As Jessa and I resumed our walk to the stream, I found myself yet again trying to comprehend the vastness of the difference in attitudes represented by what I'd just witnessed. The conflicting emotions the episode had aroused in me highlighted in unflattering relief how suspicious human beings are of each other, how ready to see the worst and react accordingly. Admittedly my career had been practically custom-designed to produce one of the most suspicious bastards on the planet, but I couldn't accuse myself of being psychologically that much different from my species' base genetic profile with regard to male possessiveness. Male apes do not like other male apes eyeing up their females, and on the evolutionary time-line Homo Sapiens had hardly put a toenail out of the jungle.

Presumably evolution on this planet had produced The People by a similar process. However, I couldn't avoid the conclusion that if humans had descended from some form of chimpanzee, The People had almost certainly descended from a far more peaceably inclined species. Mountain gorillas came to mind. Definitely they had the build for it (most of them were taller than Captain Archer) and absolutely they had the temperament. Though not vegetarian, and capable hunters in a world where they could never have survived without it, they took no pleasure in inflicting pain on any living thing; this, I could understand now, was why the attack on Jessa shortly after my arrival had been so profoundly shocking to them. Lively nights in the acha-we would often see wrestling bouts and even occasional fist-fights (with padded fur gloves worn), and the discovery of the fermentation process undoubtedly set free their macho playfulness, but at heart they were oddly and endearingly gentle.

It was going to take me a while to get used to it. Even longer to fit in; and probably a lot longer than that before I was able to forget, even for just a moment, that I had ever been Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.

Did I want to forget?

Some of me definitely did. Some of me would have liked to have been able to blot out my past forever, to wipe it out of existence. But if we were going to go with the real sense of this 'Thanksgiving Day' lark, then I couldn't – I just couldn't – avoid admitting that as well as containing some serious hell, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed's life had had some bloody fabulous moments in it.

One of the earliest I could remember was the fireworks. Aunt Sherrie, bless her cotton socks, taking me and Maddie to a firework display. In Uncle Edward's car, god, I wondered was that still on the road. The first time I'd ever been close enough to the launch of a mortar to feel the thump of it against my belly, to track the flight of it skywards. To appreciate the whole astonishing glory of that huge great whoof of coloured stars erupting up there in the blackness.

I'm a weapons officer. Some part of me always probably will be. I love the science of explosives, the skill, the art. But in my secret heart, I admit it to myself that my passion for symmetrical explosions reaches right back to that little boy standing on an old milk crate, watching fireworks bursting against the stars...

"WHA–! FU–!"

One of Jessa's little enjoyments was catching me unawares. Naturally this didn't happen very often, me being the suspicious bastard previously alluded to. However, it appeared that my lapse into philosophical contemplation and a wander down Memory Lane to boot had provided her the ideal opportunity, of which she had not been slow to take advantage.

Icy cold stream-water was now dripping down my bare chest and belly. She was standing in the pool whose contents she had just distributed with reckless generosity down my front, and she was poised to run like hell.

Wise, my young Padawan. Very wise.

When she ducked down again I thought she was going for another chuck at me, and instinctively I flinched backwards. Instead, she threw the two handfuls of water straight up in the air and watched them, her face printed with the delighted horror of anticipation of it landing on herself as well.

O-hhhhh, yes, it is cold, and you needn't think that's going to save you–

Though on the other hand, bloody hell, I could look at those all day–

But I'm still going to get your arse first!

She screamed and ran away, but not nearly as fast as she could have done. After all, she had no intention whatsoever of not letting me catch her.

As ablutions go it had been a bit on the perfunctory side, but what the hell, we'd both got wet, so the technical requirements had been met, sort of. I could definitely testify to have been doused right where it mattered.

She was still screaming and not running very fast when we passed Atreh. He was squatting beside a tall spire of flowers, and there was a boy of about three squatting beside him, solemnly copying his every move. My first reprehensible thought was that they'd opted for a bit of freeform defecating, but in actual fact what they were doing was watching an early bee; The People actively promoted the sowing and germination of flowers that attracted bees around the camp. Admittedly the insects could be a bit of a nuisance (there were certainly far more of them around the place than Trip Tucker for one would have appreciated), but the honey was a vital food resource, and one for which a few stings here and there were regarded as fair payment. Mostly, just like Earth bees, if you left them alone they left you alone.

I knew perfectly well that Atreh was no more of a monk than I was. I had no doubt that shagging would be up there on his agenda for the day too, and good luck to him when it happened. But it revealed another side to his character, that instead of hunting out the first open tent flap (whoops, maybe that was a bit of a two-edged expression) he was sharing this moment of wonder with a child, simply watching an ordinary bee questing from flower to flower.

While Jessa and I had been out on the ridge, it seemed that the village had been waking up. The reviving prod of anxiety about my lack of clothing began to dissipate as I saw that practically no-one was wearing anything, and that as far as the old male 'competition' thing went, I was sitting soundly among the average majority. Which was comforting in itself. (I mean, no bloke would actually dislike the idea of owning a todger that would enable him to go to a fancy dress party disguised as one of those old-fashioned petrol pumps, but it's bragging rights over practicality, isn't it? No point having an extra thirty centimetres you can't fit in anywhere.)

