“Welcome back, Cadet Harris.”  The transporter officer accepted her PADD, glancing at the transfer orders, “The Commodore wanted to see you upon your arrival.  You remember the way?”

Natalie’s smile was thin, and she accepted the PADD’s return with a nod, “Been there a few times my freshman year, Lieutenant.  Thank you.”  She skittered off, taking slow breaths to calm her nerves.  The cadet uniform was a mild irritation, but she would adapt as she had before.  This time, she was going to last.  She would graduate and get back to the stars.  The conversation with her mother last month had been hard and fraught with memories of her childhood and her brother.  They’d both cried.  Rachel Harris had given her blessing in the end and asked for regular calls home.

She stopped at the administrative assistant’s desk, and he gestured to the chairs, “Commodore Bale will be within you shortly.”

Harris leaned back, closing her eyes.  Ison had been her exit interview when she’d decided to leave at the end of her freshman year.  He was firm but fair.  She remembered what he had told her, and it had sat in the back of her mind since.  She admired the 70-year-old Commodore for many reasons.  That he had chosen the Academy at Mellstoxx III as his corner of space to remain was one of them.

“He will see you now, Cadet Harris.”

Commodore Ison Bale stood at his window, looking out.  He was rarely in his office and had made a note of a cadet’s return to ensure he was here to receive her.  She entered and walked to stand at attention in front of his desk, “Cadet Natalie Harris reporting as ordered, Commodore Bale.”

He turned, taking her in.  She was young, and her eyes betrayed her nerves.  There was a tumultuous air about her that was hard to ignore.  Ison had read her file and connection to the former Captain Harris and her mother’s company.  He gestured to the chair and sat down on his own.  “Cadet Natalie Harris.  Your application for readmission was accepted pending this interview.”  He looked up at her, her reaction placid.  “You’ve asked to be placed in the engineering specialty.  Your grades from your freshman year meet the marks.” He tapped at the PADD, “You’ve collected quite the list of letters of recommendation.”

She fought the urge to fiddle with her hands, “I worked at Harris Transport in a few positions…I didn’t ask for those letters, sir.  I was worried they would create a perception.”

Bale eyed her, “And yet…you included them.”

Natalie chewed on her bottom lip.  He was right.  She had.  “I…to be honest, sir…I promised each of them that I would include them in my application. They…really cared for me and wanted me to succeed in my reapplication.  It’s hard for me to lie, sir…I’m too damn honest for my own good.”  She covered her mouth as the last part of the sentence flew out of her mouth unbidden.  She apologized through her fingers, “I’m rwelly sworry, sir.”

The Academy Commodore chuckled lightly, “Honesty and truth are admirable qualities in a cadet, Ms. Harrris.  The journey through your time here is not one to take alone. Family and friends from home will be a part of your team that pushes you to succeed here.”  He tapped his PADD again, “I have the reports from Starfleet Counseling and a local counselor in Montana.  What can we do to support you?”

Natalie blinked.  Twice.  She had wondered if it would come up in the interview.  He hadn’t mentioned her brother by name or position.  Was this his gentle way of asking without directly asking?  She replied, “I was going to set up an appointment with the Academy Counseling departm…”

He ran his hands over his console, and it beeped in the affirmative, “I’ve put a referral in for you, Cadet.  They’ll reach out to you tomorrow morning.”  He shifted in his chair, the commodore’s eyes resting on her, “I’ve been there, Cadet.  You’re not alone in that either.”  He pointed to the various paintings in his office, “Each of those ships represents lives saved…and lives lost.”  

She gave up trying to avoid playing with her hands and fiddled with them while she tried to find the words to speak.  She couldn’t.  Harris frowned and searched within.  She found a question among her words, “How did you get through them, sir?”

Bale looked at the ships that adorned the walls in his office.  He answered, “Time, Cadet Harris.  Time and together with others.”  He gestured at his desk, “You don’t get to a place like this without it.”  He tapped the PADD one more time, “Your reapplication is accepted.  Classes start tomorrow at 7 am.  The schedule will be sent to you tonight.”

She stood, “Thank you, Commodore Bale.”

He gave her a nod, “And Cadet?  Let’s keep these meetings in my office to a minimum this year?”

Her eyes went wide, and he chuckled.  She meekly responded with a  “Yes, sir” as he dismissed her.

Her walk from his office to her dormitory was a flurry of sound and images.  She fought her breath as she stepped through the doors.  Three years lay ahead of her.

She couldn’t wait to get started.

