This story, in and of itself, is something of a rant.

I'd never been much of a Kathryn Janeway fan, and when Alex [Thompson, of Star Trek: The Adventures of Argus, with whom I worked closely for some time] told me just who Kate Sheridan was—essentially, a daughter of Janeway from an alternate reality some decades ahead of the canon Trek timeline—I held my gorge only with difficulty. Don't get me wrong: Alex has made her an interesting character. My first impression, though, was that the one thing the Star Trek universe didn't need was another Kathryn Janeway. I began, however, to consider whether Mantovanni and Janeway had ever met, and what they thought of each other if, indeed, they had. Certainly these events are, in my opinion, well within the bounds of both characters' established behaviors.

Besides, it was fun.

Recently, I learned that there's a Star Trek: Voyager episode entitled "Learning Curve.” Thus, I've changed this story's title from that to what it's become.

And so, with apologies to Jeri Taylor....

"Ahead of the Curve"

By Joseph Manno

“Time to get up.”

Katherine Sheridan heard that implacable voice through a groggy haze, and realized dimly that she was spending entirely too much time on her back in the company of her captain.

And not the pleasant kind of time, either.

Though every muscle in her body protested at the effort, Kate staggered to her feet and again took up a defensive stance, screwing what she hoped was a look of renewed determination onto her face.

Her opponent merely watched as she swayed before him.

"Good enough for now," he finally announced. "I’ll see you here tomorrow at 1500 hours, Commander. That goes for all of you."

Sheridan had just enough pride not to collapse into a heap on the gymnasium floor after his announcement. Instead, she walked—admittedly, a generous description for what was more of an exhausted stagger—over to the replicator and rasped, "Water, five degrees Celsius."

As the machine complied, she glanced over to where the other four members of the Advanced Martial Arts Class—Dr. Matsuoka, Lieutenant Sito, Ensign T'Vaar and Chief Kepler—had sprawled on the mat. For some reason, it looked far more comfortable when they did it.

Perhaps that was because they hadn’t spent the majority of the class there.

Captain Mantovanni had already disappeared into one of the locker cubicles. By the time he emerged a few moments later, showered and again in uniform, she’d managed to regain both her breath and a semblance of composure.

He nodded to them all, and strode out without a further word.

Kate ran to catch him, suddenly grateful that she’d had that time to recover.

"Captain!" she called, just as he was about to enter the turbolift.

He stepped back, allowing the car to proceed on its way, and turned to wait for her.

"What do you need, Commander?"

"An evaluation, sir. I don’t feel like I’m making any progress."

Mantovanni arched an eyebrow. Having been raised on Vulcan, it was a mannerism which he’d not only mastered, but used often… and to devastating effect.

"And this perception, I suppose, is based on your long experience as a martial arts instructor?"

Sheridan blushed at his observation. "No, sir, I’m just..."

"...accustomed to quickly advancing to the top of any class?" he finished.

Her temper flared, and for a moment, she considered a caustic retort. His expression gave her pause; it reminded her that while class might be over for today, her education was continuing apace.

She took a deep breath, and conceded, "Perhaps that’s a part of it, sir." Kate smiled, and ventured, "Permission to speak freely?"

At his nod, she continued, "You’re not what I expected."

He seemed intrigued by this. "How so?" he inquired.

In for a penny, she thought; then, she plunged onward.

"I was interested in Federation history when I grew up on Voyager," she told him. "I wanted to be in Starfleet. The customary training wasn’t exactly a viable option in the Delta Quadrant, so any children who wished to become officers and could pass the entrance exams were subjected to ‘a little slice of the Academy,’ as Neelix used to say.

"Commander Tuvok was appointed as our dean/commandant, and taught most of the classes; our guest lecturers were usually pretty familiar faces, as you can imagine. It was in these that I’d first heard of you.

"My mother gave a series of lectures entitled ‘Starfleet’s Great Commanders: Do They Deserve Their Reputations?’"

It was just then that Luciano Mantovanni did something that Kate Sheridan had never seen him do.

He laughed.

For anyone else, it would have been considered more of a chuckle; from him, it was all the more profound for its rarity.

"Capisco adesso," he murmured. His native Italian, she knew. If she recalled correctly from her language classes, the phrase meant, ‘Now I understand’.

"I take it your mother’s opinion of me was less than flattering?"

