Shawn Michael Scott

Nog cursed under his breath as he stormed down the quickest path from Archer Hall, site of Starfleet Academy’s holodeck facilities, to his dorm room. The Ferengi cadet was covered from head to toe in soot and grime. Several minor rips and tears were evident on his black uniform. He bristled past other cadets who snickered at his disheveled appearance. Their snide chuckles fueled the rage that was mounting inside of him. His lobes burned bright red as anger and frustration swelled within. Yet again, he looked like a fool in front of his fellow cadets.

“ARRRR!!!” the young Ferengi growled as he kicked a loose cobblestone from the border that lined the path. The stone rico-cheted off a spruce tree and smashed into the stem of a Risan daffodil. The alien flower was similar to that of a Terran daffodil except for its vibrant lavender color and feathery petals. The flower shook with a jolt and the petals began to dislodge and float away in the afternoon breeze. Nog’s heart sank. Despite his foul mood, he had never meant to cause any harm and the sight of the traumatized flower saddened him. He stepped over to the delicate flora to see how bad the damage was.

“Hey!” a gruff voice called from behind him. “Just what do you think you’re doing there?” Nog turned to see Boothby, the Academy’s wizened groundskeeper, coming up the path. Despite his advanced age, the old man was making quick time toward the young cadet. Nog had only known the man by reputation, but it was enough. Veteran Starfleet officers even spoke of the old man’s mean-spirited nature. He would rather face a whole fleet of Borg ships and the entire Dominion than get on Boothby’s bad side, but it appeared as though that was exactly where he was headed.

“I…I…” was all Nog could manage to stammer.

“I don’t know how you treat other people’s flowers on your world,” the elderly gardener steamed, waving his trowel in the young cadet’s face, “but, here, we have respect for the property of others!”

“I know, sir,” Nog apologized. “I’m very sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough, son,” Boothby ranted as he kneeled down to examine his prized plant. “The flower is very delicate. It takes a lot of hard work and care to get them to bloom in this environment. The sea air coming off the bay can be harsh. Alien species don’t always transplant well.”

“I know the feeling,” the cadet said mournfully. The old man peeked up at him through one eye and truly took notice of him for the first time. He saw his torn uniform and the dirt that filled every line on the Ferengi’s face. He was truly a pitiful site. Boothby’s hard expression softened.

“I suppose you would, young man,” he said as he turned his attention back to the daffodil. Nog kneeled down beside him and helped the groundskeeper gather up the fallen petals. He collected them and placed them gingerly in a neat pile at the old man’s side.

“I really am very sorry, sir,” the cadet said softly. “I hope I haven’t damaged the flower. I’ll pay for a new one if I have.”

“Well, the stem’s not broken,” Boothby replied as he examined the plant. “From the looks of these petals, they were getting ready to wilt soon, anyway. All you did was help them along.” The elderly man took another long look at Nog. “Say…you look like you were dragged out of a burning building. Science experiment go awry, or something?”

“No,” Nog replied. “I just came from a training simulation. A particularly disastrous one.”

“Ahh, let me guess,” Boothby said with a grin. “The Kobayashi Maru. That simulation tends to wreak havoc with cadets. You wouldn’t be the first one whose uniform needed repair after that simulation. I take it that you did not fare well, young man?”

“No,” the young Ferengi grumbled. “Not at all. I’ve taken the test three times and three times I’ve failed…miserably.”

