THE BEST AND THE BRIGHTEST Page 3

  Moll Enor ran the few steps down the circular hallway and knocked on Starsa’s door. She could hear the beeping more loudly, and she knocked more insistently. When there was no answer, she went inside. But both the beds were empty, and a quick check in the refresher reassured her that Starsa wasn’t lying on the floor in distress.

  With a sinking feeling, Moll checked the other two rooms in their Quad and found both empty. All four of the first-year cadets were probably together—they had seemed to bond fairly quickly. But Elma’s absence surprised her. Elma was a year ahead of Moll, but until they were assigned to the same Quad, she had never seen the Holt woman. And Moll made it a point to notice everything. As the first host for the Enor symbiont, it was her duty to provide a solid foundation of experiences, as well as a wide-ranging understanding of the numerous alien races that inhabited the Alpha Quadrant.

  But Elma was a nonexistent presence in the Quad, and Moll was at a loss as to why she would be gone so late. She had never even seen a friend of hers come to the Quad.

  Returning to Starsa’s room, Moll glanced around, but Starsa’s pulmonary support unit and physiostimulator pack were not immediately identifiable among the wreckage on the girl’s side of the partition. The room looked schizophrenic, with the Vulcan half painfully neat and bare while Starsa had almost covered her walls with pictures and holoscreens that ran loops of her favorite shows and family members performing odd customs. Moll had thought it was bad living with Nev Reoh, but at least the former Vedek maintained order on his side of their room. It was his verbal messiness that wore on her. He would ramble cheerfully for hours while she tried to concentrate on her studies, but he was so awkwardly eager to please that she never censored him, resolving that the experience must be good for her symbiont in some way.

  Moll tapped the wall comm. “Computer, location of Cadet Starsa Taran.”

  “Cadet Taran is not on Academy grounds.”

  Moll could hardly think of the implications of that as the maddening beeping chose that moment to escalate to its highest level.

  “What are you doing?” Nev Reoh suddenly asked behind her.

  Moll Enor started, feeling guilty in spite of herself. “I’m looking for Starsa.”

  Reoh sleepily rubbed his face, glancing from the empty beds to Moll Enor. Starsa noted the way even his pajamas bunched in odd places, just like his computer-fitted cadet uniform somehow never seemed to hang right. He was wincing at the sound of the medical alarm.

  “Did the first-year cadets say what they were doing tonight?” She had to raise her voice.

  “I don’t know.” His mouth hung open as he thought about it. “I don’t remember anything—”

  The door whirred electronically and swung open. Moll Enor felt a leap of relief, but it was T’Rees, not Starsa. The Vulcan pulled back in surprise to see them.

  “Hi,” Nev Reoh said innocently.

  T’Rees tightened his lips, vexed at his slight display of emotion. “What are you two doing in my room?” Moll Enor gestured, but he had already noted the sound of the physiostimulator pack. “Where is Starsa?”

  “We don’t know,” Reoh said. “The others are gone, too.”

  T’Rees lifted one brow. “Everyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you report this?” T’Rees asked, turning to the comm.

  Moll crossed her arms defensively. “We were just about to.”

  T’Rees pressed the emergency sequence. “Then we shall delay no longer.”

  At the Deng Observatory, the four cadets stood on the circular platform of the antigrav lift as it gently descended into the receiving station. Bobbie Ray and Starsa gazed over the side, but Jayme never wanted to see another drop like that.

  From the maintenance tubes at the base of the well it wasn’t far to reach the computer rooms. In the darkened, vaulted chambers, the radio signals were displayed on screens in colored patterns moving across the recording graphs. Numerous digital sequencers flashed the numbers of incoming data streams.

  This was the part Jayme had been waiting for, sneaking up on Elma and catching her red-handed. Her tricorder was out, recording the activity in the room; it indicated there was a human female on the opposite side.

