thesis. Maybe you should wait until next year." "Maybe you
should wait until you hear what the thesis is about." The
words were out of her mouth before she thought, and she
realized they sounded impudent.
But the admiral seemed amused, and he didn't fight the
grin. "Touche. Tell me, Cadet Janeway, what your thesis
concerns." "Massive compact halo objects."
The smile disappeared from his face, to be replaced by
that first scrutinizing stare. Once again, Kathryn felt
that he was scanning her brain. This time, he didn't seem
to be getting results. "I see.
And just what is it you would propose to offer about halo
objects that provides new insight?" Halo objects, she knew,
were a special interest of
the admiral's; he had spent years trying to formulate a
theory on the origins of these enigmatic and elusive space
phenomena.
Kathryn leaned forward, feeling on surer ground now. "I've
developed a new hypothesis concerning their origins. One
that might revolutionize all the thinking that's gone into
them so far."
"Very ambitious. Just what is this hypothesis?"
"With all due respect, sir-if you want to find out, you'll
have to read my thesis. Which I can't write until I have an
advisor."
He laughed out loud. "I like you, Cadet. Your reputation
precedes you, you know. You're the young woman who reported
finding a chordate in the caves of Mars. Stirred up a whole
hornet's nest of scientific controversy." Kathryn sighed
inwardly. It was true that her claimwhich she had
considered carefully before making, since it would mean an
admission of having gone cave-divinghad startled
Starfleet's scientists. Well-equipped diving parties were
immediately launched, but no fossil other than the one she
had spotted had been found, and there was vast disagreement
in the scientific community as to whether the find was in
fact a chordate. Her admission had earned her a rebuke from
her mother, but so far as she knew, her father was unaware
of the escapade. He was too busy to care. "I think we'll
get along well," Admiral Paris continued. But then he
leaned toward her over his desk and fastened her with those
piercing eyes. "But I warn you-everything you've heard
about me is true.
I don't suffer slackers. You'll work harder for me than
you've ever worked for anyone. You'll learn to live on four
hours of sleep a night. And if you complain or whine or,
God forbid, burst into tears, we're finished as of that
moment. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes, sir."
He held her gaze, unblinking, for another full minute. She
returned it firmly. Finally he leaned back, picked up one
of the pictures from his desk. "What do you think of my
family?"
"Very handsome, sir."
"Thank you. I'm proud of them. The girls are quite
independent and have informed me in no uncertain terms that
they don't intend to follow the family tradition and enter
Startled. I respect that." There was a pause, then he
continued. "But I'll admit I'm pleased that young Tom seems
to have his heart set on the family career. I wouldn't push
my children, but it would have taken something out of me if
mine were the last generation of Starfleet officers."
"I understand, sir. I think my father feels very much the
same." Mention of her father seemed to sober the admiral.
"I imagine you haven't seen much of your father lately. I
ran into him on Deep Space Four a few weeks ago. He's
working very hard on the Cardassian situation. I'm sorry to
say it's not looking good."
"He doesn't talk about it. But I know he's worried."
Kathryn didn't want to talk about her father; it made her
feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
She moved a bit in her chair, hoping Admiral Paris would
pick up the cue and dismiss her.
But he seemed to want to talk. "Part of the problem is
that we don't know much about the Cardassians.
They've always been somewhat suspect, but of course we
prefer to think they're people of their word. And they
claim not to be interested in expanding their territory.
But there've been some unexplained incidents near their
borders that are a bit disconcerting." "Yes, sir." What he
wasn't saying was what no one wanted to say: the specter of
war hung over the Federation.
It was a word everyone hoped had become obsolete, for
there hadn't been armed conflict in the Federation for
decades.
But in a distant part of space, a new enemy seemed to be
stirring, and Starfleet's upper echelons were scrambling to
try to avoid combat. Diplomatic endeavors were under way.
But at the same time, Kathryn knew that strategic and
tactical discussions were being held as well. She assumed
her father was involved because of starship design, but she
didn't know for certain. That was how far he had shut them
out of his professional life.
Admiral Paris seemed to pick up on her reluctance to
discuss the issue. He stood, offered her his hand, and
dismissed her. "I believe your first step is to hand me a
thesis proposal. I'll expect it on my desk by Monday
morning at zero-eight-hundred. Understood?"
Kathryn felt the blood drain from her face.
Hand in a thesis proposal in four days? Was he crazy? Even
if she worked on nothing else she couldn't finish; and she
had classes to attend and work for those courses and-
"Understood, sir," she said crisply. And she gave him her
most confident look. For suddenly she was on firm ground.
Do the impossible? Meet an outrageous deadline?
Solve an insoluble problem? If anyone could do it, she
could. She'd show him. She wasn't afraid of him, she
wouldn't be bullied by him, and no matter what task he set
for her, she'd do it-better and faster than he'd expected.
Hadn't she been doing that all her life?
When she returned to her dorm room, her roommate, a
beautiful, patrician woman from Boston, Lettie Garrett, had
an uneasy look on her face. Kathryn noticed it immediately,
because Lettie never looked uncomfortable. She seemed to be
one of those people who were born with poise and moved
serenely through life without mishap, taking in stride any
bumps one might suffer along the way. She had long dark
hair pulled off her face in the simplest of hairstyles, and
huge dark eyes ringed with long lashes. Kathryn suspected
she'd dated every available man at the Academy at one time
or another. "Kathryn . .
. what do you have planned this weekend?" "This weekend?
