“You shut up, Boon,” she hissed. “You got us into this.”

The police officers herded both squadrons to a waiting transport vehicle. Just before leaving the Fish Market stall, Will set down the canister he had held onto throughout the whole fish fight, and pocketed the slip of paper that had issued from it. He had already memorized its brief message: “Congratulations, Zeta Squadron, on the successful completion of your mission.”

Superintendent Vyrek perused her ten charges with the keen eye of an experienced appraiser. They all stood shoulder to shoulder, at attention, in her office, feeling her gaze bore into them as she paced a slow, even circle around them. She hadn’t spoken yet. The longer she dragged out the time before she did speak, Will knew, the worse it would be. And she would speak eventually, there was no question of that.

Admiral Paris, who waited in a corner of the large office, just might have a few words to say as well.

Finally, the Vulcan superintendent broke her silence. “I amsurprised at you,” she said. “Some more than others, but nonetheless, as squadrons overall, yours are among the last two I would have expected to engage in ... would ‘hijinks’ be the appropriate term? ... like these. Mr. Boon, Zeta Squadron is under your command, is it not?”

“Yes, sir, normally that is, sir,” Boon answered. “But sometimes on group projects we elect a leader just for that project, so everyone gets a chance, sir. On this one, Cadet Haynes was in charge.”

“Dennis Haynes?” Superintendent Vyrek asked with surprise. “You have never been involved with anything like this in your time with us. Or at your previous school, if you don’t count—which I won’t—that one incident when you were eleven.”

Does she knoweverything about us?Will wondered. He’d heard rumors that she had a virtually eidetic memory—that she read through each cadet’s file once a year, and remembered everything she saw. He had always discounted the rumors, though. Until just now.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” Dennis replied. “And I’m sorry that this happ—”

She cut him off mid-word. “Did I ask for a response, Mr. Haynes?”

He hesitated, as if unsure if she had this time either. “No, sir,” he finally said.

“That is correct. I am merely expressing my shock and dismay at this outrageous behavior, not asking you to explain—or worse, make some feeble and doomed attempt to excuse—it.”

Dennis remained silent, but his cheeks went crimson. Superintendent Vyrek continued her journey around the group, looking each cadet up and down, sometimes moving closer to peer at a fish-inflicted bruise or scrape.

“Is there anything remotely logical about battling with seafood, Admiral Paris, to your knowledge?”

Admiral Paris looked surprised to be spoken to, and Will had the impression that he wasn’t much more comfortable in the superintendent’s presence than the cadets were. “I confess that I don’t see the logic in it, Admiral Vyrek,” he replied.

“Nor do I,” the Vulcan said. “And yet, it happened. These cadets—second-year cadets, not raw freshmen—engaged in it. Creating a disturbance, damaging property, wasting food—that police officer said she was tempted to charge them with incitement to riot. How does one explain such behavior?”

Will swallowed hard. “May I speak, sir?” he asked.

“Cadet Riker. If you can enlighten me, I would be delighted to have you speak. You, I am sorry to say, I am not terribly surprised to hear were involved in such an unfortunate affair, given your history of altercations with fellow students.”

Those “altercations” she mentioned had been a series of fights Will had found himself having shortly after his father had abandoned him. He’d had a chip on his shoulder and a short fuse, and it had been a bad combination. But that had been well before he’d even applied to the Academy, and the fact that the superintendent knew about it gave even more credence to the eidetic memory theory. Not to mention confirming the “permanence” of permanent records.

“I don’t think our behavior can be excused, sir,” he said. “But it can be explained, to a certain extent. We were all under a significant amount of stress, with the end of our project looming, and the various personality conflicts that arise whenever a group of people is banded together closely for a number of days. We made a mistake, let our emotions get the better of us, and cut loose. We shouldn’t have done it. Had we thought it through we never would have done it. But we weren’t thinking, we were only reacting.”

“That sounds correct,” Superintendent Vyrek said. “Especially the fact that you were not thinking, any of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Will agreed.

“Interestingly, my understanding from the officer is that you were not taking part, Mr. Riker. Nor was Mr. Rice. Is this true?”

Will wanted to glance at Paul but he forced his head to remain still, eyes front. “Yes, sir. We were not fighting. However, we were apparently not doing enough to restrain our fellow cadets, either.”

“Should you have done more? Was that your duty?”

“Sir, if the fight had been with deadly weapons instead of fish, then it would certainly have been an abrogation of duty to let our fellow cadets become involved. I think that the principle is the same, regardless of the weaponry.”

“I have to agree with you, Mr. Riker. You and Cadet Rice are every bit as responsible as those who were flinging fish. You will all jointly work to reimburse the fishmongers whose stand you destroyed. There will, of course, be notations on your permanent records. And your summer plans will be altered—none of you will be going off-world this summer, so I hope you were not looking forward too strongly to any long trips. Admiral Paris?”

Will felt his heart sinking as the admiral stepped forward to face his students. “I won’t apply any further punishment to what the superintendent has outlined,” he said. “However, as Omega Squadron didn’t finish the assignment, the five of you will be repeating my survival class next year. Zeta Squadron, you completed your assignment—narrowly—before the altercation started, so your grades will stand. Congratulations to you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Boon said on behalf of the squadron.

“Have any of you anything to add?” Superintendent Vyrek asked. When the cadets remained silent, she fixed them with her sternest glare and said, “Dismissed.”

They began to file from the office, but Will, last in the line, felt Admiral Paris’s firm grasp on his arm. “Will,” he said. “I’d like a moment.”

“Of course, sir,” Will replied. The others glanced back at him, but kept going out the door. Will couldn’t blame them—he felt the compulsion to flee as well, but knew that he had to see what Paris wanted. When they were gone and Superintendent Vyrek had taken her seat, the admiral fixed Will with a somber gaze.

“I understand that you and your father aren’t close, Will,” he said. “But I’m a little worried about him. He’s been the apparent target of a couple of recent attacks. After the last one, he vanished from our infirmary and hasn’t been seen since. He hasn’t shown up at his office, and whenever we’ve checked his apartment he hasn’t been there either. Have you heard anything from him?”

“No, sir,” Will answered. “Before we left on the project, a couple of security officers came to my room looking for him. I told them the same thing.”

“ Beforeyou left?” Admiral Paris echoed.

“That’s right, sir. Early that morning.”

“Interesting,” the older man said. “And you don’t have any idea where he might have gone?”

“As you said, sir, we don’t talk much.”

“Yes, that’s right. Well, then,” Admiral Paris said, “we’ll keep looking for him. Try not to worry though, Will. He’s a tough one, your dad. He’s survived more than a few close calls in his time, and wherever he is, I’m sure he can take care of himself.”