09-18-2025, 04:08 PM
Riley materialized on the transporter pad with a faint tingle still clinging to her skin. For a moment she stayed where she was, letting her balance settle, then straightened her uniform and forced her shoulders back. First assignment. First ship.
The USS Yeager. Captain Jennifer Braggins’ ship.
Her gaze drifted around the room — clean consoles, polished insignias, crew moving with practiced ease. Everything felt sharp, orderly, alive. Security is about protecting lives, not proving yourself, she reminded herself, hearing Torres’ calm voice in the back of her head.
At barely 4’11”, she knew she looked young, maybe even out of place. She’d heard the doubt before, seen it in people’s faces. That familiar little spark of frustration tugged at her, but she pushed it aside. She would prove herself here the same way she always had — through discipline, through action.
Riley tugged her sleeve down over the tattoo hidden on her arm and stepped off the pad, moving into the corridor. The hum of the ship wrapped around her, steady and reassuring. She pulled out a PADD and skimmed through the basics of her new posting as she walked.
The Yeager: a Modified Pathfinder-class Scout Cruiser, launched just last year. Four hundred meters long, crew of about a hundred enlisted and twenty officers. Compact but capable, designed to move fast and hit hard if it had to. The sole auxiliary craft included an aeroshuttle, the Glamorous Glennis.
Her eyes lingered on the file photo of Captain Braggins. Petite, violet eyes, long dark hair. The notes described her as a quiet but decisive officer, respected and sometimes unorthodox. Riley swallowed. She’s going to notice everything. Don’t screw this up.
Her thoughts slipped, unbidden, to graduation. T’Varen had been at her side that day — steady, logical, the calm against Riley’s fire. They had pushed each other through every hurdle at the Academy, and now, for the first time, they were on different ships. The ache surprised her, sharp and sudden. You’d tell me to breathe. To focus. To trust myself. Riley tightened her grip on the PADD. I’ll make this count, T’Varen. For both of us.
The turbolift opened ahead, and Riley caught her reflection in the brushed metal as she stepped inside. Small. Determined. Ready — or at least trying to be.
“Bridge,” she ordered, voice firm despite the thrum of nerves in her chest.
The lift carried her up, the vibration of the deck steady beneath her boots. When the doors slid open, the Bridge spread out before her.
The place buzzed with quiet energy — officers at their stations, LCARS panels glowing in soft colors, the muted tones of reports being exchanged. Beyond the main viewscreen, stars drifted like cold fireflies against the black. The air itself seemed charged, the kind of space where every movement carried purpose.
Riley’s gaze found the figure at the center: Captain Braggins, standing near the command chair. Petite, with long dark hair and an unmistakable air of authority, she seemed to embody the gravity of command without raising her voice. At the security station, Riley noted the presence of Lieutenant Artemis d’Tor’an, her new department head, though she kept her attention forward.
Her heart thudded hard, but she forced her steps steady across the deck. Stopping just in front of the captain, she drew herself up straight, voice clear even if her palms felt damp.
“Midshipman Riley Wright, reporting for duty, Captain.”
The USS Yeager. Captain Jennifer Braggins’ ship.
Her gaze drifted around the room — clean consoles, polished insignias, crew moving with practiced ease. Everything felt sharp, orderly, alive. Security is about protecting lives, not proving yourself, she reminded herself, hearing Torres’ calm voice in the back of her head.
At barely 4’11”, she knew she looked young, maybe even out of place. She’d heard the doubt before, seen it in people’s faces. That familiar little spark of frustration tugged at her, but she pushed it aside. She would prove herself here the same way she always had — through discipline, through action.
Riley tugged her sleeve down over the tattoo hidden on her arm and stepped off the pad, moving into the corridor. The hum of the ship wrapped around her, steady and reassuring. She pulled out a PADD and skimmed through the basics of her new posting as she walked.
The Yeager: a Modified Pathfinder-class Scout Cruiser, launched just last year. Four hundred meters long, crew of about a hundred enlisted and twenty officers. Compact but capable, designed to move fast and hit hard if it had to. The sole auxiliary craft included an aeroshuttle, the Glamorous Glennis.
Her eyes lingered on the file photo of Captain Braggins. Petite, violet eyes, long dark hair. The notes described her as a quiet but decisive officer, respected and sometimes unorthodox. Riley swallowed. She’s going to notice everything. Don’t screw this up.
Her thoughts slipped, unbidden, to graduation. T’Varen had been at her side that day — steady, logical, the calm against Riley’s fire. They had pushed each other through every hurdle at the Academy, and now, for the first time, they were on different ships. The ache surprised her, sharp and sudden. You’d tell me to breathe. To focus. To trust myself. Riley tightened her grip on the PADD. I’ll make this count, T’Varen. For both of us.
The turbolift opened ahead, and Riley caught her reflection in the brushed metal as she stepped inside. Small. Determined. Ready — or at least trying to be.
“Bridge,” she ordered, voice firm despite the thrum of nerves in her chest.
The lift carried her up, the vibration of the deck steady beneath her boots. When the doors slid open, the Bridge spread out before her.
The place buzzed with quiet energy — officers at their stations, LCARS panels glowing in soft colors, the muted tones of reports being exchanged. Beyond the main viewscreen, stars drifted like cold fireflies against the black. The air itself seemed charged, the kind of space where every movement carried purpose.
Riley’s gaze found the figure at the center: Captain Braggins, standing near the command chair. Petite, with long dark hair and an unmistakable air of authority, she seemed to embody the gravity of command without raising her voice. At the security station, Riley noted the presence of Lieutenant Artemis d’Tor’an, her new department head, though she kept her attention forward.
Her heart thudded hard, but she forced her steps steady across the deck. Stopping just in front of the captain, she drew herself up straight, voice clear even if her palms felt damp.
“Midshipman Riley Wright, reporting for duty, Captain.”