“It’s a very hard simulation. You shouldn’t feel upset that you failed. Some of the best names in Starfleet have found themselves in the very same predicament you’re in. Picard, Janeway, Sulu…even James T. Kirk himself! Think of it this way,” the old man smiled, “you’re in exceptional company.” The little joke was intended to lighten the young cadet’s mood, but to no avail. What Boothby did not tell Nog was that the Kobayashi Maru was one of the Academy’s best-kept secrets. The test was not meant to be passed. Quite the opposite. The simulation was a no-win situation designed to teach prospective Starfleet officers how to deal with catastrophic loss and death. Its theme was that of a rescue mission. A crippled freighter, the Kobayashi Maru, drifts into the Romulan Neutral Zone and her crew must be rescued from approaching Romulan birds-of-prey. The officials at the Academy had changed the simulation’s antagonists from Klingon to Romulan after the Khitomer Accords established a peaceful relationship between the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire. Every possible solution that the cadets could think of had already been programmed into the simulation by the best minds at the Academy, all in an effort to make sure test subjects lost and lost large. It was a test of character. Cadets who had taken the test and failed generally came to realize the life lesson taught to them and kept the true nature of the test a secret from those who have not, keeping the integrity of the simulation intact. Nog, unfortunately, had not come to understand this.

“Do you know what strategies those who have passed have used?” he asked Boothby eagerly. His eyes implored the old man for an answer.

“Oh,” the groundskeeper shrugged, “this feeble old mind of mine can barely recall what I had for dinner last night. I couldn’t remember such things. If I could, I’d be commanding a starship, not a garden.” Boothby gave himself a mental pat on the back for dodging the question tactfully. Nog would not get the key to the puzzle so easily from him. He did, however, notice the Ferengi’s shoulders slump in defeat. In all of his years tending the Academy’s grounds, Boothby had never seen a cadet so despondent over failing the Kobayashi Maru test. It was as if Nog’s entire world had come crashing down around him. “Don’t let it eat you up, son,” the old man said. “Some of those folks I mentioned never passed and they did all right for themselves.” OK, he thought to himself, so none of them foiled the program, except the legendary Kirk, who cheated.

“It’s not that,” the Ferengi cadet said as his head sank into his chest. “It’s been rough for me here, sir. I have no friends. Even the other cadets in my squad treat me like an outsider. Some here have even told me that I don’t belong in Starfleet. They look at me and see a scheming, conniving Ferengi, not a fellow cadet looking to better himself.” He let out an ironic laugh. “It’s really quite funny, when you think about it…I spent so much of my life distrusting ‘hew-mons’ until one taught me differently. He was my best friend back on Deep Space Nine, the space station that I grew up on. It didn’t matter to him that humans and Ferengi were different. We were just two boys growing up together and learning about the universe. And now, after all that Jake has opened my eyes to, I feel like I’m right back where I started…human versus Ferengi. I thought that I could really do well here, maybe…” He shrugged his shoulders, his words trailing off from him.

“You’d gain acceptance?” Boothby added, completing Nog’s thought.

“Yes,” he said. “But it was more than that. I got to know Commander Worf pretty well back on DS9 and he told me about the fear and misunderstanding he faced as the first Klingon to come to the Starfleet Academy. He told me that I could probably expect the same, but I wanted to come anyway. I wanted to show everyone that not all Ferengi are profit-mongering scoundrels. Some of us are pretty decent. I really wanted to make my father proud. I wanted to do it for him and every other Ferengi that was just content to live peaceably without any interest in swindling anyone.” Nog brushed at his eyes. Boothby was not certain if it was from the dirt and dust on the cadet or if it was emotion, but he was sure that the boy was crying. His heart sank with him. “That’s why passing this test is so important to me. I want to prove that my people are worth some moral value.”

“All I can tell you, son,” he said as he placed an assuring hand on Nog’s shoulder, “is the only way to succeed is to use the best tools you have available. If I didn’t have my trowel to dig up weeds, I’d use a rock. If I had no rocks, I’d use my hands. And I wouldn’t care what people thought of the crazy old man digging in the dirt, just so long as I know that I did my best. You think on that, OK?”

“OK, sir,” Nog said as he absorbed the man’s words.

“And don’t mutilate any more of my flowers or I’ll plant you next to them.” Nog chuckled and shook his head in agreement. He waved good-bye to the old man and headed back to his dorm room. He had a lot of thinking to do.

