07-04-2026, 11:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-04-2026, 11:10 PM by Ethan Diaz.)
== Docking Timeline ==
Ethan had barely slept the night before. This was it. Primary Operating Duty Shift. The first of many watches. This wasn't a theoretical exercise, a sim session, or an apprentice cruise. Today, it was the real thing--and with primary watch standers on the bridge, no less. The Man himself would be looking over his shoulder at some point. He was, to borrow a phrase from the Embarkation Officer, "in for it".
Speaking of which, he wasn't the only junior officer up on the lists today. Nearly every midshipman that had come aboard alongside Ethan on the transfer run was either a few days into their new job or going on duty for the first time this evening. Whether they were a software technician, astrophysicist's assistant, or just a jarhead walking the lower decks with a hand phaser, they all had the jitters. Every junior officer had the same singular goal of proving themselves, and the same unthinkable fear of dropping the ball in front of their superiors. It gave them something to talk about, at least.
Heading into a shift with only two or three hours of sleep under your belt was never advisable, but Ethan had made sure to compensate with a large meal of steak and eggs drowned in gravy and about a gallon of orange juice. The officers' mess was full of new arrivals sitting together at their designated end of table (where the lieutenants could keep a close eye on them). It was a fairly common occurrence during the first few weeks, from what Ethan understood. Open crew lounges were far less formal and were far more suited to the kind of socializing that came after serving with the same people for a few years. In that way, he supposed being in Starfleet wasn't too different from his first days of high school. All you had to do was find your people.
No one mentioned it, of course, but Ethan could practically feel the raw nerves of his shipmates seated around him. However well-trained and capable officers may be, they were all still very, very anxious at this stage. "Watch your back, man. The ensigns can smell fear," a woman across from Ethan had warned. It reminded him of an old joke that was told to every new class at Starfleet Academy. The story went that on one occasion, an admiral was inspecting a ship's crew on duty, and when he came to the quarterdeck, he happened upon a recruit and a midshipman, both fresh out of training. Naturally, upon sighting the admiral, both came to the position of attention. The admiral looked to the recruit first and asked "Am I making you nervous, son?", to which the young man replied, "Yes, sir." The admiral addressed the midshipman next, and was displeased to find them trembling in apparent fear.
"Am I making you nervous, midshipman?" Asked the admiral.
"Very much so, admiral," answered the young officer.
"Now, that won't do at all. This young recruit here is standing perfectly still. So why are you, a commissioned officer, shaking like a leaf?"
Without missing a beat, the midshipman replied: "Sir, if I wasn't shaking, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart."
It always got a laugh, but there was some truth to it. Ethan just hoped it wouldn't be true in his case. After finishing his meal, he began his first, fateful journey up to Deck 1. The pair of turbolifts that led the main bridge could only be directly accessed by a handful of individuals on the ship. Bridge Crew Clearance was a sacred thing, and the bridge of a starship was hallowed ground. Starfleet was the furnace, and the bridge was the mold. Being a fully-certified watch stander wasn't an easy milestone to reach, and it earned you a little more respect than the average officer.
In other words, Ethan would have to be exceedingly careful. He was an officer, yes--but to the people up here, he was just a below-average graduate with a ring and a dream.
He stepped inside, listened to the door hiss shut, and shot upward toward the next thirty years of his life. Here goes nothing.
Twenty seconds later, the door hissed open, and Ethan emerged into a spacious, mostly empty room with dark flooring. He'd never set foot in here before, but after having studied a dozen different versions of this same layout, he recognized the place well enough. All was exactly where it usually was--including the helmsman's chair.
Right away, his eyes found the Captain and First Officer seated in the center of the room. Two thirds of the brass, in the flesh. He recognized Lieutenant Coppola at the main TC station as well. Looking over to his right, Ethan then saw what he presumed was the ship's science officer already at work. One or two more people would probably be joining them soon, but in the meantime. . .
Ethan made his way smartly over to the command station, stopping on the left side, assuming the position of attention, and turning sharply on his right heel to face Captain Brooks. "Good evening, sir. Midshipman Diaz, reporting as ordered."
