Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [60]
If no one claimed him, she would keep him. Pets were forbidden in the dorm, of course, but as a junior she could live off-campus. She'd get an apartment for herself and the puppy, and she'd train him and brush him and comfort him. He'd never be unfed, or alone, or unhappy. A profound peace settled over Kathryn. The warm sun, the soft presence of the puppy in her lap, the pastoral setting of the Academy's grounds-all combined to bring her to a condition of imperturbability that was almost nirvana-like. Her eyes closed, and she imagined she was back in the cornfields of Indiana, with Bramble on her tummy, sleeping in the sun.
"There you are, you naughty thing. I can't let you out of my sight, can I?" Kathryn's eyes snapped open and she saw Commander Ruah Brackett heading toward her. The commander was a handsome woman in her thirties, a full professor in mathematics. Kathryn hoped to take her differential geometry course in her senior year; Brackett had a reputation as an inspired teacher.
Now she was reaching for the puppy, pulling him from Kathryn's lap and slipping a collar and leash around his plump neck. "He slipped right out of his collar, the little devil. I named him Chomel, which means "peace," but I suspect he has more of the devil in him."
Kathryn reached out for a final stroke of the puppy's satiny fur; an ineffable sadness came over her. "He's a beautiful pup. Where did you get him?" Maybe he has a sibling, she thought, maybe I could find his brother or sister.
"He adopted me. I was in Golden Gate Park one evening and he came out of the woods and sat down next to me. He couldn't have been more than five or six weeks old. I took him home and fed him, cleaned him up. He slept on my bed that night-and that's where he's still sleeping. I don't know what I'll do when he's fully grown."
Kathryn could see that Commander Brackett's eyes were shining as she told this story. She adored this puppy. Kathryn's eyes stung as she experienced her own sense of loss, and gratitude that the puppy had found such a loving friend.
It was after the commander had left, puppy in ungainly pursuit, that it occurred to Kathryn that perhaps she needed something to love.
Admiral Paris wasn't in his office when she arrived for her appointment. His aide, Lieutenant Commander Klenman, a dark-haired, gracious woman with a British accent, explained that he'd been called to an emergency meeting but he was expected in ten or fifteen minutes. Would she care to wait? And so she sat in the admiral's office and studied the pictures on his walls and on his desk.
The walls were adorned with pictures of various groups of Starfleet personnel: Starfleet on Mars, on Vulcan, on Bole, on Risa. Meetings, conferences, commemorationsall showing at least one officer named Paris: Argonne Paris, James Paris, Caroline Paris, Bailey Paris, Mackenzie Paris. It was a display of some of the most revered names in Starfleet history, generations of brilliant, selfless officers who had dedicated their lives to the service of others.
The pictures on the desk were different. They were recent family pictures-a pretty, laughing woman Kathryn took to be Admiral Paris' wife, and several pictures of children of various ages. Kathryn determined there were three, a boy and two girls, who were depicted from their babyhood until what must be their present ages: the girls in their early teens, the boy-who had a particularly impish smile-around ten. They were all handsome, happy children, tow-headed and blue-eyed. If Admiral Owen Paris was an ogre, this laughing family seemed to flourish under his cruel ministrations. She heard the whoosh of the door opening behind her and sprang to her feet. "At ease, Cadet. After keeping you waiting for half an hour, I don't expect formalities."
She was looking into blue-gray eyes that were remarkably intense, that seemed to have the capacity to burrow into her brain and go probing around in there, discerning just what she was about. She took a breath and tried to shed the sensation. Those disconcerting