First things first. The Aegis crew had to find someone in authority whom they could trust. Whatever memories were locked in Kirk and Mitchell's subconscious, they were beyond the cadet crew's retrieval capabilities.
The group needed help from someone who could do a mind probe. Unfortunately, that required medical help. Delaney instantly decided to ask the young surgeon who had treated Kirk earlier for help.
Doctor McCoy was completing his final report before going off duty when what he could only describe as a gaggle of cadets trooped in. A beautiful, tall and slender, raven-haired beauty led them.
Brother, Starfleet's going to let *that* loose onboard a Starship? McCoy asked himself.
He immediately recognized his young, rebellious patient, and the tiny blonde who'd gone to such lengths to protect him.
*This* is going to be interesting, McCoy thought sardonically.
"May I help you, ladies and gentlemen?" McCoy asked, affecting his most charming Southern drawl.
The tall goddess answered for all of them.
"Sir, I'm Senior Cadet Commander V. C. Delaney. These cadets are members of my Sim/Tac crew. We need to ask your assistance in something very important."
Delaney paused, weighing her words carefully.
"Before we begin, we must be completely honest. We've all been given direct orders by the Honor Board not to discuss what we're about to. However, we all feel that we might as well be thrown out of the Academy for something we *actually* did, than for something we've been framed for."
"I see. Sounds serious, young lady. Please, all of you, come this way." McCoy led them all into a small conference room where the staff held their daily meetings. "Please, sit if you can."
McCoy waited for them each to find a place to sit. A huge, handsome fellow chose to stand guard near the door. McCoy's patient-- Cadet Kirk, wasn't it?--sat at the far end of the table next to the same dark-haired cadet who had waited for Kirk while McCoy treated him. The boy's tabs also marked him as a first year student.
"All right. How may I help you all?" McCoy asked.
Delaney again spoke for the group.
She explained about their being called before the Honor Board, about the gag order, how they hadn't been accused of anything, but were nevertheless under a miasma of suspicion.
She told of the incident in the gravity gym, and about the recent discovery concerning Mitchell's esper abilities.
"You mean to tell me that you two kids share some kind of a *mind* link?" McCoy asked, disbelief written across his face.
Mitchell and Kirk exchanged looks of dismay. If after placing themselves in jeopardy by seeking help from the doctor, he didn't believe them, then everything had been for nothing.
Kirk swallowed nervously, then concentrating, he found his center and began to calm down.
"Yes, sir. If you check Cadet Mitchell's student files, you'll see that his esper abilities are a matter of record. You'll also find that medical experts have measured his abilities . . ."
McCoy turned to a desk-side terminal immediately upon Kirk's mentioning Mitchell's files and accessed them. He studied them, engrossed, and nodded distractedly.
There it was . . . Mitchell, Gary L., high rating quotient on extra-sensory perception . . . not telepathic . . . largely instinctive bonds with family members . . . blah, blah, blah . . . pure nonsense!
McCoy didn't believe in any of it! If something couldn't be felt or touched, if it didn't have mass, weight, and took up space, then it *didn't* exist!
McCoy turned dismissively from the terminal, and faced the cadets. He was about to tell them all what he thought, when he felt seven pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly.
The doctor was their last hope.
McCoy thought disgustedly, I'm a *doctor*, not a fortune-teller! But he couldn't bring himself to shoot down their hopes. He sighed reluctantly. A sucker born every minute, I believe is how Granddaddy used to put it.
####
Chapter Thirty
Kirk lay nervously on the examination table. He hated medical exams.
Mostly because Aunt Sarah, Doctor Sarah April, was the family physician, and because he felt he was a little too old to have his godmother poking in places that he considered private. Thank goodness, she was currently on the USS Enterprise, safely on the other side of the galaxy.
Furthermore, in Kirk's opinion, doctors always acted as if they had a direct line to God--sort of, like high priests of medicine--the Last Authority On Everything.
Kirk looked across at Mitchell. Gary also looked like he'd rather be anywhere else except here. His heart monitor was pulsing crazily. The sound, thankfully, had been turned off. Kirk couldn't see his own monitor, since it was over and behind his head, but he figured it must be a mirror to Gary's.
We're like a couple of frightened kids, waiting for the bogeyman to eat us.
"Okay, you two, just relax." Doctor McCoy's voice spoke soothingly over the intercom to them. Kirk could see him beyond the two-way window. "I want each of you to close your eyes and think of a blue sky full of white clouds . . . "
McCoy's melodious voice continued to still Kirk's frazzled nerves, until he finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep . . .
. . . Kirk awoke later feeling more relaxed than he'd felt in weeks. What had he been thinking? A tendril of a thought just out of reach tantalized him. He lay there, not trying to follow the thought, allowing it to come back to him.
In a moment, Kirk opened his eyes. He knew. He looked over to where Mitchell lay. He saw the same look of recognition in Mitchell's eyes.
Kirk sat up slowly, reluctant to let go of the feeling of euphoria which had taken hold of him.
He thought of home, and of Mom, of the gingersnaps that she used to bake on warm afternoons in late spring for Sam and him. He remembered the lazy sun-filled days spent playing catch on the Kirk farm's expansive front lawn, his older brother patiently helping him perfect his deadly curve ball in time for the summer league.
He remembered the fragrant scent of jasmine in full bloom permeating everywhere.
He recalled the day he met Delaney, her icy blue eyes assessing him coldly in the First Year Cadet Mess . . . and the trip up to Commandant Lorraine's office accompanied by a young female yeoman whose perfume's subtle fragrance teased him with the vaguest hint of jasmine . . .
. . . The same hint, just out of reach of his senses, that tantalized him in the gravity gym shortly after discovering Merrick.
Unaware of it at the time, Kirk's subconscious had registered the fragrance almost as soon as he'd entered the Fitness Center Complex. For later access, the memory had been imbued as a nebulous retrospection of home, with a nuance of Delaney thrown in. He hadn't been able to understand why at the time, but now he saw the correlation.
The smell of jasmine obviously evoked memories of long ago late spring days at home, and because Kirk had experienced the pleasant scent on the day he'd met Delaney, its essence automatically triggered an association with her.
Kirk and Mitchell each looked across at each other. They had work to do.
####
"We don't *know* that she had anything to do with it!" protested Fletcher.
"No, we don't," agreed Wolfe, "but what *else* do we have?"
The others nodded in agreement. They were meeting in Delaney's quarters. Kirk noticed subtle feminine touches to the stark one-man room. Senior cadets didn't have to share quarters.
Wellington spoke up. "I don't understand your reluctance, Jayjay. We're not the Spanish Inquisition. All we want to do is ask her a few questions."
Wellington was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against Delaney's bunk. Zyglowicz sat on the bunk next to him--too close, Kirk thought jealously. Wellington turned to Kirk, and noticing the younger boy's dark scowl, glanced away momentarily. Quickly hiding a smile, he turned a serious countenance to Kirk.
"You say she works in the admin building?" Kirk nodded. "Well, I say one of us goes there and talks to her."
"What if we're wrong?" Fletcher broke in. "What if the Honor Board finds out what we're doing? We'll get our butts summarily dismissed from the Academy, is what!" Fletcher shook his head emphatically. "Uh-uh! You guys may be willing to risk everything you've worked for, but not me!"
Delaney stood.
"Jayjay's right." The others looked at her surprised. "This is a dangerous mission we've chosen to undertake. Our careers *are* on the line. So, we each have to make a decision. Either leave now, or stay."
Delaney paused, staring off momentarily. The same look of vulnerability that Kirk remembered seeing briefly on her in the Sim/Tac all those days ago took hold again.
"We each took an oath on our first day in the Academy. It's the oath that binds us all to each other, to the Academy, and to Starfleet."
Standing before them, Delaney proudly quoted from the heart.
"On my honor, I promise to do my duty to the best of my ability, to obey the lawful orders of the officers appointed over me, and to defend the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets. Furthermore, while enrolled in Starfleet Academy, I promise not to lie, cheat, nor steal, nor tolerate those who do."
Her icy blue eyes burning intensely, Delaney continued.
"The Honor Code is what this all about. Those of us, who choose to stay today and continue, must do so with our eyes fully opened. We *will* be in violation of our Oath. If caught, we face a summary court. Those of you, who choose to leave, must do so now, because remaining any longer implicates you as well. Furthermore, you will be honor bound to report everything you see and hear."
Appearing larger than life, Delaney brought herself up to her full height, crossed her arms and looked directly into the eyes of each of her crewmembers.
"Each of you must make your own decision, and you must do so now."
With that Delaney turned away and walked over to the large window overlooking the administration building and the Golden Gate Bridge beyond.
Wolfe immediately stood up and walked up to her. He placed a supporting hand on her shoulder. Delaney looked gratefully up at him, covering his hand with her own.
"I'm in," he said for the others' benefit.
Wellington spoke up from where he sat on the floor. "Me, too."
Zyglowicz looked at him, startled. He gave her his usual wink and devastating smile.
"Count me in," she said, returning his smile. Impulsively, she ran her hand through his thick, dark curls.
Kirk, chagrinned, didn't miss their by-play. Looks like they're on again, he thought resignedly.
"Guess I'm in too deep to climb out now," he said.
"Me, too," added Mitchell.
Fletcher was the only one left. "I'm sorry, guys. Please understand. There've been Fletchers in Starfleet since the founding of the Federation. I hate to do it, but I can't stay. I'm sorry. I wish you all Godspeed."
Dropping his eyes in shame, Fletcher quickly made to leave when Delaney's quiet voice stopped him.
"Jayjay, wait." Fletcher stood with his back turned to them. "I'm asking for forty-eight hours. I know you have to report us, but please, will you wait that long?"
Fletcher nodded slowly, reluctantly, and left.
The remainder of the Aegis crew sat in silence for a moment, the full import of what they were about to do settling like a death shroud on their shoulders.
####
Chapter Thirty-one
Kirk waited impatiently outside the Administration Building. He felt like a spy in the middle of enemy territory. The Aegis crew was each keeping silent vigil in key locations throughout the campus.
Periodically, they surreptitiously spelled one another. A cadet hanging around in the same spot for any length of time would only draw suspicious looks unnecessarily.
Kirk had already had a couple of junior grade officers eye him curiously. If he saw either one returning, he decided he'd casually get up and go about his way.
He felt that what they were doing was ridiculous. There was a seventy percent chance that their target was *not* going to make an appearance. After all, the administration building had everything a person needed: an officer and crew mess, library, gift shop, mini-gym and showers.
Taking out the special crew commlink that Wellington had concocted, Kirk was about ready to call Wolfe and let him know he thought that that they were wasting their time, when their target made her appearance.
Yeoman Lake exited the headquarters building and started making her way in his direction.
Kirk immediately stood and began walking in the general direction of the First Year Cadet quarters.
As he walked, Kirk began slowing down. He was just another first year cadet reluctant to return to the rat race. A couple of minutes later, Lake passed him. Kirk caught just the barest trace of jasmine.
