by Ted Pedersen
“Yes, sir.”
Wingate threw a quick glance at the others. Anyone who wanted to snicker at Jake’s distress quickly swallowed that impulse. Wingate stepped backward and paused to contemplate the eight teenagers who stood uneasily in front of him.
“At ease,” he said. With an almost uniform sigh they did. But Jake noticed that no one was too much at ease.
“I’m not sure why any of you are here,” he continued. “some of you want to become Starfleet officers. Others are probably here simply to please their parents. Some of you may not have wanted to come here at all. Well, let me assure you that before the first week is out, all of you will wish you weren’t here.”
While Wingate described the hardships they were about to face, spending very little time on the fun and adventures that awaited them, Jake took the opportunity to study the rest of his team.
There were five males and three females in their group. In addition to Nog, Twhat, and himself, there was a tall skinny Orion youth named Hajar, and K’am, a young Klingon who looked, like most Klingons Jake had encountered, as though he’d started body-building exercises in nursery school.
The three females consisted of a tall Andromedan named Sorex, and Missy, the daughter of a Sri Lankan Starfleet lieutenant. And then there was Dyan from Betazed.
Jake was intrigued—attracted would have been a better word—by this pretty young Betazoid. She wasn’t what would, by human standards, be considered a ravishing beauty or even a Dabo girl. Yet she radiated a kind of serenity that Jake found strangely unsettling.
From the glances that Nog threw her way, it was obvious he was rapidly becoming infatuated, which was a seemingly constant state among Ferengi males when it came to females—of almost any species.
“She can chew my food anytime,” Nog whispered when he thought Wingate wasn’t paying attention.
“Care to share your comments with the rest of us?” Wingate turned and addressed Nog. He must have a third eye in the back of his head, Jake thought, or else his hearing is acute as a Nakorian swamp cat’s.
“Ah, just telling my friend, Jake … how lucky we are to be here,” Nog mumbled.
“You think you’re being sarcastic,” Wingate replied, then turned his gaze on the entire group. “But you are lucky—all of you. Though I suspect it will be a while before you believe that. When you leave Space Camp each of you will be a much different person.”
“And a better person. Or so I sincerely hope.”
The speaker who suddenly appeared on the scene was a short, bald, elderly man with a thick white beard who might have been the model for Santa Claus. There was even a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Cadet Wingate snapped to attention and saluted. “Good morning, Professor Kala.”
“Good morning to you, Cadet,” professor Kala said as he returned the salute. “And to the rest of you.”
Jake was surprised at Kala’s height, or lack of it. From the stories his father had told, he expected the professor to be at least six feet tall. But this man looked like anything but a Starfleet legend.
“Appearances can be deceiving, young Sisko.” Professor Kala stepped over and looked straight into Jake’s eyes and smiled as though he knew exactly what he was thinking. “I’m not what you expected.”
Jake wasn’t sure how to reply. Fortunately he didn’t have to as Kala continued. “Your father was one of my best students.” He paused a moment, then added quietly: “He was also one of the worst.”
Kala walked up and down the line and stopped in front of each of them for a moment, as though reading their minds. Even Dyan, who actually was telepathic, seemed intimidated by the professor. And while Kala’s smile was disarming, Jake sensed solid steel underneath his almost comical exterior.
After Kala had quietly assessed the group he turned back to Cadet Wingate. “They’re all yours, Cadet. Try to make them feel welcome.”
“My pleasure, Professor. I’ll make this a summer they won’t forget.”
CHAPTER 3
Jake had to admit their personal quarters, although a bit spartan compared to those on Deep Space Nine, were more comfortable than he had expected after their initial welcome. While the three females and the other three males in their group were assigned to two larger rooms, he and Nog were given a smaller space to share.
Still the room was more than adequate. There were two foldawaybed units on opposite walls. Next to each of them was a closet-desk combination they could use to store their personal effects or use as a work space. Each desk had a touch pad that was linked into the camp’s main computer.
“Looks like they expect us to do schoolwork,” Nog remarked as he sat down at his desk and removed a crystallike holocube, about the size of a tricorder, from his bag and placed it next to the touch pad.
“I’ve never seen that before,” Jake commented.
“Uncle Quark gave it to me to record my experiences here. When we get back, he’s going to put it into a holosuite program.”
“I should have known,” Jake said. “The only reason Quark didn’t object to you going is because he’s planning on making a profit out of our summer vacation.”
“It’s the Ferengi way,” Nog replied as he activated the holocube by touching one of the sides. The crystal face glowed with a faint yellow shimmer for a moment and then abruptly turned itself off.
“Maybe it’s not working,” Jake said.
“No. Uncle Quark said it’s been programmed to automatically retrieve my activity records from the touch pad. But I haven’t done anything yet to record.”
At that moment there was a knock on the door, followed by Wingate’s voice. “Report to the auditorium in ten minutes.”
Space Camp was designed as a cluster of low dome-shaped buildings formed in the shape of a wheel. In the center was the auditorium and staff offices. Extending out from the eastern and western spokes were the student quarters. On the northern spoke was the communications and operations dome. In the south were the staff quarters, which included the Federation archaeological team. While the digs were no longer active, a small group remained on the planet to catalog the finds that had been discovered.
