Bobbie Ray hitched one leg over a console, leaning casually back against the monitor. “Most people work when the observatory is open.”

“Yeah,” Titus said, inching closer to her. “What are you doing that you have to sneak in here at night?”

Elma swallowed, unable to let go of the rail.

“You might as well tell us,” Bobbie Ray advised her, examining a long, curved nail before chewing gently on it to smooth out a snag. “Or would you rather tell security?”

“Stop it!” Jayme ordered, shoving Titus out of the way so she could look up at Elma. “We’re not here to make trouble for you. We want to help.”

Before she could coax Elma into revealing the truth, they were rudely interrupted by the arrival of the observatory personnel. Doors banged open on all sides of the computer room, and at least ten technicians and scientists poured into the control room in various states of undress, rushing to the various monitors.

“What happened to the dish?” one of them blurted out, hanging onto the keyboard as he tried to make sense of the data. “There couldn’t have been an earthquake–”

“Who are you?” another one demanded, torn between the distressing numbers on their equipment and the strangers in the control room. Exclamations rang out over lost data and destroyed projects.

Jayme’s quadmates were inadvertently herded closer together by the frantic technicians. Then one older scientist pulled her robe tighter around herself, twisting up the side of her mouth as she realized what they were dealing with.

“Cadets!” she snarled, as if that one word said it all.

The cadets were at attention in a line in front of Superintendent Admiral Brand’s desk. Jayme noted that the room was perfectly proportioned to allow all eight members of a Quad to stand shoulder to shoulder. The fact that this was probably a common occurrence didn’t make her feel any better.

Admiral Brand sat with her back to the windows, where the dawn’s first rays tinted the sky, casting her face into shadow. Only her silver‑white hair caught the light, swept high off her forehead, while her hands were calmly folded on her desk.

“Then I saw the alarm from the subsidiary arrays,” Elma was explaining. “So I knew something was occluding the focus. From the variance of the interference fringes, it had to be a deformation of the main dish. I’d seen something like it before when the plates were being cleaned, so I was afraid the staff was working the night shift. I hid until my Quadmates showed up.”

Brand turned to the three other senior cadets. “Cadet First Class T’Rees, when was the first time you knew something was happening?”

“When I returned to my room and saw that Cadet Starsa Taran’s medical relay was on alert,” T’Rees replied, the epitome of attention. “I signaled the Academy medical unit immediately.”

Jayme couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Of course T’Rees had ratted on them.

Brand noticed and turned her attention to Jayme. “You were fortunate the observatory personnel handed you over to Academy security without pressing charges of trespassing. However, they may still claim compensatory damages for the loss of data and injury to the parabolic dish.”

“That was my fault,” Starsa freely admitted. “I slipped off the walkway and slid down the side. Cadet Jefferson jumped over to save me.” She gave the tall Rex a surprisingly sweet smile.

Bobbie Ray gave her a deadpan look, obviously remembering her indignant wailing.

Admiral Brand wasn’t distracted. “That doesn’t explain why you were attempting to break into the observatory in the first place.”

The other three cadets looked at Jayme, deferring responsibility to her. Jayme haltingly explained the sequence of events, from the first few nights when Elma had taken her tricorder, to her realization that she was going into the Deng Observatory after it was closed. She left out the part about falling off the monorail, figuring it would only confuse things.

Brand turned back to Elma. “Why did you take Cadet Miranda’s tricorder?”

“Because it has a security override I could use to get inside the observatory.” Elma kept her head down, her voice so low it was hard to hear her. “I had to. I couldn’t work during the regular lab hours. All those cadets talking and moving around . . . I can’t concentrate, so I’ve been doing my summaries when everyone’s gone.”

“Oh, we thought you were a Bajoran resistance fighter,” Starsa said artlessly.

“ Whatdid you think?” Admiral Brand asked, her voice strained with incredulity.

“Jayme–I mean,” Starsa quickly corrected herself, “Cadet Miranda said Elma was tapping communiquйs with the telescope and relaying them to the resistance fighters.”

Jayme wanted to kick Starsa, but it was too late. “Uh, you know, because she’s from Holt . . . and I thought, it seemed to make sense at the time, why she was being so secretive . . .”

Elma actually raised her head, blinking rapidly as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All of Jayme’s fantasy scenarios crumpled under Elma’s blank, uncomprehending stare.

T’Rees sniffed in disdain. “You should have informed the senior cadets in your Quad.”

“Well, since you bring it up, I tried!” Jayme shot back. “Remember when I came into your room last week? But you wouldn’t even listen when I told you it was about Elma. You said she had seniority since she was a last‑year cadet, and that I had to work my problems out with her!”

“That’s enough,” Brand ordered. The cadets immediately stiffened, facing the window again. “I believe this incident reflects a failure of your entire Quad. You are responsible for each other, and I hope that before the end of the year you will have learned that.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “A formal reprimand will be placed in each of your academic records, and you are all hereby placed on probation for sixty days.”

Jayme flushed at the sentence. Her family was going to have a fit when they heard she was already in serious trouble after barely arriving at the Academy.

But the worst was yet to come as Brand walked around her desk to stand directly in front of Jayme. “Cadet Miranda, I expected more from you. Henceforth, you will refrain from letting your . . . fancies interfere with your duty to Starfleet. If you do detect a spy in our midst, we would all be better served if you alert your commanding officer.”

“Yes, sir!” Jayme agreed. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,” Elma suddenly agreed. The cadet broke ranks, stepping forward. “Superintendent Brand, I would like to resign my commission to the Academy.”

“No!” Jayme blurted out.

Brand waved a hand at Jayme, silencing her. “What is your reason?”

“I’m not suited to Starfleet. I can’t stand being around people who don’t act right–” Elma stopped herself. “I mean, act like we do on Holt. I belong there, and I’ve been delaying the inevitable by sneaking around, trying to avoid everyone.”

Brand considered her for a moment, then her expression softened as she gently clasped Elma’s shoulder. “I’ve been impressed with your persistence, and I had hoped you would become accustomed to the different culture.”

Elma stiffly shook her head, unable to speak.

Brand nodded. “Very well, remain here, cadet. The rest of you are dismissed. You will be notified if the Deng Observatory pursues compensation.”

The others practically ran out of the superintendent’s office, but Jayme dragged her feet. She would have protested again, but Brand silently shook her head and motioned to the door. Jayme’s last look at Elma caught the older cadet staring down at her fingers, twisting them together painfully, unable to return Brand’s reassuring smile.

All day Jayme kept thinking about the way Elma always twined her fingers together, pulling and bending them as if to distract herself from some outer torment. Why hadn’t she been able to see what was happening?