causing a great deal of distress and inconvenience
to your superiors."
   "Aw, gee, Sarpak--"
   "Yes, Cadet?"
   "Does that mean you're not going to give me extra credit?" she grinned.
   Sarpak actually rolled his eyes before departing.
   Kathryn finished her dinner and toyed with her knife, scratching at the
table. It was already heavily engraved with names, some fresh and
light-colored, some worn smooth at the edges and darkened with the years. 
   Decker, O'Brien, Crusher. Satie, Pulaski, M'Benga. Finnegan, Chakotay,
Garrett.
   She found a flat, smooth spot, and began to carve.


END