Pathways - Jeri Taylor [66]
But where he would be going was another question. Harry was caught in a dilemma and didn’t know how to resolve it. He’d even sought the counsel of Boothby, the groundskeeper, as he had on numerous occasions over the years. Boothby’s practical, down-to-earth common sense always seemed to clear away doubts and confusion.
But even Boothby hadn’t been able to help him with his current situation.
“I’ve got two ways to go after graduation,” he said to Boothby one overcast day as the old man planted a flat of impatiens. “I can stay here in San Francisco, with Starfleet Command, as a design specialist in the Engineering Corps. Or I could become the operations officer on a small starship.”
“Which do you want to do?”
“That’s the problem—I can’t decide. I’ve always wanted to explore space, and it’s a terrific opportunity to become an ops officer right away.”
“But?”
“But that would take me away from Earth. Away from San Francisco.”
“From the tone of your voice I’d imagine it’s the young woman you’re thinking of.”
“Yes. We’ve gotten . . . very serious. And it’s not going to help our relationship for me to be gone for months at a time.”
“That’s a problem.”
“I know it’s a problem. That’s why I’m talking to you.”
Boothby looked up at him, grizzled face squinting, bright eyes searching his face. “Think I’ve got the answer, do you?”
“You always seem to.”
Boothby cackled briefly, then continued to insert plugs of small, multicolored flowers into damp soil. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but seems to me this is the kind of decision only you can make. You have to decide what’s really important to you and decide accordingly. No one else can see inside your heart.”
And that was it from Boothby. He also talked it over with George, whose friendship he had cherished over the four years, and who always seemed wise beyond his age. George was adamant in his opinion. “Stay in San Francisco. Marry Libby and have a family. You two have something special between you, and you don’t walk away from something like that.”
But Libby had yet another opinion. “I won’t be the cause of your giving up something you’ve worked so hard for. If what we have together is going to last, it has to be strong enough to endure some minor separations. There are a lot of married people in Starfleet, and they seem to make it work. I don’t see that we should be any different.”
His mother and father refused to commit themselves, although Harry knew that they wanted him to stay nearby. His faculty advisor, Commander Moffat, helped him to see the advantages of either choice professionally, but carefully avoided recommending either one.
And so Harry was alone with his problem. And as he listened to Admiral Brand drone on and on during the graduation ceremony, in his mind he was no closer to a decision than he had been a month ago. But he’d run out of time: the choice had to be made today. He’d heard of the ancient custom of tossing a coin, which was common when there was still currency, and considered some equally random way of resolving this dilemma.
Admiral Brand finally finished talking, the ceremony concluded with loud cheers, and Harry stood waiting for Libby and his parents to make their way through the crowd that was streaming from the stands. As his eyes searched the teeming masses of people, they fell on Commander Nimembeh, who was standing to one side, alone, his presence as formidable as ever. He was looking right at Harry.
Harry walked over to him, impelled to have a final statement, to bring to some kind of satisfying closure the travail of the last four years. “I made it, sir,” he said to Nimembeh, his tormentor. “You did everything you could to make me quit, but I held out. What I’d really like to know is whether that makes you happy or if you’re disappointed.”
An expression Harry had never seen before flickered over Nimembeh’s face. What was it? There was a slight tug at his lips—a smile? Was the man mocking him?