by Susan Wright
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 café 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 café. “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.
He rolled over to watch Eto Mahs climb out of the river, shivering. Titus raised his hand to his mouth to yell, “Take your clothes off, you nitwit!” but the inhibitor beeped a warning.
Sheepishly, Titus smacked his forehead. The lab techs must be keeping record of every incident when they tried to speak. That could be the purpose of the course. On every obstacle, underneath the instructions, they were told they could quit the course at any time without consequences by simply saying, “End program.”
Mahs resolutely stepped onto the narrow light beam one more time, his teeth biting his lower lip. Titus shook his head at the poor guy. He probably hadn’t expected an obstacle course on a communications project. Mahs was a third-year Cadet majoring in exobiology, according to the summary at the beginning of the course. His mother was supposedly Japanese and his father was from—what planet was it?—wherever. Titus didn’t recall ever seeing him around the Academy, but Mahs had nodded in greeting as if he recognized Titus. They had never spoken a word to each other.
Eto Mahs wobbled, flailing his arms, his wet hair whipping around. “Yeiiahhh!!” he screamed again as he fell.
Titus r
olled onto his back again, chewing on a piece of grass. What did he care how long it took Mahs to get across? Come Monday, he would be transporting to the Assembly. He could think of worse ways to spend the next two days than relaxing on the hillside enjoying the gentle breeze.
Titus kicked his heels against the stone wall where he sat watching Eto Mahs. Mahs was trying to turn the handle to open the gate obstacle. They could have just as easily jumped over, but the instruction said each of them had to turn a handle to open the gate before they could go through. Titus had turned his handle with one twist of his wrist, while Mahs was practically hanging off his handle. It wouldn’t budge.
Titus twisted up one side of his mouth. Eto Mahs was hardly as tall as his shoulder, and was probably the skinniest guy he’d ever seen. But he couldn’t understand how anyone could be that weak. The latch did have a tricky notch you had to catch, but Titus had immediately felt it when he turned the handle. How could Mahs not figure it out? But then again, it had taken twelve tries before Mahs got across the river that morning.
As it turned out, the guy did have a great sense of direction. A few times he had been right about which way to go—once after Titus had tramped at least a mile in the other direction, with Mahs tugging at his arm the whole way, trying to make him turn back.
Mahs gasped out, collapsing against the wall, hanging onto the handle for support. Slowly, he slid down until he was huddled on the ground, breathing heavily.
Titus wished he could tell the guy how to open it. He got down and made motions for Mahs to push in as he turned the handle, but Mahs wearily nodded that he understood what to do. Titus raised his hands, silently admitting that there was nothing else he could contribute, and he returned to his post on the wall.
Impatiently, he glanced around. Were they going to be forced to camp here tonight? It wasn’t a bad spot, but there was lake on the other side of the gate that he was dying to get to. A swim before rolling out the bedroll would be perfect. Yet he couldn’t cheat and jump the fence. The instructions were very clear that the partners were supposed to remain together.
He stared down at Mahs, wondering if the exobiologist had quit or was getting up the energy for another try. Suddenly Mahs looked up, meeting his eyes, as if he could feel the contempt Titus felt for him.
Startled, Titus looked away. He wondered if Eto Mahs had known all day how pitiful he looked to Titus. He felt kind of bad about it, but also more than a little justified. Why didn’t Mahs just say “End Program” and get them both out of here? Titus would still have time to get to the Antarctic Circle before the party ended, and he’d have another whole day before he had to report to the Assembly.
Mahs was still looking up at him resentfully, and Titus let slip a little of his own resentment at being stuck with such a weakling.
Mahs flinched as if Titus had shouted the word. Without another glance, he got up and grabbed hold of the handle again.
Titus instantly felt bad about the pain in Mahs’ dark eyes. He didn’t want to hurt the guy. But watching him struggle with the handle, panting after only a few moments’ effort, made him want to roll his eyes and shake his head in exasperation. He heroically restrained himself, even managing to feel a little burst of sympathy toward for him. But that evaporated when Mahs cast another resentful look over his shoulder.
Titus sighed. It looked like it would be a long, dry evening ahead.
Titus made camp all by himself, gathering enough grass to pad both of their bedrolls, when Mahs suddenly turned the handle and the gate swung open.
The inhibitor stopped Titus from exclaiming, “Finally!” He grinned, ready for a long, cool swim.
But Mahs was tugging on his arm, pointing back at the gate. There was an instruction sheet posted on this side, but he must have blown right past it, eyes only for the lake.
“Proceed to the peak to make camp,” the instructions said.
Titus turned to look, having memorized the landscape as they slowly traversed the deep valley. They couldn’t mean that peak in the distance, on the other side of the lake. It was so far away that they would never reach it before sunset.
He realized he was shaking his head when Mahs insistently nodded, pointing to the instructions, then to the peak.