“What are the key components of a warp nacelle?”  Natalie Harris sat at a study table in the library attached to the Montgomery Scott dormitory.  Four PADDS lay across the surface while she took notes on a fifth, muttering through the various questions she needed to answer for the project she’d been assigned in her Warp Systems Engineering class.  She’d made it through her first day of classes.  There had been plenty of familiar faces to smile at and a few stares to ignore.  Her chrono clicked over to 2100.  She’d found an isolated corner to study and refresh her mind on engineering.

Harris had ignored the messages her old friends from last year had sent her as word of her return spread through her class.  She initially thought about reuniting with them and spending the evening with them.  Yet, something had crept out from the back of her mind, giving her pause.  She had made friends back at Harris Transport.  She’d struck up a kinship with Elizabeth McKee and found a friend in Jordan Reid.  Between the two, she felt like she had found people who cared for her in a way she hadn’t felt recently.

She hadn’t heard from her friends here since she’d left.  Not a message or even a call.  She hadn’t thought much about it until she lay in her shared bedroom last night.  There had been smiles and bright eyes this morning from people she knew last year.  Where had those things been in the time she’d been away?  Was she meant to reconnect with her fellow cadets?  Or did she need to go it alone and rely on those who had shown their care, concern, and compassion?

“Cadet Harris.”  She startled at the voice and snapped her head up to find the face of a fellow cadet standing across the table from her.  She glanced at his rank.  He was a sophomore, just like her.

“Can I help you?”  Natalie glared at him, annoyed at the interruption.

“I’m…uh…Cadet Philip Goldsmith.  I’m in your class.”  His eyes were wide, and his body language told her he was not enjoying talking to her.

She eased up a little, “I figured as much,” she nodded at his rank on his uniform.  “You want to sit down?”  She gestured to the chair he had a death grip on.  It took him a moment, but he nervously took the seat.  She returned to her studying and note-taking, “What can I do for you, Cadet Goldsmith?”

Philip swallowed and wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks.  He rocked back and forth in the chair for a moment before he noticed she’d stopped reading her books and was now staring at him.  “I…uh…The Commodore suggested I seek you out.  I’m a transfer from Starfleet Academy back on Earth.”

Her stare softened, and she sat back in her chair, “So you’re alone.”

Goldsmith shrugged softly, “My parents wanted me to join The Fourth Fleet. My first year at The Academy on Earth wasn’t…great.  They said it was the best place for a lost kid like me.”  His face reddened at his transparent confession, “It sounds pretty depressing when I say it out loud.”

Harris asked, “What do you mean, a lost kid like you?”  He wasn’t terrible to look at, but she also had a feeling where the answer was going.

“I’m a quiet one, Cadet Harris.  I’m on the science track with a focus on Stellar Cartography.”  His eyes stared at the table, but he smiled as he spoke, “I love maps…I love the details, the variables, the reporting, the scanning, the examining. There’s just something amazing about mapping the Undiscovered Country…it might sound weird, but it feels like my brain is on fire while I’m working on it.”  His soft shrug returned, “I don’t fit in with the science grouping with our class – they’re mostly Vulcanology,  Meteorology, and Geology.”

Natalie eyed him for a moment.  She wondered how devious Commodore Bale had been in sending Philip her way.  Or had it been an observation on his part that she would need a new friend to journey through the next three years of the academy?  She wasn’t sure of the answer, but she trusted the man.  “Well, I’m working on my engineering project.  I’m sure you got assigned your project.”  He sheepishly pulled out his PADD and showed her the rubric.  She glanced through it, “OK, I think we can help each other.  There’s plenty of overlap there.  You’ll need some PADDs from the shelf to start digging into the research.”

Philip stared at her, open-mouthed how quickly she had accepted him.  It usually took others considerably more time to find a connection with him.  “Why…are you helping me?  Aside from Bale telling me to find you.  You could ignore it.”

Harris chuckled, “If I was insane, sure.”  She looked him square in the eye, “We’ve both got three years ahead of us, Cadet Rosencrantz.  We might as well try to find a way to get through it together…there’s no way we make it on our own.”

He mused, “I don’t know whether to be insulted or complimented….and call me Phil.”

She returned the mused look, “You choose how you feel about my words, Phil.  And call me Nat.”  She pointed at the PADD checkout, “Enough of whatever that was.  Let’s get working.”

The celebration of Frontier Day was happening across the universe.  The Academy at Mellstoxx III was no exception.  Classes had been canceled for the day, and preparations had been underway long before Natalie Harris had considered returning.  She’d met up with Phil for breakfast, and they’d talked about their favorite ships and captains to fill out the morning.  Harris kept the Enterprise-A close to her heart since childhood, and Goldsmith had an unusual love for the Enterprise-C.

