03-05-2026, 03:21 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-05-2026, 03:36 PM by Ethan Diaz.)
Ethan couldn't help but grin to himself again as he sat alone in the auditorium, lounging in an empty seat near the back row, his Academy-issued PADD balanced on his knee. It was silly, of course; any sense of relief he might be feeling was essentially false, because even on Finals Day, it was still entirely possible for cadets to wash out. Graduation was only days away, and yet, with his final examination looming Ethan had also never felt farther from his goal. For four years, he and his classmates had been constantly reminded that it was the Academy's sacred duty to break them down before they could be remade into officers. Today was no exception.
He'd gotten to the Auditorium early that morning, per his instructors' advice. The remnants of an earlier class were still filing out, presumably after hearing the kind of staggeringly boring lecture that only an academy education could provide. They were obviously first-year cadets too; you could always tell because they only ever went anywhere in small groups or a single-file line. Any plebe that was unlucky and abysmally foolish enough to be caught walking the campus by themselves would be reamed out in the most spectacular fashion. Again, Ethan grinned despite himself. He'd looked just like them four years ago: skinny and nervous and eager to be anonymous. And in Ethan's case, he'd been feeling decidedly insecure too.
He checked the time on his PADD—0815 was still a few minutes away. Most of Ethan's fellow cadets were milling about the room, chatting with each other, cracking jokes. Normally, he would've welcomed a bit of conversation himself, but today it was no use; his heart was beating a little too fast, his mind was a little too full, and the rest of him was feeling just a little too hopeful. On the outside, Ethan appeared as cool and collected as anyone else (save for the anxious tapping of his right foot). Mentally, he was feeling positively plagued by the specter of his less-than-ideal GPA. He glanced up at the walls, where he was met by the gaze of Starfleet royalty—Captain Kirk, Admiral Picard, Commodore Milligan, and a host of others. At least they weren't all perfect either.
Just then, his PADD beeped, and the weight of the moment hit Ethan like a mag-lev train. 0815. Here goes nothing.
He got to his feet with a shaky breath and straightened his jacket. Man, what he wouldn't give to be a Vulcan right now—no nerves, no racing thoughts—just ice water in the veins and guided by his intellect alone. Ethan made his way to the center of the room, where he recognized a number of senior staff among the duty officers administering the test, including the academy's formidable superintendent. He got into line behind a handful of other cadets, and he steeled himself for the hour of hours before opening the file containing his Orders of the Day. When he eventually arrived at the front of the line, he assumed the position of attention and handed off his PADD to the duty officer.
"Cadet Diaz reporting as ordered," Ethan said with practiced ease.
== I have read, understand, and agree to abide by the Federation Space Constitution and the Cadet Code of Conduct. ==
He'd gotten to the Auditorium early that morning, per his instructors' advice. The remnants of an earlier class were still filing out, presumably after hearing the kind of staggeringly boring lecture that only an academy education could provide. They were obviously first-year cadets too; you could always tell because they only ever went anywhere in small groups or a single-file line. Any plebe that was unlucky and abysmally foolish enough to be caught walking the campus by themselves would be reamed out in the most spectacular fashion. Again, Ethan grinned despite himself. He'd looked just like them four years ago: skinny and nervous and eager to be anonymous. And in Ethan's case, he'd been feeling decidedly insecure too.
He checked the time on his PADD—0815 was still a few minutes away. Most of Ethan's fellow cadets were milling about the room, chatting with each other, cracking jokes. Normally, he would've welcomed a bit of conversation himself, but today it was no use; his heart was beating a little too fast, his mind was a little too full, and the rest of him was feeling just a little too hopeful. On the outside, Ethan appeared as cool and collected as anyone else (save for the anxious tapping of his right foot). Mentally, he was feeling positively plagued by the specter of his less-than-ideal GPA. He glanced up at the walls, where he was met by the gaze of Starfleet royalty—Captain Kirk, Admiral Picard, Commodore Milligan, and a host of others. At least they weren't all perfect either.
Just then, his PADD beeped, and the weight of the moment hit Ethan like a mag-lev train. 0815. Here goes nothing.
He got to his feet with a shaky breath and straightened his jacket. Man, what he wouldn't give to be a Vulcan right now—no nerves, no racing thoughts—just ice water in the veins and guided by his intellect alone. Ethan made his way to the center of the room, where he recognized a number of senior staff among the duty officers administering the test, including the academy's formidable superintendent. He got into line behind a handful of other cadets, and he steeled himself for the hour of hours before opening the file containing his Orders of the Day. When he eventually arrived at the front of the line, he assumed the position of attention and handed off his PADD to the duty officer.
"Cadet Diaz reporting as ordered," Ethan said with practiced ease.
== I have read, understand, and agree to abide by the Federation Space Constitution and the Cadet Code of Conduct. ==