“That may be true,” she said. “But passion counts for a lot too. And we have some good minds working on it. Native Hazimotian minds, and others. With you, several good human ones as well.”
“Who else is human among the leadership?” Kyle asked. “Jackdaw? Alan?”
“They are, but they’re not really leadership,” Michelle suggested. “But I am, and of course Roog—”
“Roog’s human?” he interrupted. He pictured her indistinct, amorphous form with what seemed like other beings moving about beneath semi-translucent skin, her lumpish head and barely functional limbs. “How ... what happened to her?”
“Cyre happened,” Michelle said, an explanation that didn’t explain much. When Kyle just stared at her, she elaborated. “You might have noticed that body modification is kind of a hobby, or a fetish, of many of the locals. Especially here in The End, where it’s the only kind of art one can expect to keep when one is forced to move from one hovel to another.”
“But I thought that was just among the Hazimotians,” Kyle said.
“For the most part, but not completely,” Michelle replied. “Roog has been here for a long time, and she’s gone native in most ways. Including that one. She’s had a lot of work done, not all of which turned out exactly as she’d hoped. But she’s still human inside, where it counts. She still has the experience of revolution in her genetic memory. And she’s as dedicated as you’ll ever find, on our home world or this one.”
“I guess you just can’t trust appearances,” Kyle offered.
“You never have been able to,” Michelle agreed. “Why start now? You can only trust hard facts, like this one. When I tell you that I love you, Kyle Joe Brady Riker, I mean it. That, you can trust.”
What is the report on Kyle Riker?
The report is that there is no report. Still no news, no information. He cannot be found.
How is this possible? We have at our disposal the most far-reaching information gathering technology in the history of the galaxy. We have fingers everywhere. And one simple man can elude all of this? It simply isn’t possible.
It may not be possible, but it seems to be the case. There has been no sign of Riker since the day he vanished. We may need to accept a potential scenario that we have not wanted to...
That he’s already dead. That he killed himself, perhaps, to avoid his certain fate at our hands. Yes, I have considered that. But it doesn’t seem like his way...
But when a man is pushed too hard—
Too hard? How could anything be too hard? After what he’s done to us...
It’s only a suggestion, not a fact. We need to be open to all possibilities.
Agreed. I will entertain that one, but will not accept it as an excuse to stop looking. The search continues. Kyle Riker, or his bones, must be found. And in the meantime...
The boy?
Yes. The son. What of him?
He is easily at hand. At the Academy. He thinks he’s going to Saturn for the summer.
Keep him here. I want him nearby. Just in case. If we can’t find the father, there is a certain poetic irony in targeting the son instead. Or in addition, even better...
Yes, in addition. I like that.
I thought you might...
PART THREE
MARCH-JUNE 2357
Chapter 22
Senior year brought Academy cadets more privileges, but also many more responsibilities and a heavier workload than ever before. Will, strangely, found that he thrived under the pressure. Each year had been harder than the one before, but conversely, he had done better each year. The difficulties of his first year had been largely gone by the end of his second, but he was still finding his way then. Third had been a time of emotional upheaval that had sometimes interfered with his performance. This year, though, he had been focused on the work. Attending Starfleet Academy was at the same time a great honor and a very difficult job. By paying more attention to the job part, he found that he was able to maximize his results. The more he put in, the more he took out. His grades reflected that new philosophy.
But with the new rigors and responsibilities sometimes came hard truths. And one of them had just hit home. The famous Vulcan science officer who had served on the Enterprisewith James T. Kirk, Ambassador Spock, was coming to Starfleet Academy to give a lecture. His topic was to be “The Philosophy of Diplomacy, or Why Giving In Isn’t Always Giving Up.”
It would be fascinating, Will knew. Most of his friends were going. They would get an invaluable experience out of it. They might even get to meet Spock himself, who was as close to a living legend as existed in the galaxy today. And the information he would impart would be beyond helpful to anyone considering a Starfleet career. For all these reasons, Will wanted very much to attend.
But he couldn’t. Because by the time Ambassador Spock would be in San Francisco in two days, he would be—finally—on Saturn. Two summers in a row, his assignment to Saturn had been scotched at the last minute. This last summer, there had never even been an explanation forthcoming, just a simple change in orders, keeping him on Earth yet again. But now, he would definitely make it to Saturn. A flight exercise run among Saturn’s moons was taking him and an assortment of other cadets away, and they’d be gone for the duration of Ambassador Spock’s visit to Earth. The exercise was an important part of his grade, and couldn’t be missed, even for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like the Spock lecture.
The whole situation ticked him off. Ultimately, the Spock lecture would be more educational than flying patterns he knew in his sleep. There has to be a way to make it work,he thought. There just has to.
And of course,he realized, there is.
It took him a while to figure out just who would be the most helpful, but finally he came up with Trinidad Khalil. Trinidad, a third-year student, was a terrific pilot, skilled and comfortable at the conn of any ship he encountered. And Will remembered that he had been present when Spock’s visit had been announced, but he had shown little interest.
Will found Trinidad in the dorm and took him out to an off-campus saloon called the Ready Room. After a few minutes of idle chatter, he brought up the issue there, over tall glasses of Aldorian ale. “So it didn’t seem like you had much interest in Ambassador Spock’s lecture this week,” he said bluntly.
Trinidad shrugged. He was a darkly handsome young man, about Will’s size. “I’m not a hero worshipper or anything,” Trinidad said. “I mean, Spock has made some great contributions, you know? But I’ve read about them. I don’t feel like I need to see him talk about them too.”
“I’d sure like to be there,” Will admitted. He kept his voice low, as there were plenty of students and faculty in the place. Despite the implication of its name, the saloon was styled after the lounge on board a Starfleet vessel, not a captain’s ready room. It was decorated with lots of grays and blues, in sleek lines and stylish curves, and was popular with cadets as well as personnel from Starfleet Command.
“Is there some reason that you can’t be?”
“I’m part of that Saturn exercise. We leave tomorrow. I’ll be flying maneuvers the whole time Spock is here.”
Trinidad’s face brightened. “You got picked for that run? Congratulations, Will. That’ll be such a blast.”