There was, indeed, a fair amount of 'fitting in' going on, and I will admit that when I realised that children were not being sat blindfolded in a corner with their hands over their ears, it freaked me out a bit. But then the truth hit me that these kids presumably saw this kind of thing happening regularly in their own family tents; it was unlikely in the extreme that The People were believers in 'No, not till the kids are asleep', still less 'Well OK, but make sure the blankets don't slip and for god's sake keep it quiet.' The children were pursuing their own normal pursuits, occasionally pausing interestedly if something particularly noisy happened, but certainly not seeming at all alarmed or surprised; free to learn that all this was perfectly normal and natural and that when they were old enough it would be like anything else adults did, that they too would do. It was inevitable that there was a bit of copying, but children copy anything they see adults doing. By the time they were old enough to grasp that there was more to it than bouncing up and down on someone else's belly, no doubt the appropriate wisdom would also have been absorbed from their elders.

Well, yes. It was weird. And I felt a bit awkward, intrusive. After all, I knew these people; they weren't anonymous bodies that I could – as I'd done in my old life – objectify, and thereby keep safely at a distance. It was about on a par with walking into Enterprise's Mess Hall and finding an orgy in full swing. I mean, I'm not saying part of me wouldn't have been thrilled if it had ever happened (the part of me that would have immediately started thumbing frantically through the Regulations to find out if it was specifically forbidden for the Head of Security to participate if he didn't happen to be on duty at the time), but the big issue would have been AFTERWARDS.

Jessa slowed to a walk, allowing me to catch up and slip my arms around her; revenge could wait, though she needn't think I wouldn't get her back eventually. Nuzzling her neck was a bit of a distraction, though being human, I looked around as well. A bit covertly at first – human conditioning at work again.

Bihiv was lying entwined with a pretty girl his own age, and seemed to have finished for the moment. His lips wandered dreamily down her breastbone, his eyes all but closed. He whispered endearments.

Briai was taking Tyanna. His face was serious, his movements steady and gentle. Even through the evident pleasure, there was desperation in the way her body clasped his: Give me a child, please, give me a child.

I looked away. Even though she was probably long past caring, seeing that terrible yearning as clearly as I did was horrible; I was glad that he'd taken her a little way aside, so that she could feel involved without too great a show of how many men she'd probably beg for the same gift. Even if it went on past the point of any pleasure, she'd have accepted any pain if it had brought her a child. Even I had learned something by now of her awful history of miscarriages.

I doubt whether any of the tribe were indifferent to her plight. But excluding her would have been one more curse on top of her barrenness, and including her – well, I imagine that the prayers in more than one tent that night pleaded with the Horse Goddess to have mercy at last.

Being one of The People, Jessa also looked. Openly, though her gaze like mine flicked away with pain from Tyanna. Evidently felt free to comment, too, on happier cases; and some damned earthy comments they were, the ones I could understand (my vocabulary in some matters was still somewhat limited). But on all sides, as well as the more basic sounds, there was a common thread: communication. Praise. Encouragement. Delight. Humour. Not only the body but the heart was being fed, the tribe itself was being fed. Once I realised this, I knew that it was light years away from anything I'd ever witnessed or participated in. It was life-giving, life-affirming. It was something I wanted to belong to. Something I wanted to be part of.

I knew I wasn't up for a repeat performance just yet, though it was a working certainty that the organs concerned were cranking up their act as fast as they could. But this was about thanksgiving, and I could spend a very happy few minutes in the meantime making my woman give thanks that her man knew what to do with his tongue.

Once, in the period of my misspent youth where I actually 'dated' girls, I'd been coaxed into going to the cinema (much against my better judgement) to see some dreadful old romantic thing called An Officer and a Gentleman. Though it was hardly my sort of thing, being woefully short on explosions, I hadn't missed the effect it had had on the ladies in the audience. As one, they'd drawn an enchanted breath as the hero hoisted his lady love in his arms and marched out of some grotty factory or other with her, a caveman in every detail except for the immaculately pressed white uniform and equally immaculate hairstyle. While I (and, presumably, every other utterly outclassed male in the place) had glowered jealously at the screen, telling myself that Richard Whatsisname was a poncy overdressed bastard and probably had a dick the size of a pickled gherkin.

Life had been miserably parsimonious in offering me opportunities for hoisting any lovelorn lady in my arms and marching her out of a grotty factory en route to demonstrating that my dick bore no resemblance whatsoever to a pickled gherkin. And there wasn't a cat in hell's chance that the plot of An Officer and a Gentleman could ever have found its way in any form whatsoever to this small and unimportant village on the Great Plains. But I still caught that delighted, indrawn breath as I finally got to do the hoisting bit, and yes: it was bloody music to my ears. After all these years, I was finally getting to play the hero.