“The Ambassador Class?  She’s like…a mash of the worst parts of the B and the D.” Natalie was sitting in the auditorium next to him as they watched the various events for Frontier Day playing across the screen.  The Enterprise-F was slated to leave Spacedock, and Admiral Shelby would make remarks about the evolutions and improvements that had been made in fleet action.

Phil frowned, “She was a classic…gone too soon.  Who knows what great things Captain Garrett would have done if she’d been around longer?”  He’d done his freshman essay project on her life story and the incidents and accidents that had led to her death and the destruction of her command.  He’d been disturbed when her statue had been attacked and destroyed recently.

She reasoned, “We can agree that the B was an excellent adaptation of the Excelsior skeleton?”

Goldsmith agreed, “She was big and bulky – that profile lets people know Starfleet was around, and you don’t mess with the big ones.”  He watched the screen, “What do you think of Admiral Shelby’s new…program?”

Harris had read the available details on the program.  She’d originally thought it was a brilliant idea to network all the ships together and enable the formation of a fleet against an enemy.  As time passed, she’d started to question it.  Starfleet had brought a similar proposal to Harris Transport, and her mother had firmly refused any networking of their ships and stations.  She’d wearily smiled when Natalie asked her and answered, “The advances they’re talking about could be turned back against us…I’m sure their security programs and networks would protect them…but we don’t have that infrastructure…and I don’t want that for us.  We built our business on the freedom of travel and trust in our captains and crews.  I’m not going to let that change.”

Phil gave her a nudge, “You gonna answer the question?”

Natalie sat back in the chair, “I studied Admiral Shelby’s record.  She was one of the sharpest minds in Starfleet.  Her record with the Borg was unquestioned.  You couldn’t find someone more motivated to stop the Borg than her.”  She glanced around.  They were sitting in the seats up against the wall, far from anyone else.

He gave her a look, “You said ‘was,’ Natalie.”

Harris sighed, “It just…I’m an engineer.  I grew up with a brother who was old school.  My family’s business is still as old school as possible – it’s an intentional move.  The whole thing feels very…Borg-like, you know?  How does someone go from being the biggest fighter against the Borg to someone who gets our ships to act like them?”  She threw up her hands, “And yea, I know.  I’m young, reckless, and thinking I know everything or better than an Admiral who’s built her experience in the field against the enemy.  I know.  It…just…something feels off, you know?”

“As a science cadet, I can see you reasoning.”  She turned to him and raised her eyebrows as he finished, “But I think you’re thinking like a Starfleet Officer enough.  Like you said, you’ve been working on that ranch for a long time.”  He shrugged and turned his attention back to the screen as the Enterprise-F soared out of spacedock.

It was chaos at first.  Shouts and screams of terror at the sight of what happened.  Admiral Picard and the USS Titan broke into the communication to warn of a horrifying development.  Then Admiral Shelby was shot twice on her bridge as the communication channel with Earth cut.  Status updates scrolled across the screen as the Borg hijacked the Fleet Formation.  Then the unsettling reveal of who had been assimilated began to become apparent.  The cadets freaked, panicking that they were about to turn into their worst nightmare.  Senior cadets did their best to bring calm, but it took the senior staff across all dorms and auditoriums to break the fever of fear that had threatened to sweep the Academy into a fiery death spiral.

The waiting was the second hardest thing.  Nobody turned.  Nobody assimilated.  Nobody changed.    The reports from Earth were still coming in, and the senior staff had gone into meetings to see what help they could offer to the fleet back at home.  Soon, their eyes turned to the screens to watch the events unfold.  The destruction of the USS Excelsior despite their best efforts to break free.  The Titan’s desperate attempts to disrupt the attack.  The impressive defense that Earth’s Starbase was putting up to keep Humanity’s home from a fate worse than death.  They stared, watching as the balance of freedom in the universe rested on one Starbase and whoever else might have a chance at avoiding the power of the Borg’s connection to Fleet Formation and the young officers of Starfleet.

Phil stared at the screen, his mouth still slightly open in shock.  He had been at Starfleet Academy his freshman year.  He had worked side by side with cadets that were likely attacking and killing the people around them at this moment. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt like throwing up as the reality of what was happening back home began to take hold.  He said as much, “I feel sick.”