As soon as she was outside earshot, Kirk got on the commlink to Wolfe. "Pilot to XO. Target heading on an intercept vector to your location."
Two beeps acknowledged his message.
Kirk followed his target as nonchalantly as possible. He stopped occasionally to admire the panoramic view, the shuttles taking off and landing in the distance. When he reached the designated point, he halted.
"Pilot to XO. Handing off Target."
Again, Kirk received two beeps in acknowledgment.
A few minutes later, he heard Wolfe over the commlink. "XO to Signals. Target on intercept vector to your grid." Signals was Wellington standing watch near the crew mess.
So Lake was headed to the open crew mess for lunch. Figures. Too much luxury on a daily basis can become dull and dreary after awhile, Kirk thought sarcastically.
A few minutes later, Wellington's voice reported. "Target entering crew mess. Engineer, Navigator, take your positions. Acknowledge."
Wellington received two beeps, then two more in acknowledgement. Zyglowicz was taking up a position that covered the back door of the crew mess; Mitchell was covering the side entrance, just in case.
To their disappointment and frustration, Lake went in, apparently ate lunch, emerged and began her return to headquarters.
"XO to Pilot. Target returning to HQ. You know what to do."
Kirk beeped his acknowledgement. He did indeed know what to do. Up until now, the Aegis crew hadn't done anything that could get them into *real* hot water. What Kirk was about to do would basically widen their mass grave.
He felt his heart rate abruptly take off at mach speed. Taking a calming breath to steady his shaky nerves, Kirk waited for Lake and his opportunity.
When Lake passed his position, Kirk began to follow her casually, not too closely, not too distantly. Finally, when Lake was about to open the crew entrance to Headquarters, Kirk assumed a gallant demeanor, and grabbed the door from her hands.
"Permit me," Kirk said, giving her an irresistible smile. Flustered, the yeoman allowed him to let her in. "I bet you hear this from all the cadets, but you know, you look *awfully* familiar. Have we met before?"
Kirk forestalled her look of obvious scorn by snapping his fingers, recognition lighting his eyes.
"I know! The first time I came here to the admin building! I had an appointment to see the Commandant, and you escorted me up there! How could I ever forget?"
He smiled appreciatively. "I thought to myself at that moment, boy, did *I* join the right fleet. I mean if the crew is gonna have legs like *this*!"
Kirk was beginning to enjoy his role immensely. He suddenly caught sight of Delaney standing near the lifts. Quickly, Kirk looked at his wrist chronometer.
"Yawp! Look at the time! Gotta go! Hey, listen, may I call you some time?"
Not lingering for a reply, Kirk quickly made his way to where Delaney waited impatiently. Her icy blue stare showed that she would brook no nonsense from him. What they were about to do could land them all in the brig not just get them expelled.
Not trusting herself to vocalize anything that could be picked up by voice analyzer, Delaney quickly indicated the stairwell. Kirk sighed. Just once he'd like to break into a building and use the lifts. Oh well, with all that running he should certainly be in excellent condition.
Delaney led the way. She worked in the admin building as a Senior Cadet aide. As such, she was familiar with the layout of the complex. As they rounded the fourth floor, a sudden door opening two floors up stopped them in their tracks.
Swiftly ducking, the two young people waited for the danger to pass. They heard voices coming down the stairs, one male, and one female.
"I *told* you no!" the female voice protested laughing.
"And I *told* you *yes*!" the male voice answered in a low seductive tone. "Come on. We've never *done* it on the stairwell. Think of the danger, the real possibility of being caught in the act!"
"I do! and I *won't*!" she replied no longer laughing. "Eric, we almost got caught that last time in Sim/Tac Five! I can't believe you and I were doing it, while the cadets were running through a War Fighter Trainer. What if Kopeck had walked in at the time?"
"Aw, don't think for a minute Kopeck's not banging that yeoman, what's her name, Lake," he replied. "Come on, you can't tell me you didn't find it more thrilling. The chance of being caught didn't make it all the more . . . delectable?"
Although they were speaking in low tones, the acoustics in the stairwell carried their voices clearly.
Kopeck and Lake? Kirk had almost missed that, because his face was on fire. He had never blushed so furiously in his entire life!
Kirk couldn't believe what he was hearing, and while crouched next to Delaney no less. Until that moment, he'd never *really* known the meaning of the phrase, "dying from embarrassment." He stole a glance at Delaney, and saw that she was very carefully avoiding looking in his direction.
Oh, please, God, make them go back to work! I don't know if I'll be able to live through any more of this!
To Kirk's undying relief, another door further up startled the would-be lovers. "Someone's coming! Quick get your clothes back on . . ." Kirk heard in panicked whispers.
"*That's* not mine, for crying out loud!" Kirk had an almost uncontrollable desire to burst into laughter. Delaney, her hands covering her mouth, looked like she was about to explode as well, her laugh-crinkled eyes streaming tears.
"Come on! The things you get me into!" The voices faded as a door closed behind them.
Kirk and Delaney collapsed in helpless laughter.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Cadet," Delaney managed to sputter, wiping tears. "Always think with your brains and not with your Southern Hemisphere!"
Kirk was wiping tears from his own eyes. This was just too much! And he'd thought Nasta's mind unnaturally preoccupied with sex. The guy was a rank amateur!
As they continued their climb, first Delaney then Kirk would suddenly break into helpless giggles. This sure wasn't the way to sneak into a secure building, Kirk thought. Stealth was the usual norm, but because their nerves had been so close to the edge, the unexpected comic relief came as a much-needed panacea.
####
Chapter Thirty-two
Entering the floor where the Starfleet Academy Security offices were located, Delaney and Kirk quickly established their bearings and headed in the opposite direction.
Since neither of them had any business on this floor, they acted as if they belonged there. Nothing's more invisible than something that's left lying out in plain sight.
Arriving at a recessed area of the west wing, Delaney calmly walked into the female latrine. Kirk did likewise, entering the male latrine. Giving the stalls a cursory check, he saw that he was the sole occupant.
Quickly, selecting the stall at the farthest end, Kirk locked it from the inside, set the "Out of Order" warning signal, climbed onto the lip of the toilet, then crouched down to wait. It was going to be a long afternoon.
The hours passed uneventfully. Occasionally, someone would rattle the door, then curse softly when he realized that the stall was out of order. At eighteen hundred hours, Kirk finally came out.
He quickly met up with Delaney who was also emerging from her hiding place in the women's restroom. They acknowledged each other with a cursory nod.
Passing by an opened, empty office, Delaney quickly ducked in, grabbed two datapads, tossed one to Kirk and continued down the corridor. Funny how a datapad in his hand suddenly made him look like he was on a vital errand, Kirk thought.
The two split at the next juncture. Delaney headed towards the War Fighter Staff offices, Kirk towards the Adjutant Records Office (ARO).
He strode quickly, confidently rounding the corner to the ARO. As he passed an open doorway, someone inside called out to him.
"Cadet! Could you please step in here a minute?"
Swallowing nervously, Kirk took a second to comport himself, executed an about face and walked into the office. A young lieutenant was inside bent over a terminal studying a continuous stream of data scrolling in front of him.
"Yes, sir!"
"Oh, yeah! Hey listen, Cadet umm-m . . . sorry I'm terrible with names," the lieutenant apologized looking at Kirk expectantly.
"That's okay, sir, my Dad forgets my name all the time," Kirk replied, affecting a wide-eyed self-deprecating manner. Then added by way of explanation, "There're seven kids in the family."
"Um, yes, I see," the young officer replied, his eyes drawn back to his screen. "Can you please deliver the out mail hardcopy to the SAS OIC? The regular runner left early, and apparently forgot to stop by here for the eighteen hundred hour pick-up."
"Yes, sir!" Kirk replied readily, taking the data disk. "I'll deliver this to the SAS OIC ASAP!"
"Uh, yeah, okay, um, carry-on, Cadet," the lieutenant managed.
Kirk about-faced smartly and headed briskly down the hall.
"Cadet!" the lieutenant's sharp voice halted Kirk in his tracks. "The SAS offices are the *other* way!"
"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir! On my way, sir!"
Kirk heard the officer sigh resignedly, "Cadets!"
The last place where Kirk wished to be seen was the SAS offices. Therefore, he approached them with extreme caution, thankfully saw that their doors were closed, and pushed the data disk through the office mail slot.
He heard a pinging sound, then the computer's friendly voice announced to the occupants inside, "You've got mail."
Oh, brother! Kirk thought rolling his eyes. I hope I never have a computer that talks quite so friendly to me.
Returning to the ARO by a circuitous route, Kirk first ensured that the offices were vacated for the night. Most of the offices closed shop at seventeen hundred hours, but there was always the chance that someone might be working late.
Kirk took out the crew commlink and set it to scan. Kirk hadn't known that Wellington, besides being a drop-dead gorgeous rival (who happened to be a nice guy), was also a nano-engineering whiz.
I think I hate him, Kirk thought darkly.
The scan showed that the offices were empty.
Good. Now for a little electronic lock picking. Gee, I'm getting awfully good at this. I wonder if I didn't miss my calling? Maybe I should've been a cat burglar.
The electronic lock LCD indicator light went from red to green.
I'm in!
Opening the door quickly, Kirk ducked inside and closed the door immediately behind him. Taking a few moments for his eyes to become adjusted to the dim lighting, Kirk took out a red-filtered mini-light that he carried for emergencies.
No telling when I might be breaking and entering, he thought ironically.
Moving quickly, carefully through the cluttered offices, Kirk found the ARO's main computer terminals. Wellington had surmised that the ARO's multitasking system would probably be in sleep mode during off-hours rather than be completely shut down.
Personnel records had to be readily accessible twenty-four hours a day in order to effectively and efficiently manage such a widely dispersed organization as Starfleet.
Sitting down at the workstation, Kirk "woke" the terminal.
The screen immediately came up: PASSWORD REQUIRED.
Hmm-mm-m let's see . . . If I worked in the Records Office what password would *I* use?
Utilizing the input/output databoard rather than voice command mode, Kirk began to experiment with different password combinations.
Records . . . ACCESS DENIED . . . Starfleet . . . nope . . . Okay, this is getting interesting . . . SFA . . . ACCESS DENIED . . . Okay, you bucket of nano-circuitry, give it up . . . hmm-mm . . . how about . . . what's the name of the Records Officer? Oh, yeah . . . Lieutenant Ben Finney . . . let's see . . . Ben . . . ACCESS DENIED . . . Benjamin . . . ACCESS DENIED . . . Come on, come on . . . Finney . . . ACCESS DENIED . . . last chance before I turn you into slag . . . FINNEY . . . ACCESS COMPLETE . . . tsk, tsk . . . How careless of you Lieutenant Finney . . . that's at least ten demerits.
Kirk was in the system.
