Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [113]
“You’ve finished your time at the Academy, which is a hell of an accomplishment, and you’ve every right to be proud of yourselves. But don’t sprain your arms pattin’ yourselves on the back, because what you’ve really done is just the first step in a long process. From here, you become Starfleet officers. Like a lot of Starfleet officers before you, including my best friend in the world, James Tiberius Kirk, some of you will be asked to give your lives in the service of Starfleet. Nobody wants to make that sacrifice-nobody wants to ask you to make it, either-but when they do, when the time comes, if it does, I hope you’ll do it in the spirit of the great Starfleet officers who went before you.
“Your chosen career is one in which violence sometimes plays a part. As a doctor and I hope some kind of humanitarian-though if you ever call me that to my face I’ll knock you on your keister-I abhor violence. I detest it, and I have always tried, and will always try to find a way to avoid it, like a barn mouse tryin’ to keep away from the farmhouse cat. But I also recognize that there are times when it’s necessary, and when it has been, then I’ve tried to face it head-on. I hope you’ll do the same.”
Will listened to McCoy, enjoying the old doctor’s thoroughly informal presentation. The graduates were seated alphabetically in the front section of the auditorium, with family, friends, and observers filling out the rest of the room, and Will sat between Paul Rice and an Andorian named Ritthar. On Paul’s other side was a guy he knew only in passing named Vince Reggiani. Will could see the back of Felicia’s head, a couple of rows in front of him, but she never seemed to turn around. Will’s achievement had been better than he’d dared hope for-he had finished eighth in his class, and that knowledge filled him with satisfaction and a little bit of anxiety, as if he had raised his own bar and would now have to continue to perform at that level. He thought he could do it, but if it meant pushing himself as he’d been doing for the last months of Academy work, he would either burn out fast or simply fall apart trying.
“I started out saying I was just a country doctor,” McCoy was saying. “And that’s true. But unlike some others, I’m a country doctor who has seen incredible sights. I’ve seen sunrise on Jupiter and sunset on New France. I’ve danced with a woman who was born on Rigel VI, and I’ve listened to an orchestra made up entirely of nonhumanoid, energy-based life-forms whose instruments were part of their own anatomy. I’ve set foot on close to a hundred planets, and been nearly killed, kidnapped, or knocked in the head on almost half of those. For all the trouble I’ve seen, all the war and strife and danger, I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s, anywhere, country doctor or no. I trust, when you’ve reached the end of the career that you’re just beginning today, you’ll be able to say the same thing, and mean it.
“Keep that in mind as you take your next step, as you become Starfleet officers, and as you grow into the men and women that you will be. The best thing to say at the end of your life is that you don’t regret a thing. Tomorrow, that new life will start, for each of you-you woke up this morning students, and you will wake up tomorrow officers. It’s a big change, don’t kid yourself into thinking it’s not. And I only have one more thing to say about that.” McCoy threw his hands into the air. “Congratulations, graduates of 2357! You’ve earned yourselves a party!”
This was met by a wild chorus of applause and cheers from the assembled graduates, and Admiral McCoy left the stage amidst the tumult. As was traditional, after that, each graduate was called to the stage by name to receive a diploma, and when the last one was handed out the graduates burst into a new