Harris gripped the arms of the chair tightly.  The Borg had long been a nightmare in her stable of night terrors over the years. What was happening on those ships was something she couldn’t imagine – fellow officers rising to eliminate you from existence.  Fourth Fleet had faced the Dominion just last month and won.  Why couldn’t they have kept the win before something else spattered blood across their hard-earned trophy?  Natalie felt her stomach ache in solidarity with her new friend, “I’m there with you, Phil.”  She winced and worked on containing her breathing, “I don’t know if I have the words.  I’d rather run out of here and hide in my room, to be honest.”

Goldsmith looked up and around.  There hadn’t been a specific order to stay in the commons after the failure to assimilate had become a reality. He stood and motioned her along.

“What if this really is the end?”  Phil was sipping at a soda Natalie had handed him from her fridge.  He sat on the ground against the wall in the common room.  They were the only two there.  They hadn’t spoken on the way back to her quarters and had passed few cadets but many security officers making rounds.

Harris was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, “If it’s the end, I’m going to be pissed.”  She sighed, “I’ve got a lotta life to live yet.”  She felt a twinge in her stomach as she verbalized her fears for the first time.  “That sounded terrible to say out loud.”

Speaking from his position on the floor, he grumbled, “It’s like facing a no-win scenario…we can’t do anything about what’s going to happen to us.”  Phil mused, “I mean…we could run to the far ends of the galaxy…but the Borg always find you.”

Natalie shuffled over to the edge of her bed and looked down at him, “My brother always talked about hope.  That hope is the only way we can do the hard things…and survive the tough times.”  She muttered, “But he’s dead…and we’re probably going to be too.”  She remained on the edge of her bed, sadness filling her face.

Goldsmith shifted his eyes to her, “It got him a long way…I read his file when I heard about his death.  They talked about him as the warp core of hope.  That’s a lot of hope, Nat.”

Her memories of Ambrose had her far away from this moment, but she nodded.  They remained in silent repose for ten minutes before she asked him, “Would it be weird if I asked you to come up here with me?”

Phil frowned, “Uh….”

A scowl was her answer, “Not for that, idiot…just for someone to hold me?  And to hold someone?”  She hadn’t felt this need in a while, and it was tugging hard at her heart, almost to the point of aching.  “If the universe is going to end…I want to spend it in someone’s arms…as corny as that sounds.”

He nodded dumbly and shook himself loose as he stood, and she rolled over in the bed.  He carefully lay down next to her and awkwardly put his arm around her head.  She rolled her eyes but scooted over against him until she was cradled in his arms, her head on his chest and his head resting on top of her soft hair.  Their breathing slowed until she felt their bodies warming each other, her once panicked heart rate returning to a stable resting rate.  “This is nice,” she said softly.

He gently tightened his embrace, “It is nice.”

Natalie had wandered through a fog of fear, disbelief, and, eventually, relief. April 12th had been a celebration that took place across the known universe on Federation planets and postings.  2401 had brought the terror of the Borg back and nearly grabbed the entirety of the human race off the board. Near being the keyword.  With the help of a rebuilt Enterprise D and the rebellious crew of the Titan, the day had been saved, and the bodies of the young returned to their owners.  That had been three days ago.

The death toll, the injured reports, and the various twists and turns of the plans that involved Changelings and Borg were still unraveling.  Doctor Beverly Crusher’s sterling mind had been assigned to remove the Borg influence, and already transporter modifications were being tested and sent out to the fleet, planets, stations, and beyond.  Natalie had woken up this morning, dragged herself through the sonic shower, and snagged a cup of coffee on her way out of her quarters.  She had resolved to push through the fog today and find something…anything to do.  The jangled panic that had run through the Academy since the hell-storm had broken loose on the 12th was less jangled and more worn and sore.  She’d fallen in with Cadet Goldsmith as they walked to breakfast.  Silent was their meal, and the others in the room didn’t choose to speak either.  The first bright spots of a solution were starting to spread in the darkness that hung above them.

Natalie stared at the flakes of oatmeal in her bowl.  The last flits of pancake hung on her fork.  Thirty minutes had passed since they’d sat down with their trays.  She let out a small sigh, “How you doing Phil?”

