Titus couldn’t stand it anymore. “Excuse me, sir!”

The other cadets slowly turned, resenting the interruption.

“Yes, Cadet,” Picard acknowledged. “Do you have a question?”

“No, a comment,” Titus said, ignoring the stares. “If I may be so blunt, I think you agree with the Maquis that the colonists shouldn’t be forced to move from their homes.”

Professor Tho was frowning, and whispers rose around him.

“My personal feelings are unimportant,” Picard replied quietly. “I am merely performing my duty.”

“But isn’t it our duty to protest when we feel our orders are wrong?” Titus knew he should just let it drop, but that comment about Harry Kim got under his skin. Kim was one of the last‑year cadets that professors were always holding up as an “example.” Kim was a nice enough guy, but sometimes they piled it on enough to make Titus choke.

“Our elected officials create policy, not Starfleet captains,” Picard gently chided him. “While I may have quite a different opinion as a citizen, it would be arrogant in the extreme to think that I know what is best in such a complicated and far‑reaching subject.”

Titus nodded, at a loss for what to say.

“Cadet,” Picard added, almost with a smile, “you will soon find that the essence of command is not to lead, but to follow orders.”

“Yes, sir,” Titus agreed.

He sat back and folded his arms, wondering why he felt so deflated. Maybe it was that hint of amusement in the captain’s smile that was so humiliating. But he was convinced he was right. Maybe none of the others could see it, but he knew that Picard didn’t agree with this policy. Hell, Titus knew he would fight it if someone told him that his family would have to leave the Antaranan colony.

The guy behind him kicked the seat and hissed, “Nice going!”

Titus clenched his teeth, staring at Picard as he calmly, methodically discussed the volatile political situation and what that meant for the security of the Alpha Quadrant.

Jayme Miranda saw Titus later that day, tilted back in a cafй chair, his head resting against the brick wall. His jacket was slung over the back and his eyes were closed as he soaked up the afternoon sunshine.

“Hey,” she called out, stopping at the low fence around the patio of the outdoor cafй. “I heard about your argument with Captain Picard.”

Sleepily, Titus opened one eye. “You again? Where do you get your information? It wasn’t an argument.”

“Oh? That’s what everyone’s saying.” She grinned. “Were you kidding me when you said you got Federation Assembly duty this summer?”

“Yup.”

Jayme couldn’t help but admire how smooth he was, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, and pulling it off, too, when she knew he was dying to get off‑world. In a burst of sympathetic goodwill, she told him, “You know, you should volunteer for projects or studies or something. It’s sort of an unwritten rule. They like to see that stuff on your record.”

Titus raised his head. “I volunteer. Last month I organized the second‑level Parrises Squares competition.”

“Yeah, and how hard was that?” she shot back. “It’s not just a matter of keeping busy. They like to see you challenge yourself.”

Now she had his attention, but in typical Titus‑fashion, he wouldn’t admit she was right. “What are you doing right now?” he asked. “I’ve got tickets to the Ventaxian chime concert.”

One brow went up. “You’re asking me to the chime concert? Now I know you need to get off‑planet.”

His expression was wounded. “We’ve hung out before.”

“Not listening to Ventaxian chimes. What happened to Qita?”

Titus shrugged and looked away.

“Oh, I see. Sorry, but I can’t help you put another notch on your belt. I’m going to the Maquis debate, so you’ll have to ask someone else.”

“I thought they already did that.”

Jayme nodded. “This is another one. I better hurry, or I’ll be late meeting Moll Enor.”

“Enor?” He rocked slightly in his chair, laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re still infatuated with that Trill!”

Jayme flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You don’t know anything about loyalty, do you?”

As she walked away, he called after her, “I know plenty about loyalty. I also know when to give up.”

“Never say die!” she tossed over her shoulder.

*   *   *

When Titus got back to his Quad, after going to the chime concert alone, he softly whistled the falling tones to himself as he got ready for bed. His roommate was still out. She was probably at the quantum physics lab studying for finals. This year’s Quad project was protectively wrapped and sitting on the table next to the door, unlike last year’s fiasco, when they didn’t do a final test run until the night before the Board review. But that had been Starsa’s fault more than Jayme’s.

Jayme Miranda might have her own personal problems–just look at that infantile crush she carried for Enor, while the Trill obviously barely tolerated her attentions. But with at least half a dozen relatives the grade of commander or higher, Jayme certainly knew Starfleet like it was her own family.

Idly, Titus called up the volunteer lists. He quickly keyed past the psych courses. There was no way he was going to let anyone mess around with his head. One of the endurance courses sounded interesting, but he remembered what Jayme had said about challenging himself.

He volunteered to be considered for a few different projects. By the time he checked the computer before going to sleep, he had received notification that he had been deemed “suitable” for Communications Project #104. If he chose to accept this duty, he would have to report to the lab the weekend after finals.

His finger hovered over the cancel square. There were at least four great parties happening that weekend. One was in a friend’s habitat bubble in the Antarctic Circle. He was hoping to have a little fun before shipping off to the Federation Assembly where he would be at the beck and call of some ancient legislator for two months.

He pressed the key to volunteer. He didn’t care if he missed twelve parties and a trip back in time, he would do anything to get a good field duty assignment.

This volunteer stuff isn’t too bad,Titus thought to himself. He leaned back against the soft turf, his hands behind his head, waiting for his partner to get through the light‑beam obstacle. He had walked across the wide river without a stumble, but Eto Mahs had fallen five times already.

According to the instructions posted at the crossing, if they fell off, they had to go back and do it again. It was your typical obstacle course as far as Titus could tell. The trick was, they weren’t allowed to speak to each other.

Lab technicians had implanted a speech inhibitor in his vocal cords, as well as those of Eto Mahs. Titus was surprised at how many times it had already stopped him from speaking. If he concentrated, he could override the inhibitor, otherwise it kept them from making involuntary statements.

“Yeiiahhh!!”Eto Mahs screamed as he fell, for the sixth time, into the river. He bobbed to the surface, his dark hair dripping with water. “Eeiihh!”

Titus grinned to himself. They might be in a holodeck, but that water was cold. Mahs screamed that way every time he fell off the light beam.

The inhibitor allowed them to make inarticulate noises, and they could signal simple directions with their hands. He wondered what the communications specialists could possibly be getting from this. The whole thing seemed absurd, but then again, he was on a private mission of his own to prove he was worthy of a juicy field assignment. Each to his own, he figured.

Meanwhile, he enjoyed the wooded environment, watching the leaves shift overhead in the wind. His colony world didn’t have trees, only patches of large types of grass, sort of like terrestrial bamboo. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he thought a tree was a miraculous thing. So many odd shapes and designs, each one different yet perfect in itself.