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, Iwas 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 wantedto 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, shenever 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 antaraslip 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 antaracompetitions. 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 antaraflashed 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.
The long, jagged blade seemed to slow as it came toward his face. The point buried under his chin and ripped through his head, coming out the top. Blood spurted everywhere, darkening the white padded floor and walls, while a universal groan of disgust rose from the cadets who were watching.