(Genesis) Epilogue

Pride: Genesis

Epilogue (In the Wings)

The Galaxy Alliance went all out for its graduation ceremonies, and this year's was no different. The stage the graduates had to walk across was high off the ground, surrounded by flags and banners. The ceiling was high, unendingly high, and decorations representing the various service branches were everywhere. Everywhere.

Daniel Brennan stood slightly apart from his classmates, studying the layout and snorting. It was all so unnecessary. What was the point of having a stage that high, anyways? Wait, no, there was a better question. What was the point of him doing this? He could have just had the damn piece of paper mailed to him, and he wouldn’t have to go through all this bullshit.

Looking at the stage again, Daniel focused on the podium in the dead center, where the Academy's Headmaster General would stand and hand the brand new graduates their certifications. Out past the stage there were a couple hundred chairs for them to sit in after they receive that stupid square of paper. Out past those chairs were a few thousand more, filled with friends and family, all excited to see their loved ones walk across the freakishly high stage.

Rolling his eyes Daniel turned away from the curtain he was looking out, hiding him and his classmates from view. Pulling at his new dress uniform, pinching the gown that was covering it in the process, he jostled his hat and scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground… he stared at it accusingly. Why was he doing this? Not like anyone out there was waiting for him to walk. This was so stupi—

“Brennan!”

Oh yeah. That’s why.

Daniel’s musings were cut off by a short, muscular man with an annoyed look on his face. “What are you doing out of line?” Commodore Mark Rankin was not a large man, but he still had quite the imposing presence. When he talked, people listened. Even Daniel… most of the time.

They had become very acquainted with each other over the past two years. Daniel guessed that he respected the man, sort of. Or maybe saying he didn’t hate the guy was a better way to describe it. The Commodore had always been stern with him, but he had never treated him with any malice, or spoken to him like a child, the way most of his instructors had. Which was actually the reason he was here. He knew how much it irked those assholes that he was graduating. It was like he was getting the last laugh.

So he had caused a little trouble. Had a little fun. That was no reason hate him, was it?

The Commodore was still scowling at him, and he smirked. “Surveying my surroundings. Just like I was taught…” After pausing for a moment he decided to go ahead and add, “sir.”

“Hilarious, Brennan. Maybe you should have been a comedian instead of a Galaxy Alliance cadet?” Rankin shot back at him with a stern expression and raised brow.

“I am pretty funny. Comedy genius actually, but I like my current career path."

“There’s still time to change your mind.”

“Like I said, I’m happy with my current career choice.” The mirth in Daniel's voice gave way to a tinge of bitterness.

“We’re letting you graduate, don’t cause any problems,” the Commodore warned. “Get back in line.”

“No promises.” Daniel winked, moving back to his spot. Rankin waited until he had successfully completed the order before walking off.

There it was again. His eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets. We’re letting you graduate. It had been made very clear to him that the only reason he was graduating was that he was too good a pilot and gunner not to. Which was fine with him. He was good at what he did, better than most of the idiots in his class. Everyone acted like letting him get this stupid piece of paper was such a gift. Like he should be unendingly grateful or something. Well, Rankin hadn’t acted like that quite as much, but all of his stupid teachers had. Especially the astrophysics instructor, Corporal Fuchs. That guy was a grade A asshole, and it wasn't even warranted.

Daniel couldn’t have been the first person to make the correlation between his name and a certain curse word.

“At attention, graduates!” His head snapped up as Rankin’s voice rang out. “Walk across the stage when your name is called, salute the Headmaster, and then accept your certification. It’s not that hard, don’t screw it up.” Daniel couldn’t help but think that was directed at him. “…And congratulations.” He would have liked to think that was aimed at him too. With that, Rankin walked out on stage to join the Headmaster, leaving them to their own thoughts. Daniel's were not too unusual for his Academy career, really.