Quickly, Kirk began to query the computer on several Academy personnel: Yeoman Estee Lake, Cadet Robert M. Merrick, the other cadets who'd been rounded up in the initial days of the scandal, and Commander John Kopeck.
On impulse, Kirk decided to include the names of those cadets who had been transferred from one Sim/Tac crew to another, such as Cadets Davila and Oman, whom he and Mitchell had replaced on the Aegis crew.
Furthermore, Kirk searched for and found the names of the officers and crew who were on duty at Sim/Tac Five the day of the War Fighter simulation. When he found the information that he'd come for, he hesitated for a split second, knowing that the next step was the most critical.
As brilliant as Wellington was, he hadn't been able to provide a one hundred percent secure commlink in the short time he'd had to develop the little handy device. Although, Duke and Zyglowicz had concocted a means to circumvent this problem, Kirk was still taking a risk.
The ever-widening grave that Kirk had been digging for himself was growing into a chasm with Grand Canyon proportions. There was no helping it, though.
Didn't Gary say I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory? Well, here's to glory!
Connecting the commlink to the computer terminal, Kirk first carefully marked and collated the data for transmission, took a deep breath, and pressed the send button.
After a several seconds, the terminal screen blinked, "TRANSMISSION COMPLETE." Kirk's commlink beeped twice. Wolfe, acknowledging receipt of the data packet.
Mission accomplished. Quickly returning the ARO's computer terminal to its sleep mode, Kirk was startled by the overhead lights.
"I must say, your Dad will be extremely disappointed in you."
Kirk stood, whirling around. Captain Arrowsmith and two SAS officers, Lieutenant Okazaki and another whom he didn't know, stood at the entrance. Surreptitiously reaching behind him, Kirk palmed the commlink.
His eyes widening innocently, Kirk gave Arrowsmith a disingenuous smile.
"Captain Arrowsmith, sir! What a surprise! I didn't know anyone *else* worked late around here. I just wanted to catch up on some late file updates before I returned to my quarters--"
"Can it, Cadet!" Arrowsmith interrupted sharply. "You're in deep Dunsel, Mister. You're coming with us, and you can just turn over whatever it is that you're holding behind you."
"Yes, sir!" Kirk replied meekly, his eyes downcast. As the two SAS officers moved to either side of him, Kirk gave them his most pathetic, caught in the act look of shame.
You sure are big and scary-looking, his frightened eyes told them.
Knowing he had to use all of the weapons in his arsenal in order to buy some time, Kirk felt revulsion at what he was about to do. Concentrating, he called forth the most tragic event in his life, Amavia dying in his arms on that lonely rooftop over a year ago. The painful memory instantly produced a stream of real tears.
Stepping aside from the pain, Kirk affected a miserably forlorn stance. Please don't hurt me, his broken demeanor pleaded. I'm just a scared kid, completely harmless. Kirk hunched to appear smaller than his five-ten, shaking his broad shoulders a couple of times for added effect.
The SAS officers exchanged disdainful looks over Kirk's head.
That's right, fellas . . . I'm shaking in my boots . . . A little closer . . . I won't be any trouble . . . much . . .
Now!
Kirk sprang into action, kicking a couple of chairs and sending them colliding into the officers. Catching them flat-footed, he nimbly vaulted over the computer terminals. Having evaded the SAS officers, Kirk quickly searched for and spotted, against the far wall, the room's fusion disposal unit. He dove, executed a shoulder roll, came up on his knees, and pitched a perfect strike.
The commlink crashed into the disposal, which was used to destroy classified documents, and winked out of existence. "That little move just cost you your career in Starfleet!" Arrowsmith spat out. Looking at the SAS officers in disgust, he addressed them. "Griffin, Okazaki, I suggest you physically restrain your prisoner. He may be a kid, but apparently he has more guts and brains than the two of you combined!"
The two chastised officers each grabbed Kirk by the arms, and pulled him along.
Ouch! Hey! That hurts!
His anger rising, Kirk figured, "What the hell," and decided against being a model prisoner. Besides, he needed to ensure that Delaney had time to get away.
Time to take the offensive. Planting his feet firmly, Kirk pulled suddenly, slipping from the SAS officers' hold. Kicking out and up with his booted left foot, Kirk connected with Griffin's chin. The security officer crumpled against the corridor wall.
White takes Pawn en-passant, Kirk quipped.
Okazaki, grunting in surprise, turned towards Kirk pulling out his hand phaser.
Oh no you don't! Kirk thought grimly.
Spinning quickly, Kirk kicked the phaser out of Okazaki's hand, made a faking motion with his left hand, then chopped with his right. Okazaki rolled under the blow, and countered with a savage kick that narrowly missed Kirk's head.
Diving under the kick, Kirk came up quickly, and using the corridor's wall for leverage, launched himself feet first at his opponent's solar plexus. Smashing into his much heavier antagonist, Kirk recovered first, and as the determined Okazaki made a move to restrain him, Kirk jabbed fiercely with a left elbow to the man's right temple, closely following through with a brutal right cross to the chin.
The SAS officer went down.
The struggle had taken about three minutes in real time. Both SAS officers lay unconscious in the corridor.
In a dubious move that shocks the judges, the White Knight takes the second Pawn, Kirk observed.
"Are you going to strike me as well, Cadet Kirk?"
Arrowsmith's quiet voice cut through the roaring in his ears. Swallowing shakily, breathing in long thankful gulps of air, Kirk shook his head, no.
Delaney should've had sufficient time to leave safely.
"No, sir," he gasped, shrugging his shoulders. "I just don't like being shoved around." "I see. I'll try and remember that."
Arrowsmith cocked his head indicating that Kirk follow him.
"Come on. Those two will be all right, although I wouldn't want to be *you* when they come around."
"Dad says that they're not making Security officers like they used to anymore. All brawn and no brains," Kirk said shaking his head.
####
Chapter Thirty-three
"I'm asking you again, Cadet. What were you doing in the ARO's offices?"
Lieutenant Griffin sounded exasperated. He wanted to punch out the kid's teeth for that little kick to the chin, but he knew he couldn't use any force. At least not as long as that "Straight-Arrow" Smith was in the room.
"Look we know you had accomplices," interrupted Okazaki. "We traced your transmission through the spacedock switchboards."
Griffin took it up.
"There it split into separate data packets, but we were able to trace them. One went to Titan Colony, another to the Mercury Outstation. We're still tracing the third one--"
"--But it's only a matter of time before we find out who received your transmissions," finished Okazaki. Then added threateningly, "We have our ways."
So they had no idea who his accomplices were. White Knight to King's five.
"I refuse to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate myself," Kirk replied.
Arrowsmith broke in.
"Kirk, a Starfleet Cadet *has* no rights, except those imposed by the Academy! Your civil rights ended when you took your Oath on your first day in the Academy."
That was the move Kirk was waiting for. He pounced. Knight to King's Bishop three.
Check!
Giving Arrowsmith a wide-eyed look, Kirk said innocuously, "Oh, but begging the Captain's pardon, sir. The Captain has been grossly misinformed."
Arrowsmith gave Kirk a suspicious look. "What are you talking about?"
"Sir, if you'll read my student files you'll see that I'm not eighteen years old. I'm afraid, sir, the Federation laws regarding minor children are pretty much sacrosanct. You can verify with the JAG offices if you don't believe me."
Kirk resumed his silent waiting.
Arrowsmith looked at Commander Hume who'd joined them when they'd first begun the interrogation. That had been almost three hours ago.
"Check it out!" Arrowsmith barked.
Hume nodded and exited the interrogation room.
"You know that no legal technicalities will help you, Jimmy. I've already contacted the Enterprise. Your godfather, Captain April, expresses his regrets over your current situation. He says he'll inform your father immediately."
Watching the boy's reaction at the mention of his godfather and father, Arrowsmith felt like a heel. He'd hated to send that subspace communique, but he'd no choice. This boy had too much self-discipline, too much strength of will. In order to break him, Arrowsmith was going to have to fight dirty.
Kirk swallowed.
Hell of countermove, he thought. Advantage Black. Time to pull the White Knight back to safety.
No. He'd given his word. He wouldn't back down now.
Dad had told him once that while allegiance to the Federation and Starfleet was a noble endeavor, humans needed to feel allegiance to people. It was natural to feel loyalty first and foremost to one's Captain and shipmates. While this wasn't necessarily bad, it wasn't necessarily good, either, especially if one's loyalties became divided, as his had suddenly become.
If that were the case, then all Kirk had to fall back on was his Oath and his Honor.
"What *is* honor?" his Dad had asked him once. "Honor is only a word. Think about it, son."
Kirk was thinking about it now. What *was* honor? It may be only a word, but it was *his* word.
Without his honor, what was he?
Hume returned looking chagrinned.
"Well?" asked Arrowsmith impatiently.
"He's right. The Federation laws regarding the treatment and detention of minors are pretty strict. Something about the mistreatment and abuse of children in the past--it's a little lurid. Anyway, as long as Cadet Kirk is underage, even *if* he's an Academy cadet, and even *if* his parents signed an age waiver, the higher Federation law stands. His rights as a Federation minor cannot be taken away. We can't restrain him or question him against his will."
Kirk let out a slow, silent breath.
Threat to White Knight temporarily neutralized.
Black King is still in Check.
Thank you, Professor Gill, he thought, referring to his Federation History and Constitutional Law instructor. Kirk had thought that little tidbit about minors amusing when he'd first run across it, but now it was equivalent to having his Pawn promoted and exchanged for a higher piece.
"You mean I've been interrogating a minor child for three hours and no one thought to inform me of his rights?" Arrowsmith asked exasperatedly. "Everything this boy has said is inadmissible in Federation Court?"
At Hume's reluctant nod, Arrowsmith threw his arms up in disgust.
"This is *not* acceptable!" Arrowsmith yelled frustrated. Turning to the two SAS officers, he ordered, "I want you to escort our young friend here to his quarters." At their menacing looks, he added, "And if I hear that you so much as *touched* that boy, except to restrain him with minimum force, I'll have your commissions."
At that moment the door to the interrogation room opened, and Commander Rickenbach entered. "Captain, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Cadet Delaney wishes to speak to you."
Kirk's eyes lit up. Finally, the White Queen returns to official play.
Arrowsmith nodded. "Send her in."
Delaney walked in looking stiffly military. "Sir, Cadet Delaney reports to Captain Arrowsmith."
"Stand at ease, Cadet Delaney. How may I help you?"
"Sir, request to speak to you in private," she replied formally.
"I'm sorry, Cadet, but anything you have to say, must be said in front of my co-investigators."
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't do that," Delaney said shaking her head.
"What's going on in this Academy?" Arrowsmith asked no one in particular. "Aren't *any* of the cadets afraid of senior officers anymore?"
Shaking his head exasperatedly, he finally acquiesced to her request.
"Okay, Cadet, you win." Arrowsmith faced the rest of the officers. "Clear the room."
"But, sir, this is highly irregular," began Hume.
