Текст книги "The Best and the Brightest"

Автор книги: Susan Wright

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They all knew that was the sort of question she could answer. Having once seen their assignment rotations, she would remember everyone’s schedule. Suddenly, Moll felt as if the science pod was too crowded for four people and her eidetic memory.

“Not until next quarter,” she said, tight‑lipped. “They just came through this section.”

Satisfied, Mantegna turned back to the helm to plot their course to the nearest relay buoy. He input the new coordinates to take the science pod in. “We’re going into the tertiary zone.”

“I’ll reroute the comm to another relay buoy and notify the station,” Moll agreed.

But Wukee sounded concerned as he asked, “Aren’t we supposed to stay out of there?”

Mantegna raised his brows. “Communication systems have priority! Remember the regulations manual they gave us? What if a science pod got caught in a burst current and couldn’t get a signal out because the relay was malfunctioning?”

Moll said reasonably, “Then they would divert their comm‑link to another relay, as I just did.”

Mantegna didn’t deign to reply. He was too pleased by the break in their routine. Truth to tell, they all were. Moll felt a rush of anticipation at doing something new–an eager dread of not knowing, wanting to know, but uncertain without information to fall back on.

So Moll was more wary than the others, and was the first to notice that something odd was happening. There were more asteroids in the tertiary phase, and they were moving differently. The science pod closed in, but Moll was still unable to see the buoy.

“Shields at maximum,” Mantegna announced.

The pod slowed, letting their forcefield nudge away the jostling asteroids. Moll instinctively hunched down as a mountain‑sized planetoid grazed overhead, shuddering as it impacted with another large asteroid, crushing a smaller boulder in between with a spray of energy sparks. Debris arched toward them, and the kinetic particles rocked the pod despite its stabalizers.

“Merdu!”Wu exclaimed, as they all shielded their eyes from the burst of light.

“Boost power to rear shields,” Mantegna called out, barely keeping his voice from cracking.

Even Campbell was sneaking wide‑eyed glances at the screen as he tried to adjust the deflectors to ward off asteroids.

“The buoy must have been destroyed!” Wukee gasped out. “We should go back–”

“No,” Moll denied. “I’ve still got the subspace signal on telemetry.”

Incredulously, Wu asked, “Howcould it survive–”

“There!” Moll exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “There’s a break in the asteroids. . . .”

The deflectors of their pod were buffeted as they finally broke into the calm sphere at the heart of the spiraling asteroids. The communications buoy was spinning on its axis in the very center, with what appeared to be an asteroid stuck to it. They were whipping around so fast that the two blurred together.

As they moved in closer, Moll warned, “Don’t get caught in the vortex.”

“We’re in the magnetic calm between the two solenoids,” Mantegna dismissed. “It looks like we’ve got a live one here.”

Campbell crouched over his console as if snatching the data off as it appeared. “Radius approximately ten meters.”

Wukee was shaking his head over the science console. “The spin is disrupting our sensors. I can’t get a lock on it.”

The other cadets kept glancing at Moll, even Mantegna, though he affected an air of calm. Self‑consciously, Moll said, “We should notify the station immediately.”

“We have another problem,” Campbell spoke up. “This entire vortex is moving through the tertiary phase, spiraling toward the inner phases.”

Moll read the vector analysis with a quick glance. “He’s right. And we’re picking up speed.”

Mantegna checked navigational sensors. “We’re in a primary jet stream.”

“I’ve done my sensor sweeps, let’s get out of here,” Wu suggested. Mantegna raised one brow at Wukee, a silent reminder that hewas the one in charge. His hands slowed as he deliberately reversed the coordinates to return them from where they came.

Moll accessed the sensor logs, scanning the data, while Mantegna announced, “One quarter impulse power.”

“Wait!” Moll called out, running a computer analysis to confirm her findings. “I’m reading a subspace beacon on the tag emitter. It’s very faint, but it’s there. Number 09Alpha‑99B4.”

Wukee whistled. “Why such a high number?”

Mantegna started to check the tag inventory, but Moll already knew what it was. The ultimate find.

“It’s a piece of planetary crust,” she told the others. “One of the original science teams found it in the inner band, but they had to jettison it when a charge arced between them. They tagged it and went back with a hyper forcefield, but it was gone.”

“A rogue asteroid,” Wu said admiringly.

“It’s more than that,” Moll insisted. “They found evidence of panspermia embedded in the matter. They’ve been looking for this asteroid for the past elevendecades.”

