10-07-2026, 08:14 PM
== Academy Gardens ==
Loma maintained a steady, unhurried pace along the winding stone path of the Academy Gardens. With his final evaluations behind him and his official starship orders pending, the sudden lull in his schedule felt unnatural—almost uncomfortable. In the salvage yards, downtime usually meant a breakdown or a missed haul, and the adjustment to Starfleet’s administrative waiting game was taking some getting used to.
The crisp breeze blowing off San Francisco Bay carried the familiar scent of salt air, a sharp contrast to the humid, simulated foliage of his recent holodeck exams. As he rounded a bend near the ancient oak tree, his gaze swept the area—a reflex that no amount of leave time seemed to dial back—and landed on a familiar figure seated on the bench.
Lieutenant Commander Whittaker.
Having taken several security tactical modules under her instruction—and having just completed his final evaluation scenario under her watchful eye—Loma recognized her instantly. He knew her background well enough to respect the balance she struck between field experience and classroom discipline—a standard he’d tried to match during his own runs through the grid.
He slowed his approach, keeping his hands loosely at his sides, his broad, six-foot frame casting a tall shadow across the edge of the path.
"Commander," Loma said, stopping a respectful few paces away and offering a concise, professional nod. "I didn't mean to intrude on your break, Ma'am. Just taking advantage of the quiet before the deployment board posts the next round of assignments."
He paused, looking toward the bay for a brief second before bringing his dark eyes back to the senior officer.
"I wanted to thank you again for overseeing my final exam—and for your feedback throughout tactical response scenarios last term."
== Tag Whittaker ==
Loma maintained a steady, unhurried pace along the winding stone path of the Academy Gardens. With his final evaluations behind him and his official starship orders pending, the sudden lull in his schedule felt unnatural—almost uncomfortable. In the salvage yards, downtime usually meant a breakdown or a missed haul, and the adjustment to Starfleet’s administrative waiting game was taking some getting used to.
The crisp breeze blowing off San Francisco Bay carried the familiar scent of salt air, a sharp contrast to the humid, simulated foliage of his recent holodeck exams. As he rounded a bend near the ancient oak tree, his gaze swept the area—a reflex that no amount of leave time seemed to dial back—and landed on a familiar figure seated on the bench.
Lieutenant Commander Whittaker.
Having taken several security tactical modules under her instruction—and having just completed his final evaluation scenario under her watchful eye—Loma recognized her instantly. He knew her background well enough to respect the balance she struck between field experience and classroom discipline—a standard he’d tried to match during his own runs through the grid.
He slowed his approach, keeping his hands loosely at his sides, his broad, six-foot frame casting a tall shadow across the edge of the path.
"Commander," Loma said, stopping a respectful few paces away and offering a concise, professional nod. "I didn't mean to intrude on your break, Ma'am. Just taking advantage of the quiet before the deployment board posts the next round of assignments."
He paused, looking toward the bay for a brief second before bringing his dark eyes back to the senior officer.
"I wanted to thank you again for overseeing my final exam—and for your feedback throughout tactical response scenarios last term."
== Tag Whittaker ==