  Jayme tried to stay in the lead, but her team had other ideas. They fanned out among the terminals, making much more noise than she had anticipated. “Psst!” she hissed at them, trying to get them to fall into position. But Titus didn’t even glance her way, trying to take the lead as always, while Starsa was apparently mesmerized by the shifting abstract images on a large colorful display. Bobbie Ray had disappeared. Jayme forged on, clenching her teeth but determined to make it work out in spite of her team.

  Suddenly the lights came on and Elma stepped onto an elevated platform. The cadets froze, absurdly caught in their stalking positions.

  But Elma was clutching the rail, her knuckles white as her gaze shifted desperately from one to the other, as if she was one who was caught.

  “What are you doing here?” Titus demanded, pointing an accusing finger up at Elma.

  “I was working . . .”

  Bobbie Ray hitched one leg over a console, leaning casually back against the monitor. “Most people work when the observatory is open.”

  “Yeah,” Titus said, inching closer to her. “What are you doing that you have to sneak in here at night?”

  Elma swallowed, unable to let go of the rail.

  “You might as well tell us,” Bobbie Ray advised her, examining a long, curved nail before chewing gently on it to smooth out a snag. “Or would you rather tell security?”

  “Stop it!” Jayme ordered, shoving Titus out of the way so she could look up at Elma. “We’re not here to make trouble for you. We want to help.”

  Before she could coax Elma into revealing the truth, they were rudely interrupted by the arrival of the observatory personnel. Doors banged open on all sides of the computer room, and at least ten technicians and scientists poured into the control room in various states of undress, rushing to the various monitors.

  “What happened to the dish?” one of them blurted out, hanging onto the keyboard as he tried to make sense of the data. “There couldn’t have been an earthquake—”

  “Who are you?” another one demanded, torn between the distressing numbers on their equipment and the strangers in the control room. Exclamations rang out over lost data and destroyed projects.

  Jayme’s quadmates were inadvertently herded closer together by the frantic technicians. Then one older scientist pulled her robe tighter around herself, twisting up the side of her mouth as she realized what they were dealing with.

  “Cadets!” she snarled, as if that one word said it all.

  The cadets were at attention in a line in front of Superintendent Admiral Brand’s desk. Jayme noted that the room was perfectly proportioned to allow all eight members of a Quad to stand shoulder to shoulder. The fact that this was probably a common occurrence didn’t make her feel any better.

  Admiral Brand sat with her back to the windows, where the dawn’s first rays tinted the sky, casting her face into shadow. Only her silver-white hair caught the light, swept high off her forehead, while her hands were calmly folded on her desk.

  “Then I saw the alarm from the subsidiary arrays,” Elma was explaining. “So I knew something was occluding the focus. From the variance of the interference fringes, it had to be a deformation of the main dish. I’d seen something like it before when the plates were being cleaned, so I was afraid the staff was working the night shift. I hid until my Quadmates showed up.”

  Brand turned to the three other senior cadets. “Cadet First Class T’Rees, when was the first time you knew something was happening?”

  “When I returned to my room and saw that Cadet Starsa Taran’s medical relay was on alert,” T’Rees replied, the epitome of attention. “I signaled the Academy medical unit immediately.”

  Jayme couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Of course T’Rees had ratted on th
em.

  Brand noticed and turned her attention to Jayme. “You were fortunate the observatory personnel handed you over to Academy security without pressing charges of trespassing. However, they may still claim compensatory damages for the loss of data and injury to the parabolic dish.”

  “That was my fault,” Starsa freely admitted. “I slipped off the walkway and slid down the side. Cadet Jefferson jumped over to save me.” She gave the tall Rex a surprisingly sweet smile.

  Bobbie Ray gave her a deadpan look, obviously remembering her indignant wailing.

  Admiral Brand wasn’t distracted. “That doesn’t explain why you were attempting to break into the observatory in the first place.”

  The other three cadets looked at Jayme, deferring responsibility to her. Jayme haltingly explained the sequence of events, from the first few nights when Elma had taken her tricorder, to her realization that she was going into the Deng Observatory after it was closed. She left out the part about falling off the monorail, figuring it would only confuse things.

