“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?”