"You heard me!" Arrowsmith interrupted. "Out! We're not getting anywhere with Cadet Minor Child here anyway."
As the officers began filing out, Griffin and Okazaki made as if to take Kirk with them. Delaney stepped in quickly.
"Sir, please, I'd like Cadet Kirk to stay."
The SAS officers looked at Arrowsmith, and he sighed resignedly. "Why not," he said. "I'm not in charge here anymore apparently. Let him stay."
As Hume was about to exit, Delaney laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"Begging the Commander's pardon, sir. May I please take that off your hands?" Delaney indicated his tricorder. Hume gave her a sour look and handed it to her.
As they stepped out, Delaney faced the door. "Computer, secure door."
"Working . . . Interrogation room door is secure," the metallic voice of the interrogation room's computer replied.
"Computer, shields on."
"Working . . . Interrogation room shields activated."
"Computer, all voice and visual monitoring/recording devices off."
"Working . . . Interrogation room audio/visual monitoring/recording devices deactivated."
Delaney scanned the room with the tricorder. Satisfied, she turned to Kirk.
"Hey, Pilot, how've they been treating you?"
"Fine, Captain! But I thought SAS was gonna start pulling out my nails and teeth soon. Hey, I'm hungry. You got anything?"
Delaney nodded and tossed him a dehydrated carbobar. Kirk caught it one-handed and tore the wrapper quickly.
Delaney faced Arrowsmith.
"Sir, what I'm about to show you is highly volatile. That's why I thought it best that you see it first. Also, please understand that my Sim/Tac crew and I acted in violation of our oaths because things were becoming untenable. We felt we had to clear ourselves, sir, since no one else seemed to be."
Arrowsmith nodded.
"Go on, Cadet Delaney. But please understand. Unlike your young friend here, you are not under the same umbrella of protection. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a military court- martial."
Delaney smiled.
"That's why I had all the sound and visual recordings turned off, Captain. It'll be your word against ours. I admit your word *carries* more weight; however, it will still be only your word."
Kirk grinned in admiration.
Checkmate!
Arrowsmith acquiesced. "I see. Very well, Cadet Delaney, show me what you've got."
Delaney produced a palm-sized viewing screen.
####
Chapter Thirty-four
Captain Arrowsmith listened and watched with increasing interest. He couldn't believe it! Most of what he was viewing was completely inadmissible in court since it had been gathered illegally; however, it answered some well-defined questions he'd been asking himself.
One question, in particular, had been bothering the veteran Marauder Squadron commander for the few weeks since he'd started his investigation of Cadet Merrick. Namely, why couldn't Arrowsmith's subordinates find *any* incriminating evidence against the cadets whom Merrick had named?
Although, these students had all been identified by Merrick as part of the cheating ring, and had had their reputations on campus irreparably tarnished, none would admit to any wrongdoing.
So far, Arrowsmith's investigators had uncovered no evidence with which to incriminate them. All the Honor Board had was Merrick's word, and that wasn't exactly sterling.
Then there was the question of the War Fighter being downloaded onto the USS Aegis' onboard computer. Captain Delaney's crew had performed brilliantly. Arrowsmith had been awe-struck by the aerial acrobatic combat flying of Cadet Kirk, only a first year student.
However, it was the battle strategy that had truly impressed the squadron commander. Some of it showed the inexperience of the crew, but overall the plan was perfectly sound, including tactics that he himself might have come up with.
Which came to the real reason that the theft of the War Fighter simulation was so critical. The reason why Starfleet had pulled an active Commanding Officer from his ship and his patrol zone, and had asked him to personally conduct the investigation.
Unknown to the general student population, the War Fighter Simulation/Battle Plan was actually part of the Command Officer Training School curriculum. Using known OPFOR battle tactics, the Command Officer Trainees, who were highly selected lieutenants and lieutenant commanders recommended for command by their own Commanding Officers, developed the simulation as part of their own course requirements.
How the cadets fought the battles was then closely analyzed by Starfleet Operations and Intelligence (SOI), and later sent to experienced commanding officers for further input. After an exhaustive study, SOI finalized the battle strategies and they became a small part of Starfleet's Battle Plans.
Therefore, War Fighter used actual Starfleet tactics, strategy, and ship capabilities in order to produce the most realistically effective battle scenarios. This resulted in the simulation having a Cosmic Top-Secret rating, the third-highest classification in the fleet.
To keep cadets from inadvertently giving away classified information, they were placed on their honor not to discuss the scenarios and their solutions with others. Since the teams' performances were rated in comparison to the other teams, the Sim/Tac crews weren't about to give a rival team any advantage.
Up until now, this had worked to protect War Fighter.
Now, the plans had been stolen and the Academy was under a cloud of scandal. Although War Fighter had been recovered intact, it nevertheless could've been copied and passed on to enemy hands.
Worse, because of the security leak, Arrowsmith's Marauders, as well as the other Marauder Squadrons deployed across the Federation frontiers, were in danger of imminent attack. Marauder Squadrons were therefore all on a heightened Alert Status, and were currently being reinforced with heavier cruisers.
A cheating scandal was *one* thing, espionage was another. They had a traitor in their midst, one who was not averse to subverting cadets, and worse, who was not above resorting to attempted murder.
What really staggered Arrowsmith was just how long the alleged traitor had been at the Academy; how many other cadets might he have turned; how many had already graduated and were currently serving in commands spread across the Federation?
And what about the students whom Merrick had fingered? Were they really part of this thing? Were they Cadets who'd been under so much pressure to graduate that they'd become involved in a cheating ring, only to discover that payback came at much higher price than even they had anticipated?
Had they been enticed with promises of riches or with the fulfillment of some other fantasy, thus becoming willing dupes in the Galactic Great Game?
Were they innocent victims of Merrick's own weakness of character, randomly selected names that Merrick had incriminated in order to buy time for himself?
Finally, what *was* Merrick's role in this whole affair? What was his involvement? Why did his accomplices attempt to murder him? Did the boy become greedy? Did he threaten to expose them or did he suddenly have a change of heart and decide to jump ship? Was he a mere pawn who discovered that the price for the help he was promised to pass his academics came at the expense of his soul?
All of these questions and more flashed through Arrowsmith's mind as he read the data that Delaney's Sim/Tac crew had uncovered.
"It's funny, I guess, but Nasta kinda predicted this," Kirk said thoughtfully, his mouth full.
"Pardon?" Arrowsmith had been completely engrossed in the information.
"I said, that Cadet Nasta just a coupla days ago said that whoever had stolen War Fighter was probably long gone; that they'd probably sold it to the OPFOR. The others and I laughed at him, thought he was talking nonsense, like he does usually. I *never* would've figured a Starfleet cadet as a traitor to the Federation."
Arrowsmith nodded, deeply in thought.
"All right, you two. Nothing you've shown me leaves this room, do you understand?"
At their looks of protest, Arrowsmith continued impatiently, "Look, this is a job for Starfleet Intelligence, not for a Marauder skipper who's completely out of his depth. And it's certainly *not* in the purview of a bunch of cadets. This is *too* dangerous. And, as Cadet Delaney so succinctly put it, it's highly volatile."
Delaney and Kirk gave each other mildly annoyed looks, but turned to face the senior officer and nodded their understanding.
"How many others know about this?" Arrowsmith asked.
"Just members of my crew," Delaney replied. "With one exception. Cadet Fletcher refused to join us in any endeavor where he'd have to violate his Oath and your orders. The rest of us are guilty as charged, sir. However, I take full responsibility for the actions of my crew."
Arrowsmith nodded, one Commanding Officer to another.
Kirk protested.
"Hey! Nobody takes responsibility for *my* actions except me! I knew what I was doing when I agreed to this thing. No way is Cadet Delaney gonna go down alone on *this*!"
"At ease, Cadet!" snapped Delaney. "You haven't been asked, nor have you been given permission to speak!"
"But--"
"On the floor, Cadet! I want to see you knock out fifty, right here, right now! Move!"
Kirk's eyes showed his surprise, but he didn't protest any further. This was the old Delaney who'd terrorized Mitchell and him weeks ago. Kirk got down into the classic push-up position and began counting off fifty.
"One, sir! Two, sir! Three, sir--!"
"I want to see a straight back and shoulders!" Delaney barked.
"Ten, sir--!"
"You call *that* a push-up? My *grand*mother could do better! Keep those elbows at a ninety-degree angle, Cadet, or you'll do twenty more!"
"Fifteen, sir!"
"My count says ten, Cadet!" Delaney began circling Kirk's form. "You have to learn, cadet, that there is a time and a place to protest your commanding officer's decisions. That time and place is *not* after he or she has made a decision, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir! I understand, sir! Twenty, sir!" Kirk replied, continuing his extra training.
"I told you once before that on *this* crew *I'm* the Captain; *I* make the decisions; *I* give the orders! *Your* job is to follow orders; to listen; to learn; to keep your mouth shut unless asked your opinion! Cadet, your opinion was *not* asked! Do you follow me?"
"Yes, sir! Thirty-five, sir!"
"Because I *am* the Captain, because I *make* the decisions, and because I *give* the orders, the responsibility for those orders is *mine*! With the position comes responsibility. I *accept* that responsibility, Cadet. When you're in *my* position, when *you're* appointed Captain--should that dark day ever occur--then Cadet Kirk, and *only* then, will you be responsible for the decisions made and orders given."
"Yes, sir! Forty-five, sir!"
"Recover, Cadet! I swear, I've *never* seen a more pathetic display of athletic inability. Starting tomorrow, we work out a half- hour in the gravity gym. And just so Cadet Mitchell doesn't feel that I'm devoting too much personal attention to you, he's invited. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"
"Don't thank me, Cadet, I'm just doing my job!" Delaney turned and faced Arrowsmith. The hard lines on her face, softened to a fond smile. Arrowsmith managed to keep his face straight through the whole episode.
Delaney was the Academy's current strongest leadership example and she was mentoring the Academy's potentially strongest officer candidate. The future of Starfleet was in extremely capable hands as long as the Academy continued turning out cadets of the caliber of these two.
"Cadets, I think I know how you two *can* help, while at the same time keep you out of danger . . .
#### Chapter Thirty-five
Kirk stood outside the Commandant's office at stiff attention. The SAS officers were on either of both Delaney and him. Delaney looked haughtily proud and unyielding. Commander Hume was arguing with the Commandant's Aide, Commander Hightower.
"We *must* see her now! Today!" Hume spoke in low angry tones, his voice carrying across the room. The rest of the Commandant's staff was pointedly ignoring him. "We have evidence of such an explosive nature that we could be talking major fiasco out in all the frontiers."
"I'm sorry, Commander Hume, but as I said before, the Commandant will be tied up in a virtual conference with the C-in-C and the UFP President for several more hours. If you will leave whatever information you have with me, I will pass it on to her as soon as she's free."
Hume gave a single harsh nod. He was barely able to control his outrage. Before following Hightower, he addressed the SAS officers but kept his eyes boring into the two defiant cadets.
