“But I know Portia. She’s one of my best students. I like her. She reminds me of Demora.” He lowered his head. “And I found the eyewitnesses who identified her. I feel responsible for what’s happened. I’m hoping if I can talk to her, build on our connection—such as it is—maybe I can stop her from making a huge mistake.”

“Huger than murdering her own sponsor?”

“That’s for the courts to decide. Until then, I’m willing to believe her.”

“Very well, Mister Sulu,” Kirk said. “You’re with us.”

On reaching the scene, they found Captain sh’Deslar coordinating with the SFPD’s tactical team, although both groups seemed understaffed. “They chose an ideal time for this, from their point of view,” sh’Deslar reported to the admiral once they’d touched base. “Emergency responders are already spread thin preparing for vacuum flares, and the subspace interference is hampering comms, security systems, and transporters. That must be how they got past security in the Academy armory to steal those phasers.”

“I take it beaming the hostages out isn’t an option, then?” Kirk asked.

“It’d be risky enough just from the flare interference, but they’ve sprayed the walls and windows with a refractory coating of some kind. Keeps us from seeing inside with eyes or sensors.”

“Have you made contact with the hostage-takers?”

She held up a communicator. “I spoke briefly to Portia. She said I was ‘in on it,’ that she had nothing to say to me.”

Sulu took a step forward to get her attention. “Let me try talking to her, Captain. She’s one of my students. I think I can get her to trust me.”

The security captain sighed. “Well, you convinced me not to kick you out of my office. If you can pull that off, anything’s possible. But it’s up to her whether you get anywhere.”

She handed Sulu her communicator. “Frequency’s already open. Still works at short range, but it’s best if you speak up.”

He flipped up the lid and took a breath to compose himself. “Portia? This is Commander Sulu. I’d like to come up and speak with you, if that’s okay.”

It was several moments before she responded. “You’re unarmed?”

He took off his maroon jacket, exposing the gold turtleneck underneath—not so different, he sometimes thought, from the uniform he’d worn when he first served aboard the Enterprise nearly a decade and a half before. He stepped forward a few paces, slowly, and spread his arms, turning around. The cadets may have opaqued the windows, but he assumed they had some way to see out.

He raised the communicator again. “I just want to hear your side of all this, Cadet. Just have a conversation, like we did in the cockpit.”

This time, the silence was longer. “Just you. Come to the door and wait.”