The other cadets were staring at her, unused to an outburst from her.

Moll took a deep breath. “Don’t you see how importantthis is? We can’t allow the asteroid to be sucked into the gravity well!”

“Thenwhat did you do?” the voice asked, seemingly echoing around the empty white room. Moll felt isolated, sitting on a chair in the very center, with no edges in the arched ceiling or curved walls to focus on.

She explained to the unseen voice, “Our team tried to stop the spin with a focused particle beam. We hoped that would break the magnetic field; then we could grapple the asteroid and take it back to the science station.”

There was a pause, and Moll Enor couldn’t help the jump in her heartbeat. She was in deep trouble, called to a hearing before the Symbiosis Commission. Her testimony would be used to help the Commission decide if she had deliberately endangered the Enor symbiont by her actions.

It was the highest crime under the Commission’s jurisdiction, and the most severe sentence for a joined Trill was to be ordered into protective custody. If the host didn’t comply with the ruling, they could even be put to death so the symbiont could be passed to a competent host. Much of the screening performed by the Symbiosis Comission was done to eliminate Initiates with psychological instabilities to prevent that from happening.

Moll knew she wasn’t at that level yet, but her unseen judges beyond the curved wall could order her to leave Starfleet and return permanently to the Trill homeworld. And there was nothing for her here, nothing but the pool. Though it was her preferred retreat, a lifetime of the same experiences, compounded by her eidetic memory, would surely lead to madness.

The soothing monotone voice asked, “What was the risk level of this procedure?”

“We had never done it before, so we knew it could fail,” Moll admitted.

“Did it fail?” the interrogator asked.

“Yes.” Moll cleared her throat as she remembered the magnetic arc that surged between the pod and the metal‑rich asteroid. An electronic fire had whipped through the Sagittarius,fusing power relays in every system of the science pod.

A holo‑image of Wu suddenly appeared near Moll. She knew her fellow cadet was at the Academy on Earth, in an empty room, his image relayed via comm‑link to Trill. He was smiling nervously, as the voice asked, “Starfleet Cadet Buck Wu, why did you agree to attempt the dangerous procedure that Cadet Moll Enor suggested?”

“Why?” Wu repeated, shifting his eyes upward, apparently addressing the ceiling for lack of a person to focus on. Moll could sympathize, facing the same thing herself. But the Investigators of the Symbiosis Commission believed a more honest testimony was given this way, uncolored by a witness’s reaction to the Commissioners.

“Yes, why did you do as Cadet Moll Enor suggested? Was she in command of your mission?”

“No, Mantegna was.”

“Starfleet Cadet Mantegna is on record that he was against the attempt,” the interrogator intoned, noting the sequence number of the testimony for the Commission members to access.

Wukee opened his mouth to reply, but he was replaced in a burst of static by Campbell. Campbell looked as if he was at attention, stiff and self‑conscious.

“Starfleet Cadet Ho Campbell,” the voice announced. “You were also a member of the research team on the Sagittariusscience pod.”

“Yes, sir!” Campbell snapped to attention. “I believe Cadet Moll conducted herself with bravery befitting a Starfleet officer, sir!”

The voice didn’t respond to Campbell’s declaration. “Was it part of your duties to retrieve asteroids?”

“Duty?” Campbell asked, shifting slightly, his voice lowering. “No, we tag asteroids with subspace beacons. It’s the science teams who retrieve them.”

“So the attempt to retrieve the asteroid was outside the normal bounds of your duties as you understood them, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Campbell’s proud, pained face turned into static as his holo‑image was replaced by one of Mantegna. He was settling the sleeve of his shirt, tugging lightly on the cuff, feigning nonchalance at the interrogation.

“Starfleet Cadet Yllian Mantegna,” the voice announced. “Commander of the Sagittariusresearch mission. Why did you attempt to destroy the magnetic field with a focused particle beam, the procedure suggested by Cadet Moll Enor?”

“She said it would work. I trusted her judgment.” He continued to examine his shirt. “She’s supposed to be brilliant, isn’t she?”

“Do you believe Cadet Moll Enor misrepresented the risk?” the interrogator asked.

Grudgingly, Mantegna admitted, “No. But she said she could do it.”