"Watch these two. They're not to move, to blink, anything! Captain Arrowsmith is currently reconvening the Honor Board. As soon as I'm done here, we're to meet him."
Hume looked at Griffin and Okazaki.
"You're authorized to use whatever force necessary to keep them put. Do you understand?" He turned back to Kirk and Delaney. "Unlike Captain Arrowsmith, I don't have a soft spot for clever kids."
With that, he spun on his heel and followed Hightower to his office. Before they entered, Kirk saw Hume speak in low tones to Hightower. Hightower nodded, walked over to the desk communit, and called the downstairs watch officer.
"Lieutenant Mendoza, this is Commander Hightower."
"Lieutenant Mendoza speaking. How may I help you, sir?"
"Please send Yeoman Lake up here. I need someone to record official meeting notes. You know I'd do it, but--" he smiled helplessly.
Lieutenant Mendoza's musical laugh could be heard over the air. "I understand, sir. Don't worry, that recording equipment has been the bane of many a Commandant's Aide. Yeoman Lake will be right up."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Hightower signed off.
Hume and Hightower entered the suite of offices reserved for the Commandant's Aide. A few minutes later, Yeoman Lake, appearing crisp and efficient, her hair combed up in cascading curls, walked up and knocked on Hightower's door. She entered immediately.
Kirk and Delaney waited outside for a seemingly interminable length of time. Kirk's neck started to feel stiff; his back began to hurt. Worse, he could feel a small, annoying trickle of sweat begin to worm its way down towards the small of his back. He was finding it difficult not to squirm.
He stole a glance at Delaney. She looked as cool and confident as she always did, just another day on parade. What is she *made* of, Kirk wondered again. Doesn't she have *any* nerves?
"Eyes front, Cadet!" Griffin barked. Kirk immediately stared straight ahead. "And don't think for one second that I've forgotten about that little kick to the chin."
"Yea," Okazaki agreed. "I haven't forgotten that right cross, either."
Kirk swallowed. He felt beads of perspiration suddenly break out on his forehead.
A few minutes later, the door to Hightower's office opened and Hume emerged. Standing in the doorway, he called back, "I'd appreciate whatever help you can offer, Matt. Captain Arrowsmith wants to close this thing as quickly as possible and return to his ship."
Hightower emerged, and placed his arm around Hume's shoulder.
"I'll do whatever I can, Chris. You've got my word. As soon as the Commandant becomes available, I'll give her a complete briefing."
The two commanders shook hands.
"Thanks, Matt," Hume said. He looked better than when he'd gone in.
Looks like mission accomplished, thought Kirk.
While the two commanders were saying their good-byes with a few personal inanities thrown in, Yeoman Lake stepped out of the office. She had the transcript data disk in her hand.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, politely interrupting the two senior officers. "Will that be all for now?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Yeoman Lake," Hightower apologized. "Yes, that'll be all for now. Please be sure to send me a hardcopy of the transcript ASAP. You know the Commandant . . . she likes paper copy when she reads. None of this new-fangled electronic copy for her."
Lake smiled. "Of course, sir. I'll have a hardcopy to you as soon as possible."
With that, she nodded pleasantly and walked towards the lifts. As she left, Kirk caught a faint trace of jasmine lingering behind.
Hume nodded towards Hightower, then walked up to the two SAS officers.
"Do it," he said cryptically.
Griffin nodded, took out a hand communicator, flipped it open and spoke tersely into it.
"Go!" He received two beeps in acknowledgement. Griffin nodded at Hume. "Done, sir."
"Very well," Hume acknowledged. Then speaking louder, he added, "Cadet Delaney, you and your entire Sim/Tac crew will be under SAS guard for the next twenty-four hours. I received a message from Captain Arrowsmith while in Commander Hightower's office that the earliest we can reconvene the Honor Board is tomorrow around sixteen hundred. Until then, each member of your team will be under armed escort."
He smiled dangerously.
"Don't worry. SAS knows how to be very discreet. Who knows, it's even possible that none of the other cadets will notice that you have personal babysitters as you make your way around campus."
Giving Kirk and Delaney a self-satisfied smile, he addressed Griffin and Okazaki.
"Take care of our young, misguided felons. We wouldn't want anything to keep them from meeting with us tomorrow, now would we?"
Griffin and Okazaki returned Hume's smile.
####
Chapter Thirty-six
Kirk and Mitchell sat alone at their mess table, pariahs in the eyes of their classmates. Even Nasta and Macudzinksi hadn't made their usual appearance. Of course, having Griffin and another SAS officer standing guard over them might have been intimidating their two friends.
"Lieutenant Griffin," Kirk addressed the SAS officer, "aren't you and your partner going to eat? I give you my word, neither Cadet Mitchell nor I will try anything funny."
"Coming from you, Cadet Kirk, that *is* very funny indeed," Griffin replied. "We'll eat when we're properly relieved and not before."
"Yes, sir," Kirk replied. Mitchell gave him a sympathetic look. The two SAS officers hadn't exactly been on familiar terms with them since they'd started their watch. Mostly they just looked threatening and grim.
"Hey, Jimmy-boy! Mitch!" both cadets looked up to find the source of the friendly shout.
Macudzinksi and Nasta were winding their way around the crowded First Year Cadet Mess.
"Where've you two ol' boys been hidin' yourselves? Nasty'n me've been lookin' all over here an' back for you!"
Griffin's partner barred their way.
"No one approaches Cadets Mitchell and Kirk without first being scanned."
"Yes, sir!" replied Nasta, swallowing nervously. "Uh, sir, would you mind not--?"
The SAS officer grinned wickedly, taking a prophylactic out of Nasta's backpocket.
"Hey! Grif! Looky here. Seems these firsters are always prepared!" He tossed the offending object towards Griffin. "Weren't you looking for some last night?"
"Funny, Krueger, real funny!" Giving it a cursory glance, Griffin tossed it back to Nasta. "It's past its expiration date, kid. If I were you, I'd buy me a new one, just in case."
Macudzinksi interjected, "Aw, Cadet Nasta's been carryin' that nasty ol' thing on himself all year now. Just hasn't had the opportunity to use it."
"Hey! I've had *plenty* of opportunity," Nasta protested. "Lots of it! I just don't like to throw out the old ones. You know . . . emergency backup . . . Hey, it's the god's honest truth! I swear!"
Lieutenant Griffin didn't bat an eyelid. "Sure kid." Then a bit grudgingly added. "Go, on. You're both clean."
Nasta and Macudzinksi immediately joined their two friends.
"So what's going on?" asked Macudzinksi. "And don't try to sell me no parcel of land in the middle of a swamp. Nasty'n me ain't buyin' this *guilty as charged* BS. We know you two."
"Yeah," agreed Nasta. "You'd no more steal War Fighter or violate the Honor Code than a whole planetful of Vulcans."
Macudzinksi gave him a sour look.
"Nasta, I swear, what do *Vulcans* have to do with this?"
"Zinc, I thought that being a Texan was just about the worst thing I could say about you. Now I know different!"
Macudzinksi gave him a suspicious look.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, for crying out loud, that it's bad enough that you're a Texan, but you're also an *ignorant* Texan! And, brother, they just don't make them any more ignorant than that!"
Nasta paused dramatically.
"Anyone can tell you that Vulcans are probably the most honest people in the whole galaxy. Catch a Vulcan lying, and it's probably a human who's been surgically altered!"
"Nasta," Macudzinksi said carefully. "Shut up!"
Kirk and Mitchell were observing with long-suffering looks.
"You think they'll lock us up and throw away the key?" Kirk asked wistfully.
"Lord, I hope so," replied Mitchell, "if it'll keep these two clowns away."
Nasta reached over to punch Mitchell good-naturedly on the arm. He accidentally knocked over Kirk's lemonade in the process. The tangy liquid spilled across the table, instantaneously soaking Mitchell's trousers.
As soon as the lemonade had spilled in his direction, Mitchell, too late, had hastily jumped up, knocking his chair backwards. Macudzinksi and Kirk immediately grabbed napkins and began trying to mop up the mess. Exasperated, Mitchell also took one and uselessly tried damping the spreading stain on his uniform.
Nasta looked on with the bewildered look of one who is totally unaware of his own actions.
"Nasta! I swear, sometimes," Mitchell sputtered in extreme annoyance. "You're a menace, you know that? We need to get you a personal *shield* or something!"
"It was an accident," Nasta protested. "It could've happened to anybody, right Zinc?" Zinc gave him an unsympathetic look.
Kirk had stopped mopping. What had Mitchell just said?
"Gary," Kirk interrupted his friend's tirade excitedly. "Repeat what you just said!"
Mitchell was still muttering to himself.
"Gary!" Kirk walked up to Mitchell and grabbed him by the shoulders. Mitchell looked up still irritated. "What did you just say?"
"What? That Nasta's a menace?"
"No, the other thing."
"You mean that he needs a personal shield?" Mitchell asked confused. Then defensively, "Well, he does! Of all the clumsy . . ."
"Never *mind* all that!" Kirk interrupted. "A personal shield . . . a personal shield . . . that's it! Gary, that's it! That's how she *did* it!"
"Did what?" asked Macudzinksi. "Who did what?"
Ignoring his friends, Kirk turned to Lieutenant Griffin.
"Sir, that's how she did it! Don't you see? She needed to be protected against the multiple gravity for at least a split second. Then once Merrick was unconscious, she somehow exited the gravity room. But she *needed* to remain in there long enough to set it. She couldn't have lured Merrick in there if the gravity was already set at twenty times Earth normal. The safety doors wouldn't have opened."
"That's well and good, Cadet Kirk, but you forget one thing. The gravity doors were closed when you arrived, and, I've checked the complex with a fine toothed comb. There's only one exit from the g- room. Anyone exiting would have passed in front of you."
Kirk noticed that Griffin at least looked interested in the theory. He hadn't just dismissed it out of hand.
"And, Jimmy," interjected Mitchell, "remember, what *I* sensed. Merrick hadn't been in danger until a few seconds after we entered the gym."
"That's true," Griffin nodded. "No one could've survived twenty-g for more than a few seconds anyway."
"Then what we have is an old-fashioned locked door mystery," volunteered Macudzinksi. At the others' looks, he added, "Haven't you Yankees ever read Sherlock Holmes? Oh, sorry, I forgot. Most of you can't read."
"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" asked Mitchell. Nasta shrugged his shoulders.
Kirk smiled. "A very famous nineteenth century detective. I believe he smoked a pipe, wore a weird hat, and played the violin. Hung out with a doctor named Watson."
"I knew you'd know, Jimmy-boy!" Macudzinksi said approvingly. "You may be a farm boy from Iowa, but you've got the heart of a Texan. You sure your family ain't transplanted Texans or something?"
Jimmy smiled no.
"So what's your point, Zinc?" Nasta asked exasperatedly.
"My point?" Macudzinksi asked guilelessly. Grinning, he affected a Texan's idea of a British accent and added, "The point, my dear, Nasta, is elementary."
