Practice was canceled the next evening – the coach wanted to give the team a chance to catch up on schoolwork. Worf was taking advantage of the extra time to study in his room, Nikolai quiet and busy at the opposite desk. Worf was inwardly impressed, and hoped his brother had turned over a new leaf.
Nikolai checked the time on his padd and spun his chair around. "Wait – what are you still doing here?"
"No practice today."
"Wouldn't you rather study in the common room, or the study center? For a change of pace?"
Worf was immediately suspicious. "No."
"What about the gym? Have you done your exercises today?"
Worf slapped his padd down on his desk. "Nikolai, why are you trying to get rid of me?"
As if in reply, there was a knock at the door. "Open up, Rozhenko! I'm here to clean you out!"
Worf's bushy eyebrows shot up to the lowest ridges of his forehead.
"I was going to play cards with a friend," Nikolai began.
Now two fists pounded on the door.
"With some friends," he amended.
"It's Monday night. It is time to study," Worf said with severity.
The knocking grew more insistent and was joined by laughter and shouting. Worf stomped to the door and yanked it open. Three freshman cadets in the hall froze at the sight of the infuriated Klingon. "Begone!" he shouted and slammed the door.
Worf stood there for a few moments, remembering his brother's tears, making a valiant effort to cool his anger. He finally faced his brother. "Nikolai, explain to me how this course of action can lead to success."
"Not everything has to be planned out, Worf. I'm smart. I do fine on tests. I don't need to study every minute. I'm trying to have some fun while I'm still young."
"I cannot condone this," Worf said, half to himself. "It must end. It is enough, brother. I must call on our parents for help. I will not stand by and watch while you throw your career away."
"You don't have the right to –"
"I am your brother. We are family. That gives me the right to intervene. You must know that you being here means another equally worthy candidate is not. Somewhere, a young person with fire in the belly to sit where you are and take the opportunity you turn your back on is waiting another year, because of you. This is an honor. And you carry on and play as if it is meaningless. Look at the reputation you have here – you are the one to come to for games, for nonsense. Here is your chance to prove yourself, and you throw it away."
Brother stared at brother, one with his heart burning in his eyes, the other feigning disdain.
"I don't need your lectures."
Worf's look turned from fire to ice. "That is all you have to say? Nikolai, I tell you this because you matter to me. If you did not, I would say nothing." He turned his back and sat down at his desk, his shoulders rigidly square. "I will inform our parents of your difficulties. I have done all I can do."
Nikolai sat stiffly at his desk, and the room fell into total silence.
Practice the next evening was not going well. Jackson was still recovering in the infirmary, and Warren had been called from the alternates' practice to join the B team. He harbored resentment for the younger students who'd beaten him, and did nothing to hide it. Bobby played as if in a daze. He was distracted and clumsy, a far cry from his usual focus and skill. Tasha missed signals and bumped into her teammates. After an uncoordinated handoff caused the third pileup of the night, the coach blew his whistle and sent them all off to run laps around the gym.
He rubbed his drooping moustache. What had ever possessed him to take a job coaching a co-ed team all those years ago? Year after year, it was the same thing – put a group of lively, fit, post-adolescent athletes together on a daily basis, and eventually nature would take its course. It was inevitable. Drexel was shying away from Kailahni at the home square as if she were a porcelain teacup. And Roberts looked like he couldn't tell which way was up. Instead of running drills at the beginning of each practice, the coach wished he could hand out condoms and mood regulators.
The students rounded the bend and Willoughby called his twitterpated center aside. "Roberts!"
"Yes, sir?" He ran over and tried to catch his breath.
"You're off your game. What the devil is wrong with you?"
"Sorry, sir."
As if Willoughby didn't know. Roberts hadn't taken his eyes off Cadet Yar once since practice began; she might as well have had a bulls-eye painted on her rear. "Something on your mind?"
"No, sir."
"Well, get your head in the game!"
"Will do, Coach." Bobby ran off, speeding to catch up with the team.
Willoughby covered his eyes with one hand. He was getting too old for this.
When Tasha emerged from the locker room after practice, Bobby was waiting for her. "Are you not talking to me?"
She huffed and flicked an imaginary bit of soap from an ear. "We're talking right now."
Worf came over and waited with his arms folded. Both of them were looking at her with expectation. Tasha looked indecisively from one to the other. "I'll catch up with you in a minute, Worf."
"We must practice the new throws, Cadet Yar."
"We will – I promise. Don't wait dinner – I'll meet you at the gym."
With a nod to both of them, Worf walked away.
Bobby came close to her and said quietly, "Are you mad about what happened?"
"No…"
"Then why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not!" Tasha snapped. She looked around and lowered her voice. "Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"
"Because it is a big deal!"
"It's not," Tasha said evenly. "It meant nothing."
Bobby reacted as if she'd kicked him in the stomach, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the air rushed out of his lungs. He spun and streaked off for the men's locker room.
Tasha smacked herself on the forehead as hard as she could. Her big, dumb mouth… She went after him and stopped outside the door. She didn't call out for him – she wasn't sure who was still inside – but she waited for him to reappear. And waited. And waited. When it was finally clear that he wasn't coming back out, she walked away, a litany of self-incrimination filling her head.
She ate dinner alone and found Worf at the gym, practicing in front of a mirror. She joined him, but her heart wasn't in it. She kept seeing Bobby's wounded puppy look in her mind, and the threat of tears in his eyes before he ran away. She felt horrible.
"Cadet Yar, your mind is elsewhere," Worf rumbled. She was lying on the mat for at least a minute after he'd thrown her.