The heads of the other cadets snapped at the sudden sound, but Goldsmith was unnerved, “Been weird not talking.”  He lifted his eyes from the remnants of his cinnamon roll, “Thanks for asking.  I…I’m…it’s hard getting over just how close we came to destruction.”  He sipped his apple juice, “I grew up on the stories of my people’s near genocide.  I’ve watched the movies…I’ve read the books…stood in the holodeck programs…but there’s something about the moment where you’re staring down the metaphorical phaser set to kill…and someone will pull that trigger no matter how much you try to stop it.” He pulled a napkin from the center of the table, “It was over four hundred and fifty years ago.  We never stopped sharing the stories of our people and their memories.  My mother has the original books in environmental storage…the stories of my ancestors.”  He paused, “The ones who lived on…and those that were taken from us.” Natalie had studied her history in high school.  She knew the story.  She wasn’t sure what to say at the moment.  She put her hands across the table, palms up.  Phil’s eyes drifted to them, and he put his hands in hers.  They held each other’s hands.  After a few minutes, Goldsmith withdrew his hands to his lap, “Thank you, Nat.”

The gathered cadets had followed their lead, and the low thrum of conversation had started as a flutter until the volume felt like it had been before Frontier Day.  Pockets of hesitant laughter were heard, and the question was on everyone’s lips – what do we do now?  Natalie observed it all and wasn’t sure of the answer.  She looked at her new friend and wondered aloud the question.  He considered it for a moment and counted his answer on his hands.  He ignored Natalie’s stare and took his time before answering, “Sixteen generations have come since those days.  The ones who survived…they kept the memories of our family.  They made a vow…’never again’.  So much war had come since then…so much suffering…it seems the way of the universe.”

Harris wondered if he wasn’t wrong.  She reflected, “I read a poem in high school…by a guy named Alfred, Lord Tennyson.” She grimaced, “It’s a long poem…but the part that always stuck with me was a part about not to reason why.”

Goldsmith chuckled dryly and recited the lines she was referring to from the poem, ‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’

“Was there a man dismayed? Not though the soldier knew  Someone had blundered.  Theirs not to make reply,  Theirs not to reason why,  Theirs but to do and die.  Into the valley of Death  Rode the six hundred.

He shrugged, “I studied way too much literature in high school.”

They fell back into silence as Harris tapped at her PADD.  She smiled thoughtfully as she reread the entire poem and came to the end, musing on the final stanza.  She read from the device,

”When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made!  All the world wondered. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade,  Noble six hundred! 

Phil sat forward, “We say when someone dies…’May their memory be a blessing’.  Maybe that’s part of the answer to where we go from here.”  He looked around, “Maybe we organize a memorial service.  Ask cadets if they’d like to submit a name to remember.  We have a tradition…sitting Shiva.”  He tapped at her PADD and turned it around for her to read about it.  “Maybe do something similar here.  Help everyone find their way through this.”

Harris nodded along as he explained, “Let’s put it together.  Nobody should go through this alone.”

Professor Alexandra “The Hammer” Pantuso stood at the front of the class as the bell signaled the start of class.  “We continue with our study of The Borg.  We’ve completed the historical analysis of encounters, and we appreciated Cadet Long, James, and Stawt’s presentation on the many missed opportunities the Federation had to address this enemy.  Today, we begin our examination of the various types of Borg drones, ships, and leaders.”  She tapped at the control unit in her hands, “We’ll begin with the most recognizable of the ships – the Borg Cube.”

Havara’s presentation kept the fifty cadets in Federation Starfleet History 002 focused and paying close attention, taking notes as she discussed her personal experiences with the Borg.  At 71, she had experienced much of the modern and recent history they now studied.  Natalie Harris observed her discussion about the various weaknesses discovered over time in each encounter.  Pantuso observed, “Much of it was stumbling in the dark, no pun intended.  The Enterprise, among others, was the first to return the intelligence needed to understand the enemy we were facing.  It was a terrifying time, and I do not wish to live it again.  We’ve learned the hard way recently never to underestimate them or any of our enemies.” She paused to reflect on the still-fresh events of Frontier Day, and the fallout continued to fall fresh from the metaphorical shared sky above them.  “There is the feeling that with the events of Frontier Day, the threat from the Borg has been eliminated.”

The cadets remained silent, but plenty of glances were shared at her words.  Pantuso had come to Starfleet Academy restless from her retirement in 2400 and was known for her outspoken nature.  Her reputation hadn’t taken long to spread, and cadets knew that when her eyebrows were raised, you had better retreat. She looked across the room, “The universe is full of possibilities.  The dead have come back to life, the unexplained remains unknown, and The Borg has proven time and time again that they’re not finished.  We learned the price for ignorance on Frontier Day.”  She clicked the image away, and she moved to the hierarchy of the Borg.

