03-29-2026, 02:40 PM
== Didn't realize how long it had been since my last post, my apologies. ==
Riley stayed quiet as the discussion moved around the table, her posture straight and composed, the PADD resting near her hands while she listened. Outwardly, she looked steady. Inside, her thoughts were moving much faster.
Jadaris’ explanation about Tomer had lodged in her head and refused to leave. Most of the temporal mechanics made her feel like she needed either an engineer or a headache remedy, but one part had come through with painful clarity.
Tomer might still be alive.
That thought hit harder than she expected. Not safe. Not here. Not reachable. But alive.
So I didn’t lose him. Not exactly.
It wasn’t relief. Not really. Relief would have felt lighter. This felt sharper than that, because it didn’t erase anything. She still remembered escorting him to the Bridge. Still remembered the exact sort of calm that had made the moment feel routine. Still remembered how quickly routine had gone to hell.
But alive changed the shape of it. Alive meant unfinished. Riley could work with unfinished. Unfinished meant there was still something to understand, something to fix, or at the very least something to stop blaming herself for in exactly the same way.
Then Captain Braggins came in, and Riley felt the room shift all at once.
The captain looked furious, but it was the kind of fury that had been refined into purpose. Riley straightened a fraction more as the holoprojector lit up and the star map narrowed toward Starbase 214. She fixed her attention on it immediately, tracking the details as they came. Distress signal. Jamming. Cardassian fleet. Effective blockade. Orders from Starfleet to avoid action except in self-defense.
That’s not tense. That’s one bad decision away from shooting.
Her jaw tightened faintly, though her expression stayed neutral. This was not a standard pre-mission briefing. This was the sort of situation everyone described carefully because the plain-language version sounded too much like war, and nobody in command wanted to be the first person to say it out loud.
As assignments started moving around the table, the picture became even clearer. Science and Engineering were being told to push the sensors harder while making the Yeager harder to see. Medical was being told to prepare for casualties. Security was being told to drill for boarding actions, both ways.
Right. So we’re not expecting peace. We’re just hoping it stays polite for another five minutes.
That thought would have sounded insubordinate if she had said it aloud, so she kept it exactly where it belonged. Still, the blunt honesty of it settled her. The anxiety she had brought into the room was gone now. In its place was the colder, cleaner focus she trusted a lot more.
She let her attention move around the table, reading reactions the way she had been trained to do. Commander Jensen had that contained stillness that meant he was already organizing the next ten steps in his head. Lieutenant Commander Qi looked like he was mentally trying to outmaneuver physics, Cardassians, and subspace all at once. Chief d’Tor’an looked like she was one badly timed sentence away from deciding the blockade problem could be solved by personally fighting it.
Honestly, I’d pay to see that. Terrifying. Probably effective. Definitely not regulation.
The thought came and went quickly, just enough to take the edge off without breaking her focus. Watching the senior staff work mattered. Riley knew that. In rooms like this, paying attention was its own kind of duty.
When Art asked where the line was, Riley felt that land squarely in the middle of her own thoughts. She had not intended to speak unless spoken to, but if she had, that would have been her question too. She listened closely as Captain Braggins answered. ROE Yellow. Use force if attacked or if they witnessed a hostile act. Do not fire first.
Good. Sensible. Also exactly the kind of rule that gets real complicated real fast.
Then came the Slipstream Drive. An ace in reserve. A way through the blockade if it came to that. Also a fantastic way to make sure nobody could pretend this was still a quiet observation mission afterward. Riley filed that away too. Every piece mattered. Missions like this broke open at the seams when people forgot details.
Then the captain looked at her.
Riley expected an assignment. Maybe a direct instruction under Chief d’Tor’an. Maybe some ugly little security-specific responsibility that explained why she had been called into the room in the first place.
Instead, Captain Braggins told her and Flint that their promotions had come through.
For a second, Riley just stared.
Ensign Wright.
Her pulse kicked once, hard enough that she actually felt it.
You have got to be kidding me. Now?
She had imagined making Ensign before, but never like this. In her head, it had always happened under cleaner circumstances. Maybe not glamorous, but at least sane. Something formal. Something where the room was not one briefing slide away from a border incident. Instead it came here, in the middle of a crisis, with Cardassians sitting on a starbase and the ship preparing for possible combat.
