Six weeks.

Captain Dannan Stuart stared down at her breakfast plate. Two eggs sunny side up, two slices of bacon well-done, one slice of whole wheat toast buttered no jelly, and eight ounces of orange juice with pulp.

Six weeks of absolute peace.

No enemies stalking them through the stars, no frantic subspace pleas for help, no catastrophic system failures.

No unexplainable phenomenon, no deadly outbreaks, no civilization collapsing moments.

Nothing.

Not even a single disciplinary incident.

For her ship these days, this was nothing short of a religious inducing miraculous event.

She should be deliriously happy.

She should be celebrating.

She should be offering thankful sacrifices to every divine being in Federation records.

Stuart gripped her fork and butter knife desperately.

"I just can't take one more day of this."

Across from her at the Captain's Table, Lynn Hoskins glanced up from her own breakfast tray, gave Stuart's plate a very British distasteful grimace, and went back to artfully spreading a lemon curd on her hot scone.

"Took you bloody long enough. Try the muesli."

Stuart groaned and pressed her fists against her forehead.

Hoskins eyed the utensils still in the Captain's grip and shrugged aristocratically. "Then try the waffles. Lauren says the replicator has the maple syrup almost right."

Stuart took a long steadying breath. "Lynn?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"She's rubbing off on you."

Hoskins' blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

Stuart sighed soulfully. "Saavik."

Hoskins looked genuinely blank a moment then a slow, almost Warfield mischief level smile turned her lips. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Unbelievable. You're bored out of your bloody mind, aren't you?"

Stuart flushed a bright crimson and stiffened defensively. "I'm not asking for something to go wrong, I'm just saying-" She glared down at her plate and then her shoulders sagged and she sighed, defeated. "I'm bored out of my bloody mind."

Hoskins winced terribly and stared up at the ceiling. "I can't believe you just did that."

Stuart scowled. "Did what?"

"You jinxed us."

Stuart rolled her eyes. "Now Lauren's rubbing off on you."

Hoskins pointed a well-manicured fingernail at her Captain. "You're taking full responsibility for what happens."

Stuart groaned. "You're British, Lynn. You can't be superstitious, it's not in your genetic coding."

Hoskins blue eyes narrowed. "You do remember what ship you're on, don't you, Captain?"

"Saavik's not superstitious."

One blonde eyebrow vaulted.

Stuart winced. "Just because she refuses to go with us on shore leave anymore, doesn't mean anything."

"She said we had an 'almost logic defying ability to draw difficulty'."

Stuart threw out her arms. "That's Lauren!"

"The Admiralty calls the Rider the Black Cat of the Fleet."

Stuart blinked. And then grimaced. "They do?"

"They do."

Stuart narrowed her eyes. "Lauren tell you that?"

"Savage."

Stuart looked suddenly ill. "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh, hell." Stuart glanced uneasily around the Mess. "I can do boredom."

The Mess doors snapped open. Hoskins smiled sweetly and took a sip from her tea cup. "Too late, Captain."

Stuart just cringed.

But it was only Dale and Walby, laughing about some joke. They picked up trays and got into the breakfast line.

Stuart expelled the breath she was holding and relaxed. She shook a finger at Hoskins, beginning to grin. "You almost had me."

The doors snapped open again.

"You find me insufficiently enticing?"

Hoskins choked hard on a swallow of tea.

"Oh, hell." Groaned Stuart and covered her face.

The entire Mess Hall was instantly riveted to the conversation. Eyes widened all over the room and Stuart was fairly certain a number of people plain forgot to even breathe.

Saavik's brows were drawn down at Lauren Warfield who almost had to trot to keep pace at her side. Lauren snorted derisively at the thought, picking up a tray and passing it gallantly over to the Vulcan before getting her own. Neither woman even noticed the sudden unmitigated attention of the whole Hall. "After last night? How can you ask me that?"

"Tell me when this is over," moaned Stuart, refusing to look.

"You think this will be over?" managed Hoskins in disbelief.

"Right, who am I kidding?" Stuart gave a martyrs sigh and picked up her orange juice and drank it all in a single shot.

Saavik tilted her head, confused. "Then why do you wish me to wear the negligee?"

Across the Hall, Ensign Tabus actually fainted. Several people where desperately trying to realign their data padds to record mode.

Stuart looked down at her butter knife. "Do you think this edge is good enough to slit my wrists?"

"Starfleet Mess Hall knives barely manage butter, Captain."

"Well, damn. Whose bright idea was that?"

Lauren inspected a fruit cup critically. "Think of it like polish on your boots."

Saavik tilted her head. "Required by Starfleet?"

Lauren laughed. "No! Like adding that last bit of zing."

Saavik studied her boots uncertainly.

"Okay, let's try another way. How about like gift wrapping?"

Saavik very nearly frowned. "You speak of . . . presentation."

"Exactly." Lauren grinned wickedly up at Saavik and winked. "And it is a hell of a lot of fun unwrapping a present."

Saavik narrowed her eyes. "Anticipation?" she speculated hesitantly.

"Bingo."

Now the Vulcan did frown. "What does a game have to do with-"

Lauren about choked on the milk she was sampling. "I meant 'right'."

"Ah."

She got that merrily wicked teasing look again. "Though I can teach you some of those, too."

Saavik's eyes were as wide as they had ever seen them. "There are . . . there are . . . games for sexual intercourse?"

Stuart was fairly sure she was experiencing a heart attack in progress. "Oh, how I need a drink."

Hoskins shoved her cranberry juice across the table.

"What's wrong with you? Something stronger."

Lynn's blonde eyebrow lifted reprovingly. "At breakfast?"

Stuart stared at her. "Lauren is teaching Saavik about sex, woman!"

Hoskins winced. "Point." She sighed and got up. "I'll make a run to the ship's still. You're going to need it."

Stuart laid her head on the table and groaned.

Damn it. Well, at least she wasn't bored out of her bloody mind any more.