“Your papers on the Future of the Federation are due Monday when you walk in the doors.  I expect to see your personal and thoughtful perspective together with an understanding of where we’ve come from and where we are at today.”  She waited a few seconds, and the bell rang, “You are dismissed.”  The students jumped up and shifted out the two main doors of the lecture hall while Pantuso collected her materials.  She snapped her bag closed and glanced up as the feeling of being watched nudged her, “Cadet Natalie Harris.  What can I do for you?”

Natalie felt her irrepressible smile fly across her lips, “Captain Pantuso…”

The professor put up her hand, “Here on Mellstoxx III, it’s Professor Pantuso, or Dr. Pantuso if you like to be official.”

Harris corrected, “Professor Pantuso, I wanted to ask you about the USS Mackenzie.”

Alexandra stopped and considered the cadet, “Most cadets want to hear about my Wolf 359 experiences or my days in the Dominion War.  Some ask about my work at the Starship Museum…but you’re among the few who’ve asked about my last command.  Why?”

“My brother took command after you, Professor…and Captain Walton is her current CO – I did some work with her recently before returning to the academy.  I wanted to know what you thought of her…the Mack, I mean.”

Pantuso chuckled, “This is a conversation for my office.  Carry that, will you?  Follow me.”

“The Mackenzie was a project.”  The professor sat back in her comfortable office chair, sipping at her hot tea, while Harris sat in the chair across from her.  “We took the old bones from the Excelsior class and brought her into the future.  I’ll tell you, those old bones weren’t easy to reshape.”

Natalie asked, “You commanded her for five years…do you miss it?”

A long sigh before she answered, “I miss the adventure.  The moments where you were working on a high-wire act in front of everyone…I miss the adrenaline.”

“You’re an adrenaline junky!”  Natalie said it with surprise.  She’d studied the record of Pantuso – her nickname was ‘The Hammer.’ It had been earned for her intensity and driven nature.  “Why’d you retire?”

The professor shrugged, “It was time, Cadet.  You can either choose to exit with grace and find something off-stage to do, or you can be dragged from the chair, kicking and screaming.”  She chuckled, “You remember the story of…,”

Harris interjected, “Captain Horatio Stone.  He was dragged from the chair, kicking and screaming.  I remember we watched the video. You said to choose your moments and know when the clock runs out…you need to run with it.”

“I meant it.  I want each of you to know that it may not be when you’re a captain.  It might be six months into your first assignment…and you suddenly realize this isn’t your place.  That you made choices not for yourself, but for others.”  Another shrug from the professor, “Starfleet is a choice.  I maintain it’s a sacred and holy choice, but that’s old world thinking.”  She finished her tea, “That answer your question?”

Natalie stood, “It does, Professor Pantuso.  Thank you for the time.”  She stood at attention and departed as she was dismissed.  

Alexandra tapped another hot tea into existence.  One of these days, she’d like to get back to the Mackenzie, if only to walk her corridors one last time.  Her attention turned to her growing pile of grading.  The future officers of the Federation needed training first.

“You put in the work this summer, Cadet Harris.”  Professor Alexandra “The Hammer” Pantuso sat across from Natalie Harris in her office.  She’d been assigned several of the rising stars of the junior class.  She had pulled the young woman’s file after meeting her in May. 

Natalie shifted in her seat, unsure why she’d been called to Pantuso’s office.  “Uh, yes, ma’am.  I wanted to accelerate my graduation possibilities as much as I could.”  She smoothed out her cadet pants out of practice and nervousness.

“You’ve had a taste of space.”  She had read ahead with the cadet’s dossier – Academy and otherwise.  “You ended up in the Delta Quadrant…your brother had to come find you.”

Natalie felt her face burn bright.  “You don’t miss much, Dr. Pantuso.”  She stared at the unique carpet fibers on the floor.

“I don’t because I’m damned good at my job, Cadet Harris.  I’m sorry you lost your cousin.”  She scrolled through the records, “I would have thought you’d end up in the merchant sector with Harris Transport.  Your mother’s turned that errant ship of a company around.”  She stared at the young woman, “Why not?”

“If my brother hadn’t been murdered…I might have, Capt…Professor.  I felt…,” she searched for the right word.  “Compelled.  I felt like I..that I had to continue the tradition of a Harris in Starfleet.”

Pantuso scoffed and relished the shocked look that reflected from within Harris.  “You’ve heard me talk about finding your path…and not doing something because you need to redeem someone else’s career.  Hell, your friend cadet Goldsmith got out while the getting was good.”

Harris felt her face bloom again, but anger fueled the feeling this time.  “Captain Pantuso…I am not Phil.  I didn’t blame him for what he decided…but I will not give up something I want to do.  I want to do this.”  Her voice had been raised on her last statement, and she blinked, surprised at her tone.

