Guinan shrugged slightly, undisturbed by Jayme’s outburst. “People make mistakes. It could have happened to anyone. It could happen to you.”

“Excuse me, I know he’s a friend of yours, but I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Guinan smiled, glancing up at the gleaming monorail overhead. “You wouldn’t?”

Jayme shifted, trying to ignore the bed of Ibernian tulips that seemed to be mocking her with their vibrant orange mouths. “That’s different. I’m trying to help my roommate. I can’t just turn her into Academy security.”

“Have you tried talking to her?” Guinan asked.

“Of course! I try all the time, but she’s . . . she’s an odd person. Elma grew up on Holt, in the habitat domes.”

Guinan nodded as if she knew Holt well. “You would value your privacy, too, if you lived with that many people under one roof.”

“So you understand my problem!” Jayme exclaimed in relief. “She won’t confide in me, and I’m afraid she’s gotten into something over her head.”

Guinan turned her head slightly, once more considering the homing beacon in her hand. Jayme couldn’t see the map, but she heard the tone that signaled that the beacon was now stationary.

“Listen,” Jayme said urgently, taking a step closer to Guinan. “What is Holt known for? It’s mostly Bajoran resettlement camps, right? Well, why do you think that is?”

“Because Bajorans are the only ones desperate enough to put up with those conditions?” Guinan suggested.

“Well, that’s true,” Jayme conceded. “But it’s also in the perfect strategic position to serve as a resistance base.”

Guinan furrowed her brow. “So what are you saying?” she asked.

“I’m saying that I grew up here in San Francisco, and most of my mother’s family is in Starfleet. My aunt Dani is on a patrol right now near the border of occupied Bajor. I know the Federation can’t risk their peace with the Cardassians by helping the Bajorans get back their homeworld. And I’m afraid Elma is trying to help the Bajoran resistance. She might get something from my aunt’s messages, or . . .” Jayme glanced away, as if suddenly more interested in the lights on the Golden Gate Bridge than the homing beacon in Guinan’s hand. “There’s lots of programs in my tricorder that could be used to . . . well, used to compromise Starfleet systems.”

“I see.” For a moment Jayme thought Guinan really understood, then the bartender added, “If you turn in your roommate, they’ll find out that you’ve juiced up your tricorder.”

“No!” Jayme quickly denied. “I’ve done nothing illegal, just . . . unorthodox. If I thought there was a real danger, I would tell security even if I got into trouble myself. See, I realize we’re in this together. I’d just like to be able to confront her with everything.” She looked longingly at the homing beacon. “But it would help if I knew where she was going. She could be in a bar right now, and I’m making a big deal over nothing.”

Guinan slowly nodded. “You’re very good, Jayme Miranda.”

For some reason, Jayme didn’t think that was intended as a compliment. But when Guinan handed back the homing device, she was too pleased to care.

As she zoomed and focused the map, Jayme absently told Guinan, “You know, Crusher’s lucky to have you for a friend.” Finally the correct section of the city clicked in and the readout showed the location–the radio observatory.

Guinan waited, clearly leaving it up to Jayme whether to tell her.

“She’s at the Deng Observatory.”

“That doesn’t sound too dangerous,” Guinan commented.

“No . . .” But Jayme wasn’t so certain, and while she owed Guinan for not turning her in for that crazy leap onto the monorail, she wasn’t about to tell this stranger everything. “Maybe I should talk to my Quadmates about this.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Guinan kept staring at Jayme until the cadet started to squirm, feeling as if she hadtold Guinan everything. “Maybe you should think about going into a different line of work, Jayme Miranda.”

“Why do you say that?” Jayme asked, startled.

“You aren’t happy.”

“Not happy? But I love Starfleet! I’ve waited all my life to join Starfleet.”

“If you say so,” Guinan demurred with a smile.

Jayme hesitated, but Guinan didn’t seem concerned about pressing her point. Uneasily, she said, “Thanks,” as she left.

At the end of the walk, she glanced back. Guinan was waiting in the soft pool of light around the monorail tower. Her hands were patiently folded together under her tunic, and she was apparently ready to stay as long as it took for Crusher to show up. Jayme knew she was being irritable, but she thought Crusher must not properly appreciate his friend to make her wait like that when she’d come so far.

But Guinan was wrong about one thing–her situation was completely different from Crusher’s. The Nova Squadron had been acting like kids, playing a dangerous game to show off in front of everyone. Just look what it got them. Nick Locarno, the leader of Nova Squadron, expelled from Starfleet, and the others skulking around like pariahs, living, breathing examples for the other cadets of what notto do.

But Jayme didn’t need that lesson. She was doing this to help Elma, not to get glory or praise for her own efforts. No, she understood the Starfleet code, and she would keep on trying to help her roommate, even if Elma didn’t want her help.

“Why couldn’t you build another subverter–or whatever it is you call it!” Bobbie Ray complained for the dozenth time. “Then we could have walked in the front door like normal people.”

Jayme hardly had any breath left, and rather than argue with Bobbie Ray, she concentrated on climbing the endless ladder to the top of the peaks that supported the Deng parabolic dish. She did spare the time to glare at the furry orange humanoid clinging to the exterior maintenance ladder, the last one in line.

Starsa, who was just below Jayme, shot back, “What are you complaining about? You don’t seem to be having a hard time.”

It was true–the large Rex was a natural athlete, specializing in security and hand‑to‑hand combat. But to hear Bobbie Ray talk, he would rather curl up on a couch in the sun and sleep all day.

Bobbie Ray’s roommate, Hammon Titus, gave Jayme an edgy grin. “You could have warned us about this part when we were back in the Quad. Is there any other surprises you have planned for us?”

“I thought I told you,” Jayme muttered, letting Starsa relay what she’d said to the others. Then she had to ignore their indignant denials.

Okay, so she hadn’t told them about this part. But how else did they think they were going to get inside the closed observatory? They knew the dish was anchored in a large natural depression in the mountains, with the receiving station deep underground.

They had a saying in Starfleet–you always remember your first Quad. Jayme just wished her first Quad was worth remembering. All the spark was in her fellow freshmen cadets, and her opinion of them was falling fast under this test. It was only two thousand feet up, for the Horta’s sake.

As for the four older cadets in their Quad, the ones they were supposed to look up to and emulate, that was an even sorrier lot. Not that she expected to have much fun around T’Rees since he was a Vulcan, and she gave Elma allowances for being socially twisted by her upbringing on Holt, but she had expected more from Nev Reoh, a former Bajoran Vedek, and Moll Enor, a newly joined Trill. The exotic possibilities in such roommates were endless, but Moll Enor had hardly spoken four words since the semester had begun, while Nev Reoh readily admitted that he was a failure at everything he had tried. It was practically the first thing he said, and he tended to repeat it periodically. Reoh was different, even among the few Bajoran cadets–he was older than everyone else, and it didn’t help that his prematurely receding hairline added even more years to his appearance. With so many somber people around, Jayme sometimes felt like she was living in a geriatric ward instead of a Quad.