The students straggled in and sat in a semicircle around a small raised platform where Professor Kala stood waiting for them to get settled. It was an act of patience, probably because of their unfamiliarity with the layout of Space Camp, that would not be repeated.
Finally, when everyone was assembled, Kali began his introductory lecture. His voice was gentle, almost soothing, but Jake could sense a hard undercurrent. He was certain that the professor was not someone you wanted to provoke.
“Today you’re new and not yet accustomed to the rules around here. From now on being tardy to any session means you’re locked out. There will be no excuses for being late.”
Professor Kala clicked a switch on his podium and a holographic image of the planet Rijar appeared and rotated above the platform.
“You’re probably wondering why Starfleet chose a barren hunk of rock like this for its Space Camp. The reason is simple. Rijar has something to tell us … if we bother to listen. This is a world where an ancient war between two cultures totally obliterated its civilization.”
The professor paused and looked out at his young audience. “Starfleet is not a military organization, though you will, by necessity, learn the art of war, which is required for defense of the Federation. But to ever become a Starfleet officer, you must learn that the art of peace is of far greater importance.”
Professor Kala looked at the holographic image of Rijar as he concluded his remarks. “This planet is a grim reminder of that fact, and the reason that Starfleet chose to build its Space Camp here.”
Then, as if on cue, four Starfleet cadets, including Wingate, stepped up onto the platform, two standing on either side of Kala.
“You’ve already met your cadet leaders,” Kala said. “During the next two weeks they will be your guides. Listen to what they say and learn from their expe
rience. It could save your life.”
Suddenly Jake felt the ground beneath him shake. Not violently, like in an earthquake, but more like someone had slammed a door very hard. It lasted only a second and was gone.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Professor Kala spoke quickly to reassure the cadets. “We’ve been getting occasional tremors recently. You’ll probably experience a few more while you’re here. But it’s nothing to get concerned about.”
The rest of the afternoon was taken up with testing and orientation. Jake was subjected to poking and probing by Space Camp’s sophisticated med machines in as thorough an examination as he’d ever received from Dr. Bashir back on Deep Space Nine. While each candidate had to submit a preliminary health profile from their home world doctor before arriving on Rijar, Starfleet wanted to confirm that nothing had been overlooked. All of the candidates tested normal physically.
Exhausted, Jake joined his teammates for dinner. After their exams they had been put through a grueling two hours of exercises, whose sole purpose seemed to be to convince them that they were not the pictures of youthful health that the med machines claimed.
Jake had just enough time to use the ’fresher and change into something clean before dinner. Which was why he now found himself wondering if coming to Space Camp was such a good idea after all.
Conversely, Nog seemed to be actually enjoying himself. The fact that the teenage Betazoid, Dyan, was sitting next to him and smiling, if not actually laughing, at his jokes was no doubt responsible for his Ferengi friend’s disposition.
That Dyan was seated beside Nog surprised Jake. He knew that Betazoids were normally uncomfortable around Ferengi. The four-lobed Ferengi brains made it impossible for most telepaths, including Betazoids, to scan their minds.
But since Betazoid telepathy is not inborn and almost always emerges during adolescence, it might be that Dyan was not yet completely proficient in her skills. Which might explain why Dyan did not shy away from Nog. Jake was certain that she could not be captivated by Nog’s charm, which was on the heavy-handed side. On the other hand, as Nog had aptly demonstrated in the past, he knew that Ferengi were skillful manipulators.
Being the last to arrive, Jake had to take the only open chair at the opposite end of the table, squeezed between Twhat from Algeron and the Klingon, K’am. Neither species was particularly noted for their social skills, though Twhat seemed to be a nice guy and K’am was a lot more subdued than the average Klingon.
As it turned out, K’am was also a proficient conversationalist. “Comes from my mother,” he said. “She’s assigned to the Klingon Embassy on Earth. I’ve learned the art of walking softly from her. Though I still carry a ‘big stick’ thanks to my father.”
Jake smiled, then seeing Twhat’s puzzled expression, explained. “It’s an old Earth saying. From one of our ancient presidents.”
“You’re from Earth?” K’am asked.
“I was born there,” Jake said. “But I grew up on Mars, and on the starships where my dad was posted. Deep Space Nine is my first real home in a long time.” Even as Jake spoke he had a momentary twinge of longing for his mother. During the battle against the Borg at the Wolf 359 star system, his father was on one of the thirty-nine Starfleet vessels destroyed in that conflict, and she was one of the eleven thousand lives lost.
That had been a long time ago and although he had reluctantly come to accept the loss of his mother, Jake knew he would never forget her.
“Excuse me,” Jake said as he got up and headed out of the dining hall, no longer very hungry.
CHAPTER 4
Rijar was a desert planet. It had not always been such. Once it had been a fertile green garden, but that had been eons ago. Since then it had decayed into the bleached bones of a world, baking under the relentless heat of a dying yellow sun, becoming a domain of bronze sand and chalk white stone, with an occasional oasis. Space Camp was situated on the edge of one such oasis in the planet’s northern temperate region.
