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  “You heard Zirani. If we refuse to fight even in defense of our shipmates, that makes us a threat too. We need their trust, not just their lack of fear.”

  Horatio shook his head. “You’re striking a dangerous course, Portia. There have always been those outside Arcturus who wished to exploit us as warriors. Half the invasions the Warborn have defended the motherworld against have happened because we existed. Because outsiders wished to corrupt our sacred purpose for destructive ends.”

  “You think Starfleet is destructive?”

  “I think we are a temptation they could succumb to, if we allow them to think it could happen. Please, Portia, do not encourage them to see us as fighters.”

  “I don’t know what else I can be—for them or for myself. If it’s right to fight for Arcturus, can’t it be right to fight for the Federation?”

  “It can be right for others, if that is their choice. It is not a choice we have. It would open a door that might never be closed again.”

  She held his eyes. “Then how can we make this work? What are we even doing here?”

  “We are following orders. We’re serving our creators.”

  Portia stared at him a moment more before turning and striding away. She’d been hearing that answer her whole life, and it brought her no more comfort now. There had to be more to her existence than that. Wasn’t that the whole point of coming here?

  * * *

  For a couple of weeks now, Hikaru Sulu had been hearing from other faculty members that the Warborn Arcturians were difficult, aloof, at once overly aggressive and resistant to any teaching that even hinted at a combat application. He didn’t see it himself. The Warborn cadets in his introductory piloting class were focused, quick, and enthusiastic—particularly the youthful-seeming male called Benedick, whose eager inquisitiveness reminded Sulu of his younger self, and the quieter female Portia, who was quick to show anger or frustration but showed signs of being a natural, instinctive pilot.

  If nothing else, the Warborn cadets differed from the rest in one refreshing way: they didn’t beg him to jump right to the combat piloting simulations a semester ahead of schedule, or attempt to hack the simulators to call them up. To most young people in the Federation, battle was an exotic abstraction, a fantasy made romantic by its remoteness from their everyday lives, so they were eager to get a taste of it—until the grim realities sank in. But the Warborn had trained for battle their entire lives. If anything, it was the mundane piloting operations that were the novelty to them.

  The course work at this early stage consisted mostly of lectures, readings, and simulator time, but at the end of the second week, Sulu took his cadets up with him individually in an Academy aerial shuttle for an introduction and familiarization session, letting them observe his operation of the craft from the copilot’s seat. It was admittedly as much about giving himself a chance to do some flying as it was about providing the cadets with experience. But it served both purposes, so why not?

  Most of the students he took up, including Benedick, pleaded with him to let them take the controls, however briefly. If he thought highly enough of their learning curve and reflexes, he’d grant the request during one of the easier parts of the flight. He would have readily allowed Portia to try it; indeed, her Warborn training had already included fighter piloting, so she was overqualified.

  However, when her turn came, Portia merely sat quietly and watched. For days now, she had seemed distracted. She had always been punctual, completed all her classwork, and done everything required of her, yet no more than that, as though her mind were elsewhere.

  Hoping to draw her out, Sulu smiled at her. “If you have any questions, I’m happy to answer.”

  The young Arcturian ruminated for several moments, then sighed. “I have too many questions. Just not about this.”

  “Questions about what?” At her silence, he continued. “A distracted pilot is not a good thing. It might help you clear your mind if you talk to someone. Doesn’t have to be me, but…” He gestured around them at the cockpit. “At least it’s private in here.”

  Again, Portia was slow to answer. “We’re trained not to show… vulnerability.”

  “That makes sense when you’re facing an enemy. With your friends, it’s a bad idea. Even more so with your teachers. How can you fix a vulnerability if you don’t admit it?”

  That finally seemed to get through to her, though it clearly wasn’t easy for her to open up. “I just don’t know what I’m expected to be. We’re not allowed to pursue the ways of war here, but fighting is all I know. It’s who I am. How do I make myself into something else? How do I even choose?”

  Sulu chuckled. “Portia, the great thing about your first year of college is that you don’t have to choose. This is your chance to try new things, to explore all sorts of possibilities and see what you’re good at, what captures your fancy. There’s no rush to decide right away.

  “If fighting’s all you know, that’s just because you haven’t tried other things yet. This is your opportunity to do that. Just relax, take your time, experiment. That’s what first year’s all about.”

  Portia studied him. “How long did it take you to decide on your path?”

  He laughed louder. “Oh, a long time. I’ve always loved piloting, but I also studied astrophysics, security, botany, you name it. I eventually decided to work toward starship command, but I wasn’t in any hurry. I felt I still had a lot to learn under Captain Kirk.”

  She did not seem too pleased with his answer. “I don’t have that luxury. Our life expectancy is considerably below yours. The Warborn were not expected to need long lives.”

  Sulu cleared his throat, unsure how to respond to that. “Look… I know it can be hard to adjust to a sudden change in your life. I… I only found out last year that I had a daughter. It wasn’t planned, and her mother never told me. She raised Demora alone. But last year, she died, and Demora came to live with me. A man she’d never met.”

