03-01-2026, 08:36 AM
A week had passed since the last mission, and the Yeager had resumed its steady rhythm as though nothing had fractured. The corridors carried their usual mechanical hum through the deck plating, crew moved between stations with quiet purpose, and duty rosters rotated without ceremony. The ship did not dwell. It progressed.
Riley walked through it with deliberate control, shoulders squared and chin level, her stride measured and precise. At 4’11”, presence had always been something she constructed intentionally. If she did not occupy space decisively, others would do it for her without realizing it. The uniform fit because she had forced herself to grow into it long before she ever wore it, and she wore it now like armor.
Inside, she felt like she was walking toward a verdict. She had been summoned to a senior officer briefing with no explanation, and Midshipmen were not typically called into those rooms without cause. One week after a mission that had ended the way it had, she could think of only a few likely reasons.
I lost him.
The thought was sharp and unembellished, and no amount of controlled breathing erased it.
She rounded a corner and nearly passed the Science lab before registering the familiar figure standing just outside it. T’Varen held a PADD at a precise angle, posture efficient and composed, dark hair neatly arranged. Her hazel-brown eyes lifted to Riley with quiet attentiveness.
“You are walking as if anticipating resistance,” T’Varen observed evenly.
Riley slowed slightly. “I’ve been called to a senior officer briefing.”
T’Varen studied her. “And you have determined the reason.”
“It’s not usually good,” Riley replied, folding her arms loosely.
“That is assumption.”
Riley’s gaze flicked toward the lab entrance and back again. “You look comfortable over here.”
“This is my assigned department.”
“Yeah. I know.” Riley tilted her head faintly. “Still feels like a traitorous move. Security doesn’t forget its own. You defected.”
“I transferred,” T’Varen corrected calmly. “Starfleet reassigned my skills where they were assessed as most effective.”
“Science,” Riley repeated with mock suspicion. “You left me with the door-kickers.”
“I was never exclusively a door-kicker.”
“That’s exactly what a traitor would say.”
The faintest shift touched T’Varen’s eyes, subtle enough to be almost imagined.
“My department has changed,” she said. “My loyalty has not.”
Riley’s gaze dropped to the single pip at T’Varen’s collar and lingered there. “And that,” she added more quietly. “Ensign. You get promoted, switch departments, and come back outranking me.”
“Rank progression was expected.”
“I know,” Riley answered quickly. “I just missed it. Erebus gives you a pip and suddenly I’m supposed to act like I’m not mildly offended.”
“You are not required to act.”
Riley folded her arms more tightly and gave her a long look. “You realize I now have to physically look up at you and technically look up at you.”
“You were already required to look up,” T’Varen replied evenly.
Riley stared at her for a moment before exhaling faintly. “You did not just weaponize my height.”
“It was observational.”
“Traitorous and opportunistic,” Riley muttered, though the edge had softened.
The humor faded gradually, replaced by the weight behind her ribs. “They think I failed.”
“You believe you failed,” T’Varen corrected.
“We lost Tomer.”
T’Varen allowed the name to stand without dilution, without offering reflexive reassurance. “You are compressing a complex event into a singular outcome. That is emotionally efficient. It is not analytically complete.”
“It’s not a lab report.”
“No,” T’Varen agreed. “But it remains subject to distortion.”
Riley shifted her weight, tension rolling through her shoulders before she forced it back under control. “I don’t like not knowing.”
“That is unsurprising.”
She glanced toward the briefing room corridor. “You could come with me. Just stand there. Look intimidating. Or supportive. Vulcan-neutral.”
“I was not summoned,” T’Varen replied. “Senior officer briefings are not informal gatherings. If my presence were required, it would have been specified.”
“You’re an Ensign now. That practically counts.”
“It does not.”
Riley tilted her head slightly. “Fine. I’ll tell you what happens anyway.”
“If the subject matter is restricted, you will not.”
“It won’t be.”
“You cannot know that.”
Riley’s jaw set faintly. “If it were classified above my clearance, I wouldn’t have been summoned.”
“That assumption is incomplete,” T’Varen replied evenly. “You may receive instruction without access to full context.”
“You’re really determined to ruin my argument.”
“I am refining it.”
The exchange steadied her more than reassurance would have. Riley nodded once. “Thank you.”
T’Varen inclined her head. “Proceed, Riley.”
Not Midshipman. Riley noticed that, and the absence of formality grounded her more than encouragement would have.
She continued down the corridor, stride steadier but not lighter. The anxiety had not disappeared; it had simply become contained. When the briefing room doors parted at her approach, she stepped through without hesitation.
The curved conference table dominated the room, its polished surface reflecting the overhead lights. Chairs were positioned with deliberate symmetry around it, clearly assigned to senior staff by role and rank. There was no ambiguity in the seating arrangement. Commander Jensen was already present, seated to the right of the Captain’s chair, a PADD in hand as he monitored crew recall progression. His posture was composed and focused, attention directed downward at the data.
Riley registered the recall first, then the seating. This was operational. It did not resemble a private reprimand or an isolated correction. The tone of the room suggested urgency, structure, and forward movement.
And yet the question remained.
Then why am I here?
She stepped fully inside and came to a controlled stop behind the outer curve of the table rather than among it, hands settling neatly at the small of her back. Her posture remained straight and disciplined, eyes forward, expression neutral. Outwardly, she looked ready.