Staying up day and night to get a thesis proposal ready."
"Couldn't you take an hour or two off?"
"Lettie, what's going on?"
"I met someone I think you'd really like."
This was what Kathryn had suspected. Lettie couldn't
understand her ascetic way of life and was forever trying
to arrange dates for her. Kathryn had gone along with this
several times, but nothing had ever seemed to work out; if
a young man followed through and asked her out again, she
began to feel pressed and rushed, and so retreated further
into herself. There had been one young man-she couldn't
even remember his name now-she had thought might be an
interesting friend, but he had never called and after a day
Kathryn had thought better of it and declined to call him.
"Lettie, it's sweet of you, but this isn't the time. I have
to have a proposal on Admiral Paris' desk Monday morning."
Lettie's eyebrows lifted, a sight that gratified Kathryn.
She'd pulled off something astonishing in getting Paris to
work with her, and it was pleasurable to know that Lettie
was impressed. "I understand. But you have to eat. One
hour, Saturday evening. A sandwich and a cup of coffee."
"I can have a sandwich and coffee right here at my desk.
Which is what I'll be doing."
"You'll regret this for the rest of your life.
He's hand-160
Mosaic some, charming, very intelligent-he's exactly the
kind of man you'd be attracted to."
"That's what you said about that last one. The
exobiologist? The one who wanted to practice his homework
on me?"
"But he was handsome and charming and intelligent."
"I have to work. Absolutely, positively, irrevocably,
inextricably have to work."
"I'll check with you around six on Saturday.
Maybe you'll need the break. Maybe it will be the best
thing you could do for yourself, and you'd come back
refreshed and eager to sail in again."
Kathryn sighed. Lettie was as tenacious as a rat terrier.
There was no point in fighting about it now; come Saturday
she'd be deep into her work and would simply refuse to go.
"Okay. Check with me then."
Lettie smiled, pleased. She had a generous heart, Kathryn
knew, and truly wanted to help her friend expand her narrow
horizons. She had no way of knowing that the world inside
Kathryn's head was so rich and complete that she had little
need of any other.
So no one could have been more surprised than Kathryn that
she found herself walking with Lettie to a coffee bistro
near campus on Saturday at eighteen hundred hours.
"Why am I doing this?" she asked Lettie.
"How did I let you talk me into it? I'm not half done with
my proposal; I have no business going anywhere." "You'll
thank me. You'll be down on your knees, bowing to me. This
one is special. his Kathryn sighed. She'd been persuaded
only because she'd run into a wall with her proposal, and
there actually was some validity to the idea of taking an
hour-not one minute more-and getting some fresh air, a
decent cup of Tarkalian coffee, and something in her
stomach. She'd come back to her desk with renewed vigor,
which she certainly needed; she'd had only two hours'
sleep the night before and couldn't look forward to much
more tonight.
They entered the coffee bistro, which was nearly empty.
Kathryn wondered how it stayed in business; almost no one
drank coffee anymore, and while this place served good
food, most of the student crowd preferred the tea bars that
had sprung up on just about every corner. But Kathryn loved
coffee: loved the taste, loved the aroma, loved the mild
"kick" it gave her. She was as disciplined about drinking
coffee, however, as she was in the rest of her life; two
cups a day, a formula she usually stretched to four by
making a half-decaf blend.
Lettie was leading her to a corner table, where two cadets
were sitting, backs to them. "There they are."
"Is that Howie? Your beau?"
"Yes, and his friend. The one you'll thank me for."
They had reached the table and as they did so, both the
young men got to their feet. And Kathryn found herself
looking right at William Riker. She didn't even hear the
introductions Lettie was making. Her mind swirled, trying
to think of some way to get out of this. Say she was sick?
That she'd forgotten she had to make a transmission to her
mother? Nothing that made sense came to her, and she found
herself sitting opposite the handsome young man with the
dark hair and blue eyes. And he was talking to her. "I'm
sorry . . . what did you say?"
"Do you like to be called Kathryn? Or is there a familiar
form you like?" "Kathryn. Just Kathryn."
"I've always thought that was a beautiful name."
William Riker smiled, and if he was handsome before, he
was gorgeous now. Just like Cheb.
Kathryn desperately felt the need to control the
situation. She couldn't sit like this, addled, and let her
feelings become engaged. She'd been caught off guard,
momentarily stunned, and she was perfectly capable of
regaining her equilibrium.
She'd spend the requisite hour with this person and that
would be the end of it.
"How about you? Is it William?"
"I'm usually called Wit."
"Then Wit it is."
"I'm surprised we've never met. We're in the same class;
you'd think we'd have run into each other before this."
That's because I've gone out of my way to avoid you,
thought Kathryn, but she simply smiled and said, "I've been
on a science program. We've probably just been in different
classes."
"I hear you landed the Scorcher for your junior thesis."
"Is that what he's called? I'd never heard that."
"He leaves only scorched earth in his wake.
No prisoners."
"He's demanding, but I thought he was awfully nice. Very
devoted to his family. Are you doing a junior thesis?"
"I'm focusing on exopaleontology. Someday I want my own
ship, and I think a broad educational base with an emphasis
on the evolution of galactic cultures is the best
background I can have."
"Your own ship-as captain?"
."...Right.gg*thorn], Kathryn was impressed. You didn't
often hear people with those lofty goals expressing them so
comfortably.
She had no doubt that Wit Riker would get what he wanted.
"I've never had any interest in command. I'd like to be