Mosaic (21 page)

thesis. Maybe you should wait until next year." "Maybe you

should wait until you hear what the thesis is about." The

words were out of her mouth before she thought, and she

realized they sounded impudent.

But the admiral seemed amused, and he didn't fight the

grin. "Touche. Tell me, Cadet Janeway, what your thesis

concerns." "Massive compact halo objects."

The smile disappeared from his face, to be replaced by

that first scrutinizing stare. Once again, Kathryn felt

that he was scanning her brain. This time, he didn't seem

to be getting results. "I see.

And just what is it you would propose to offer about halo

objects that provides new insight?" Halo objects, she knew,

were a special interest of

the admiral's; he had spent years trying to formulate a

theory on the origins of these enigmatic and elusive space

phenomena.

Kathryn leaned forward, feeling on surer ground now. "I've

developed a new hypothesis concerning their origins. One

that might revolutionize all the thinking that's gone into

them so far."

"Very ambitious. Just what is this hypothesis?"

"With all due respect, sir-if you want to find out, you'll

have to read my thesis. Which I can't write until I have an

advisor."

He laughed out loud. "I like you, Cadet. Your reputation

precedes you, you know. You're the young woman who reported

finding a chordate in the caves of Mars. Stirred up a whole

hornet's nest of scientific controversy." Kathryn sighed

inwardly. It was true that her claimwhich she had

considered carefully before making, since it would mean an

admission of having gone cave-divinghad startled

Starfleet's scientists. Well-equipped diving parties were

immediately launched, but no fossil other than the one she

had spotted had been found, and there was vast disagreement

in the scientific community as to whether the find was in

fact a chordate. Her admission had earned her a rebuke from

her mother, but so far as she knew, her father was unaware

of the escapade. He was too busy to care. "I think we'll

get along well," Admiral Paris continued. But then he

leaned toward her over his desk and fastened her with those

piercing eyes. "But I warn you-everything you've heard

about me is true.

I don't suffer slackers. You'll work harder for me than

you've ever worked for anyone. You'll learn to live on four

hours of sleep a night. And if you complain or whine or,

God forbid, burst into tears, we're finished as of that

moment. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

He held her gaze, unblinking, for another full minute. She

returned it firmly. Finally he leaned back, picked up one

of the pictures from his desk. "What do you think of my

family?"

"Very handsome, sir."

"Thank you. I'm proud of them. The girls are quite

independent and have informed me in no uncertain terms that

they don't intend to follow the family tradition and enter

Startled. I respect that." There was a pause, then he

continued. "But I'll admit I'm pleased that young Tom seems

to have his heart set on the family career. I wouldn't push

my children, but it would have taken something out of me if

mine were the last generation of Starfleet officers."

"I understand, sir. I think my father feels very much the

same." Mention of her father seemed to sober the admiral.

"I imagine you haven't seen much of your father lately. I

ran into him on Deep Space Four a few weeks ago. He's

working very hard on the Cardassian situation. I'm sorry to

say it's not looking good."

"He doesn't talk about it. But I know he's worried."

Kathryn didn't want to talk about her father; it made her

feel uncomfortably vulnerable.

She moved a bit in her chair, hoping Admiral Paris would

pick up the cue and dismiss her.

But he seemed to want to talk. "Part of the problem is

that we don't know much about the Cardassians.

They've always been somewhat suspect, but of course we

prefer to think they're people of their word. And they

claim not to be interested in expanding their territory.

But there've been some unexplained incidents near their

borders that are a bit disconcerting." "Yes, sir." What he

wasn't saying was what no one wanted to say: the specter of

war hung over the Federation.

It was a word everyone hoped had become obsolete, for

there hadn't been armed conflict in the Federation for

decades.

But in a distant part of space, a new enemy seemed to be

stirring, and Starfleet's upper echelons were scrambling to

try to avoid combat. Diplomatic endeavors were under way.

But at the same time, Kathryn knew that strategic and

tactical discussions were being held as well. She assumed

her father was involved because of starship design, but she

didn't know for certain. That was how far he had shut them

out of his professional life.

Admiral Paris seemed to pick up on her reluctance to

discuss the issue. He stood, offered her his hand, and

dismissed her. "I believe your first step is to hand me a

thesis proposal. I'll expect it on my desk by Monday

morning at zero-eight-hundred. Understood?"

Kathryn felt the blood drain from her face.

Hand in a thesis proposal in four days? Was he crazy? Even

if she worked on nothing else she couldn't finish; and she

had classes to attend and work for those courses and-

"Understood, sir," she said crisply. And she gave him her

most confident look. For suddenly she was on firm ground.

Do the impossible? Meet an outrageous deadline?

Solve an insoluble problem? If anyone could do it, she

could. She'd show him. She wasn't afraid of him, she

wouldn't be bullied by him, and no matter what task he set

for her, she'd do it-better and faster than he'd expected.

Hadn't she been doing that all her life?

When she returned to her dorm room, her roommate, a

beautiful, patrician woman from Boston, Lettie Garrett, had

an uneasy look on her face. Kathryn noticed it immediately,

because Lettie never looked uncomfortable. She seemed to be

one of those people who were born with poise and moved

serenely through life without mishap, taking in stride any

bumps one might suffer along the way. She had long dark

hair pulled off her face in the simplest of hairstyles, and

huge dark eyes ringed with long lashes. Kathryn suspected

she'd dated every available man at the Academy at one time

or another. "Kathryn . .