I didn't march very far. As far as the nearest softish-looking patch of grass, actually. Well, I didn't want her to be uncomfortable when she was writhing about yelling.

I deposited her in Position A.

I'm not totally lacking in finesse. There's a lot of delight to be had in kissing, and I wasn't going to miss out on that; the joy shining in her face as she looked up at me was an absolute picture. Nor was I going to avoid the equal delights to be had when I started moving south. I took my time over those, too.

The earthy comments were coming in our direction now.

Thanks, love, admire it while you can still see it.

She is, isn't she, mate? Hotter than hell. And she's MINE, until she says so.

It's really nice that the women have these pretty trails of dapply spots that go down either side of the groin. I think they look really sexy, like constellations pointing the way to heaven.

I bet none of you have ever noticed that one of these here looks just like an upside-down heart. Just one. On the left side. Just at a nice elevation, so I can admire it while I'm busy.

I don't think I'll ever look at an upside-down heart in quite the same way again.

Now and again, people wandered over for a closer look, admiring, enjoying. Nobody touched. I already knew that wasn't done, not without invitation. And there weren't going to be any invitations from us.

If I say so myself, I'm bloody good. She shouted so loud at one point that even one of the goats bolted.

However.

There's a time for everything, and my time was coming nicely near, yes please and thank you.

I inspected the upside-down heart for a few more minutes, while Jessa yowled a bit more. Some thoughtful soul put a folded-up blanket under the back of her head to stop her hurting it banging it up and down on the ground so much.

Yes.

That. Will. Do. Nicely.

My timing was impeccable. She was just in the middle of another rendition of Don't You Dare Stop Now at full volume when I interrupted delivery.

God, I'd thought Em had a foul mouth when she got going. I hardly spoke a word of invective in this language and I still knew I was getting both barrels.

However. I was sure she'd find my alternative plans just as satisfying. I introduced the topic into her grip and watched the insane glitter of interrupted orgasm dissolve like melting honey into this look of pure anticipation.

Admittedly I hadn't quite anticipated her next move, and there were a few laughs and cheers as the crown of her coppery head slid down past my navel. A few eye-rolling minutes passed while I tried very hard to remember that such a thing as warp field calculus tables existed, but in all honesty even such fascinating topics as these couldn't keep me from the reflection that she had a mouth hotter than the ship's warp core and was fast catching me up in the expertise-with-a-tongue stakes.

There was one of my favourite positions I hadn't introduced into our repertoire yet, and in front of an audience possibly wasn't the best time to go experimenting. But I love it, and I was sure she would too, once she'd got the hang of it.

Reluctantly ending her ministrations before they pushed me past the rapidly impending point of no return, I sat down, and pulled up her forward across me. She expected me to lie back, and got this puzzled, impatient little play-pout when I didn't.

"No. Just sit down."

A certain amount of adjustment was necessary. Followed immediately by a few seconds during which I ran frantically through a particularly knotty piece of warp field calculus that I'd saved for emergencies.

Happily this succeeded in averting a crisis.

When the captain was once more in command on the Bridge (as opposed to screaming down the comm to Engineering to take the warp engine offline this instant), he organised his trusty crew-woman's heels into position behind his arse, planted for leverage. Then he arranged his own to the same good effect, and finally got his hands on what he now knew for certain was the prettiest bum in the village.

"Mo ghrá thú a Jessa," I whispered, for her ears only. "Now. Try."

It was wonderful, watching and feeling her get the hang of it. It's such a lovely position, where both of you can give and take, and almost every shift of weight or slight alteration of angle brings fresh waves of sensation. It takes a while to get used to, the first time, though, and it doesn't deliver the direct, immediate stimulation she'd been so noisily enjoying a few minutes ago.

I adored watching her concentrate. She looked like a frowning kitten. I just stayed quiet, letting her get comfortable and learn how to get the benefits of this new set of circumstances.

Aha. The frown cleared. She licked her lips just once.

I felt the inside muscles of her thighs engage, and braced to counter it. It would take a few tries to learn this part of it too.

The brush of her nipples against my chest was intoxicating.

She caught on faster than I'd expected. We only lost the rhythm twice, and then she settled into it. Driving hard, bracing for my return stroke. Lifting. Settling. Learning how to rotate her pelvis and stretch her thighs wider to let me in. Arching backwards, howling; pulling upwards to glare at me in the ferocity of her need.

Fuck, she was so lovely. Fuck, this was just amazing. Fuck, I couldn't hold it any more. "Jessa," I panted, and the words that followed spilled out in English, because once again the world had narrowed down to the raw white lightning that now erupted in my groin, and there wasn't a prayer I could have got the Gaelic said even in the unlikely event I could have remembered it. "Jessa, I love you. Jessa, Jessa – oh God, Jessa, Jesus Christ–"

Somewhere outside the vortex of mindless pleasure that now swallowed both of us, I could hear gasping, "A child – give me a child..."

As the pieces of my consciousness whizzed away in all directions, one of them said I hope Tyanna gets lucky today.