Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [46]
Admiral Paris, who waited in a corner of the large office, just might have a few words to say as well.
Finally, the Vulcan superintendent broke her silence. “I am surprised at you,” she said. “Some more than others, but nonetheless, as squadrons overall, yours are among the last two I would have expected to engage in… would ‘hijinks’ be the appropriate term?… like these. Mr. Boon, Zeta Squadron is under your command, is it not?”
“Yes, sir, normally that is, sir,” Boon answered. “But sometimes on group projects we elect a leader just for that project, so everyone gets a chance, sir. On this one, Cadet Haynes was in charge.”
“Dennis Haynes?” Superintendent Vyrek asked with surprise. “You have never been involved with anything like this in your time with us. Or at your previous school, if you don’t count-which I won’t-that one incident when you were eleven.”
Does she know everything about us? Will wondered. He’d heard rumors that she had a virtually eidetic memory-that she read through each cadet’s file once a year, and remembered everything she saw. He had always discounted the rumors, though. Until just now.
“No, sir, I haven’t,” Dennis replied. “And I’m sorry that this happ-“
She cut him off mid-word. “Did I ask for a response, Mr. Haynes?”
He hesitated, as if unsure if she had this time either. “No, sir,” he finally said.
“That is correct. I am merely expressing my shock and dismay at this outrageous behavior, not asking you to explain-or worse, make some feeble and doomed attempt to excuse-it.”
Dennis remained silent, but his cheeks went crimson. Superintendent Vyrek continued her journey around the group, looking each cadet up and down, sometimes moving closer to peer at a fish-inflicted bruise or scrape.
“Is there anything remotely logical about battling with seafood, Admiral Paris, to your knowledge?”
Admiral Paris looked surprised to be spoken to, and Will had the impression that he wasn’t much more comfortable in the superintendent’s presence than the cadets were. “I confess that I don’t see the logic in it, Admiral Vyrek,” he replied.
“Nor do I,” the Vulcan said. “And yet, it happened. These cadets-second-year cadets, not raw freshmen-engaged in it. Creating a disturbance, damaging property, wasting food-that police officer said she was tempted to charge them with incitement to riot. How does one explain such behavior?”
Will swallowed hard. “May I speak, sir?” he asked.
“Cadet Riker. If you can enlighten me, I would be delighted to have you speak. You, I am sorry to say, I am not terribly surprised to hear were involved in such an unfortunate affair, given your history of altercations with fellow students.”
Those “altercations” she mentioned had been a series of fights Will had found himself having shortly after his father had abandoned him. He’d had a chip on his shoulder and a short fuse, and it had been a bad combination. But that had been well before he’d even applied to the Academy, and the fact that the superintendent knew about it gave even more credence to the eidetic memory theory. Not to mention confirming the “permanence” of permanent records.
“I don’t think our behavior can be excused, sir,” he said. “But it can be explained, to a certain extent. We were all under a significant amount of stress, with the end of our project looming, and the various personality conflicts that arise whenever a group of people is banded together closely for a number of days. We made a mistake, let our emotions get the better of us, and cut loose. We shouldn’t have done it. Had we thought it through we never would have done it. But we weren’t thinking, we were only reacting.”
“That sounds correct,” Superintendent Vyrek said. “Especially the fact that you were not thinking, any of you.”
“Yes, sir,” Will agreed.
“Interestingly, my understanding from the