== Open Tag. Sorry for the delay everyone. ==
Ethan had barely slept the night before. This was it. Primary Operating Duty Shift. The first of many watches. This wasn't a theoretical exercise, a sim session, or an apprentice cruise. Today, it was the real thing--and with primary watch standers on the bridge, no less. The Man himself would be looking over his shoulder at some point. He was, to borrow a phrase from the Embarkation Officer, "in for it".
Speaking of which, he wasn't the only junior officer up on the lists today. Nearly every midshipman that had come aboard alongside Ethan on the transfer run was either a few days into their new job or going on duty for the first time this evening. Whether they were a software technician, astrophysicist's assistant, or just a jarhead walking the lower decks with a hand phaser, they all had the jitters. Every junior officer had the same singular goal of proving themselves, and the same unthinkable fear of dropping the ball in front of their superiors. It gave them something to talk about, at least.
Heading into a shift with only two or three hours of sleep under your belt was never advisable, but Ethan had made sure to compensate with a large meal of steak and eggs drowned in gravy and about a gallon of orange juice. The officers' mess was full of new arrivals sitting together at their designated end of table (where the lieutenants could keep a close eye on them). It was a fairly common occurrence during the first few weeks, from what Ethan understood. Open crew lounges were far less formal and were far more suited to the kind of socializing that came after serving with the same people for a few years. In that way, he supposed being in Starfleet wasn't too different from his first days of high school. All you had to do was find your people.
No one mentioned it, of course, but Ethan could practically feel the raw nerves of his shipmates seated around him. However well-trained and capable officers may be, they were all still very, very anxious at this stage. "Watch your back, man. The ensigns can smell fear," a woman across from Ethan had warned. It reminded him of an old joke that was told to every new class at Starfleet Academy. The story went that on one occasion, an admiral was inspecting a ship's crew on duty, and when he came to the quarterdeck, he happened upon a recruit and a midshipman, both fresh out of training. Naturally, upon sighting the admiral, both came to the position of attention. The admiral looked to the recruit first and asked "Am I making you nervous, son?", to which the young man replied, "Yes, sir." The admiral addressed the midshipman next, and was displeased to find them trembling in apparent fear.
"Am I making you nervous, midshipman?" Asked the admiral.
"Very much so, admiral," answered the young officer.
"Now, that won't do at all. This young recruit here is standing perfectly still. So why are you, a commissioned officer, shaking like a leaf?"
Without missing a beat, the midshipman replied: "Sir, if I wasn't shaking, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart."
It always got a laugh, but there was some truth to it. Ethan just hoped it wouldn't be true in his case. After finishing his meal, he began his first, fateful journey up to Deck 1. The pair of turbolifts that led the main bridge could only be directly accessed by a handful of individuals on the ship. Bridge Crew Clearance was a sacred thing, and the bridge of a starship was hallowed ground. Starfleet was the furnace, and the bridge was the mold. Being a fully-certified watch stander wasn't an easy milestone to reach, and it earned you a little more respect than the average officer.
In other words, Ethan would have to be exceedingly careful. He was an officer, yes--but to the people up here, he was just a below-average graduate with a ring and a dream.
He stepped inside, listened to the door hiss shut, and shot upward toward the next thirty years of his life. Here goes nothing.
Twenty seconds later, the door hissed open, and Ethan emerged into a spacious, mostly empty room with dark flooring. He'd never set foot in here before, but after having studied a dozen different versions of this same layout, he recognized the place well enough. All was exactly where it usually was--including the helmsman's chair.
Right away, his eyes found the Captain and First Officer seated in the center of the room. Two thirds of the brass, in the flesh. He recognized Lieutenant Coppola at the main TC station as well. Looking over to his right, Ethan then saw what he presumed was the ship's science officer already at work. One or two more people would probably be joining them soon, but in the meantime. . .
Ethan made his way smartly over to the command station, stopping on the left side, assuming the position of attention, and turning sharply on his right heel to face Captain Brooks. "Good evening, sir. Midshipman Diaz, reporting as ordered."
== Open Tag. Sorry for the delay everyone. ==