Moll winced at his condescension. But she had seen him panic when their main power array was blown apart by the feedback from the particle beam. As emergency life support came on line with the distinctive ruddy lights, he had let out a frightened squeak like he was two years old. Mantegna knew she would never forget–and succeeding generations of hosts would never forget–the way he had nearly levitated out of his seat when the hatch to the lifeboat automatically cycled open. He was the first one inside the lifeboat, even though he had to push Wukee aside at the hatch to get in.

Smoothly the voice asked, “Did you order Cadet Moll Enor to remain behind in the science pod?”

Mantegna sat forward, his eyes narrowing. “No, Cadet Enor volunteered–insisted, actually. She said someone had to stay with the asteroid to try to stop the spin. I told her she’d never get the pod’s systems powered up before it crossed into the inner phases, but she thought she could.”

Moll crossed her arms protectively over her stomach and the symbiont. The way she remembered it, Mantegna didn’t say three words when she had explained that she would stay with the asteroid until they returned with a rescue team. He had cycled the hatch closed so fast they almost didn’t hear her advice on how to best use the lifeboat thrusters to get out of the vortex. How could she describe her feelings as the vacuum broke between the pod and the lifeboat, when she desperately wanted to call after them to wait for her? It had been her idea to stay, but she felt abandoned.

“Did you agree with Moll Enor’s analysis?”

“No. That’s why I ordered the evacuation,” Mantegna replied.

“At that time, did you believe the asteroid was worth the risk of staying behind?” the interrogator pressed.

“No, I did not.”

“Did you believe Cadet Moll Enor was endangering her life?”

“No. She could have left in the other lifeboat at any time.”

“Do you believe Moll Enor made the correct decision to stay with the asteroid?”

Moll held her breath, hoping Mantegna’s arrogance would finally help her out. If he believed that what she had done involved no danger and was basically of little importance, the Commission might believe that, too.

But Mantegna stunned her by admitting, “I have to say, she did it. She stopped the spin and slowed the vortex, giving the rescue team time to reach both her and the asteroid before they entered the inner phases. She deserves the Starfleet commendation she was awarded.”

Moll could have groaned at his unexpected accolades. Just when she least needed it, Mantegna finally gave her his approval. The problem was, she wasn’t in trouble with Starfleet! It was the Trill who had her on trial.

Next, the investigators for the Symbiosis Commission played the internal log from the science pod, thoughtfully provided by Starfleet. Moll had to force herself to sit still as those desperate hours unfolded again. She couldn’t watch her own face, knowing the doubts that drove her, with the fear that she had made a terrible mistake staying in the science pod. The lifepod was even less shielded than the Sagittarius,and while it may have saved her life, the symbiont would have been harmed–and the Commission had those facts right in front of them.

As the log played out, the interrogator counted the rising radiation rate within the pod, well over the acceptable tolerance levels for the symbiont. Then there was the final burst of activity as she finally created a link and filtered enough energy through her tricorder to create an arc between the pod and the relay buoy, shorting out the magnetic vortex. The asteroids spun away, finally released to rejoin the chaotic helix motion, while the buoy and the panspermia asteroid slowed, spinning around each other as they were jostled from the jet stream.

In the recording, Moll bowed her head to her arms. There was silence as the image continued, then the interrogator cut in, saying, “A rescue team arrived within the hour. Cadet Moll Enor was treated on board the rescue ship for fifth degree radiation burns.”

Moll couldn’t watch the holo‑image. Nothing could convey the gut‑wrenching pain of synchrotron radiation exposure. Or her dread that she had made a mistake that would cost her everything.

“Were you aware you were endangering your symbiont?”

“Yes,” Moll admitted, raising her chin. “But I believed it was an acceptable risk.”

“Why do you consider your actions acceptable?”

“Because saving the asteroid with the panspermia fossil was of paramount importance.”

“Importance to whom?” the voice inquired.

Moll tightened her lips. “To everyone! There’s nothing more important than evidence of a fundamental connection between all humanoid life‑forms. Especially now, when we have to work together to fight the Borg!”

Her voice rang out, but with no faces to judge reactions, she couldn’t know if they understood. “Don’t you see, this panspermia fossil supports Galen’s discovery that humanoid species in our galaxy have a common genetic heritage. We were “seeded” in the primordial oceans of many worlds. It’s proof of a biological imperative that we should work together.”

“What is your primary concern, your duty to Starfleet or the safety of your symbiont?”

Moll shook her head, unable to answer either way. “All I know is that I have to stay true to myself.”