Kate was startled; Mantovanni seemed in more of a good humor now than she’d ever seen him, and this after the implied revelation that another Starfleet captain had been less than impressed with his exploits.

"Actually," Sheridan replied, not without some trepidation, "you were included in a group she spoke about in a lecture called ‘Starfleet and the Old West.’"

Mantovanni grinned again, and shook his head, obviously still amused.

He’s really quite handsome when he smiles, Kate noted, but then determinedly set that thought aside.

"Well, I can’t say I’m surprised," he observed. "She never really liked me."

Kate was taken aback.

"You know her?"

The impenetrable mask again dropped over his features, and Sheridan realized in that moment that even a poker face could reveal a lot; she guessed the captain wasn’t that impressed with her mother, either, but was too polite to say so.

"We’re ... acquainted," was his careful reply.

***

“Captain!” a woman’s voice called, just as he was about to enter the turbolift.

He stepped back, allowing the car to proceed on its way, and turned to wait for the severe-looking brunette headed for him at full impulse.

"What do you need, Commander...?"

"Janeway… Kathryn Janeway," she answered. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Mantovanni."

"Thank you." He waited for a few seconds; she seemed to be absorbed in the moment. Mantovanni recognized the look; it was something he’d seen at least a few dozen times since his return to Starfleet Academy: People would gaze at him as if he were an animate museum piece.

To her credit, Janeway recovered from it faster than most.

"I understand that you’re teaching a class in Advanced Martial Arts."

He nodded. "It starts tomorrow."

She leaned forward eagerly, with an almost predatory gleam. "I want in." Her voice was full of a determination he rarely encountered. She wasn’t one to take no for an answer.

He turned to face her squarely.

"May I inquire as to your motivation?" Mantovanni asked.

She didn’t hesitate for a moment. "I’m told you’re the best. I want to learn from the best. Simple equation."

He considered the request.

"There are no more openings.”

Janeway smiled slightly. In a way, it didn’t quite work for her; the severity of her features somehow made the expression a little sour.

"You are the instructor, Captain. Surely you could make an exception if you wished."

Mantovanni nodded. "I imagine I could."

He paused for a moment, then reiterated, "There are no more openings.

“Excuse me, Commander Janeway."

She was so dumbfounded at his refusal that she didn’t even bother to follow him into the turbolift.

***

He’d known that Janeway would try again; however, he hadn’t anticipated the manner in which she’d make her play.

There was a priority personal communique waiting for him when he arrived back at his quarters an hour later.

It was succinct. That was, in Mantovanni’s estimation, its only virtue.

What a charming fellow, Mantovanni thought.

He didn’t know Owen Paris personally, but it was obvious that his reputation as a man who brooked no defiance with his agenda was well deserved.

Like teacher, like student.

Far be it for me to stand in your way, Admiral, the captain thought, as he deleted the message.

As the old cliché goes, though, ,”Be careful what you wish for”...

***

"We’re going to start with something relatively simple," Mantovanni announced to the assembled group.

They were certainly an eclectic bunch: A pair of Andorian Security Specialists; a nondescript fellow whom everyone had immediately pegged as a member of Starfleet Intelligence; a sleek Klingon female from the Officer Exchange Program; a knot of Starfleet Marines.

And Janeway.

They were assembled in a circle, and Mantovanni walked around them from behind, intermittently throwing out a bit of oblique instruction while he did so.

"Most of you are already quite adept at some form of hand-to-hand combat. In all likelihood, you’ve mastered a martial art, probably one of your own people’s specialties.

"There are, of course, many ways to render an opponent helpless, without necessarily making either a lot of noise or much of a mess. One of the best, of course, is the Vulcan neck pinch."

He reached for Janeway’s shoulder.

***

Mantovanni wasn’t particularly surprised when he was summoned to Admiral Paris’ office a day later.

His attaché, an attractive female captain with a delightful English accent, announced as he entered, "Good afternoon. The admiral will see you immediately." Her tone was that of a schoolmarm with a wayward pupil.

Mantovanni wasn’t amused.

"I’m atingle with anticipation," he responded wryly. Her open-mouthed look of surprise was worth it, he decided, as he crossed through the doorway.

Owen Paris wasn’t amused, either. He hit Mantovanni with what he thought was full phasers, at point-blank range. The dressing down was brief, sharp… and loud.