  He shifted in his seat. “It was… a process of adjustment for both of us. It was hard for her, to be uprooted from the life she knew, to start over somewhere else with no anchor, no direction.”

  Portia’s gaze sharpened. “And have you now… adjusted?”

  “More or less. I think parents and children getting used to each other might be a lifelong process. But we found common ground, and things are good between us now. She’s growing so fast, learning so fast. I see my job as doing everything I can to encourage that, and to give her the space to explore life as widely as I have. To choose whatever she wants to be.”

  The cadet contemplated that. “But what if she already knew what she wanted to be—knew who she was at heart—and it wasn’t permitted? Because the world she was part of wouldn’t accept it?”

  Sulu considered the question. “Demora and I are lucky to live in a time when we have the freedom to choose to be whatever we want. But there were times in the past when that wasn’t the case—when society wouldn’t accept certain ways for people to be. The reason we have that freedom now is because of people back then who didn’t settle for the limits others put on them. People who embraced what they were meant to be and convinced the rest of the world to change.”

  Portia absorbed that silently for a time, and Sulu let her. Noting the chronometer on the console, he spoke softly. “Looks like we’ve used up our flight time—better get back. We don’t want to keep the others waiting. But hey—we can talk about this more later, if you’d like.”

  She turned to face him. “Thank you, Commander. I will consider that, and the rest of what you have said.”

  She remained silent on the flight back, which gave Sulu the chance to wonder if his advice had been appropriate. It had sounded very much as if Portia was talking about embracing her role as a fighter, despite Arcturian belief and tradition. Did he have the right to encourage her to do that? Did the Federation have the right to exploit her services in that capacity when her whole subspecies had been bred to be exploited?
What about the concerns people were raising about the precedent it would set for Starfleet?

  All he knew was that this intense young woman was searching for identity and purpose, not unlike Demora—and not unlike himself at various times in his life. She had a right to find her own answer, whatever the larger issues.

  And if the course she chose turned out to meet with resistance, he was confident she had the strength to handle it.

  * * *

  Kirk had to wait a week to get his meeting with Ashley Janith-Lau. McCoy hadn’t been able to make time for it until he’d succeeded in creating that vaccine for the Icorians. Even then, according to him, it had taken a fair amount of sweet-talking to bring her around.

  Once the peace activist finally entered his office, though, Kirk’s immediate thought was that she was very much worth the wait. Her beauty was intoxicating in a way he’d begun to fear he’d outgrown. It wasn’t just the flawless delicacy of her features; he could sense the intensity and keen intelligence behind her dark, piercing eyes.

  He chastised himself, striving for focus as he rose to greet her. He was letting Bones’s incessant matchmaking get to him. There might be time for that later, the Great Bird willing, but he had greater responsibilities to concentrate on right now.

  “Doctor Janith-Lau.” He shook her hand, and it was dainty and refreshingly cool to the touch, but with a strong, decisive grip. “I’m glad you could come in to see me. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Doctor McCoy speaks highly of you.”

  “And of you, Admiral.” The pediatrician gave a small smile; a larger one might have blinded him. “I admit, I find that surprising. The Leonard McCoy I knew eight years ago seemed to have put Starfleet behind him rather decisively—indeed, he seemed to have little use for modern civilization altogether. I never would’ve expected him to go back to military service, or to remain in it now that he’s living on Earth again.” She examined Kirk curiously. “He gives me the impression that you’re the main reason he chooses to stay.”

  Kirk returned her smile. “Doctor McCoy and I have known each other for seventeen years, almost all of them in Starfleet. Our friendship began with an argument—one that saved my life when he diagnosed me with Vegan choriomeningitis in the nick of time. It wasn’t the last time he’d save my life—and it was far from the last time we argued.”

  Janith-Lau laughed. “I’m not surprised. My friendship with Len started with an argument too.”

  “In my experience, most of his friendships do.” Kirk gestured her toward the couch to the side of his office, taking the armchair opposite her as she sat. He wished to set a more inviting tone than he could from behind his desk. “I value that as a reminder that people can disagree strongly, yet still work toward a common goal.”

  She tilted her head. “I see. And you’re hoping you and I can find common ground on the Warborn issue.”

  “I’m hoping I can convince you that we already share it.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “The goal of enrolling the Arcturian Warborn in the Academy is to help them find a peacetime role. Arcturian law and tradition forbid them from participating in combat except in defense of their homeworld. Naturally, Starfleet respects that prohibition.”

  “I have read the press release, Admiral. But surely you can see there are gaps in its logic.” She leaned forward. “Starfleet may call itself an organ for diplomacy and research, but you are also the Federation’s military. You’re the group that fights our battles, that patrols our borders, that enforces our laws on the frontier.”

  “There’s room in Starfleet for both soldiers and scholars. We boast some of the finest research facilities in the Federation. We attract many of the best scientific minds.”

  “Yes—and it saddens me to see so many great minds subverted to the cause of military readiness. Len McCoy included.”

  “McCoy serves as a healer. His responsibility is to save lives, not to take them.”