And somehow that felt more real than the cleaner version ever had.
Of course this is how it happens. No parade. No breathing room. Just congratulations, here’s your commission, try not to die in a diplomatic disaster.
A tiny, traitorous flicker of humor almost touched the corner of her mouth, but what settled underneath it was steadier than that. The title no longer belonged to some future version of herself she had been trying to earn. It belonged to her now. Not later. Not after one more test. Not after one more chance to prove she belonged in the room.
Now.
Flint’s congratulations pulled her attention toward him, and the surprise on her face softened quickly into something warmer and more genuine.
“Thank you, Chief,” she said, and the new title for him fit easily enough to feel natural. “And congratulations to you too.”
The exchange was brief, but it grounded the moment before the room started moving again. Officers were already shifting toward follow-up questions, department concerns, and next steps. Riley rose with the others and picked up her PADD in one smooth motion, but she did not head straight for the door.
Instead, she paused beside her chair and looked once at the spot where the star map had been.
Starbase 214. Cardassian blockade. Boarding drills. ROE Yellow. Ensign Wright.
Well. That escalated in every possible direction.
She exhaled slowly through her nose, keeping it controlled. The title still felt new in her head, but it did not feel wrong. If anything, it felt like something she had been building toward for so long that hearing it aloud had only confirmed what all the work had already been doing.
When she moved again, she turned toward Chief d’Tor’an instead of the exit. Her posture stayed straight and professional, but there was less uncertainty in it now. Less of the junior officer waiting to be told where to stand. More of someone who had just been handed responsibility and meant to carry it properly.
“Chief,” Riley said, her voice steady and direct, “whenever you want Security drills started, I’m available. If you want extra prep on boarding response before we depart, I can start reviewing team configurations now.”
Even as she said it, the reality settled a little further into place.
No more almost. No more getting ready. You wanted this. So act like it.
There was no dramatic flourish to it, because Riley was not built that way. The mission ahead was dangerous, the timing was terrible, and the promotion had landed in the middle of a situation with teeth. So she did what made sense.
She stepped into it.
== Tags ==
Riley stayed quiet as the discussion moved around the table, her posture straight and composed, the PADD resting near her hands while she listened. Outwardly, she looked steady. Inside, her thoughts were moving much faster.
Jadaris’ explanation about Tomer had lodged in her head and refused to leave. Most of the temporal mechanics made her feel like she needed either an engineer or a headache remedy, but one part had come through with painful clarity.
Tomer might still be alive.
That thought hit harder than she expected. Not safe. Not here. Not reachable. But alive.
So I didn’t lose him. Not exactly.
It wasn’t relief. Not really. Relief would have felt lighter. This felt sharper than that, because it didn’t erase anything. She still remembered escorting him to the Bridge. Still remembered the exact sort of calm that had made the moment feel routine. Still remembered how quickly routine had gone to hell.
But alive changed the shape of it. Alive meant unfinished. Riley could work with unfinished. Unfinished meant there was still something to understand, something to fix, or at the very least something to stop blaming herself for in exactly the same way.
Then Captain Braggins came in, and Riley felt the room shift all at once.
The captain looked furious, but it was the kind of fury that had been refined into purpose. Riley straightened a fraction more as the holoprojector lit up and the star map narrowed toward Starbase 214. She fixed her attention on it immediately, tracking the details as they came. Distress signal. Jamming. Cardassian fleet. Effective blockade. Orders from Starfleet to avoid action except in self-defense.
That’s not tense. That’s one bad decision away from shooting.
Her jaw tightened faintly, though her expression stayed neutral. This was not a standard pre-mission briefing. This was the sort of situation everyone described carefully because the plain-language version sounded too much like war, and nobody in command wanted to be the first person to say it out loud.
As assignments started moving around the table, the picture became even clearer. Science and Engineering were being told to push the sensors harder while making the Yeager harder to see. Medical was being told to prepare for casualties. Security was being told to drill for boarding actions, both ways.
Right. So we’re not expecting peace. We’re just hoping it stays polite for another five minutes.