A week after Nog’s chance meeting with Boothby, he was back in the holodeck at Archer Hall. Back in the center seat of an imaginary starship on its way to destiny. The young Ferengi had spent the past week reflecting over his conversation with the groundskeeper and one phrase struck him over and over. “Best tools available.” Nog had weighed just what his best tools were and decided that he was ready for another go at the Kobayashi Maru. He had decided that he would just do his best and be satisfied, regardless of the outcome. If he failed, he failed, but he would do so with dignity and grace and if that was not good enough for his fellow cadets, then that was their problem, not his.

Nog looked around the holographic deck at his crew. They were the same group from his last three attempts and they were all prepared for the worst. At the conn was Cadet Tara Bassette. She had laughed at him when he tripped as he got up from his chair after his first test. Next to her, at ops, was Cadet Stoek. He arched his Vulcan brows at the Ferengi when he jumped in startled surprise when their “vessel” took its first photon torpedo hit as if to say “look what you’ve done.” At the back of the bridge, at tactical, was Cadet Rahim al Nabil. After getting “killed” at the same moment during three different simulations with Nog, al Nabil vowed never to step foot in the holodeck with the Ferengi again. And beside Nog was Cadet Dega Val. The young Trill had not said anything to Nog after their previous attempts to rescue the limping ship. He merely shook his head and sighed. That hurt the Ferengi cadet. Criticism was one thing, but open disdain really made his lobes burn. But Nog no longer yearned for their acceptance. He knew that he had not been able to gain it so far, so today would probably be no different. Yet this was different. It was different because Nog was doing this for himself and no one else.

“Sir,” al Nabil called from behind, “we’re receiving a distress signal. Audio only.” He said it mechanically. After living through this test three prior times, al Nabil knew what to expect and when to expect it. Nog had briefly considered requesting a different class this time, but wanted to show this group that he was able to handle the stress.

“Bring it up, Mr. al Nabil,” Nog said. The simulated bridge filled with static. Regardless of how many times the young Ferengi had taken this test, he always felt a chill run through his body when the sound of that static ripped through the relative quiet of the room.

“Mayday, mayday,” an electronic voice called over the com. “This is the Kobayashi Maru. We have struck a gravitic mine. Our guidance and propulsion systems have failed and we are adrift. Can anyone hear us?”

“Open a hailing frequency, Mr. al Nabil,” Nog said as he stood.

“Done, sir.”

“Kobayashi Maru,” the cadet said, “this is Captain Nog, of the Federation Starship Rom. We hear you and are on our way.” That’s right, Nog thought, the Starship Rom. Anyone got a problem with that? “Did they hear us, Mr. al Nabil?”

“Unknown, sir,” came the reply. “There’s no telling what kind of shape their communications systems are in.”

“Try every frequency you can,” Nog ordered. “I want them to know that they’re not alone. Mr. Bassette, plot a course for that ship.” Cadet Bassette rolled her eyes at Cadet Stoek as if to say “here we go again,” but followed Nog’s order.

“Course plotted, sir,” she reported. “Estimated time of arrival, four minutes at warp five.”

“Take us there, Bassette,” Nog commanded. Bassette executed the order and the starfield on the main viewer shifted as they changed course. The holographic image of stars flew by with greater speed.

“Captain,” Cadet Val spoke up, “maybe it would be prudent to call for assistance. According to the computer, the Manhattan is only a few sectors away. It would only take…”

“Far too long, Mr. Val,” Nog interrupted. “The Kobayashi Maru has drifted into Romulan space. If we don’t get them out fast, they may never get out.”

“But, sir,” the young Trill insisted, “that’s all the more reason to call for backup. If we encounter trouble, we may need more firepower than we possess to evade it.”

“Duly noted, Mr. Val,” Nog said, “but my order stands. I will not risk the lives of innocents just to play it safe. They may not have the luxury of the time that it takes for the Manhattan to arrive.”

