09-22-2025, 01:02 PM
== Graduation Day ==
The Academy courtyard buzzed with energy, cadets in crisp dress uniforms spilling out of the hall where the ceremony had just ended. The gray fabric caught the afternoon light, accented by the division colors that lined each seam — Riley’s orange piping standing out sharp against the clean lines of her jacket.
Her cap was tucked neatly under one arm, while her other hand lifted almost without thought to her collar. Fingers brushed over the smooth black pip, the new weight of it both strange and solid against the fabric. She lingered on it for a second, as though confirming it was really there — as though touching it helped prove this wasn’t just another exercise or dream. Graduated. Finally. The thought sat heavy in her chest, pride and nerves tangled together. Years of bruises, study sessions, and endless drills had all led to this — no more cadet stripes, no more training wheels. From this moment forward, she was Starfleet.
Around her, classmates embraced family, laughed with friends, and clustered for holo-images. Riley allowed herself a small smile, though her stomach tightened with each passing second. She’d earned this, yes — but what came next was still a question mark.
Beside her, T’Varen stood as steady as ever, her own uniform immaculate, every line in place. Vulcan calm in the middle of the whirlwind. Riley nudged her lightly with an elbow. “So, how’s it feel? Officially Starfleet now. No more cadet excuses when you outpace me on the track.”
T’Varen turned her head just enough to meet Riley’s eyes. “I will endeavor to maintain my performance regardless of title.”
Riley huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you will. That’s such a Vulcan answer.” She glanced down at her boots, then back up at her friend. “Still… weird, isn’t it? All those years, and it’s done. Just like that.”
T’Varen inclined her head, voice steady. “Completion of training is not the end, Riley. It is the beginning.”
Riley exhaled slowly, lips quirking into a faint smile. “Yeah… you’re right. Doesn’t make it any less strange, though.”
The words replayed in her head even as the noise of the courtyard pressed in again. Riley. It was the first time T’Varen had ever used her first name instead of “Wright.” Normally Vulcan formality kept everything at arm’s length, clean and precise. Hearing her own name — just her name — from T’Varen’s lips landed heavier than she’d expected. Guess I wasn’t the only one who changed at the Academy.
She felt a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth, one she let linger for only a heartbeat before smoothing it away. No point in letting T’Varen see how much it had landed.
A new voice cut through the crowd. One Riley knew instantly.
“Not bad, Wright. Not bad at all.”
Her head snapped up, eyes locking on the broad-shouldered figure weaving through the cadets. Javier Torres — the officer she’d looked up to since she first decided Security was her path — was making his way toward them, his own dress uniform carrying the weight of experience hers still lacked.
For a second, Riley forgot how to breathe. He came.
“Sir,” she managed quickly, straightening before she could stop herself. The grin tugging at her lips was impossible to fight back. “Didn’t think you’d—”
“Miss one of my protégés graduating?” Torres finished for her, clasping her shoulder with a firm, approving grip. “Not a chance.” His gaze swept over her, then shifted to T’Varen with equal respect. “Both of you did yourselves proud today. Academy’s one thing — the Fleet’s another. But you’re ready.”
Riley’s chest swelled, the knot of nerves easing just a fraction at his words. Ready. He actually thinks I’m ready.
Torres let his hand fall, folding both behind his back as his tone shifted — still warm, but with the weight of a lesson beneath it. “Remember this: out there, it’s not just about drills or perfect form. It’s about the people beside you. Trust your crew, even when you don’t fully understand them. And never let fear keep you from doing your job — fear’s just proof you care enough to get it right.”
Riley held his gaze, the words sinking deeper than she’d admit out loud. She gave a firm nod. “Yes, sir.”
Torres’s smile deepened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. Then you’ll do fine. Both of you will.”
The Academy courtyard buzzed with energy, cadets in crisp dress uniforms spilling out of the hall where the ceremony had just ended. The gray fabric caught the afternoon light, accented by the division colors that lined each seam — Riley’s orange piping standing out sharp against the clean lines of her jacket.
Her cap was tucked neatly under one arm, while her other hand lifted almost without thought to her collar. Fingers brushed over the smooth black pip, the new weight of it both strange and solid against the fabric. She lingered on it for a second, as though confirming it was really there — as though touching it helped prove this wasn’t just another exercise or dream. Graduated. Finally. The thought sat heavy in her chest, pride and nerves tangled together. Years of bruises, study sessions, and endless drills had all led to this — no more cadet stripes, no more training wheels. From this moment forward, she was Starfleet.
Around her, classmates embraced family, laughed with friends, and clustered for holo-images. Riley allowed herself a small smile, though her stomach tightened with each passing second. She’d earned this, yes — but what came next was still a question mark.
Beside her, T’Varen stood as steady as ever, her own uniform immaculate, every line in place. Vulcan calm in the middle of the whirlwind. Riley nudged her lightly with an elbow. “So, how’s it feel? Officially Starfleet now. No more cadet excuses when you outpace me on the track.”
T’Varen turned her head just enough to meet Riley’s eyes. “I will endeavor to maintain my performance regardless of title.”
Riley huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you will. That’s such a Vulcan answer.” She glanced down at her boots, then back up at her friend. “Still… weird, isn’t it? All those years, and it’s done. Just like that.”
T’Varen inclined her head, voice steady. “Completion of training is not the end, Riley. It is the beginning.”
Riley exhaled slowly, lips quirking into a faint smile. “Yeah… you’re right. Doesn’t make it any less strange, though.”
The words replayed in her head even as the noise of the courtyard pressed in again. Riley. It was the first time T’Varen had ever used her first name instead of “Wright.” Normally Vulcan formality kept everything at arm’s length, clean and precise. Hearing her own name — just her name — from T’Varen’s lips landed heavier than she’d expected. Guess I wasn’t the only one who changed at the Academy.
She felt a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth, one she let linger for only a heartbeat before smoothing it away. No point in letting T’Varen see how much it had landed.
A new voice cut through the crowd. One Riley knew instantly.
“Not bad, Wright. Not bad at all.”
Her head snapped up, eyes locking on the broad-shouldered figure weaving through the cadets. Javier Torres — the officer she’d looked up to since she first decided Security was her path — was making his way toward them, his own dress uniform carrying the weight of experience hers still lacked.
For a second, Riley forgot how to breathe. He came.
“Sir,” she managed quickly, straightening before she could stop herself. The grin tugging at her lips was impossible to fight back. “Didn’t think you’d—”
“Miss one of my protégés graduating?” Torres finished for her, clasping her shoulder with a firm, approving grip. “Not a chance.” His gaze swept over her, then shifted to T’Varen with equal respect. “Both of you did yourselves proud today. Academy’s one thing — the Fleet’s another. But you’re ready.”
Riley’s chest swelled, the knot of nerves easing just a fraction at his words. Ready. He actually thinks I’m ready.
Torres let his hand fall, folding both behind his back as his tone shifted — still warm, but with the weight of a lesson beneath it. “Remember this: out there, it’s not just about drills or perfect form. It’s about the people beside you. Trust your crew, even when you don’t fully understand them. And never let fear keep you from doing your job — fear’s just proof you care enough to get it right.”
Riley held his gaze, the words sinking deeper than she’d admit out loud. She gave a firm nod. “Yes, sir.”
Torres’s smile deepened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. Then you’ll do fine. Both of you will.”