  Brand turned back to Elma. “Why did you take Cadet Miranda’s tricorder?”

  “Because it has a security override I could use to get inside the observatory.” Elma kept her head down, her voice so low it was hard to hear her. “I had to. I couldn’t work during the regular lab hours. All those cadets talking and moving around . . . I can’t concentrate, so I’ve been doing my summaries when everyone’s gone.”

  “Oh, we thought you were a Bajoran resistance fighter,” Starsa said artlessly.

  “What did you think?” Admiral Brand asked, her voice strained with incredulity.

  “Jayme—I mean,” Starsa quickly corrected herself, “Cadet Miranda said Elma was tapping communiqués with the telescope and relaying them to the resistance fighters.”

  Jayme wanted to kick Starsa, but it was too late. “Uh, you know, because she’s from Holt . . . and I thought, it seemed to make sense at the time, why she was being so secretive . . .”

  Elma actually raised her head, blinking rapidly as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All of Jayme’s fantasy scenarios crumpled under Elma’s blank, uncomprehending stare.

  T’Rees sniffed in disdain. “You should have informed the senior cadets in your Quad.”

  “Well, since you bring it up, I tried!” Jayme shot back. “Remember when I came into your room last week? But you wouldn’t even listen when I told you it was about Elma. You said she had seniority since she was a last-year cadet, and that I had to work my problems out with her!”

  “That’s enough,” Brand ordered. The cadets immediately stiffened, facing the window again. “I believe this incident reflects a failure of your entire Quad. You are responsible for each other, and I hope that before the end of the year you will have learned that.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “A formal reprimand will be placed in each of your academic records, and you are all hereby placed on probation for sixty days.”

  Jayme flushed at the sentence. Her family was going to have a fit when they heard she was already in serious trouble after barely arriving at the Academy.

  But the worst was yet to come as Brand walked around her desk to stand directly in front of Jayme. “Cadet Miranda, I expected more from you. Henceforth, you will refrain from letting your . . . fancies interfere with your duty to Starfleet. If you do detect a spy in our midst, we would all be better served if you alert your commanding officer.”

  “Yes, sir!” Jayme agreed. “It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t,” Elma suddenly agreed. The cadet broke ranks, stepping forward. “Superintendent Brand, I would like to resign my commission to the Academy.”

  “No!” Jayme blurted out.

  Brand waved a hand at Jayme, silencing her. “What is your reason?”

  “I’m not suited to Starfleet. I can’t stand being around people who don’t act right—” Elma stopped herself. “I mean, act like we do on Holt. I belong there, and I’ve been delaying the inevitable by sneaking around, trying to avoid everyone.”

  Brand considered her for a moment, then her expression softened as she gently clasped Elma’s shoulder. “I’ve been impressed with your persistence, and I had hoped you would become accustomed to the different culture.”

  Elma stiffly shook her head, unable to speak.

  Brand nodded. “Very well, remain here, cadet. The rest of you are dismissed. You will be notified if the Deng Observatory pursues compensation.”

  The others practically ran out of the superintendent’s office, but Jayme dragged her feet. She would have protested again, but Brand silently shook her head and motioned to the door. Jayme’s last look at Elma caught the older cadet staring down at her fingers, twisting them together painfully, unable to return Brand’s reassuring smile.

  All day Jayme kept thinking about the way Elma always twined her fingers together, pulling and bending them as if to distract herself from some outer torment. Why hadn’t she been able to see what was happening?

  When Jayme returned to the Quad from her classes, Elma’s half of the room was empty. The cabinets were cracked open and the desk under the other square window had been cleared off.

  Jayme sat down on the bare mattress, feeling like she should be shot. “What have I done?” she moaned out loud. “This is awful! What can I do?”

  The door slowly swung open and Nev Reoh stuck his head cautiously around. “Uh . . . is there something wrong?”

  With tears starting to form in her eyes, Jayme wordlessly held out her arms to the empty room.