“Feel better?”

Natalie saw the professor in a new and startling light, “You wanted me to get mad?”

“I wanted to know the real reason you want to finish the academy…and why you’re being downright aggressive in closing the gap with your graduation.”  She sipped at her cooling tea she’d replicated a moment ago, “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t your brother’s legacy leading you into a fool’s errand, Cadet Harris.”

“My brother’s legacy is his…and his alone.  I’ll always wish that he was still here and that I could still talk to him…but I can’t sit around and wait for him to come back.  That’s a true fool’s errand.”

Pantuso appreciated the turn of phrase.  She stood, walked to her bookshelf, and searched through the spines, “There was a mathematician from Scotland who wrote many books about science and math. There he is. Eric Temple Bell.”  She pulled the book out and returned to her desk, searching through the well-read pages.  “He wrote novels, although they weren’t good by most standards of the day.  But, he did say something profound about fools.”  She turned the book around and pointed out the line to Harris.

Natalie leaned forward and read, “Time makes fools of us all. Our only comfort is that greater shall come after us.”  She looked at Pantuso, “The meaning?”

“We know what we know at the time we know it.”  She closed the book and returned it to the shelf, “Plenty of his theories and ideas were built on and improved after he died.  Not much remains of his discoveries today, but his legacy is the acknowledgment that future generations will build on what we do today…or, in his case, yesterday.  Your brother’s legacy is his own, but it’s also yours, and you can build on it and carry on the Harris name into the future.”

Natalie replied, “I’ll admit…reconciling my continuing story with my brother’s…hasn’t been easy.  That helps, Professor.”

Pantuso stood at attention, and Harris followed suit.  “I’m assigning you to me as your advisor. We’ll meet once a week to start.  The calendar invite will be in your inbox.  Dismissed, Cadet.” She watched the cadet leave, a lighter spring in her steps.

“What did Captain Jacoby do well?” The angular instructor stood at the front of the simulator, his hands behind his back. Cadet Matthew Jacoby sat in the center chair, his face mixed with emotions. Natalie Harris sat at the operations station behind him and felt much of what was on his face. They had run a simulation in which their ship had been doing some backwater patrol work when an errant Klingon shuttle had swerved into their territory and straight for them.

A Vulcan hand belonging to Spirak went up, “Captain Jacoby identified the ship as behaving in a manner of escape and attempted to hail them.”

Instructor McCloud then narrated, “…and communications were not working on the shuttle for an unknown reason.” A Bajoran hand hesitantly inched into the air, “Cadet Horatio.”

She cleared her throat, “The captain then attempted various communication signals and methods to reach the shuttle.  Those did not work either.”

McCloud continued, “The shuttle continued on an intercept course. There was no communication, no readings. What else did he do well?”

Natalie raised her hand and spoke after he acknowledged her, “Captain Jacoby was instrumental in keeping us focused on the task at hand and away from the danger.”

McCloud changed direction, “Now the harder part.  What can he work on in the future?”

Spirak replied, “The captain could have requested a probe launch to do a closer scan.”

Horatio pursed her lips, “The captain should have considered the possibility that it was a hostile force.  Because it was.”  She turned in her tactical chair at the front of the bridge and gave Jacoby a long stare.  “We might have survived.”

Jacoby looked ready to jump out of his chair and challenge her, but the instructor waved him off and advised, “This mission scenario is one of the many you may encounter out there.  With the shift in Klingon leadership feeding into the Major and Minor Houses, never mind those outside that system.  We’ve all learned when the unthinkable becomes the reality crashing down around us.  Tomorrow, we’ll use Captain Kirk’s encounter with Khan and Picard and his crew’s experience with the Dyson Sphere.  You will need to read the details as we’ll be having an essay response quiz when you walk in the door.  You are dismissed.” The group dispersed until it was just Harris and the instructor. He glanced up from his PADD, “Cadet Harris?”

She stood from the console, “I…these kinds of missions are hard.”

Terry McCloud chuckled, “You think?”  He gestured for her to take the captain’s chair, “You performed your duties at the ops console, and your suggestions to Jacoby were worthwhile and helpful.”

She leaned back in the classic command chair, “Permission to speak freely, sir?” He gave a worried nod.  “Jacoby fucked up.”

