Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [58]
"He was supposed to go with me tomorrow, get me checked into the dorm. We'd planned it all summer. Then I get a message that he's had to go to Vulcan for some conference. That's all--just a message. was "Is your mother going with you?"
"She offered. But it's no huge thing. I can do it myself."
"Would you like me to go with you?"
Her head whipped around. She didn't know whether to laugh or not, didn't know if she felt grateful or humiliated. It was one thing to be taken to the Academy by her father, a Starfleet vice-admiral, and quite another to be accompanied by a civilian her own age who knew nothing about Starfleet. "That's awfully nice of you, Hobbes. But it's not as though I'm a little girl. And there will be others going."
"Okay." As always, he seemed utterly unaffected by rejection. Was he? Or had he learned, through a lifetime of suffering it, how to cope? As she had so many times in her life, Kathryn felt sorry for him. "Tell me about the university," she said by way of a gesture. "I've never even been there."
"You wouldn't like it. It's very traditional-they still have some of the original buildings, in a square around a small woods. And most of the buildings they've put up in the last fifty years are in that same architectural style. It's not sleek and modern like Starfleet Academy."
She smiled, remembering their discussions of "traditionalism" when they were younger, when she had to play tennis and study ballet. "Do you still play tennis?" she queried.
"Sure do. Although not competitively. I'm on the swim team instead."
"You are?" Again, she was surprised. She didn't equate Hobbes with competitive athletics. She glanced at his thin frame and realized that though lean, he was actually well muscled.
"Free-style and butterfly. Indiana actually has a long history of excellence in swimming. Of course, now the women are the real stars, but we hold our own."
"I'll never make a team at the Academy. I wasted all those years playing tennis when I should have been developing skills in Parrises Squares."
"It wasn't a waste. You can play tennis all your life. That's not so with Parrises Squares."
"You can play tennis that long-but do you want to?"
"I do. It's still one of my favorite outlets."
"Really?"
They had entered into an easy banter, relaxed and genial. Without her even realizing it, Kathryn's anxieties were dissolving, floating away on the summer breeze along with the heady aromas of green growing things, which Seemed to possess curative powers after all.
The weather in San Francisco was frequently cold and gloomy; Kathryn had come to terms with the trade-off from Indiana's climate: no freezing winters, but a lot of fog.
But today a warm sun bathed the city by the bay in a golden glow, and she sat stretched out on a bench on Starfleet Academy's parklike grounds, enjoying the feel of the warmth on her skin. And dreading the interview she was facing. Admiral Owen Paris had a reputation that was legendary, and while no one actually believed he ground up small children and sprinkled them on salads, it seemed a fair description of his demeanor.
Tough. Demanding. Unyielding. Those words might describe any of Starfleet's officers, but when used in conjunction with Admiral Paris, they always seemed to take on new meaning. The stories abounded: this was the man who demoted his aide, a highly respected full commander, for making a mistake on a padd entry. This was the man who flunked an entire class of cadets because one of them was late to class. This was the man who took cadets on wilderness training so punishing many dropped