"DAD … CAN I GO with you to the Academy sometime?"
Sulu looked at Demora in surprise while, at the same time, never breaking stride.
The two of them were jogging briskly down Telegraph Hill, the way up always being a bit easier than the way down. The sun was still just in the process of coming up over the horizon, as it usually was during their early-morning runs.
In the early days, when Demora had wanted to run beside him, he'd had to completely alter his route to accommodate her. But over the years, as she'd approached her teen years, she'd had less and less trouble keeping up with him. Consequently he'd started going back to his old running paths. She'd continued to keep up with him, and he started to foresee a time when it would be all he could do to keep up with her.
"You want to come to the Academy?"
"That's what I said."
Her long hair swung across the small of her back like a pendulum. They were both wearing T-shirts and shorts as she displayed her ability to maintain pace with her father.
What Demora wasn't was tall … a source of great frustration to her, although Sulu kept assuring her that she was in for a growth spurt. Demora would teasingly ask him if he was anticipating a growth spurt for himself, and indeed would occasionally gibe him by calling him Tiny. She meant it affectionately, and he let her get away with it, although he swore that anyone else who ever tried to call him that would sorely regret it.
Indeed, her lack of height made her appear, at first glance, much younger than she was. Her face still had the softness of childhood. Fully dressed, she looked preadolescent. However, in the sweaty shirt plastered to her chest and the shorts, and the shorts revealing legs like those of a young colt, there was no mistaking the fact that she was a youthful woman on the cutting edge of maturity. Sulu noticed young men's eyes turning these days as they jogged along, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the one being sized up.
They slowed to a stop at a street corner. Sulu started to stretch, massaging a muscle that was cramping. "You've never asked to before. In fact, the first time I mentioned it, you showed such disinterest I never brought it up again."
She shrugged (some things never changing). "I didn't think you really wanted me to."
He gaped at her. But then he thought better of his first reaction, because if there was one thing he'd come to learn, it was never to accept anything Demora said or did at face value. It had been a long and hard lesson for him. He was used to dealing with adults … and outspoken adults, at that, such as Leonard McCoy or Pavel Chekov. People who told you exactly where they stood.
Demora wasn't always as forthcoming. This had worried him at first, but Sulu—being thorough—had researched the subject. He'd read everything he could get his hands on, from recent treatises on child rearing, all the way back to material written centuries before. He remembered a confusing conversation he'd had with Chekov, wherein Sulu had been quoting certain philosophies on parenting and Chekov had asked him who was the authority Sulu was using.
"Spock," Sulu had told him.
Chekov had looked exceedingly confused. "Meester Spock? Vat does he know about children?"
"No, Dr. Spock."
"A doctor?" Chekov was even more befuddled. "Ven did he become a doctor? Does Dr. McCoy know?"
In any event, Sulu had learned not to believe the first thing Demora said … or, for that matter, even the second or third necessarily. Speaking with any child was less like a normal conversation and more like peeling an onion: many layers to slice through to get to the core, and not a few tears shed along the way.
"You thought I didn't want you to? Demy … come on. You couldn't have thought that. I've told you about it often enough. Encouraged you. You've heard Chekov and me discuss the old days whenever he comes over. So how could you possibly think that I didn't want to share it with you?"
Demora had her foot placed flat against a building and was stretching to touch her toes. She paused and looked to him. "Truth?"
"Beats lies."
She turned and leaned against the building, her arms folded across her budding breasts. "I've been hearing about Starfleet for so long, and how wonderful it is … I've almost been afraid of it."
"Afraid of it?" He said it half with a laugh, unsure of what she could possibly be talking about.
"What if I visit the Academy with you … meet the cadets, sit in on a class … and I find the whole thing … I don't know. Dull. Maybe the cadets will be jerks, or the subject matter will bore me stiff."
"Demy! It's a visit, not a career choice."
"It's stepping into your world for the first time. Oh, I certainly was off-planet enough with Mother. But it's … it's different somehow. I don't know why, but it just … is."
"But now you want to come."
"I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately. I miss Chekov, for one thing. He sends his letters from the Reliant, but it's not the same. It couldn't be. And also there's …"
"All right, then," Sulu said. "How about today?"
She looked surprised. "Today?"
"Why not today?"
"No reason not to. I just meant … some time in the future."
"Two hours from now is the future, isn't it? That's the wonderful thing about the future. It's whenever you want it to be."
"Okay. Fine. That would be … fine," said Demora.
"But Demora … promise me something."
"Sure, Dad. What?"
"You'll stay out of trouble."
"Dad!" She looked at him accusingly. "When have I ever …?"
"Let's not cite chapter and verse, all right?" he warned. "You know very well the number of times I've heard it from your teachers about your knack for getting in over your head. I want you to swear to me, on your honor, that you'll stay out of trouble."
"Sure. Whatever."
"I don't want 'whatever.'"
"All right, I swear."
"On your honor?"
"On my honor."
She smiled.
He frowned.