The cross‑questioning continued for another hour, until the merciless voice relented and dismissed the Symbiosis Commission until the next day, when additional witnesses would be called. Moll had seen the list of Starfleet officials, exobiologists, and even more Trill psychologists and medical specialists. Everything she had ever done or thought would be questioned.

Already, under the expert grilling she felt as if she was being pounded while trying to maintain that she had done the only thing her conscience would allow her to do. But they had found out plenty about her, things she had tried to hide for years–her frustration at being a first host, her longing to be something other than herself, to belong to something.

She was finally taken away by two white‑robed Symbiosis Commission officials. It was humiliating, the way they treated her as if she couldn’t be trusted.

Moll’s remarkable memory had already been the subject of one hundred and thirty‑seven academic papers on Trill, but she knew there would be a flurry of new opinions produced by this hearing. She could imagine the resulting titles–“Systemic Reaction to Perfect Memory,” “Instability as a Consequence of Eidetism,” and “Tertiary Overload in Joined Trill.”

Not for the first time, Moll was seriously doubting her own competence to be a host for Enor. She had always known the only reason she had succeeded thus far was dueto her eidetic memory. Saving that panspermia fossil was the first thing she’d ever done that wasn’tbased on the capacity of her memory. As Jayme’s constant, supportive communiques pointed out, it had taken sheer courage to stay in the science pod when she knew she might be killing her symbiont. Yet her pride at her accomplishment was rapidly dwindling. Perhaps she shouldonly focus on mental pursuits rather than try to be more than she was by joining Starfleet.

But that was all Jadzia’s fault.

“Your room,” one of the officials informed her. “Will you wish to leave tonight?”

“I doubt it,” she replied wearily.

“Very well, we will return tomorrow morning to escort you to the hearing room.”

Moll leaned against the door as it closed behind her, wondering if she had the motivation to eat before falling into bed.

“Nice to see you again, Moll!”

A chair turned, making Moll start in surprise. “Jadzia! What are you doing here?”

Jadzia Dax seemed composed, seated with her legs crossed and a sly grin on her face. Moll had never seen her in the trim black Starfleet uniform with the blue shoulder placards, but it looked right on her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t call me yourself,” Jadzia scolded. “What are friends for?”

Moll summoned a weak answering smile. “So friends are supposed to prove each other’s mental stability? I never heard that one.”

Jadzia stood up to approach Moll. “Congratulations, by the way, on your commendation. You’ll make lieutenant faster than I did. But then you always did everything faster than me.”

Jadzia gave Moll a welcoming hug, but Moll could hardly respond. “You went through Starfleet before I did,” she reminded her friend.

Jadzia waved a hand. “That’s because the Initiate Institute wouldn’t accept me until I had accomplished something important.”

The Institute had accepted both of them the same year, but Jadzia was four years older than Moll, having already completed her Academy training. But in everything else, Moll was the most‑favored Initiate at the Institute. She was clearly destined for a symbiont, while everyone else had to keep on their toes, competing with each other for the rare privilege. Moll had gotten the Enor symbiont a year before Jadzia was joined with Dax, during the period that Jadzia had been expelled from the Institute for reasons nobody knew.

“What’s wrong?” Jadzia asked.

Moll gave her a look. “I’m on trial for my life, remember?”

“Oh, that will blow over. The Commission is constantly poking their noses into our business.” Jadzia picked up an Oppalassa lucky charm that Starsa had given Moll last year. “Look what happened with me. They re‑accepted me as an Initiate after kicking me out, and I still don’t know what that was all about. If the Commission didn’t do all these hearings and make big announcements, people would start to think they were unnecessary.”

Moll laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. “Maybe they’re right about me. They say I have a profound ambiguity toward my symbiont.”

“Who doesn’t?” Jadzia smiled playfully. “Come on, don’t take it so seriously.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I knew you’d be this way. But I have something that’s sure to help,” Jadzia assured her.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to go in there tomorrow and prove you’re competent to host that symbiont?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then come with me.” Jadzia gestured to the door.

“I’m not supposed to leave my quarters.”

“Correction: You’re not supposed to leave the Institute.” Jadzia held up a finger, warning her. “You’re going to have to stop second‑guessing everything and trust me on this one. All right?”

Moll let her pull her to her feet. “Last time you told me to trust you, I ended up in Timerhoo without a return ticket.”

“What are you complaining about? You had a great story to tell when you got back.”