“But, sir…”

“My order stands!” Nog declared. There was silence on the simulated bridge. Cadet al Nabil watched the exchange intently. Stoek and Bassette exchanged glances but never turned to look at the two disagreeing cadets. In all the previous tests, Nog had never been this confident or self-assured. He was now standing his ground with a cadet that had intimidated him in the past and he was not backing down.

“Yes, sir,” was Val’s terse reply. He did not like the Ferengi’s command decision, but Nog was in command and Val was duty-bound to follow his orders. Within a few long, grueling minutes of tense silence, the drifting hull of the Kobayashi Maru came into view. She just floated in space, listing slightly, but otherwise, looking relatively undamaged. There were no outward appearances of breaches. She was just drifting peacefully.

“Open a hailing frequency, Mr. al Nabil,” Nog ordered.

“Done, sir.” Nog stood and took a step toward the main viewer.

“This is Captain Nog of the Federation Starship Rom,” he said. “Can you read me?” Silence was the reply. Chilling silence.

“Maybe they’re all dead,” Bassette said.

“What do you read, Mr. Stoek?” Nog asked his ops officer.

“I read 381 life-signs aboard, sir,” the Vulcan cadet reported. “I cannot ascertain their present condition, but my scans show that their life-support systems are functioning normally and their hull has not been compromised. I can also detect no warp core breaches. Their central computer appears to be offline, but they are still spaceworthy.”

“Small favors,” Nog sighed.

“Captain!” al Nabil called from behind him. “Three Romulan birds-of-prey…closing in on our position! They’ve powered up their weapons and are preparing to strike!”

“Raise shields! Red alert! Power up photon torpedoes and await my command!”

“Captain,” Val said, “maybe we should target the nearest warbird, fire, and withdraw.”

“I will not abandon the Kobayashi Maru, Mr. Val,” Nog hissed.

“Is that understood?”

“Maybe we can beam them aboard and make a run for it,” Bassette chimed in.

“Not enough time,” Stoek replied. “By the time we dropped shields, transported those aboard the Kobayashi Maru, raised shields, and engaged the warp engines, the Romulans will have had all the time they need to destroy us. That would be an illogical course of action.”

“Open hailing frequencies, Mr. al Nabil,” Nog commanded.

“What?” al Nabil replied incredulously. “You tried to talk to them before and…”

“Mr. al Nabil,” Nog said sternly, “you presume to speak of events that never transpired. We are here and now. In other words, this is not a simulation we have tested in before but a life and death situation that holds hundreds of lives in the balance. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Then open the hailing frequencies!”

“Aye, sir,” al Nabil said, frustration in his voice. “Hailing frequencies open.”

“Romulan commander,” Nog addressed, “this is Captain Nog of the Federation Starship Rom. We are not here to fight you. Our interest is in this derelict freighter. Allow us to salvage it and go on in peace. I repeat, we are not here to fight you.” The other cadets looked at Nog with apprehension. Surely, he had gone mad. He had tried negotiating with the Romulans once before and they all wound up dead as their simulated ship was blasted out of space. There was no way that it could work.

“The lead ship is powering up its main phaser bank,” al Nabil announced. “She’s firing!”

“Full power to forward shields!” Nog ordered. “Maximum strength. Brace for impact!” The room shuddered and sparks flew as the phaser bolt that never existed slammed into the shields of a starship that also never existed. Smoke rose and alarms sounded, but the bridge appeared to be intact. All hands were still very much alive, even al Nabil, who had usually expired by this point. Nog took it as an encouraging sign. Maybe this scheme might work after all.

“We’re alive!” Bassette cried out.

“Let’s try to keep it that way, people,” Nog commented. “Romulan commander,” he said, turning his attention back to the approaching holographic ships, “we have given you no cause to fire. I implore you to stand down. We are not a threat to you.” Another volley of nonexistent phaser-fire slammed into them. More panels blew as the smoke began to get thicker. Sparks shot from Stoek’s console. The sudden flash threw him from his seat, but as far as the simulation was concerned, he was still among the living. As were the rest of his crew. A little singed, a little shaken, but still very much alive. That had never happened before. Nor did what Nog saw when he looked at the main viewer. The visage of a Romulan officer was staring at him. Through the clearing smoke, Nog could see that his adversary was a female.