Titus stared at Mahs. Why didn’t he just give up?
Mahs narrowed his eyes slightly, jerking his chin at Titus—Why don’t you?
The challenge hung between them only a few seconds, then Titus slowly grinned at Mahs, making it very clear that he would never give up.
* * *
They were trudging up the lower slope of the peak in full darkness when a computer voice announced, “Your time is up. Thank you for participating in Communications Project #104.”
The mountainside glimmered, flattening into an obvious projection before disappearing. The familiar orange-gridded walls rose around them.
Titus lifted up one hand wordlessly as the door slid open and two lab techs with padds entered. The instructions said there was no way to “fail” the course, but it wasn’t his fault they didn’t complete it on time. The inhibitor stifled his initial outburst.
“Cadet Titus,” one tech read off the padd. “Follow me.”
Titus glanced back down the corridor as Mahs was led in the other direction. Maybe it would be better this way. He could explain in private to the lab tech. He didn’t intend to fail this volunteer assignment. That would ruin all of his plans.
But the lab tech didn’t give him a chance to explain. The inhibitor was left intact and he was shown into a cubicle with a bed, wash facilities, and a replicator. He gestured, puzzled, but the lab tech just winked and activated the door. It slid shut between them. There was no panel on his side for him to open it.
Titus was about to override his inhibitor to protest—imprisonment wasn’t what he signed up for! But before he could speak a holo-emitter activated, creating one of the sign posts, incongruously, next to the door, complete with an instruction card.
“Eat and get some sleep,” the instructions said. “You will complete the course tomorrow.”
Titus let out a wordless grunt of exasperation. So this was still part of the project. Well, he could play along with that.
The silence was starting to get to him. It hadn’t been so bad the night before, when he was exhausted from their last sprint to get to the peak. He had barely taken time to eat before falling into bed. When he woke, he cleaned up and ate another huge meal, all the while gingerly testing his inhibitor, looking around the cubicle and wondering when they were going to get him out of here.
The same lab tech came to fetch him. He must have been really beat the night before, because he hadn’t realized how pretty she was, especially that flip of black hair and those freckles across her nose. Or maybe he’d been shut up too long.
He was led back to a small white room, just like the one where he and Eto Mahs had started the obstacle course. This time a different guy entered along with him—Cadet Vestabo. Titus didn’t need to read the instruction post to know Vestabo was a first-year cadet who was considered to be a mathematics whiz. He was also a regular in the Saturday morning lasertag game that Titus had joined in a few times.
As the door to the holodeck opened, Vestabo was nodding a greeting to Titus, pointing to his throat and smiling at the inhibitor. Titus ran his hand through his hair, letting out a long low whistle as the same countryside appeared, with the peak in the distance.
Not again! he wanted to exclaim.
Maybe they were giving him a second chance. Maybe they realized it wasn’t his fault that they hadn’t made it to the peak. But why pair him with another scrawny guy? Vestabo wasn’t nearly as timid and frail as Eto Mahs, he was just a wiry kid, much like Titus himself when he first came to the Academy. But Titus had bulked up by venting much of his frustration the past year working out with counter weights. Gradually, he had put on an impressive amount of muscle. On a good day, he could even beat Bobbie Ray at Parrises Squares.
His dou
bts about Vestabo’s ability were quickly squashed when they reached the light beam crossing the river. Vestabo read the instructions and, without hesitation, jumped up on the beam and ran across. Titus grinned at him, giving him a thumbs-up when he reached the other side. He felt better for the first time since he realized he was going to have to go through the entire course again.
He stepped up on the light beam and immediately knew something was different. It wasn’t solid like before. It wobbled. He frowned as he inched forward, trying to keep his balance. He only got a few feet before he was shifting so wildly that he fell off.
He tried to grab the light beam as he went over, but his hands passed through it as if it was an illusion—which it was.
The stunning cold choked the air from his lungs. He was spitting water and gasping, swimming instinctively against the current. With no time for thought, he was back on the bank shivering, his hands tucked between his legs.
Vestabo’s mouth was a perfect O, shocked that Titus hadn’t made it across. Titus knew the feeling, having stood on that side of the bank himself.
He tried it again, and this time he got nearly to the middle before losing his balance on the trembling light beam. He expected the extreme cold this time, which allowed him to feel what his body had known the first time—there were things in the water!
Hundreds of itching, prickling THINGS.
He was out of the water and shuddering on the bank before he could gasp out loud. His hands convulsed over his body, frantically trying to get rid of the things, but there was nothing there, just a nervous prickling that faded from his nerves.
Vestabo was hunched over, shaking, unable to hide his laughter behind his hands.
That was the last time Vestabo laughed. As Titus tried again and again to get across the flimsy light beam, Vestabo crouched on the other side, chewing the inside of his mouth anxiously. He even stood up to grab Titus’s arm when he finally got close to the other side.