Starfleet had built its facilities near the ruins of an ancient city. Not far away, he knew, there were Federation archaeologists working to unravel the mysteries of the planet’s past. But to date they had found little to show for their efforts. Here the only visible artifact was a series of nine stone monoliths that rimmed a hill east of the camp.
Jake stood in the thin evening air and stared at the weathered stones that remained as silent sentinels to the civilization that had once existed on the planet.
“You wonder what they’d say if they could speak.”
Jake had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed Dyan approach. Up close he could see that she really was quite pretty.
“Maybe they’d tell us what happened to the people,” Jake answered. “Did some of them leave when their planet was devastated and go off to other worlds?”
“Or maybe they’re still here.”
“Rijar’s been uninhabited for centuries,” Jake said.
“Perhaps,” Dyan replied. “But I feel ghosts still walk here.”
“I’m not sure I believe in ghosts.”
“Oh, I think you do, Jake Sisko. Everyone believes in ghosts, or at least in things that can be felt but not seen. It’s just that we’d rather not acknowledge it.”
Jake had to admit the planet was kind of eerie. He had the sense that he was standing in a graveyard, but there weren’t any graves. At least none that could be seen. Perhaps, Dyan—being a telepath—was able to sense feelings that to him were only cloudy perceptions of something that was not quite right.
“I think I’ve touched a nerve,” Dyan said, breaking Jake out of his thoughts.
“Reading my mind?” he wondered.
“No. Betazoids are forbidden by heritage and training to intrude in someone else’s thoughts without permission.”
“Even if you’re curious?”
“Even then.” Dyan laughed, then became more serious. “Betazed is a small, crowded planet,” Dyan replied. “On most worlds, if you want privacy you can go somewhere else.”
“We’re pretty cramped for room ourselves on Deep Space Nine,” Jake said.
“Then you have some idea of what it’s like on Betazed. But on your space station you can at least shut the door and be alone. On Betazed a telepath has the ability to come through the wall and into your mind.”
“Sounds kinda scary.”
“It can be. Which is why, over centuries, we’ve developed an internal self-discipline that prevents us from trying to scan another mind.”
“Nice to know I still have some thoughts that I can keep private.” Jake smiled, but it still bothered him a little bit that someone could read his thoughts if they really wanted to—even if that someone was as pretty as Dyan.
“Is this a private party or can anyone crash?”
Jake turned to see that Nog was coming up the hill toward them. The Ferengi was an unwanted interruption, but Jake managed to smile. “Hi, Nog. We were just talking.”
“Please join us,” Dyan said. “We were wondering about what might have happened to all the people who used to live here.”
Nog reached the top of the hill and managed to slide in between Jake and Dyan. “Wherever they went, they didn’t leave much behind.”
“No artifacts to dig up here,” Jake said, referring to their aborted trip to Bajor.
“No, but there are other attractions,” Nog looked at Dyan and grinned.
Jake thought that whatever else Ferengi were, being subtle was not one of their predominate traits. It was probably also a good thing that the four-lobed Ferengi brains could not be scanned by telepaths. It might send Dyan rushing back down the hill rather than returning Nog’s smile.
“Do you mind a personal question?” Dyan asked Nog.
“Ask me anything,” Nog replied.
“Well, a Ferengi is the last race I would have expected to find Space Camp. I was wondering why you’re here.”
“I’ve always been curious about what it might be like to become
a Starfleet officer,” Nog said.
“What do you think, Jake?” Dyan asked. “Would your friend make a good Starfleet officer?”
Jake was about to say that Nog was here only because he had dragged him, but he swallowed the words. It was none of his business to undermine his friend, but it still bothered him that Dyan might take Nog’s words seriously. The thought of a Ferengi in Starfleet was … ridiculous. “I never really thought about it,” he said finally.
“It would be interesting,” Dyan said. She turned to Nog. “Think about it, Nog.”
“I promise,” Nog said.
Dyan smiled at him, then looked up at the night sky. Rijar had only a single pale moon that did little to illuminate the darkness. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure we have a big day tomorrow … so I’ll say good night.”
She turned and started down the hill. Jake and Nog lingered and watched her cross the field and disappear into the shadows at the edge of the compound.
“She really likes me,” Nog said as he nudged Jake.
“Betazoids are extremely polite,” Jake replied, not wanting to commit himself.
“No. She really likes me,” Nog repeated. “A Ferengi has a special sense when it comes to these things.”
Jake tried to change the subject. “It’s getting late.” He started down the hill.
“You know,” Nog said as he walked after Jake. “I think you’re jealous.”
That’s ridiculous, Jake thought to himself, not wanting to admit that just maybe he was.
CHAPTER 5
Back on Deep Space Nine, it was Saturday night and as usual it was crowded and noisy in Quark’s. Commander Benjamin Sisko and his Bajoran counterpart, Major Kira Nerys, found a relatively quiet corner table away from the commotion surrounding the Dabo wheel.
“So any news from Jake?” Kira asked.
Sisko shook his head. “Starfleet seals off Rijar during Space Camp. The participants aren’t allowed to communicate off-world.”