“Yes, sir,” Will said.

“That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

The door had barely closed behind Will when he heard Admiral Paris burst into gales of laughter. It sounded as if the superintendent, notwithstanding her reticent nature, was joining in. “Fish, Owen!” he heard the Vulcan say through the door. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? Fish!”

Chapter 13

As they walked away from the superintendent’s office, out of the climate-controlled air and into the always-brisk San Francisco twilight, Boon grumbled and Estresor Fil expressed no emotion whatsoever and Dennis Haynes smiled, as if he’d expected the punishment to be far worse. Will, though ... Felicia tried to put a word to the look on his face, before he’d been stopped at the door by Admiral Paris. He had looked bereft, as if a bomb had snatched away his family and friends in a single instant. She had never seen him so grim. Generally speaking, she liked his face—liked it a lot, in fact. He had sparkling, intelligent blue eyes, and a mouth that was serious but could turn funny, even goofy, in a flash, perfect cheekbones, and the cleft in his chin exuded masculinity, to her.

But in the superintendent’s office, his lips had been pressed together in a tight, bloodless line, his eyes stared straight ahead blindly, and he seemed to have lost all color. She was nearly overwhelmed by a desire to mother him, to minister to his needs and assure him that everything would be all right if only he would let her take care of him. Not that he was the dependent type—that’s what made her want to do it, to play against what she knew was an independent, even solitary nature.

“We got off easy,” Dennis said, his voice low as if in awe of what had occurred. “They could have expelled us.”

“For getting in a fight?” Boon countered, disbelief giving his tone a harsh edge. “They’d have to expel half the student body, every year. Part of what they’re teaching us to do is fight.”

“When it’s the right thing to do, Boon,” Felicia said, feeling herself drawn into the argument in spite of herself. “As a last resort, and not just for fun.”

Boon laughed. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” she said. “Next time, spare me the pleasure.”

She turned back toward the office, hoping to see Will, maybe accompany him someplace away from the others where they could talk, even make some plans for the summer now that they’d be on the same planet. But she didn’t see him behind them. Felicia stopped walking, turned in a slow circle, and finally spotted him, heading away from their dorm and away from the group, over one of the low Japanese garden-style bridges.

“I think he wants to be alone,” Estresor Fil noted. “It’s not an uncommon response. I think I have a Flintstonesepisode that might be instructive.” She had stopped too, Felicia realized, and was looking at her with those big emerald eyes. Her blank face reminded Felicia of a puppy’s, to which people always seemed to impart whatever feelings they wanted to see there. She wondered suddenly if Estresor Fil had a crush on her. Why else would she have let the other guys go on without her?

Because she wants to make sure you’re okay, stupid,she answered herself. It has nothing to do with a crush. Not every person’s interest in every other person is romantic.

That, she realized, glancing at Will’s distant, retreating form, was a lesson she had learned many times over.

No Saturn.Will could scarcely believe the dumb luck. He’d already been tagged as a research assistant on a scientific project taking place there, and had been looking forward to it for months, and now, with the flinging of a few fish—flinging in which he hadn’t even taken part—it was gone, vapor through his fingers.

He figured the rest of his squadron had already gone home by the time he was released from Superintendent Vyrek’s office, but he wasn’t ready to face people he knew yet. Instead, he wandered alone across the Academy campus in the dying light. Boothby, the groundskeeper, looked at him with sad eyes and slowly shook his head, wispy white hair fluttering with the motion. So word is already out,Will thought. That didn’t take long, did it?Helping himself to a seat on one of the benches stationed at intervals along the paths, he watched the whirl of Academy life pass him by for a while. A cluster of cadets joked and laughed, Geordi La Forge—with his distinctive VISOR, everybody knew who Geordi was—at their center. Will knew that it was ridiculous to think he’d never be that happy again, but at this precise moment he had a hard time imagining any other fate.

He was still sitting on the bench, stewing in his own juices, as his father would have put it back in the days when they’d spoken to one another, when a first-year cadet named Arnis, a Trill female, sat down next to him. Though Arnis and Will had been friendly, they had not been especially close until both were picked for the Saturn team this coming summer. After that they’d spent a lot of time together, planning for the summer, studying the research project and the living conditions they’d face, and making guesses about their futures. She was an attractive young woman who kept her dark hair trimmed close, displaying the distinctive Trill spotting along her temples, cheeks and neck in all its glory. As she sat, she frowned at Will. “I’m so sorry, Will.”

“So you’ve already heard, too? Is there anyone on this campus who doesn’tknow yet?”

“It’s pretty much all anyone’s talking about,” Arnis told him. “You guys—you and Omega Squadron—are just about famous.”

“Infamous, maybe,” Will countered.

“Either way, it seems like everyone knows your names. You’ll be signing autographs before long.”

“So all you have to do to make yourself well-known is to be escorted back to campus in the custody of Starfleet Security,” Will said bitterly. “After having caused property damage and wasted enough seafood to feed a large family for a month.”

“Maybe it’s not something to message home about,” Arnis said. “Although, in your case, I guess you don’t do a whole lot of messaging home to begin with. But, you know, maybe it’s better to be known than not known. In time, people might forget whythey know your name, but they won’t forget your name. It could be a good thing, in the long run.”

Will shrugged. “Going to Saturn would have been a good thing in the short run,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll learn what my replacement posting will be, but I doubt it’ll be nearly as interesting as that would have been.”

“Oh, I’m sure Saturn will be boring as anything,” Arnis said. Then, with a laugh, she admitted, “Okay, it won’t be. But I’ll pretend it is, for your sake.”

He tried to smile but had a feeling it wasn’t coming off quite right. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s just—you know, sometimes it doesn’t feel like anything ever works out for me here on Earth. I don’t think I was meant to be here. My destiny is out there somewhere, among the stars. Down here I’m just too landlocked.”

“Will, that’s not true,” Arnis said sorrowfully. “You’ve had a rough time, I guess. But you’ve also got an exemplary record here at the Academy. The way you whipped that Tholian ship in the battle sim? That may go down in Academy history just as much as your little fish fray does. Okay, you got a black spot today, but overall it’s still a record to be proud of. When you graduate, you’ll be assigned to a starship right away, with your record, and then you’re on your way.”

Will knew, intellectually, that Arnis was right. But he couldn’t shake the cloud of pessimism that hung over him with the near-arrest, the loss of his summer plans, and now the mystery of whatever had become of his father. It wouldn’t be the first time the old man had walked away from responsibility, but Kyle Riker took his job, if nothing else, seriously, so it was odd that they hadn’t heard from him. “Thanks, Arnis,” he said without notable enthusiasm. “You’ll keep me posted, right? Let me know what Saturn’s like?”