Tramordian Spire Construction Zone
Yenesh-Itsich Provincial Habitation
Bolarus IX
Circa 2357

Ashok stood fast against the bracing, blustering winds that seemed determined to scour every last grain of silt from the once fertile alluvial plain that surrounded the gargantuan construction rig. He stood apart from his father, who was surrounded by a gaggle of fellow engineers, as well as various government and corporate representatives, all clamoring for a moment of the great Hakaseus’ time.

At fourteen years, Ashok already towered over his father, a fact that the famed architect had claimed was a favorable omen for a man laboring to build the planet’s first transatmospheric structure.

The young man quietly observed the noisy throng of sycophants surrounding his father, all the while rehearsing how he might go about telling the man that he had failed his entrance exams to the prestigious Daystrom affiliated prep-school on Alpha Centauri. Ashok’s father had attended that very school, crediting it as the first stepping stone to his admission to the Vulcan Science Academy’s elite School of Architectural Studies.

Ashok had been groomed since birth to follow in his father’s footsteps. It was his destiny to assume the mantle of his family’s long service to the state, the builders of temples, palaces, universities and now, this latest triumph, the embodiment of the Bolian peoples’ collective will and fortitude. Hakaseus knew that he would never live to see the completion of the spire, but his only son would stand in his stead, finishing the project and forever inscribing their family’s name in the annals of history.

His father’s flock eventually dispersed, and Hakaseus moved towards him as he sealed the neckline of his greatcoat against the persistent wind. “I hired an army of functionaries to keep these jackals from me, and what good has it done?” His broad smile belied the statement; Ashok knew his father reveled in the attention, in the celebrity of his accomplishments.

Ashok fell into step alongside the man, careful not to outpace him. “Father... I have news.” He’d blurted it unexpectedly, so anxious was he to be done with the inevitable confrontation.

“And...” Hakaseus prompted, “speak.”

The young man blew out a frustrated breath, “And... I was not accepted at the Vadran School. I failed the entrance exam by twenty-seven points.”

That stopped his father in his tracks. The man said nothing for a long moment and merely stared at the parched earth beneath his feet. “Unacceptable,” he said finally.

“I would agree,” Ashok offered, “but I must wait another half-cycle before reapplying.”

Hakaseus turned on him, “How could you allow this to happen? How could you let yourself become so sidetracked that you could upset your schedule?”

“My schedule,” Ashok echoed. That was what his father called it. Ashok was expected to attend the same schools in the same succession in the same timeframe as his father had. It was ‘their’ schedule.

“I will redouble my efforts, Father. I will study harder...”

Hakaseus waved the notion away with an impatient hand. “That will set you back another two semesters prior to your graduation, which fouls your start date for your internship with the Construction Fellowship...”

“Father, forgive me, I--”

“No,” Hakaseus hissed with exasperation, “enough. If I didn’t know better, I would think this was a deliberate tactic by you to re-examine that ridiculous notion of yours about Starfleet.”

Ashok winced as if physically pained. His father had already made his opinions on Starfleet service crystal clear. “I would never go against your wishes, Father. You know this.”

Hakaseus pointed an accusatory finger at his son. “I will not suffer to see you in a military uniform, Ashok. Even working for their design corps is unthinkable. We are as much artists as engineers, and the thought of you slaving away as a journeyman tinkerer on their utilitarian, pedantic designs is simply too awful to consider!"

“Of course, Father,” Ashok sighed dejectedly.

Hakaseus glowered, his expression torn between disappointment and disbelief.  “You are beyond fortunate, Ashok.  You need not waste years of your life in a fruitless search for your path.”  He gestured back towards the base of the gargantuan structure.  “Here is your destiny, laid out before you as if handed to you on a gilded service.  It is yours for the taking!”

Ashok followed his father’s gaze with his eyes, seeing in the grand assemblage only a cage, a trap, a great shadow perched to collapse upon him and smother his dreams in an avalanche of his father’s expectations.

“My apologies,” Ashok murmured absently.  “How could I be so ungrateful?”

His father’s querulous response was drowned out by a persistent chime that grew more troubling until it had intruded completely into the dream.

Ashok found himself in his cabin, staring up at the ceiling from his bed.  His eyes were drawn to the luminous hologram of the Tramordian Spire that he had placed directly above his sleeping alcove. He reached out and silenced the alarm, prepared to meet another day as chief engineer on an outdated and overworked escort ship.  Another day where no matter what he accomplished he would be just good enough.

But only just.

*****