Reoh’s throat closed shut. More spiritual! He was supposed to speak after Captain Picard! No!
But the eyes of the cadets were urging him toward the stage. As he slowly made his way forward, he realized that many of the cadets knew him, more than he would have imagined. And he recognized the two people in the front row from their similarity to Titus, family members who had probably come for the memorial. How could he speak–he couldn’t even think!
Somehow he made it to the stage, where Captain Picard shook his hand, resting his other on Reoh’s shoulder. Reoh looked into his captain’s eyes, remembering in a rush the first day he had met Picard, reporting to duty on the Enterprise. It had felt as if, with one keen glance, Picard had taken his measure as a man.
Now he felt reassured by Picard’s sympathy, and by his murmured assurance, “Speak your heart.”
Reoh returned the pressure of his hand, straightening up. “Serving you was an honor, sir.”
Picard smiled, accepting Reoh’s acknowledgment.
Then he was facing the grand assembly hall, row after row of silent cadets, jammed in so tight that they were sitting in the aisles and standing along the sides and in the doorways. He knew his image appeared on every screen in the Academy, and everyone was watching because everyone knew Titus.
“We all miss Titus,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “The fact that I am standing up here today is a testament to his ability to draw people to him, to add everyone who came within his reach to his vast network of friends and allies. As far as I could tell, he only had one requirement for friendship. That you always do your best, and try your hardest to overcome your own limitations and those of others.”
Nev Reoh ducked his head for a moment, hearing perfect silence. “He once told me that he joined Starfleet because we were given the freedom to work for our rights, and unlike most people he knew, he didn’t believe those rights should be given to him or anyone. He was always more than willing to work for what he believed in, and to tell others they should work for what they believed in. Some people were irritated by his bluntness, his honesty–I don’t know, I always treasured that about him because I always knew exactly where I stood with him.” Reoh realized he was choking up. “We still need Titus, but now we’ll have to carry on his work for him, instead of with him.”
Chapter Twelve
Final Year, 2371‑72
A SHADOW PASSED over the window of Nev Reoh’s tiny associate professor’s office in the geophysics building. The structure had sloped sides, and the antigrav boarders couldn’t seem to resist using the updraft to skim their boards high into the air.
Nev Reoh cringed as yet another one went by. His office was on the fourth floor, higher than most antigrav boards were designed to go. He could hear the whine as the gears tried to resist the updraft. And the laughter of the boarders, floating near the first floor, taunting their friends to more daring heights.
It was the weekend, so most of the professors were gone. Reoh was only working because he didn’t have much else to do but grade papers, so he put his heart into it. He was turning away to call security to chase the cadets from the dangerous geophysics building, when his eye caught sight of Starsa’s long, burnished‑gold hair flying through the air.
Starsa skimmed her antigrav board away, then turned, pausing for a moment, her teeth biting into her lip as she judged the building.
Reoh called out, “No!”but she couldn’t hear him. She probably couldn’t even see him through the tinted glass.
His hands gripped the windowsill as she began her run. Balancing beautifully, her board ran straight toward the windows, turning at the last moment as she swooped up the side of the building. Somewhere near the fifth floor, the gyros cut out, flipping the top edge of the board away from the wall.
Starsa tried to turn it into a loop, but she was so high that it was actually a dive. Her foot slipped out of the notch and the grav board twisted out from under her. She fell past the board, catching it with one hand as the safeties quickly sank them toward the ground.
Starsa let out a yell, trying to grab hold of the board with both hands to let it carry her down. Nev Reoh was pressed against the window, and he could see the white skin of her fingers as they slipped off one by one.
“Aahh!”she screamed as she fell the last two stories.
Reoh would have leaped out the window after her if he could. He pressed up against the plasteel, trying to see if she was dead. But her continued screams echoed against the wall of the geophysics building, assuring him that she was alive.
By the time he got to the ground floor, medics had beamed to the site. Reoh had to shove through a loose group of off‑duty cadets to see Starsa. She was white, even her lips, and her eyes were glazed from the contents of the hypospray that had just been administered to her neck. He could understand why. Her bare leg was tattered and twisted in an odd angle in two places.
Starsa didn’t like the clear brace the doctors had insisted she wear on her leg for a couple of weeks. They explained that her physiology required extra care to ensure that the bone healed properly. Meanwhile, she couldn’t bend her knee, and the thing threw off her balance when she tried to do a loop‑the‑loop on her antigrav board.
“Starsa!” someone screamed at her, making her lose her balance. “Stop that!”
She hopped off her board, with the brace making her hobble a few feet forward before she came to a complete stop. “What?”
Reoh came running towards her, clutching a bundle of padds in one arm. “What are you doing?” He looked around at the others. “How could you let her ride her board with a cast on?”
The other cadets shrugged and mumbled, fading away in the face of an angry professor. Reoh acted like he had forgotten he was an authority figure now. “You know you aren’t supposed to grav board for another ten days. At least not until that leg is healed.”
“I’m fine,” she told him, not at all impressed with his new rank. “You spoiled the fun.”
“What’s gotten into you lately, Starsa? You never used to be thisreckless–”
Starsa flipped her board over and jumped on, banking it in the air. “Everyone should learn to relax a little, Nev. That includes you.”
Without a farewell, she swerved and skimmed off, over the tops of some Triskel bushes imported from Ventax II. She knew Reoh was just concerned about her. He had spent hours accompanying her through the medical regeneration, and she had been grateful for the company.
But to Starsa, it felt like she was back in her first year in the Academy instead of finishing her last. Back then, everyone was acting all repressed and gloomy over the flying accident in the Saturn fields that had killed Joshua Albert. Now, the year she would graduate, aside from the grief over Titus’s death and the disappearance of the crew on Voyager, there were the growing fears about the rise of the Dominion. It was like a shadow cast over Starfleet itself, making everyone frightened.
Starsa banked and returned to the small square she had just sailed through. The signal for a general announcement was on the air. She jumped off and ran a few steps, next to the cadets gathered in front of the screen. Usually Admiral Brand or one of the Academy officials appeared, but this time Admiral Leyton was in the midst of announcing:
“. . . a joint strike force, consisting of the Romulan Tal Shiar and the Cardassian Obsidian Order, was ambushed near the Founders’ homeworld in the Omarion Nebula.” Leyton took a deep breath, the lines in his forehead deepening. “The Federation did not participate in this secret strike force against the Dominion, and Starfleet sent no ships until the Defiantwas called to the Gamma Quadrant to rescue the two sole survivors. The destruction of both the Cardassian and Romulan elite forces will surely be a factor in galactic politics in the coming months.”