She pushed herself up. "I'm sorry, Worf, there's something I have to do. Let's meet at 0700 tomorrow, before class, okay?" She ran out, not waiting for acknowledgement.
The resident assistant on duty at Feynman Hall called over his communicator as Tasha bounced on her heels beside him at the desk. "Cadet Roberts, you have a visitor to sign in."
She waited anxiously to see if Bobby would turn away as soon as he saw her. He didn't, but he didn't say a word as he took the stylus from the RA and signed the padd, or when Tasha followed him to the elevator. She waited until they were in his room to speak, standing on the carpet, facing off like a matador and bull. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean it. It was a terrible thing to say."
"You don't strike me as someone who says things she doesn't mean. I think you just wish you hadn't told me the truth." His eyelids reddened, and he turned his face away.
"Bobby, please listen. I shouldn't have said it meant nothing – that's like saying you mean nothing, and that's not true. I just don't want it to mean everything."
He wiped at the tears that were matting his sandy lashes. "I didn't want to believe the things I'd heard about you."
Tasha's eyes flew open wide. "What things?"
"I'm not going to say anything to hurt you. I just know they aren't true. I want to believe they aren't true."
She imagined the worst. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm just . . . I'm still new to this. I don't know how I'm supposed to be." She took a deep breath. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm an orphan." The words started coming out in a rush before she could stop them. "I've been on my own for a long time. You don't know how it feels, to be alone with no ties to anyone, no one to rely on but myself. Sometimes, I feel so … lonely. I just hope we can still be friends." She ran out of steam and her shoulders slumped. "More than anything, I need friends in my life."
"Hey." He was looking at her with compassion now. "Sometimes I get lonely, too, and I have a mom and dad and three brothers. I guess I'm sorry that's all it was."
"I'm not saying that, either, I mean… I like you."
He gave her a self-deprecating smile. "But I'm too goofy."
"No, it's not that, it's just–"
"It's okay, you can say it. I come from a big family. I think I act out because I'm always fighting for my share of the attention. Hey…" He held his arms open. "No hard feelings." She went to him and hugged him, and he laid his head on hers. "I like you, too, you know."
"Despite what you've heard?"
"Forget I said anything. People are stupid. They're just jealous. You're beautiful and smart and independent, and they don't know what to do with you."
The compliments were making her feel good. "You should say more nice things about me," she teased.
Bobby continued as if she'd been serious. "You're powerful. And fearless. You're going to make a great officer – it doesn't matter where you come from. And you look like an angel. I could never get tired of looking at your pretty face."
He had started to stroke her back as he murmured in her hair. Desire was rising in her like smoke curling up from a kindling fire. He's kind, she thought. She hadn't had nearly enough kindness in her life. She turned her face up to him and he searched her eyes with confusion and hope in his. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him. He responded instantly with a helpless moan, crushing her to him. It felt so good, and he obviously wanted her. It felt good to be wanted, even if she wasn't sure what she wanted herself. Kissing soon led to other things, including her hope that the walls weren't as thin as they were in Cochrane, because there was no mistaking the sound of a headboard slamming against the wall.
He tried to hold her afterwards, but she was once again assailed by the need to run away. She was back in uniform before Bobby had time to find his clothes.
"Wait – I'll walk you out," he said, sitting up in bed.
"No!" Tasha took her boots in hand and backed away to the door. "There's no need. I'll … uh … see you tomorrow." She fled, embarrassed by her lack of willpower.
She found herself unable to concentrate in class, for going over and over the problem in her mind. When she was alone, it was simple – Roberts was her friend and teammate, and it was best to keep their relationship platonic. When she was with him, she felt the chemistry between them. It was an irresistible temptation.
"Cadet Yar." She'd been caught daydreaming in Physics of Tactics class again. The professor stood beside her desk with one eyebrow raised.
"Professor Von Walter."
"What's the record for the team, cadet?"
"5-0, sir," she answered automatically.
"And the next home game?"
"This weekend."
"Oh, good. Those answers are readily available. Right on the tip of your tongue. May I remind you of something?"
"Yes, sir?"
He fixed her with a sardonic look. "You can't major in parrises squares. If I could draw your attention to the problem on the monitor?"
She cringed as the class laughed.
The question of what the next practice would bring was answered that afternoon. Jackson was back at last, and Bobby was behaving like his usual self, teasing his teammate about his extended "vacation" with a concussion and a broken ankle. He carried on like normal, teasing Park, and tweaking Drexel and Kailahni when he caught them holding hands. Tasha began to think that the trouble had passed, and they'd gotten the tension out of their systems. Problem solved. She breathed a mental sigh of relief.
She was on the bench taking off her pads when Bobby sat beside her and murmured, "Can I come over tonight?"
"Sure," Tasha answered without thinking. He got up right away and she felt she'd been ambushed. She hadn't had time to think of a reason why he shouldn't.
It was late when she got the call from the front desk to sign in her visitor. As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Bobby pounced on her, dragging her leg around his waist and kissing her with unbridled need. There was something intoxicating about feeling his need for her. The doors opened to a hall she was thankful to see was empty. He hardly waited for them to get inside her room, closing the door by pushing her against it, undressing her as quickly as he could get fastenings undone. It was different from the memories stirred up in her mind – she was in no danger. This wasn't happening because she hadn't hidden well enough, or because she was desperate for food. They were two adults, and she was in control. She wanted him, too, and she would have him.
He was up as soon as it was over, dressing as quickly as he'd undressed. He bent and kissed her nose. "Gotta go. See you tomorrow." He left.
Tasha realized that they'd hardly talked. It was just physical, just an itch that needed scratching. She hugged herself under the blanket. She supposed turnabout was fair play.