He gave her a sharp, “Language, Cadet Harris.  Speaking freely isn’t your chance to impress with your explicit vocabulary.” 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He sat down at the helm station, “He did screw up.  He was more worried about how impressed Horatio would be with his captain persona.  His attempt at Kirk’s swagger was unprofessional and will be a point of conversation not just with him but with the class tomorrow.  Why are you so concerned about him?”

She rubbed her hands, nervous for the words she considered voicing, “I…um…I would like to apply for the command track, sir.”

McCloud’s mouth dropped open, and he waited for the punchline.  “You’re serious,” was his first words after a few moments of shock. “You’re a gifted operations officer, Cadet Harris.”

She sighed, “I know.  My brother’s eyes would be as wide as yours are, sir.”  She pulled herself up and forward, “I just…I see others in this chair, and it makes me nervous.  Command officers set the tone for a starship.  They are the ones who make sure the culture of a crew is strong and connected.”

“Well, junior cadets are still a work in progress, Cadet Harris.  I’ve had enough experience with cadets turning it around to not give up on anyone.  I rarely flunk.”

She sensed some stories there. She threw her hands in surrender, saying, “I just…Sir, I’ve had some experience out in the field. I watched the commanders and captains. They were…it felt like that’s where I truly want to be.”

Terry pulled up his PADD and said, “I’ll send you the application. If they accept you, it will take some work to catch up on classes.”

Natalie Harris stood at attention, “If I want it bad enough, I’ll work as hard as they’ll allow me, sir.”  He dismissed her and wondered what the future of Natalie Harris looked like now as this decision swung into the mix.  As the door closed behind her, he could only hope it was for the best she had changed her destiny.

“Your chair is…what is the human word for such extravagance?”  Spirak sat at his console, watching Natalie Harris design her version of the command chair.  They were in ‘Command and Control’ and working on understanding the relationship a captain has with their ship.  One of those was the command chair.

Harris rolled her eyes, “I think you had the word already.  This is a serious exercise, I admit…but you can have a little fun.”  The Vulcan cadet stared at her, blinking.  “Right.  I forget who I’m talking to sometimes.”  Spirak had already been in the command track classes, and her late arrival to the program made him curious.

He kept his focus on her.  “Why have you transferred to the command track, Cadet Harris?”  He watched her bow her head in what he could extrapolate as frustration or annoyance – both emotions that eluded him.  “I did not intend to…,”

Natalie snapped her head up, “Spirak, does the idea of ‘minding your business’ exist within the Vulcan culture?  Or better yet – shutting up?”

She watched him blink a few times, nonplussed, as he searched his memory, “Ikap’uh t’du ru’lut roughly translates to ‘shut up’ or ‘shut your mouth.’  It is not a sentence we say traditionally.  As for the subject of ‘minding our own business’ – no.  Over the years, we have been tasked with minding others’ businesses, most notably Earth’s.  I’m sure you’re familiar with First Contact between our species in Montana.”

She groaned.  A favorite topic of his was the Vulcan and Human relationship and its trajectory after First Contact and beyond to the present day.  Spirak was older and had studied in-depth the early history of Vulcan and Humans.  His presence at the Academy contained no mystery – he had come to work with humans and aliens to pursue IDIC.  He had said so when they’d first met.  And repeatedly.  Every day since.  She adjusted her chair design, “As much as Vulcans say they have their emotions controlled…you all have a fascinating habit of dancing on the line of passive-aggressive.”

The Vulcan cadet frowned, “I do not dance, Cadet Harris.  I also do not agree with your assessment.  If you…,”

She shifted one more variable, speaking to him but not looking at him, “I swear to whatever gods are left out there, if you give me the emotional control lecture, I will show you the meaning of a human’s capacity to argue without logic or meaning.”

He kept his frown in place, “How do you argue without logic or meaning?”

She smiled slyly as she rotated the finished product on her screen, “It’s called a right and a left hook, Spirak.”  She glanced back at his now-arched eyebrows, “I’m kidding.  I’m just expressing my annoyance with you through some witty repertoire.”

“I do not have the knowledge or experience to verify that it was witty or repertoire.”  He walked over, hands clasped behind his back, examining her chair design, “Your design is…functional.”

She glanced up at him and slid her chair, “You seem… surprised…and yes, I know, not something in your repertoire.”

Spirak ignored her pointed statement and pointed out several elements of her design that effectively responded to the prompt.  “You started with a fantastical design.  What prompted you to…change it?”

Natalie tapped at the console and submitted her assignment, “Sometimes we like to have a little fun before we get serious, Spirak.  It’s in our nature.  And yes, not in your nature.”  She left the room as Spirak stood alone, contemplating her statement.