  “Exclusively? Can you really say that Doctor McCoy has never fired a phaser, never participated in a battle?”

  “Only when he’s had no other choice. I told you he’s saved my life a number of times. More than once, he’s done it with a phaser, saving me from predatory creatures.”

  “That’s just it, Admiral,” Janith-Lau said. “However much you profess your benevolent intentions, being in Starfleet forces people to become fighters. Trying to be both scientists and soldiers at once—it keeps you from doing either one as well as you should.”

  “Out on the frontier, there’s no telling what a ship and its crew may be called upon to become at any time. It’s best to be prepared for every possibility.”

  “Exactly. How can you guarantee that the Warborn will not have to fight if they join Starfleet? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Kirk pondered his reply for a moment, and decided to go for honesty. “I admit we don’t have all the answers. That’s the reason for this pilot program—to explore whether we can make it work. This is new ground for us, as well as for the Warborn cadets. But I believe that if anyone can help them integrate into peacetime society, it’s Starfleet.” He leaned closer. “You see our blend of martial and peaceful aspects as a weakness. I see it as a strength, a source of adaptability. Who better to guide a people trained solely for war to redirect their abilities for peace?”

  Janith-Lau folded her hands on her lap, considering his words. “That might be a more convincing argument, Admiral, if not for the timing. It doesn’t seem accidental that you attempt to bring a specially bred warrior subspecies into Starfleet at the same time that Starfleet is turning toward a more martial footing.”

  He blinked. “I don’t believe that it is, Doctor. It’s the galaxy that’s growing more dangerous. Renewed Klingon aggression, our turbulent relations with the Romulans, unpredictable outside threats like the Naazh or these vacuum flares. Starfleet is merely responding to those threats.”

  “The way to respond to a threat is to de-escalate, not to heighten tensions still further.”

  “I assure you, Doctor, Starfleet’s policy is always to use force as a last resort when peaceful options have failed. But there are many cultures out there that respect strength, or that see any weakness as an opening to be exploited.” He smiled. “If you make it clear that you have teeth but choose not to use them, that demonstrates your peaceful intentions more effectively than going unarmed.”

  She did not look convinced. “So do you think this conversation would go better if I’d come in here brandishing a phaser? Would I even have been let onto the grounds?”

  Kirk gestured between them. “You and I are members of a single society with established norms and expectations. If we were from different cultures meeting for the first time, then yes, we might both need to be armed to establish the ground rules of the exchange.” He chuckled. “It’s not so different from how Doctor McCoy makes friends.”

  She lowered her head, stifling a laugh. Then she met his gaze again. “I guess you do know how to de-escalate after all.”

  “I try my best.” He spread his hands. “Look… we’ve wandered off-topic. We aren’t going to settle the larger philosophical questions about Starfleet’s existence in this office. I just want to convince you that our intentions for the Warborn are beneficial—to guide them toward a constructive purpose, not to exploit them for combat. If you can be persuaded of that, then you can take that message to the public and assuage their fears about the program.

  “Maybe what you need is to meet them for yourself. Talk to them. Get to know them as individuals.”

  Janith-Lau nodded thoughtfully. “That is only fair. I suppose… I have been reacting to the threat I feel they represent, rather than who they are as people. And maybe I’ve been unconsciously feeding those prejudices in my speeches. I should do better than that if I want to be true to what I claim to stand for.”

  Kirk smiled, very impressed by her admission. He’d always believed that true morality began with questioning oneself, not just
others. That she believed the same spoke well of her.

  He rose, and she followed. “Very well, Doctor. The students are in class now, but we can schedule a time when you can speak to them as a group.”

  “I’d like to do more than just speak to them,” she ventured. “If you don’t mind, perhaps I could shadow them for a day. Observe them in their classes, see what they’re learning and how they’re interacting with their fellow students. I’d try not to be too intrusive—”

  “No, that’s quite all right, Doctor. Full transparency is important if we’re to reassure the public about the value of this program. I’m sure it can be arranged.”

  “All right, then, Admiral Kirk. I look forward to it. For now…” She held out her hand. “This has been… very interesting. And more agreeable than I thought it would be.”

  He smiled as he clasped her hand. “I feel the same, Doctor. It’s been a pleasure.”

  His gaze followed her as she left his office, and lingered on the door for some time after she left. “That is quite a woman,” he murmured. Maybe for once, McCoy’s matchmaking instincts were onto something.

  Chapter Six

  U.S.S. Enterprise

  Earth Spacedock

  The day after his meeting with Ashley Janith-Lau, Kirk beamed up to Spacedock to welcome the Enterprise back from its flight, a brief training cruise for the second- and third-year cadets. “It was not necessary for you to greet us in person, Admiral,” Captain Spock said once the bosun had piped him aboard at the main gangway hatch.

  The admiral shrugged. “The end of the first training cruise of the semester? I think that warrants a little ceremony.”

  The two Enterprise veterans began walking through the saucer corridors they both knew so well. “It was merely a familiarization exercise,” Spock replied, “as one would expect this early in the term. It proceeded within expected parameters.”