“I am Subcommander Tranna,” she said. “You are in Romulan space. You are in violation of intergalactic treaties. Prepare to be destroyed.” The rest of the cadets immediately turned their attention to Nog. They were astounded that they were still alive and in the simulation. They were amazed that for the first time, they had a face to put to their attackers. And they were astonished that Nog was holding his own.

“Subcommander,” he said, addressing the holographic Romulan woman, “we do not wish to create an intergalactic incident. We merely wish to take this ship and leave.” Tranna’s brow arched.

“Why, Ferengi?”

“Because we are on a mission of mercy. There are innocents aboard that ship. They have no part of what you and I have been trained for. They only wish to go home. Please show your compassion and let them go.”

“Sir,” Stoek interjected, “our shields are down to thirty-seven percent. Impulse engines are offline, but the warp engines are functioning perfectly. No casualties to report, but injuries are beginning to come in. The Kobayashi Maru is unscathed.” Nog pondered his situation and gazed at Tranna.

“Ferengi,” the Romulan officer demanded, “you are in violation of intergalactic treaties and we are perfectly within our right to destroy…”

“Name your price!” Nog demanded. The crew looked at him in stunned silence. Surely he did not say what they thought he had just said.

“I beg your pardon?” Tranna questioned. Even the holographic Romulan warrior could not believe her pointed ears.

“Name your price,” he repeated. “Everyone has a price. Name yours and we’ll negotiate.” Bassette snickered. The whole idea was absurd. A Ferengi captain on a Federation starship bartering with a Romulan for the lives aboard a derelict ship. The stories they taught in Betazoid literature were not even this fanciful. He must have lost his mind.

“Nog…” Val implored, only to be hushed by the Ferengi cadet.

“Not now,” he said. “Profit’s on the line.”

“Profit!” the Trill cadet said incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Are you insane?” Val’s eyes began to fill with rage. “Maybe you don’t want to pass this test, but…”

“Be quiet, Mr. Val, or consider yourself relieved,” Nog demanded. Val stared at his fellow cadet in utter shock. He could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. Starfleet officers do not buy hostages like so much meat at a butcher shop. His stomach turned at the very thought, but Val could see that Nog was serious. He threw his hands up in defeat and sat down, shaking his head the whole time. Nog looked over at the rest. Bassette and al Nabil both seemed just as dumbfounded while Stoek seemed to be observing. “Good,” Nog said at long last. “Now, back to commerce.” He turned his attention back to the Romulan commander. “So, what will it be? Romulan ale? Terran silks? I know…Bajoran relics! No collection is complete without them.”

“Captain,” Tranna replied, still in disbelief, “Romulans do not negotiate with aggressive pirates who invade our space.” She seemed as if she did not know what to make of the situation.

“Pirates!” Nog cried. “You’ve seen right through us! How did you know that there was millions in gold-pressed latinum aboard that ship? Do you have a spy among my crew? Is it you, Mr. Val? Are you a spy? I’ll kill you myself if you are!”

“Captain!” the holographic Romulan pleaded. “I am warning you…I have little patience for such antics. You are only delaying your destruction by carrying on this way. Now, stop!” The image on the screen wavered. It was as if the transmission were breaking up, but Nog could see that it was not the case. The background behind Tranna did not falter, only the woman herself. Nog smiled inwardly and moved in for the kill.

“OK, Tranna,” he said, “you drive a hard bargain…I’ll give you fifty percent of the profits if you’ll let us have the ship. Normally, I wouldn’t do this but the Eighty-ninth Rule of Acquisition clearly states that it is better to lose some profit and live than lose all profit and die. In fact…” Just then, Tranna’s image faltered. The smoke in the room began to thin and the sounds of alarms decreased. The world around the cadets shimmered and dissipated. Where once stood the proud bridge of the mighty Federation Starship Rom, now there was the familiar crisscrossing of yellow grids against the obsidian walls of a holodeck. The simulation was over.