Inwardly, the uncertainty lingered.
If this is a recall briefing for senior staff… why summon a Midshipman?
She did not speak. She did not move. She waited to be acknowledged.
Riley walked through it with deliberate control, shoulders squared and chin level, her stride measured and precise. At 4’11”, presence had always been something she constructed intentionally. If she did not occupy space decisively, others would do it for her without realizing it. The uniform fit because she had forced herself to grow into it long before she ever wore it, and she wore it now like armor.
Inside, she felt like she was walking toward a verdict. She had been summoned to a senior officer briefing with no explanation, and Midshipmen were not typically called into those rooms without cause. One week after a mission that had ended the way it had, she could think of only a few likely reasons.
I lost him.
The thought was sharp and unembellished, and no amount of controlled breathing erased it.
She rounded a corner and nearly passed the Science lab before registering the familiar figure standing just outside it. T’Varen held a PADD at a precise angle, posture efficient and composed, dark hair neatly arranged. Her hazel-brown eyes lifted to Riley with quiet attentiveness.
“You are walking as if anticipating resistance,” T’Varen observed evenly.
Riley slowed slightly. “I’ve been called to a senior officer briefing.”
T’Varen studied her. “And you have determined the reason.”
“It’s not usually good,” Riley replied, folding her arms loosely.
“That is assumption.”
Riley’s gaze flicked toward the lab entrance and back again. “You look comfortable over here.”
“This is my assigned department.”
“Yeah. I know.” Riley tilted her head faintly. “Still feels like a traitorous move. Security doesn’t forget its own. You defected.”
“I transferred,” T’Varen corrected calmly. “Starfleet reassigned my skills where they were assessed as most effective.”
“Science,” Riley repeated with mock suspicion. “You left me with the door-kickers.”
“I was never exclusively a door-kicker.”
“That’s exactly what a traitor would say.”
The faintest shift touched T’Varen’s eyes, subtle enough to be almost imagined.
“My department has changed,” she said. “My loyalty has not.”
Riley’s gaze dropped to the single pip at T’Varen’s collar and lingered there. “And that,” she added more quietly. “Ensign. You get promoted, switch departments, and come back outranking me.”
“Rank progression was expected.”
“I know,” Riley answered quickly. “I just missed it. Erebus gives you a pip and suddenly I’m supposed to act like I’m not mildly offended.”
“You are not required to act.”
Riley folded her arms more tightly and gave her a long look. “You realize I now have to physically look up at you and technically look up at you.”
“You were already required to look up,” T’Varen replied evenly.
Riley stared at her for a moment before exhaling faintly. “You did not just weaponize my height.”
“It was observational.”
“Traitorous and opportunistic,” Riley muttered, though the edge had softened.
The humor faded gradually, replaced by the weight behind her ribs. “They think I failed.”
“You believe you failed,” T’Varen corrected.
“We lost Tomer.”
T’Varen allowed the name to stand without dilution, without offering reflexive reassurance. “You are compressing a complex event into a singular outcome. That is emotionally efficient. It is not analytically complete.”
“It’s not a lab report.”
“No,” T’Varen agreed. “But it remains subject to distortion.”
Riley shifted her weight, tension rolling through her shoulders before she forced it back under control. “I don’t like not knowing.”
“That is unsurprising.”
She glanced toward the briefing room corridor. “You could come with me. Just stand there. Look intimidating. Or supportive. Vulcan-neutral.”
“I was not summoned,” T’Varen replied. “Senior officer briefings are not informal gatherings. If my presence were required, it would have been specified.”
“You’re an Ensign now. That practically counts.”
“It does not.”
Riley tilted her head slightly. “Fine. I’ll tell you what happens anyway.”
“If the subject matter is restricted, you will not.”
“It won’t be.”
“You cannot know that.”
Riley’s jaw set faintly. “If it were classified above my clearance, I wouldn’t have been summoned.”
“That assumption is incomplete,” T’Varen replied evenly. “You may receive instruction without access to full context.”
“You’re really determined to ruin my argument.”
“I am refining it.”
The exchange steadied her more than reassurance would have. Riley nodded once. “Thank you.”
T’Varen inclined her head. “Proceed, Riley.”
Not Midshipman. Riley noticed that, and the absence of formality grounded her more than encouragement would have.
She continued down the corridor, stride steadier but not lighter. The anxiety had not disappeared; it had simply become contained. When the briefing room doors parted at her approach, she stepped through without hesitation.
The curved conference table dominated the room, its polished surface reflecting the overhead lights. Chairs were positioned with deliberate symmetry around it, clearly assigned to senior staff by role and rank. There was no ambiguity in the seating arrangement. Commander Jensen was already present, seated to the right of the Captain’s chair, a PADD in hand as he monitored crew recall progression. His posture was composed and focused, attention directed downward at the data.
Riley registered the recall first, then the seating. This was operational. It did not resemble a private reprimand or an isolated correction. The tone of the room suggested urgency, structure, and forward movement.
And yet the question remained.
Then why am I here?
She stepped fully inside and came to a controlled stop behind the outer curve of the table rather than among it, hands settling neatly at the small of her back. Her posture remained straight and disciplined, eyes forward, expression neutral. Outwardly, she looked ready.
Inwardly, the uncertainty lingered.
If this is a recall briefing for senior staff… why summon a Midshipman?
She did not speak. She did not move. She waited to be acknowledged.