Dax practically had to drag Moll to the holosuite she had reserved. She didn’t want to tell Moll how difficult it had been to get away from DS9, or how important this trial was. Moll already knew that. What she needed right now was to relax, so she could show the Commission she was in complete control.

Dax ordered, “Close your eyes.”

“I’m not allowed to run a simulation of the hearing,” Moll reminded her.

Dax made a face. “You’ll have to answer all those questions tomorrow, why bother to do it tonight? No, this is much better. Three hours from now, you’ll be ready to take over the Symbiosis Commission single‑handed.”

As usual, Moll drew her brows together, as if unsure whether to trust Dax or not. Like a flash, it brought back all their years together at the Institute. Jadzia hadn’t been able to resist making friends with the shy, reserved genius. Everyone else had treated her like an untouchable icon, while Jadzia took perverse pleasure in treating Moll exactly like a younger sister–counseling her, bullying her, and basically treating her like a real Trill.

Now, with the added perspective of the memories of her Dax symbiont, she realized Moll had never understood why she had been so friendly through their years at the Institute. Mostly, Jadzia had felt sorry for the girl who had been shuttled from one intellectual think tank to another University demonstration from a very tender age, never really having a childhood.

“Go on,” Dax urged. “Close your eyes.”

Moll closed her eyes, and she didn’t peek even when Dax put her hand over her face to make sure. “Turn this way,” Dax ordered. “Begin simulation Dax 9J. Okay, now you can look!”

They were on a meadow overlooking the baths of Cydonia. A nearby waterfall tumbled over the rocks to fill the upper pool, spilling down the curved walls that spread like petals over the gentle slope. Steam rose from some of the warmer pools as naked figures moved through the white mist, sliding into the water and gliding away among the ripples.

“You think thisis going to help me?” Moll demanded.

“Well, it can’t hurt,” Dax assured her.

Moll let out an exasperated sound, turning back to the door. “Why did I trust you? I should have known you came here to make fun of me.”

Dax caught her arm, stopping her from leaving. “I’ve never made fun of you, Moll! I only teased you a little because you never seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Thanks for your help,” Moll said dryly. “I don’t think nowis the time to enjoy myself.”

A male Risan approached, wearing only a smile and a towel over one arm. “Would you like a massage?”

Moll turned away in disgust.

“Stop being so uptight,” Dax recommended. “If you tell the Commission you’re happy with the way you’re living your life, they aren’t going to force you to do anything. Forget all the witnesses. What matters is how you present yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Moll suddenly snapped. “You got what you wanted. You got the memories, the experiences. I wanted that, too, but instead all I got was this!”She gestured to herself. “Nothing changed when I was joined. Except I feel like I’m being watched every second, knowing that the next hosts will remember everything I say, everything I do. I’m just a starting point, a blank slate, as if nothing I’ve ever done is enough to cause a wave in that smooth pool where Enor sits inside of me, watching every moment.”

“But you’re the first–”

“Don’t tell me what an honor it is! I believed all that, and I didn’t even try to say no when they told me I would get Enor. I didn’t even try to refuse,” she repeated bitterly.

Moll left the holosuite as Jadzia sadly watched her old friend leave. She never realized how disappointed Moll had been over joining with Enor. But then again, she had sent at least a dozen messages to Moll after hearing she had been accepted to Starfleet Academy, but Moll had always replied with only a few brief lines, resisting even a shadow of their former intimacy.

Another Risan, this one androgynous, approached Dax with a towel over one arm. “Would you like a massage?”

“Yes, thank you.” As they began walking toward the cabana, Dax said, “Maybe you can give me some advice. What do you do when a friend won’t let you help them?”

Moll knew she appeared extremely defensive, but she had to cross her arms to hold on to herself, to keep from shaking. She held her head high as the voice intoned, “Are there any final statements from the witnesses?”

So many of the Starfleet officers, as well as her cadet teammates, had already testified to her courage and skill. But Moll knew that wouldn’t satisfy the Commission. Jadzia had done her best to prove that an allegiance to Starfleet was not detrimental to the well‑being of the symbiont, pointing out the examples of Curzon Dax and herself. But the questioning had shifted to Moll’s psychological ambiguity over her symbiont, and no one could help her there.

“We have a request from Lieutenant Jadzia Dax,” the voice announced. “You wish to make a final statement?”

Dax’s image flickered on. She stood up to face the unseen Commissioners. “Yes, I have something to say. Your investigators have been very thorough in digging through Moll’s psychological motivations. And you’ve explored the issue of exactly how important the panspermia fossil is to the Trill. But you’ve forgotten the most important thing.”