He smiled.
"If someone in a locked room exits said locked room, but does not exit via the sole set of doors going in or out, then . . . Cadet Kirk, would you care to elaborate?"
"Why, thank you, Mister Holmes," Kirk bowed in mock formality. "Then . . . it stands to reason that said individual did not exit by said door . . . rather . . ."
" . . . Rather," Griffin took up the thread, "said individual exited by another route."
"But if there's only one door--" protested Nasta.
"One door, yes," nodded Macudzinksi, "but . . ."
" . . . other means of escape," finished Kirk.
" . . . other means, such as--?" asked Griffin.
" . . . other means, such as a transporter room," finished Mitchell.
All eyes turned to him. Mitchell looked like he'd finally found the missing piece to a puzzle that had been giving him particular problems.
"A transporter room. That's why I sensed danger, for only a split second. What I felt from Merrick was suffocation, a crushing sensation . . . that feeling was different from the danger that accompanied it . . . I confused them because I thought that the danger and suffocation were one and the same . . . Instead, the danger was *not* something he was experiencing . . . it was some*one* . . . Someone in the g-room with him. Someone who was gone by the time Jimmy broke in and found Merrick lying unconscious."
"Transporter," Griffin said nodding his head. "Makes sense, Cadets, makes a lot of sense. And I happen to know where there's one on campus."
At Kirk's questioning look, he said succinctly, "Headquarters."
Suddenly everything fell into place. "Of course! That's how Delaney beat me there the first time! Then it should be relatively simple to check for unauthorized usage?" He made the last a question rather than a statement.
Griffin nodded. He pulled out his communicator.
"Griffin here. Find Captain Arrowsmith, let him know that we may have something for him."
The other end acknowledged.
"Well, now, Cadets, didn't I hear someone invite me and my partner to dinner a few minutes ago? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starved. What do you say, Krueger? Think the First Year Cadet Mess roast chicken is as dry as I remember?"
Mitchell shook his head.
"Don't worry, sir," he began.
"With Nasta here, nobody's food ever stays dry for long," finished Macudzinksi.
"What's everyone talking about?" asked Nasta as they all made their way back to the mess line. "That wasn't my fault . . . honest . . . it was a simple accident . . . hey, it happens!"
####
Chapter Thirty-seven
The Aegis crew exited the building together. The second Honor Board hadn't been any more fun than the first.
Senior Cadet Commander V. C. Delaney had been severely reprimanded for the actions of her crew. The Board had adjourned for the evening without reaching a final decision on an appropriate punishment for the lot of them.
Unlike the first Board, the cadets had all been marched into the chambers together, single file. They'd formed, dressed right dressed, in front of the Honor Board. Seven cadets standing stiffly at attention, their futures uncertain.
Yeoman Lake sat discreetly in the court reporter seat. Apparently, this time the proceedings were going to go on the official record.
Kirk looked at Arrowsmith. His cold demeanor rivaled an Iowa winter. No more mister nice guy.
Commander Kwaku Nkengi read the long list of charges against the cadets. "Conspiracy . . . breaking and entering . . . unauthorized accessing of Starfleet personnel files . . . unauthorized use of military and commercial transmission channels . . . disobeying the orders of the Honor Board . . ."
Nkengi's monotone droned on citing Starfleet regulations, sub- paragraphs, and an interminable string of legalese that passed completely over Kirk's head. Suddenly, Nkengi singled him out for special consideration.
"Cadet James T. Kirk," Nkengi continued, "you are also charged with resisting arrest and striking two superior officers, Lieutenant Gregory H. Griffin and Lieutenant Li W. Okazaki, while in the performance of their authorized duty as Starfleet Academy Security officers. How do you plead to these charges?"
Nkengi paused and turned a bored look at Kirk.
"Guilty, sir," Kirk choked out.
"Court Reporter," Nkengi addressed Yeoman Lake, "please indicate a plea of *Guilty* to the charges of resisting arrest and striking superior officers."
Yeoman Lake nodded and efficiently did as requested.
Nkengi nodded at Arrowsmith who turned to face the properly chastised group of youngsters standing before him.
"Thank you, Commander Nkengi," Arrowsmith said. Then addressing the cadets, his voice suddenly became dangerously cold.
"In all of my years of service, I have never seen anything that has so disgusted me as this extremely messy business. A Starfleet cadet who violates his or her oath, who dishonors the uniform which he or she is privileged to wear, reflects poorly on this stalwart institution and all who have come before."
Eyeing each cadet in turn, Arrowsmith's eyes came to rest on Delaney.
"However, the one in whom I am the most disappointed is you, Cadet Delaney. You've been entrusted with the highest honor this Academy can bestow on any cadet--the rank of Senior Cadet Commander. As such, you are *the* example of what Starfleet Academy considers the best of the best. Your actions these past few days reflect poorly not just on yourself, but on the position you hold and on the Academy itself.
"This Board will adjourn in private chambers in order to confer further on a suitable punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Delaney replied softly. Then stronger added, "Sir, request permission to speak."
"Permission granted, Cadet," Arrowsmith replied.
"Sir, whatever happened, whatever my crew did or failed to do, I am responsible. As Captain, I accept full responsibility."
"Thank you, Cadet," Arrowsmith replied. "We shall take that into full consideration. Dismissed."
So, now they stood outside the building, not quite looking at each other. Cadet Fletcher looked like his spirit had just been crushed out of him.
"I don't know how I'm going to face my family," he whispered. "All that work . . . all that studying."
He looked at the others.
"I have two older brothers currently serving on starships right now . . . a lieutenant and a lieutenant commander . . . my Dad's in the admiralty, a two-star . . . even Mom served until my oldest brother was born . . . Both of my grandfathers served . . . and *their* fathers before them."
Fletcher shook his head, swallowing. The tears were dangerously close to spilling.
"They were so proud when I received my acceptance letter. What am I going to *say* to them?"
"The truth," said Kirk simply. "You're not guilty of anything. Not like me . . . I broke into that office and stole information . . . and punched out the two SAS officers."
Kirk shrugged his shoulders.
"I admit it, and I'll take whatever punishment the Board imposes. But none of us is responsible for what happened to War Fighter. If our families ask, the truth is all we have left."
Fletcher nodded despondently. Kirk determined to keep an eye on him for the rest of the evening. He looked around. Their SAS babysitters were still posted near at hand. Kirk knew that each officer was just close enough to react to anything that the Aegis crew might attempt.
Not that we'd be stupid enough *to* try anything, he thought wryly. I guess we'll all have someone keeping an eye on us tonight.
"Hey, what do you say to a Sim/Tac exercise?" asked Delaney. "Graduation is still five weeks away. We haven't finished our training yet."
"Now that's what I call optimism," said Zyglowicz wryly. "We've just been dismissed from a second Honor Board . . . this time they actually have *real* charges against us . . . and you're talking about graduation."
"Yeah! Exciting, huh?" Delaney returned grinning, affecting a devil-may-care stance. "I don't about you guys, but I feel a SimEx is exactly what the doctor ordered. It'll get our minds off the axe, and who knows . . . we may even win!"
Kirk wasn't sure if she was referring to winning against the scenario or the charges against them.
"I think that's great!" he volunteered, his enthusiasm infectious. "It may be the last time I get my hands on a Marauder helm. I don't about the rest of you, but I think that's the hottest baby in Starfleet's arsenal. Nothing compares to its handling!"
"Oh, I don't know," Wellington said, looking askance at Zyglowicz. "I know a few things in Starfleet that handle just a little hotter."
Zyglowicz blushed furiously at his meaning.
Not understanding, Kirk asked innocently. "Like what? Dad's always bragging about the Constitution class, but I've studied the specs, the Marauder flies rings around it."
Delaney smiled fondly. Walking up to her youngest crewmate, she placed her arm around his shoulder and started walking him towards Sim/Tac Five.
"You're absolutely right, Cadet Kirk. Nothing in Starfleet's arsenal handles quite like the Marauder."
Zyglowicz jabbed an elbow in the Wellington's ribs, causing him to double over in real pain.
Pointing a finger at him, she hissed threateningly, "You just wait . . . You *owe* me!"
The others followed Delaney and Kirk, grinning widely.
#### Chapter Thirty-eight
"I'm sorry, Cadet Delaney, but that's absolutely impossible!"
Commander Kopeck stood with his arms crossed, blocking the entrance to Sim/Tac Five.
"The Honor Board is currently investigating you and your crew. I'm afraid there just isn't any chance that I'm going to allow you inside the simroom."
"Begging the Commander's pardon," Delaney answered smoothly, "we were called in for questioning and released. The last time I checked, being questioned by the Honor Board does not constitute guilt."
"Cadet Delaney, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to insist--"
"Cadet Delaney is absolutely correct."
Kopeck and the Aegis crew all whirled around startled. Captain Arrowsmith and Commander Hume were walking up towards them.
"Cadet Delaney's crew was questioned and released. There have been no charges brought up against them."
Arrowsmith came up and stood next to Kopeck. He barely came up to Kopeck's jutting chin, but somehow he still managed to look taller.
Dad's right, Kirk thought, height doesn't matter.
"Captain Arrowsmith," Kopeck spoke solicitously, "I'm sorry, sir. I was informed that Delaney's crew was about to be indicted for breaking and entering."
"Really?" Arrowsmith said, feigning shock. "Now, how did you hear about that? Commander Hume, did you perchance inform Commander Kopeck of such a likely occurrence?"
"Why, not that I recall, sir . . . Oh, but just a second . . . I seem to recollect discussing this with the Commandant's Aide . . . yes, sir, that's it . . . Commander Hightower and I discussed this in his office."
"Tell me, Chris, were you two alone at the time?" Arrowsmith had affected a bland tone.
"Why, now that you mention it, sir," Hume said echoing Arrowsmith's tone, "no, we weren't. Hightower's yeoman--Lake, I believe is her name--was also there. She was doing whatever it is yeomen do. Funny, I never thought of this before, but I suppose that yeomen are almost invisible. You know always there, in plain sight, working quietly, discreetly."
"Yes," Arrowsmith agreed, dragging it out as if giving it due consideration. He snapped his fingers. "Why, Commander Hume, it just occurred to me that this yeoman--Lake you said?--was also recording the Honor Board proceedings less than forty-five minutes ago. How interesting that the two times in which the cadets' possible punishment was mentioned . . . behind closed doors . . . Yeoman Lake was present--recording the secret proceedings."
"Yes, most interesting. I wonder . . . how many secrets do you suppose that Yeoman Lake has been privy to in her career?" Hume added.
"An interesting question, Chris. Tell me, Commander Kopeck, how long have you known Yeoman Lake?"
The question surprised Kopeck.
"What--? How long--? Oh, how long have I known Yeoman Lake? Well, let me see, sir . . . Yeoman Lake has been working in my division for approximately eighteen months now . . . I believe she was transferred to the Academy shortly before that . . . I'm not sure."