“What happened?” asked al Nabil.

“I don’t know,” Val replied. The cadets all looked around the room in stunned amazement. All, that is, except for Nog. He merely smiled as he realized what he had just done. He had defeated the Kobayashi Maru. He had beat the no-win situation.

“Cadet Nog,” a woman’s voice called out. “This is Commander Aprile. See me in my office immediately. The rest of you cadets are free to go.” The holodeck’s archway opened, revealing the corridor that stood just outside of it. A number of stunned Academy personnel had gathered there. They had been observing the exercise and were now anxious to get a look at the cadet who just handed their biggest test back to them on a silver platter. Nog headed toward the door but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait a minute,” al Nabil said. “What just happened?” He was just as perplexed as everyone else there was.

“As a friend of mine would say,” Nog responded with a smile, “I just threw them a curve ball.” He then turned and walked past the crowd in the hallway. The veteran Starfleet officers and senior cadets gaped in amazement at the little Ferengi. They whispered among themselves, wondering what this meant. Why did the test end so abruptly? Did he really beat the simulation or did the instructors end it? One thing that they were all in agreement about, however, was that the Academy had just changed.

“Fascinating,” Stoek said in observance of the event. Val turned to look at him. As the Vulcan arched his brow as if to wonder why Val seemed so confused, the Trill just once again shook his head.

Nog approached Commander Rachel Aprile’s office. She was the instructor in charge of strategic theory. It was her department that was in charge of the Kobayashi Maru simulation, and Nog began to feel a nervous twinge in the pit of his stomach. True, his strategy this time was rather unorthodox, but surely he was not about to be reprimanded for it. He just felt the need to look at the problem differently. He just prayed that he could make Aprile understand that.

“Come,” came the voice from inside the office as he stepped up to the door. It opened with a soft movement of air to reveal the commander’s rather spartan office. Some books and shelves, but not much in the way of decorations or even pictures. The commander was a middle-aged human woman who was a veteran of the Battle of Wolf 359, the Federation’s darkest military action against the Borg. She survived that day through cunning and guile. Her tactics led to her position at the Academy. And now, a nervous Ferengi cadet was about to face her wrath. “Sit down, Cadet,” she ordered harshly.

“Yes, sir,” Nog managed to say without stammering. He felt queasy and hoped that he would not vomit right then and there. He sat up straight and held himself at attention.

“Cadet Nog,” she demanded, “what the hell just happened in there?”

“Well, sir, you see,” he fumbled, “I was taking the Kobayashi Maru test, which I failed three times before and…”

“Stop babbling,” she reprimanded sternly. Nog could tell by the look in her eye that she was in no mood for games. He drew a breath and steadied himself. “Now what kind of game do you think you’re playing here?”

“I just thought I’d try something different,” he said calmly. “Conventional modes of thought did not seem to work, so I thought I’d be creative.”

“Creative?” she fumed. “By babbling like a fool until the computer could no longer rationalize your method? And what did you plan to do next? Offer the female crew members as harem girls?” Nog could see that Aprile was clearly not amused. He was watching his whole Starfleet career flash in front of his eyes. He knew that he had to convince the commander that his actions were not as reckless as they seemed.

“Well, no, sir,” he replied. “I was hoping to confuse or distract Subcommander Tranna long enough to lay down a barrage of photon torpedoes so we could tractor the freighter and warp out far enough to get beyond Romulan space, so we could beam the survivors over and make repairs. You see, Romulans have had a history of letting their guard down around us Ferengi because they think that we’re inferior. I was hoping that Tranna would assume the same so I could exploit that.” Aprile pondered that for a moment.

“So you’re saying that by acting the fool, you hoped that the Romulans would underestimate you and present you with an opportunity to strike? Interesting strategy, Cadet.”