  “She’s gone?”

  Even in her sorrow, Jayme was exasperated. “What do you think? I’m surprised they didn’t expel me, too.”

  “But Elma quit. She didn’t get expelled.”

  “I’m talking about Locarno!” Jayme buried her head in her hands, thinking of the last self-styled hero who had hit the Academy. Who was she to think she could save the universe, much less one frightened woman from Holt?

  “Nick Locarno?” Nev Reoh’s brow creased in confusion, making him look even older. “You mean the leader of Nova Squadron?”

  “Who else?” Jayme sighed, letting her hands fall into her lap. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I . . . I haven’t been doing as well in my classes as everyone seems to expect. I thought this was a way I could prove myself. . . .”

  “But you’re getting B’s, Jayme! That’s not failure. Believe me, I know what it means to fail—”

  “I know, I know. You were such a terrible Vedek; you’ve told everyone that.”

  Abashed, Reoh bent his head. “I admire what Elma did. It’s hard to make a big change. To give up everything you’ve planned on. I bet that’s why she didn’t say good-bye to us.”

  “Because she was ashamed,” Jayme agreed.

  Surprisingly, Reoh shook his head. “No, because we didn’t matter anymore. She knew this part of her life was over. So she could walk away.”

  “That’s pretty heartless,” Jayme protested. “She’s been here almost four years. She was practically ready to graduate.”

  Nev Reoh shrugged. “You can only struggle for so long. If something’s not working, then you have to try something else.” He glanced shyly up at her. “You know, I was in the Bajoran resistance.”

  “You!” Jayme exclaimed.

  Nev Reoh nodded, unhurt by her obvious shock.

  “You were?” she asked, unable to stop herself from looking harder at his wrinkled Bajoran nose. “Really?”

  “I was very young and wanted to help like everyone else. But I don’t like to fight. I can’t even hold a disrupter-rifle, much less point it at anyone,” he confessed. “So I thought that meant I should be a Vedek. Nonviolent resistance, but you know the rest . . . that wasn’t right for me, either. I’m better suited to geological studies.”

  Jayme stared at his honest, open face. “I didn’t know you fought Cardassians.”

  Even when Reoh grinned, he looked vaguely worried. “Everything works out the
way it’s supposed to, Jayme. Even Nick Locarno got what he wanted.”

  “You don’t mean he wanted to be expelled.”

  “No, not exactly. But he wanted everyone to remember him. So he tried to take a shortcut, and now no one will ever forget him.”

  “Yeah, you’d think he was still around, as much as everyone whispers his name when something goes wrong,” Jayme agreed ruefully.

  “That’s good, because that means Joshua Albert didn’t die for nothing. Everything’s tightened up, shipshape. It should be. Too many people were killed fighting the Borg last year. We’re the only ones who can take their place. Even if we aren’t perfect.”

  “Right,” Jayme agreed, straightening her shoulders. Maybe she wasn’t as good at engineering as she should be, but she could only keep trying. Besides, she never claimed she was as brilliant as her mother or her older sister. “I guess you’re saying I’ll have to do it the hard way, right?”

  “I never found any other way,” Nev Reoh earnestly assured her.

  Chapter Two

  TITUS COULD FEEL THE SWEAT on his palms making his grip on the antara slip as he swung it around again, trying to hamstring Bobbie Ray. The big orange Rex took advantage of his hesitation and began pummeling his antara, trying to break through the back stave. Titus went down on one knee, very much aware that they were fighting without the protective face shield and arm guards usually worn during antara competitions. But this match was for real.

  Bobbie Ray’s face bent over him, his long teeth bared in a grin as he kept pressing his advantage. His heavy breathing was the only sound.

  “You know you snore at night,” Titus told him between blows, managing to summon up a defiant grin of his own. “Maybe you should get that checked—”

  “Grrgh!” Bobbie Ray rumbled as his antara flashed down, then jerked up—a move Titus didn’t know the Rex was aware of. A move that had no proper defense when an opponent was down.