"That's not my question," replied Arrowsmith, his tone belying his smile. "I didn't ask you how long she's been working here, I asked you long have you known her?"
Kopeck shook his head, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, confused.
"I don't understand, sir," he responded perplexed. "I've known her for the eighteen months she's been working here."
"I see," Arrowsmith said quietly, holding out his hand to Hume. "Commander Hume, please."
Hume took out a communicator, the new flip-open palm-sized units that Starfleet was currently issuing for starship duty, and slapped it onto Arrowsmith's open palm.
Wellington, standing next to Kirk, gasped in excitement.
"I'd like get my hands on *that* baby," he muttered. Kirk looked up him shaking his head. A communicator gets him excited. Ruth, he doesn't notice. What a strange guy.
Arrowsmith flipped open the communicator and spoke into it. "Now."
To Kirk's surprise, a transporter shimmer began immediately next to the group. He saw that three figures were beginning to materialize. Finally, Lieutenants Griffin and Okazaki formed. Held between them, stood Yeoman Lake. She looked slightly disheveled. Her normally carefully coifed hairdo falling over her eyes.
No doubt due to Griffin and Okazaki's gentle handling, Kirk thought wryly.
Arrowsmith addressed the two SAS officers.
"Lieutenants, I don't believe that it'll be necessary to restrain Yeoman Lake. We're all members of the same team here, right Yeoman?" He looked at her paternally. "You're not going to try anything are you?"
Lake shook her head angrily.
"I thought not," he said smiling magnanimously.
Arrowsmith nodded at the two SAS officers who released her immediately. Kirk noticed however that they didn't step away from her.
"Yeoman Lake, by the way," Arrowsmith continued, "I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier for recording the Honor Board proceedings today . . . Those things are always so thanklessly dreary, don't you think? Cadets being accused of violating their Oaths . . . better to weed them out now, than allow them to graduate and possibly commit something worse in the future when they have access to truly sensitive information."
Smiling innocuously, Arrowsmith walked up to Lake.
"Tell me, Yeoman. Commander Hume and I were wondering . . . how many secrets might the yeomen of the fleet be privy to? Do you have any inkling?"
Refusing to look him in the eye, Lake shook her head, no.
"Do you have *any* idea, how many of those secrets go to the grave, as they should, because the yeomen in question were bound by their oath of secrecy?"
Again Lake shook her head, no.
"For that matter, I wonder how many of those secrets may find their way into enemy hands, because some people don't know what the word *Honor* means?" Arrowsmith added.
"Or, if they *did* know its meaning once, they lost it somewhere along the way," agreed Hume pointedly looking at Kopeck.
Arrowsmith also turned to face Kopeck, whose face had suddenly blanched and broken out in perspiration.
"What do *you* say, Commander Kopeck? Do *you* know what the word *Honor* means?"
"Of course I know what it means," Kopeck said a bit pompously. "I've served for almost twenty-five years. I've always been bound by my Oath and my duty."
"Yes, of course, you have," replied Arrowsmith raising a single eyebrow. "Commander Hume?"
Hume immediately produced his tricorder, adjusted it to what seemed a predetermined setting, looked at the information that suddenly came up, and then handed the instrument to Captain Arrowsmith.
"Let's see . . . Commander Kopeck, it says here that you've been in Starfleet for almost twenty-five years. Just five years shy of retirement at full pay and benefits. A remarkable achievement . . . truly."
Arrowsmith said eyed Kopeck thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure that *I'll* last that long . . . you know life on the final frontier can be a little hectic . . . Oh, but, you wouldn't know about that would you?"
"What do you mean?" Kopeck asked insulted.
"I mean, Commander, that you haven't had a chance to experience any of the dangers that comes with the job, have you? Graduated in the middle of your class, not brilliant, but no slouch either.
"Served as attache to some Federation diplomat for a few years, transferred to Spaceport duty here, then served as the Mars Colony Starfleet liaison for Civil Defense.
"Finally, about ten years ago, you requested and received transfer to the Academy cadre, first working as a simcrew duty officer and, when promoted to your current rank, eventually ending up as the Sim/Tac OIC."
Arrowsmith paused, cocking his head to one side.
"Not exactly an exceptional service record, but nothing to be ashamed of, either. Then about six years ago, something happened . . . a black mark in your personnel jacket. You were caught in a . . . shall we say *compromising* position with a cadet . . . a fourth year cadet, I believe, whose grade point average was about to get her recycled or dismissed.
"The board recommended the cadet for recycle, but she resigned instead. You, on the other hand, received a severe reprimand for conduct unbecoming. That reprimand has kept you from receiving any further promotions or positions of increased authority and responsibility."
Arrowsmith stopped his recitation of Kopeck's life and failures. Placing his hands on his hips, Arrowsmith began walking around Kopeck, inspecting him, like Delaney had first inspected him, Kirk recalled. Coming to a halt in front of the taller officer, Arrowsmith squinted up at him.
"Tell me, Commander, what's it like, seeing your classmates and even some who graduated after you, being promoted ahead of you. Several of them have already achieved flag rank, others are commanding starships, while you vegetate here at the Academy, forgotten by most, laughed at by those who *do* remember you?"
Kopeck looked like he was about to break, but somehow found a reserve of inner strength that Kirk had to admire.
"I don't know why you're doing this, sir, but I assure you that I've never done anything to violate my Oath to Starfleet."
"Commander Kopeck," Arrowsmith said, changing the subject, "whatever happened to that cadet do you know? What was her name by the way . . . the official files were sealed to protect her identity."
"I don't know," he shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, it's been a long time . . . as you can probably understand, I've done everything possible to forget that dark moment in my past."
"You don't remember her name," Arrowsmith said, his flat tone conveying disbelief. "Yeoman Lake? Would *you* know the name of that cadet?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Lake shot back disrespectfully, her anger giving her an increased bravado. "I don't even know why I'm here! I've sat in on enough Summary Courts and courts-martial proceedings . . . I have rights . . . a right to counsel . . . a right to know why I've been brought in for questioning . . . SAS just came to my quarters, and next thing I know I'm being transported here . . . I'm not a cadet . . . you can't question me without due process!"
"No, you're not a cadet," agreed Arrowsmith. "But you once were, weren't you? Six years ago to be exact. Cadet Esther Laikind . . . bottom percentile of her academy class, both in academics and leadership . . . brought in before Captain's Mast on at least four occasions for possible Honors violations."
He paused looking at her thoughtfully.
"Three of the charges were dropped for insufficient evidence, the fourth was sent to the Honor Board . . . however, the cadet who first brought the charges was herself summarily dismissed . . . therefore, once again the charges were dropped against Laikind. The other cadet committed suicide within a month of her dismissal because of the shame."
"You have no *proof*!" Lake hissed, her anger transforming her normally cool beauty into an ugly mask of hatred. "You said it yourself! Those records were *sealed*! And even *if* what you say is true, it's all inadmissible . . . You've got *nothing* on me . . . *sir*!"
Lake almost spat out the last word.
"Commander Hume?" Arrowsmith turned to his assistant.
Hume immediately activated his tricorder, then began scanning Yeoman Lake.
"Chemical and biomolecular make-up is identical to what we scanned in the g-room, sir. Analysis indicates a derivative of the Terran flowering bush, Trachelospermum jasminoides, commonly known as Star Jasmine. This essence is relatively expensive, but may be purchased at any over-the-counter establishment that sells exclusive perfumes and cosmetics."
Lake looked at them suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, pardon us, Yeoman Lake," Captain Arrowsmith apologized. "Commander Hume has just placed you, or at least your perfume, in the g-room where Cadet Merrick was almost killed recently."
"That's *it*?" Lake hissed. "My per*fume*?"
Starting to laugh, Lake shook her head in open disbelief!
"Oh, you and you're toy soldiers here are gonna have to do a lot better than that, Captain!" She jerked her head in Hume's direction. "Your trained monkey here just said that it can be bought almost anywhere--the last time I looked, wearing expensive perfume wasn't a crime!"
Arrowsmith looked at Hume. Hume faced Yeoman Lake.
"Yeoman Estee Lake, also known as, Esther Laikind, you are under arrest for suspicion in the attempted murder of Cadet Robert M. Merrick, the theft of the War Fighter Simulation and Battle Plans, and for suspicion of espionage against the government of the United Federation of Planets."
Lake stood in mute shock.
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will--"
"--I know my rights," Lake interrupted. "You have *nothing* on me! You're all just a bunch of high and mighty officers . . . protecting each other just like the last time!"
She looked at Kopeck in disgust.
"Your *Honor*! Don't make me laugh! Where was your honor six years ago when you agreed to give me a passing grade if I only performed a few additional *duties* for you?"
Lake made a move as if to attack Kopeck but was immediately blocked by Griffin and Okazaki. She laughed sardonically.
"Still protecting him I see," she said bitterly. "I get canned by the Academy; he gets a slap on the wrist."
She turned to Arrowsmith.
"I've *seen* Starfleet justice before . . . so don't give me any- -" she uttered a word that even made Zyglowicz blush, "--you know you don't have anything on me! So go ahead and arrest me. I'll be out in less than two hours."
Arrowsmith nodded at the two SAS officers.
"You heard the lady. Take her in." He looked at his wrist chronometer. "Whoa! Look at the time! After nineteen hundred hours. Commander Hume doesn't the military magistrate's office close at seventeen hundred?"
Hume nodded in response then added helpfully, "Yes, sir, and while today is only Thursday, this *is* a holiday weekend. I'm afraid that their offices won't open again before zero eight hundred hours on Monday."
"Monday, you say?" Arrowsmith asked taken aback. "How inefficient. My apologies, Yeoman Lake, but as I'm sure you're well aware, sometimes the wheels of military justice do come to grinding halt. I'm afraid you'll just have to spend the next seventy-two hours at the expense of the UFP. I'm sure you'll find Starfleet accommodations simple, but quite comfortable."
He nodded at Griffin and Okazaki, who quickly grabbed Lake by the arms. She stood still, looking defiantly at Arrowsmith.
"Enjoy your victory, Captain. Come Monday, we'll see just how empty it is."
####
Chapter Thirty-nine
Kirk and Delaney exchanged uneasy glances. They'd known that Arrowsmith was attempting to entrap Lake into revealing her involvement. That's why they'd staged the whole charade up in the Commandant's offices and later the Honor Board with Lake a discreet eyewitness.
But Lake was correct. Arrowsmith had little better than a Pyrrhic victory, one that had come at the high cost of revealing his hand. However, with no evidence other than the perfume, he had nothing.
The other cadets had had no idea of the subtle subterfuge that Arrowsmith had been playing; therefore, they were shocked by the revelations that had been uncovered in front of them.
Kopeck looked like a condemned man who'd had the noose tightened around his neck, only to be given a last second reprieve. He faced Arrowsmith with a carefully respectful expression on his countenance.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" he asked blandly.