“The 239th Rule of Acquisition, sir…’Never be afraid to mis-label a product.’ In this case, I was the product.”

“So it would seem. But how did you know that it would work?”

“I didn’t. Nothing else worked for me, so I just stopped trying to be what I thought I had to be to be accepted and started being what I am…a Ferengi. I may not be a good one, or as my uncle would say, I may not have the lobes for it, but I’m still a Ferengi and people will always see me as such. I used that preconceived notion to my advantage. It was the best tool I had available to me.” Nog looked good and hard at Aprile. She no longer seemed to be breathing fire. In fact, she even began to smile.

“Well done, Cadet,” she said. “It sounds to me as if you’ve learned a very valuable lesson. You’ve passed your test. It may not have been the test you thought you were going in for, but you’ve passed anyway. You’ve learned that what’s truly important is that you have to trust your own abilities. I’ll let you in on a little secret…there is no solution to the Kobayashi Maru simulation. It’s designed to teach you how to deal with death as much as life. It’s a no-win situation. You may not have gotten the full impact of that lesson today, but you took a very important step in that direction. Now, get back to your studies and make Starfleet proud.”

“Yes, sir,” Nog said as he rose from the chair. He hurried to the door, but stopped just short of it. He turned to face Aprile. “Sir, may I ask a question?”

“What is it, Cadet?”

“Did you shut the simulation down or did I actually defeat the no-win situation?” Aprile’s brow knotted at the question.

“Get back to your studies, Cadet,” she said, refusing to answer the question.

“Yes, sir,” he said quickly and rushed out the door. He headed out to the quad, feeling as if he were walking on air. For the first time since he had come to the Academy, he felt as if he had done something right. His doubts about being there began to melt away as he felt a confidence growing within him. He now knew asking Captain Sisko to sponsor him for the Academy was not a mistake. He could not wait to call the station and tell him what he had done. And he could not wait to tell his father that he could be proud of his son. As Nog approached the quad, he found Val, Stoek, Bassette, and al Nabil waiting. They all had anxious looks on their faces, wanting to know what had transpired in Aprile’s office. Nog began to feel a little uneasy again. For a moment, he thought that they were going to berate him for his performance.

“Well?” al Nabil asked.

“Well what?” Nog replied.

“Well, what happened?” Bassette chimed in.

Nog looked at his squad mates. He knew that he could not tell them about the true nature of the simulation because they would have to find out for themselves, but he also knew that they would not let the subject drop unless he gave them something.

“She said that she was pleased with my progress,” he said coyly.

“Is that all?” Stoek inquired. Nog looked at them again. They all seemed to be ready to burst with anticipation of his next word.

“Oh, and that I passed.” The group looked stunned.

“You passed?” al Nabil asked, his mouth agape.

“Yes,” Nog replied. “She thought that my solution was unique. Had I not been Ferengi, it probably wouldn’t have worked. But you can’t help what you are.” At that remark, the squad collectively hung their heads, feeling a little ashamed of the way they had treated their fellow cadet. As much as Nog may have wanted to revel in such a moment in the past, he now felt it would be immature. “And it’s a good thing,” he added, attempting to break the mood.

“Well,” Val said after a bit of a silence, “I guess that only leaves one thing.” He stepped very close to Nog, until he was towering over him. “We all owe Nog a victory celebration. What do you say to ice cream and coffee at that little bistro over in Sausalito? I’ve heard that the whales are breaching in the bay, so it should make for a great party. Are you up for it, Nog?”

Nog’s eyes grew wide. He could not believe his ears. Not only was the squad inviting him to come out, but it was in his honor. He felt a tightness in his throat and fought the urge to cry. Finally, after so much time, heartache, and alienation, Nog felt like he belonged. He felt like he was home.

“You bet,” he said, a jagged-tooth grin creasing his glowing face. As he turned to leave with his friends, the young Ferengi noticed Boothby tending a patch of Andorian roses. The old man looked at him and did something that the cadets had sworn he was incapable of doing. He smiled.