. what do you have planned this weekend?" "This weekend?

Staying up day and night to get a thesis proposal ready."

"Couldn't you take an hour or two off?"

"Lettie, what's going on?"

"I met someone I think you'd really like."

This was what Kathryn had suspected. Lettie couldn't

understand her ascetic way of life and was forever trying

to arrange dates for her. Kathryn had gone along with this

several times, but nothing had ever seemed to work out; if

a young man followed through and asked her out again, she

began to feel pressed and rushed, and so retreated further

into herself. There had been one young man-she couldn't

even remember his name now-she had thought might be an

interesting friend, but he had never called and after a day

Kathryn had thought better of it and declined to call him.

"Lettie, it's sweet of you, but this isn't the time. I have

to have a proposal on Admiral Paris' desk Monday morning."

Lettie's eyebrows lifted, a sight that gratified Kathryn.

She'd pulled off something astonishing in getting Paris to

work with her, and it was pleasurable to know that Lettie

was impressed. "I understand. But you have to eat. One

hour, Saturday evening. A sandwich and a cup of coffee."

"I can have a sandwich and coffee right here at my desk.

Which is what I'll be doing."

"You'll regret this for the rest of your life.

He's hand-160

Mosaic some, charming, very intelligent-he's exactly the

kind of man you'd be attracted to."

"That's what you said about that last one. The

exobiologist? The one who wanted to practice his homework

on me?"

"But he was handsome and charming and intelligent."

"I have to work. Absolutely, positively, irrevocably,

inextricably have to work."

"I'll check with you around six on Saturday.

Maybe you'll need the break. Maybe it will be the best

thing you could do for yourself, and you'd come back

refreshed and eager to sail in again."

Kathryn sighed. Lettie was as tenacious as a rat terrier.

There was no point in fighting about it now; come Saturday

she'd be deep into her work and would simply refuse to go.

"Okay. Check with me then."

Lettie smiled, pleased. She had a generous heart, Kathryn

knew, and truly wanted to help her friend expand her narrow

horizons. She had no way of knowing that the world inside

Kathryn's head was so rich and complete that she had little

need of any other.

So no one could have been more surprised than Kathryn that

she found herself walking with Lettie to a coffee bistro

near campus on Saturday at eighteen hundred hours.

"Why am I doing this?" she asked Lettie.

"How did I let you talk me into it? I'm not half done with

my proposal; I have no business going anywhere." "You'll

thank me. You'll be down on your knees, bowing to me. This

one is special. his Kathryn sighed. She'd been persuaded

only because she'd run into a wall with her proposal, and

there actually was some validity to the idea of taking an

hour-not one minute more-and getting some fresh air, a

decent cup of Tarkalian coffee, and something in her

stomach. She'd come back to her desk with renewed vigor,

which she certainly needed; she'd had only two hours'

sleep the night before and couldn't look forward to much

more tonight.

They entered the coffee bistro, which was nearly empty.

Kathryn wondered how it stayed in business; almost no one

drank coffee anymore, and while this place served good

food, most of the student crowd preferred the tea bars that

had sprung up on just about every corner. But Kathryn loved

coffee: loved the taste, loved the aroma, loved the mild

"kick" it gave her. She was as disciplined about drinking

coffee, however, as she was in the rest of her life; two

cups a day, a formula she usually stretched to four by

making a half-decaf blend.

Lettie was leading her to a corner table, where two cadets

were sitting, backs to them. "There they are."

"Is that Howie? Your beau?"

"Yes, and his friend. The one you'll thank me for."

They had reached the table and as they did so, both the

young men got to their feet. And Kathryn found herself

looking right at William Riker. She didn't even hear the

introductions Lettie was making. Her mind swirled, trying

to think of some way to get out of this. Say she was sick?

That she'd forgotten she had to make a transmission to her

mother? Nothing that made sense came to her, and she found

herself sitting opposite the handsome young man with the

dark hair and blue eyes. And he was talking to her. "I'm

sorry . . . what did you say?"

"Do you like to be called Kathryn? Or is there a familiar

form you like?" "Kathryn. Just Kathryn."

"I've always thought that was a beautiful name."

William Riker smiled, and if he was handsome before, he

was gorgeous now. Just like Cheb.

Kathryn desperately felt the need to control the

situation. She couldn't sit like this, addled, and let her

feelings become engaged. She'd been caught off guard,

momentarily stunned, and she was perfectly capable of

regaining her equilibrium.

She'd spend the requisite hour with this person and that

would be the end of it.

"How about you? Is it William?"

"I'm usually called Wit."

"Then Wit it is."

"I'm surprised we've never met. We're in the same class;

you'd think we'd have run into each other before this."

That's because I've gone out of my way to avoid you,

thought Kathryn, but she simply smiled and said, "I've been

on a science program. We've probably just been in different

classes."

"I hear you landed the Scorcher for your junior thesis."

"Is that what he's called? I'd never heard that."

"He leaves only scorched earth in his wake.

No prisoners."

"He's demanding, but I thought he was awfully nice. Very

devoted to his family. Are you doing a junior thesis?"

"I'm focusing on exopaleontology. Someday I want my own

ship, and I think a broad educational base with an emphasis

on the evolution of galactic cultures is the best

background I can have."

"Your own ship-as captain?"

."...Right.gg*thorn], Kathryn was impressed. You didn't

often hear people with those lofty goals expressing them so

comfortably.

She had no doubt that Wit Riker would get what he wanted.

"I've never had any interest in command. I'd like to be