Moll sat forward, wondering what Jadzia could possibly be talking about. She was incapable of forgetting anything.

“Moll is the first host for Enor. Her life will be the moral and ethical foundation for every succeeding host. For those of you who are joined, you know what I’m talking about.” Moll never remembered seeing Jadzia so serious. “The success of every symbiont relationship rests in part on the ability of the first host to establish a foundation that is both inclusive yet solid. That takes constant self‑questioning, and inevitably some doubt about one’s own choices. And I’ve never known anyone better at self‑examination than Moll.”

Jadzia paused to smile at her, and Moll Enor felt herself respond, relaxing in spite of herself. What Jadzia was saying felt right to her.

“Moll would never purposely endanger herself or her symbiont unless there was some overriding concern,” Dax insisted. “If she had turned away from the fossil, knowing as she does how important it is–not just to her or her people, but to everyone in this galaxy– thenyou would have good reason to judge her actions.”

“You question this entire hearing?” the voice asked.

“Yes! Being a first host is difficult; we all have the memories to prove it. We also know it’s those memories that are most comforting when we’re faced with difficult decisions.” Jadzia’s holo‑image stepped closer to Moll’s chair. “I envy Enor’s future hosts, because they’ll inherit a rich and varied lifetime of memories from Moll. And I recommend that you do nothing to interfere with her choices.”

The kneading fingers pressed into Moll Enor’s back, finding all the sore spots. She groaned in pleasure, twisting on the edge of pain.

“These guys are good,” she told Dax. “I’m glad you talked me into this.”

Dax murmured agreement as her own masseuse worked on her. Her eyes were closed and she looked almost indecently relaxed and happy. “Just consider it a reward for beating the Symbiosis Commission at their own game.”

“You beat them for me.” After a moment, Moll said, “Actually, it’s poetic justice, because it was your fault in the first place.”

“Myfault? What did I do?”

“You know very well that I went into Starfleet because of the way you raved about it at the Institute.” Their eyes met. “Then when I saw that asteroid, I knew I had to try to save it, because all I could hear was your voice inside my head, insisting it was a once‑in‑a‑lifetime find.”

“It is,” Dax agreed.

“Remember you told me about that class you took with Professor Galen? I wanted to hear him lecture so badly, but he didn’t teach my first two years at the Academy, then he was killed gathering DNA codes that proved his theory.”

“The message of peace from our ancient progenitors,” Dax remembered. “I think Starfleet finally convinced the Commission you have a serious talent in science.”

“I love astrophysics, but I don’t think I could take a steady diet of it like you do,” Moll Enor demurred.

“Good, I think you should go into command,” Dax agreed.

“Command?” Moll blurted out. “I’m terrible with people.”

“Nah, you just need to have some confidence in yourself,” Dax told her with a grin. “You’re a natural leader. Look how you got the other cadets to do exactly what you wanted so you could save that asteroid. Someone who can talk Cadet Mantegna into something would be foolish not to pursue a career in command.”

Chapter Six

“HEY, TITUS, UP HERE!” Jayme called out from the upper walkway. “What did you get for the summer?”

Hammon Titus tossed the assignment chip into the air and caught it with one hand. “Errand boy for the Federation Assembly.”

“Yeah?” Her voice went up in surprise and doubt. “Really?”

Titus clenched his teeth, still smiling. He couldn’t believe it either when he read the chip. All year he’d been stuck at the Academy while everyone else went off on exciting survival courses and temporary assignments onboard science ships or remote space stations. The furthest he’d been was New Berlin City on the Moon last summer while he was running the shuttle supply route. New Berlin City looked a lot like San Francisco without the bridge–not very exotic, if you asked him. He had talked to everyone he could about getting off Earth, including Admiral Leyton, but his requests kept coming back denied.

He slipped into galactic poli sci class, barely beating the bell. As he sat down, he realized everyone was shifting in their seats, talking in hushed, excited tones.

“We have a guest today, cadets,” Professor Tho announced. Titus sat up to see better, as Captain Jean Luc Picard entered the room.

The girl in the chair next to him muttered, “No way!” Everyone was on the edge of their seats to see the man who had beaten the Borg at Wolf 359 when thirty‑nine other Federation and Klingon starships were destroyed. Picard looked just like his holo‑image, especially the way he nodded to them and briefly smiled as he took the lectern.