"Yes, as matter fact there is," Arrowsmith replied. "The cadets here have lost a lot of Sim/Tac time because of this unfortunate business. I'd like to make it up to them, by allowing them to do a SimEx right now. What do you say, Commander? Think the Academy's toughest instructor could give these kids a break?"
Kopeck looked like he was about to refuse, but thought better of it.
"Of course, sir, I believe we can accommodate them. However, it's going to take a few minutes. My simcrew has already left for the holiday weekend. I'm afraid I'm going to have to find some last minute replacements. At this late hour, I don't promise you that I'll be able to find anyone."
Arrowsmith smiled.
"Oh, you needn't worry about *that*, Commander Kopeck. Commander Hume and I are both qualified Marauder commanders capable of operating any and all of the bridge positions. We can easily monitor the Sim/Tac OIC stations with you. If you need any more personnel, Commanders Rickenbach, Nkengi, and McClanahan are all fair hands at it as well. But then, you knew that already didn't you?"
Kopeck nodded reluctantly.
"Of course, sir. My simcrew personnel were all excited that two well-known Marauder commanding officers, such as yourself and Commander Hume, would be on campus for an extended period. And of course we know of the qualifications of the rest of the members of the Honor Board . . . Rickenbach is an experienced first officer, McClanahan, an engineer, and Nkengi, a science officer. My staff officers have asked me to request your participation in a War Fighter simulation when this investigation is complete."
"Did they really?" asked Arrowsmith pleased. "Well, consider the request approved . . . so, Commander Kopeck, do we allow the cadets another crack at War Fighter or not?"
"With you and Commander Hume in the monitoring room, sir, what can go wrong?" asked Kopeck.
"What indeed?" returned Arrowsmith grinning widely.
Kopeck immediately opened the hatch leading into the simroom. Delaney and her crew filed in, a deeply subdued crew of cadets indeed.
Kopeck then led Arrowsmith and Hume to the door leading to the Sim/Tac monitoring room. To his surprise it was already powered up and occupied. Commanders Rickenbach, McClanahan, and Nkengi were sitting at three monitoring stations.
Arrowsmith gave Kopeck a "what can I say" shrug.
"Surprise!" Arrowsmith smiled at Kopeck's scowl. "Ricky, status!"
"War Fighter Sim stations are go, Captain!" Rickenbach reported.
"Good," Arrowsmith nodded. Turning to McClanahan he asked, "Chance, time to StartEx?"
"We are at T-minus thirty minutes and counting, Captain." Arrowsmith nodded his acknowledgement.
"K-man!" Arrowsmith walked up to Nkengi and gripped his upturned palm in easy camaraderie. "You've got the honors."
Nkengi flashed a wide grin at his squadron commander, and turning his chair to face the rest of his fellow officers gave them a thumbs up. The rest of the Marauder Squadron's senior officers returned it as one. All for one and one for all . . .
####
Kopeck looked on enviously.
Captain Arrowsmith was well respected, even beloved, by the members of his Marauder group, officers and enlisted alike. Kopeck remembered Arrowsmith from their Academy days together. That dig earlier about his classmates and those that came afterwards being promoted ahead of him had hurt . . . deeply.
Kopeck and Arrowsmith had been classmates. The others present had been junior to them. Arrowsmith, even then, had commanded respect and awe from others.
Kopeck remembered him "adopting" cadets from the junior classes, and taking them personally under his wing--sort of in line with the mentoring program that Commodore Lorraine had recently implemented.
But Arrowsmith had needed no command structure or guidelines instructing him to do so. He'd mentored the junior cadets simply because he was that sort of a person. He liked to help others. And today, that solicitous behavior was paying off with senior officers whose loyalties to him had been forged in the Academy.
What would Kopeck do to command that type of respect?
The cadets feared him, of course. His was the toughest class in the Academy. They had to get through him in order to get inside a real spacecraft.
And Kopeck had done his job well. In the ten years on the job, he could honestly say he'd turned out some top-notch young officers to crew Starfleet's finest ships.
And what had been his reward? he thought bitterly. A reprimand, ensuing disgrace for a time, then worse, apathy as he faded from the memories of his fellow officers. Forgotten by those with whom he'd gone through school, a laughingstock for those who recalled his one indiscretion.
Why did Lake have to return after all these years? Kopeck lamented.
She was *still* as desirable as he remembered her from her Academy days. God help him, he'd been in love with her. But she'd used him. Seduced him for a measly grade. Once he'd passed her, she'd laughed at him. Mocked his prowess in bed. Called him a nothing.
Lake would've gotten away with it too, except that blinded by a white fury, Kopeck brutally showed her what a *man* he was. He'd forced her to . . . his mind and deep guilt refused to go there. That hadn't been him, he denied . . . it had been an animal . . . an animal whose lusts were his own undoing . . . for their raised voices had alerted a guard and they'd been caught.
Lake, or Laikind, had been offered the chance to recycle. After all, the Board considered her more sinned against than guilty. However, in defiance she'd resigned instead.
As for Kopeck, he'd been severely reprimanded; however, the Academy had managed to keep the details of the summary court relatively quiet. Therefore, due to the intransigence of the cadre, the whole sordid affair gradually faded from memory. Eventually, there was no one left who even remembered the scandal.
Until now that is. He felt that noose tightening again. Arrowsmith wasn't finished, of that Kopeck was sure. He just didn't know what the Marauder Squadron commander was up to.
Jasmine! What a fool he'd been! On impulse, he'd purchased the expensive fragrance. He'd intended it as a door opener, a way to get reacquainted with Lake. He'd recognized her the minute she'd reported in. It had been all he could do to keep a professional facade in place.
He'd arranged to meet her that very night, and of course, they had taken up where they'd left off all those years ago. The years had made her even more desirable, more demanding, more mockingly cruel. While raising him to newer heights of ecstasy than he'd ever known, she belittled his performance.
She brutalized him with her words; he returned the favor by physically abusing her during their lovemaking.
Lovemaking? He thought sardonically. More like two animals clawing at each other. Their mutual violence in bed kept escalating.
Kopeck wanted to kill her; her scornful laughter nearly drove him insane with fury. But then she'd whimper that little girl whimper and do things to him that he'd never even dared dream about. Before he knew it, he was hooked. He needed her as desperately as an addict needed a drug.
Lake was his lover, his slave master, his mother. He loved her with the devotion of the emotionally crippled, and would do anything for her.
Kopeck showered her with expensive gifts. A relative loner, he'd never had occasion to spend much of his Starfleet salary. Soon, Kopeck started dipping into his life's savings and retirement funds. He didn't care. He had to show her how much he loved her.
In an act of juvenile sentimentalism, he'd gifted her with a bottle of the jasmine perfume each month. Like a fool, he'd bought it at the same fragrance counter each time. The saleswoman knew him so well, that she now had the bottle wrapped and ready for him.
Soon, Kopeck had gone through his savings, and started buying on credit. Before he knew it, he was in over his head in debts.
Firmly in her grip, Lake coerced him into committing high treason. It was so easy the way she made it sound. She'd planned it all. She even knew some buyers.
"They're willing to pay over half a billion credits for War Fighter!" she'd whispered seductively after they'd finished making love. "Think of it! No more Starfleet, no more work . . . just luxury for the rest of our lives!"
Kopeck had laughed in disbelief.
"You're crazy! Commit treason? We'd never get away with it!"
Kopeck had smiled fondly, and caressed her cheek. She had a bruise that he'd just given her in a fit of passion. She winced at his touch, then bit his hand drawing blood.
He gasped feeling his desire growing.
"You know I can't violate my oath. Don't worry. I'll take care of you. A commander's salary is fairly respectable."
She sat up in disgust.
"You call *this* living?"
She waved her arm taking in their surroundings. They were in the Fairmont Hotel, one of San Francisco's most exclusive, registered under assumed names. Kopeck had finally just rented it on a permanent basis. The staff was known for its discretion.
"What are you *talking* about?" Kopeck laughed, sounding hurt. "This happens to be the best hotel in town!"
"It's a rat's nest!" she hissed back at him. "I'm offering you a chance to make *real* credits . . . more than you've seen in your entire miserable life . . . and what's your response?"
She mimicked him disgustedly. "I can't violate my oath!" She looked daggers at him. "Is that your final answer?" she asked getting out of bed.
He'd nodded, frightened at what he suspected was about to happen.
"Very well." Lake nodded and began getting dressed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Oh, and Commander Kopeck, sir," she continued sarcastically, "don't bother calling me otherwise. If you won't do this, I know I can find someone who will."
He'd held out for two weeks.
But seeing her each day at work, beautiful, efficient, smiling easily at the other male officers and enlisted men, he'd felt a growing sense of desperation and despair.
In the end, he wound up begging. Only afterwards, on his hands and knees, holding onto her legs, blubbering like an infant who's lost his mother, did she finally lay her hand on his head, as if offering a blessing, and let him make love to her.
####
They immediately began to implement her plan. Each night, she soothed any remaining doubts he'd had, allowing him to make love, real love to her . . . gentle, compassionate, mutually fulfilling.
Lake had found a cadet who, like her a few years ago, was desperate to the point of near suicide over possibly failing. She seduced him first, gained his confidence, and then passed him the necessary MDU codes for stealing the War Fighter.
Once Merrick had transmitted the plans to a predetermined subspace channel/receiver, it was Kopeck's job to walk in on him and "catch" him in the act. Merrick didn't know about Lake's relationship with Kopeck.
It was almost laughable.
Merrick was still shutting down the systems when Kopeck and two SAS officers appeared and took him in. Frightened and weak, but deathly afraid of Lake, Merrick began rattling off names of cadets who'd had nothing to do with the affair.
This was even better than expected. SAS and then Arrowsmith's investigators had to look into each allegation. This would buy Lake and Kopeck time to pass the War Fighter to their buyers.
Unfortunately, SAS released Merrick to his quarters, rather than keep him locked up in the brig. Merrick, in an unexpectedly bold move, contacted Lake and threatened to expose her.
Lake again came up with the solution. Kill Merrick. They'd used the VIP transporter chamber in the admin building, and equipped Lake with a personal shield and transporter transponder code.
Luring Merrick into the gym was too easy. The boy thought with his . . . well, not with his brains, anyway. After he was in, she locked the doors, ostensibly to keep out prying ears, she'd reassured him. Then, within minutes, she activated her shield, turned the room's gravity to twenty-times Earth normal, and signaled for retrieval.
As soon as she stepped off the transporter chamber, she came to Kopeck and made love to him right there.
"I wanted to do this in the grav room," she'd whispered seductively, "but unfortunately Merrick couldn't stand up once the gravity got turned up to twenty, much less perform."
She'd laughed, an ugly deriding laugh which almost undid him, but then, like an aphrodisiac, made him perform all the more violently passionate. He'd deliberately hurt her, and had left her lying there naked on floor, whimpering. Nevertheless, the following morning, she'd reported for work as coolly crisp and efficient as always.
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