Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [57]
“I remember it,” said Paris, and apparently he wasn’t the only one there who did.
“Anyway,” Horombo continued, “one record-cold night, a few of the other cadets got their hands on some pretty strong liquor—not Romulan ale, but something almost as potent—elsewhere in San Francisco. Two bottles altogether. By the time they got back to the Academy grounds, they had already finished one of the bottles and were half-blind.
“They figured they would sock away the other bottle for another day. But as they crossed Boothby’s gardens to get to their dorm rooms, they saw a security officer strolling in their direction. Afraid that he would ask to see what they were carrying, they panicked and slipped behind the tuula bush, and poured out the contents of the second bottle.
“As it turned out, the security officer took a different route and didn’t bother them, so they had emptied the bottle for nothing. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The next day, when they walked past the tuula bush, it wasn’t dark red anymore. Its leaves were all pink with brown spots.
“Well, all the cadets loved Boothby, and these three were no exception. They knew how hard he had worked to nurture his tuula bush, and how heartbroken he would be to see what they had done to it. And they knew also how angry the commandant of the Academy would be if he found out how the tuula bush had gotten sick.
“In the end, they decided to do the honorable thing and admit their mistake, regardless of the trouble they would face. But first, they went to Boothby to apologize—and it was a good thing they did.
“Apparently, tuula bushes change colors with the seasons, and this one got confused by the drastic change in temperature that evening. So it faded from its summer scarlet to its colder-weather pink and brown in just a couple of hours—and had already made the change when the cadets came along and dumped liquor on it.”
“So it wasn’t their fault,” said Ramirez, a smile on her face.
“Not at all. In fact, the bush had already changed back to its summer coloring. And Boothby being Boothby, he didn’t tell anyone what the cadets had done.”
Ben Zoma laughed. “Good story, Lieutenant.”
Everyone else seemed to think so, too. Except McAteer, of course. But then, he was the odd man out more and more.
“And this was ten years ago?” asked Garner.
Horombo nodded. “My senior year. Were you there?”
Garner shook her head. “Not yet. I got there the year after—when Oonnoommi took over as commandant.”
Ramirez leaned forward. “Wasn’t that the year the Parisses Squares team went undefeated?”
“That was the year before,” said Chen. “My brother—” He stopped in midsentence, his eyes suddenly wide and desolate.
“Your brother what?” asked Ben Zoma, refusing to let the security officer wallow in uncertainty.
“My brother,” Chen said a little more quietly, “was on that team.”
“And how did he do?” the first officer asked.
Chen smiled despite himself. “He did well, sir. As a matter of fact, he led the cadets in scoring.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Ben Zoma.
“That’s it,” McAteer said abruptly.
Ben Zoma turned to him. “Sir?”
“I’m tired of waiting,” the admiral said. “While we’re sitting here twiddling our damn thumbs, the aliens may be mopping the floor with our fleet.”
It was a possibility, all right. But Ben Zoma wasn’t inclined to act on it.
“We’ve got to be patient,” he said.
“Patience hasn’t gotten us anywhere,” the admiral noted. “We’ve got to expedite the process somehow.”
The first officer regarded McAteer. “There’s no need. The aliens might not always stick to their replenishment schedule, but they’ll be by soon enough.”
The admiral scowled. “Soon enough for you, maybe. But I don’t intend to stay here in this can for the—”
Suddenly, a clang went through the deckplates. It sounded as if the supply carrier had struck something.
Or maybe docked with something.
Ben Zoma hoped like crazy that it was the latter possibility. Otherwise, he would have to listen to McAteer that much longer.
“Turn off the light,” he said, “and put on your helmets. I’ve got a feeling this is our ride.”