That thought would have sounded insubordinate if she had said it aloud, so she kept it exactly where it belonged. Still, the blunt honesty of it settled her. The anxiety she had brought into the room was gone now. In its place was the colder, cleaner focus she trusted a lot more.
She let her attention move around the table, reading reactions the way she had been trained to do. Commander Jensen had that contained stillness that meant he was already organizing the next ten steps in his head. Lieutenant Commander Qi looked like he was mentally trying to outmaneuver physics, Cardassians, and subspace all at once. Chief d’Tor’an looked like she was one badly timed sentence away from deciding the blockade problem could be solved by personally fighting it.
Honestly, I’d pay to see that. Terrifying. Probably effective. Definitely not regulation.
The thought came and went quickly, just enough to take the edge off without breaking her focus. Watching the senior staff work mattered. Riley knew that. In rooms like this, paying attention was its own kind of duty.
When Art asked where the line was, Riley felt that land squarely in the middle of her own thoughts. She had not intended to speak unless spoken to, but if she had, that would have been her question too. She listened closely as Captain Braggins answered. ROE Yellow. Use force if attacked or if they witnessed a hostile act. Do not fire first.
Good. Sensible. Also exactly the kind of rule that gets real complicated real fast.
Then came the Slipstream Drive. An ace in reserve. A way through the blockade if it came to that. Also a fantastic way to make sure nobody could pretend this was still a quiet observation mission afterward. Riley filed that away too. Every piece mattered. Missions like this broke open at the seams when people forgot details.
Then the captain looked at her.
Riley expected an assignment. Maybe a direct instruction under Chief d’Tor’an. Maybe some ugly little security-specific responsibility that explained why she had been called into the room in the first place.
Instead, Captain Braggins told her and Flint that their promotions had come through.
For a second, Riley just stared.
Ensign Wright.
Her pulse kicked once, hard enough that she actually felt it.
You have got to be kidding me. Now?
She had imagined making Ensign before, but never like this. In her head, it had always happened under cleaner circumstances. Maybe not glamorous, but at least sane. Something formal. Something where the room was not one briefing slide away from a border incident. Instead it came here, in the middle of a crisis, with Cardassians sitting on a starbase and the ship preparing for possible combat.
And somehow that felt more real than the cleaner version ever had.
Of course this is how it happens. No parade. No breathing room. Just congratulations, here’s your commission, try not to die in a diplomatic disaster.
A tiny, traitorous flicker of humor almost touched the corner of her mouth, but what settled underneath it was steadier than that. The title no longer belonged to some future version of herself she had been trying to earn. It belonged to her now. Not later. Not after one more test. Not after one more chance to prove she belonged in the room.
Now.
Flint’s congratulations pulled her attention toward him, and the surprise on her face softened quickly into something warmer and more genuine.
“Thank you, Chief,” she said, and the new title for him fit easily enough to feel natural. “And congratulations to you too.”
The exchange was brief, but it grounded the moment before the room started moving again. Officers were already shifting toward follow-up questions, department concerns, and next steps. Riley rose with the others and picked up her PADD in one smooth motion, but she did not head straight for the door.
Instead, she paused beside her chair and looked once at the spot where the star map had been.
Starbase 214. Cardassian blockade. Boarding drills. ROE Yellow. Ensign Wright.
Well. That escalated in every possible direction.
She exhaled slowly through her nose, keeping it controlled. The title still felt new in her head, but it did not feel wrong. If anything, it felt like something she had been building toward for so long that hearing it aloud had only confirmed what all the work had already been doing.
When she moved again, she turned toward Chief d’Tor’an instead of the exit. Her posture stayed straight and professional, but there was less uncertainty in it now. Less of the junior officer waiting to be told where to stand. More of someone who had just been handed responsibility and meant to carry it properly.
“Chief,” Riley said, her voice steady and direct, “whenever you want Security drills started, I’m available. If you want extra prep on boarding response before we depart, I can start reviewing team configurations now.”
Even as she said it, the reality settled a little further into place.
No more almost. No more getting ready. You wanted this. So act like it.
There was no dramatic flourish to it, because Riley was not built that way. The mission ahead was dangerous, the timing was terrible, and the promotion had landed in the middle of a situation with teeth. So she did what made sense.
She stepped into it.
== Tags ==