It concluded with, "...and when I give an order, Captain, I expect it to be obeyed. Not just the letter, but the spirit in which it’s given."

The admiral waited, but the object of his ire simply continued to stand at an easy attention before his desk.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Paris demanded.

The evenness of his tone more than implied that Mantovanni had been unimpressed.

"When I teach, sir, I expect that my perspectives as an instructor will be honored. If I say that Kathryn Janeway won’t be in my class, that means I have a reason for it. I do."

Paris motioned for him to continue.

"She doesn’t belong there," he announced bluntly. "I won’t shortchange my other students by working around her weaknesses."

"And if I order you to do just that?" the senior officer’s eyes glittered angrily.

"I wouldn’t recommend it," Mantovanni replied in a voice just above a whisper. When Paris opened his mouth to continue, the young captain threw down the PADD he’d been carrying onto the admiral’s desk.

It, too, held a personal communiqué.

"It pays to have a few of your old first officers now serving in the Admiralty," Mantovanni avowed. His expression grew hard. "Damned irritating when someone goes over your head to circumvent your decisions, isn’t it?

“Now you know how I felt.”

Paris frowned; his famed, and feared, wrath had now subsided, and he was beginning to realize that perhaps his young protégé had misrepresented the facts ever so slightly.

"Why didn’t you simply show me this before?"

The younger man raised an eyebrow. "I know how admirals love to hear themselves talk, and you were on a roll. Good tirade... had me quaking."

Paris was a bigger man than Mantovanni had thought. He saw the admiral’s lips curve upward minutely, just for a moment.

"Handle it, Captain. Dismissed."

***

“I should bring assault charges against you."

Janeway had shown up at his quarters and announced her presence with that endearing statement when he opened the door.

"You’re a regular bitch on thrusters, aren’t you?"

She sputtered in disbelief, and he went on.

"Your problem, Commander Janeway, is that you’re insufferably self-righteous. You attempted to impose your will on me when it was neither necessary nor justified."

Her voice wasn’t quite shrill. "I tried to reason with you... you weren’t having any of it."

The famed eyebrow that did his adopted world so proud again came into play. "Hmm... let’s recap: You said you wanted into my class. When I refused, you attempted to outflank me by going to Admiral Paris. Is it any wonder I reacted the way I did?"

"You gave me no choice!" she snapped.

"Didn’t I? Think about it, Commander. What’s the one thing a person can do when they want something and their demands, manipulations, and tactics don’t seem to be working?"

He leaned towards her, and his voice grew quiet.

"What’s the one thing you should have done first, that instead you never did?"

For a moment, he wasn’t certain whether she’d gotten it. Her veneer of righteousness remained intact for all of five seconds, while she considered his question.

Then she grew pale.

"My God," she whispered. "I never asked you. I never... just... asked you..."

"Atta girl."

She drew herself up with as much dignity as she could muster.

"I’m... sorry, Captain. I was wrong. I should have asked you if you’d consider having me in your class. Will you allow me to remain?"

He searched her face.

"Are you planning to abide by my decision this time, no matter what it may be?"

She nodded stiffly.

"Then no, you can’t. Your skills aren’t sufficiently advanced to merit a place with that group."

Her jaw hardened. To her credit, though, Janeway grated out an, "I understand, Captain. I won’t bother you again."

Before she could turn away, though, he continued, "I admire your determination, though, however misguided. I’ll certainly give you private instruction in the weeks before you’re reassigned, if you’d like. You’ll get more out of that than you would a class for which you’re not qualified. Report to the gym at 1700 hours tomorrow, if you’re interested."

Her expression had gone from furious to astonished. Then she smiled—a genuine one, this time—and Mantovanni was forced to amend his opinion of her looks. This expression had serious wattage.

"Thank you, Captain. I’ll be there—ready to learn."

Janeway stalked off with the full head of steam she’d had on every other occasion he’d seen her—well, except for the time he’d used the nerve pinch.

Oh, boy. That’s gonna be a fun class.

***

"Acquainted, sir?" Sheridan echoed. "It sounds to me as if there’s a story behind that." Her expression told him that she was all too eager to hear it.

Mantovanni inclined his head slightly. "Very perceptive, Commander." Instead of elaborating, though, he stepped into the turbolift. The last thing he said as the doors closed left her flattered… and perplexed.

"As far as I’m concerned, Kate… you’re ahead of the curve."