Let’s just get this over with.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Freshly minted Ensign Cameron Starr dropped into the chair at his desk in his quarters. He grinned and excitedly picked up his data pad, bringing up the file that had just come in; his excitement made his fingers tremble slightly as he stared at it. This was it. It was finally time…

He closed his eyes, taking a few slow breaths. “Okay, Cam, calm down," he whispered to himself. "This is the moment you have worked so hard for." He looked over the list of commands he was being offered and gave a low whistle; some were really nice. One was even to Sky Marshal Wade’s own command—one of the Solar Vanguard's carriers, a mission nearly anyone would have jumped at. Nearly anyone. He knew how that had gotten there, and he wasn't touching it.

“No way in hell, Jenna. After how you treated me? After what you did to him? No way." A slow grin spread over his face. "Let’s see if I can find him and request his command.”

Searching for assignment information wasn't technically prohibited, but the Alliance's systems didn't exactly make it easy. But training as a communications officer taught one plenty about working through the convoluted systems. A few minutes of work… and he found himself staring at his datapad in shock.

"How in the hell?" He set the datapad down and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, blue eyes staring through the desk as he tried to take the information in. “He… he can’t have… how the hell is he commanding an Explorer Team?”

A memory hit him hard. A special ceremony for the top percent of the class, Admiral Tiberius personally pinning on his ensign bars and shaking his hand.

“You’re going places, young man. With your scores you could have orders to just about any command you want. Now, think carefully about where you want to be. I want you to consider all the good things that you can do and choose the best one. Congratulations, Ensign Starr. Hope to see you around the fleet soon.”

He sat there for a long time, mulling over the Admiral's words. And others. Words about role models, about the importance of duty, about all the ideals of the Alliance. The glowing praise of Captain Arleone introducing an old favorite student to her class, and the wisdom that old student had offered them. Finally he scoffed.

“If it's good enough for him… it's good enough for me.”

Glaring at his datapad as if it were personally responsible for this predicament, he picked it back up and entered his information and his request. For a moment he just stared silently, steeling himself. Was this really the best course? Maybe, maybe not. But it was the course he was going to follow.

He hit the send button.

“No turning back now,” he whispered, dropping the datapad back onto his desk. He'd rushed back after the ceremony to get his assignment offers, passing up the offer to go drink with his classmates first. All that excitement, now here he was. "Guess I should go join in on that drink after all." He stood and pulled on his coat. "I'm gonna need it."

As he left the room, a soft beep from his datapad confirmed his request had been received. For a minute or so the screen illuminated his desk, the words displayed in ghostly light.

I hereby request assignment under Commander Keith Kogane, Explorer Team 686. Respectfully, Ensign Cameron Iosif Starr.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Vince Hayes was distracted as he typed code onto the computer in front of his face. The coding was supposed to be the distraction. He was laying on his stomach to try to keep the knots out of it, trying to lose himself in the work so he wouldn’t think about the fact his ruling hadn’t arrived.

Somehow, shortly before graduation, he’d fried the hard drives of the Academy library computers when he’d meant to be fixing them. One minute he’d been stressing out about his last exam and the next the whole row was on fire. What had happened? He didn't know, he never did, he could have rewired any one of them in his sleep but couldn't explain how he'd caused them to spontaneously combust… he groaned and tried to focus on the present. But his eyesight was blurring with anxiety and before he knew it the computer in front of him started to fritz.

“No, no…” he shouted at it, as if that would solve the problem, and pushed it away from him in an attempt to stop the inevitable. Sparks erupted.

Veronica Reyes, his best friend, almost instantly appeared from behind him. “Vincent Hayes, did you just fry my computer?”  

“I can fix it,” he muttered. Lord knew he knew how by now, especially after the week it had taken him to rebuild the library’s computers. At least it was a learning experience. That was what his moms had told him, but he’d heard the disappointment in their voices. The memory of it made him wince again.

“You’re distracted, why did I even let you use it… well I mean, that’s why...”  Veronica shook her head and then shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Vince groaned. “It’s not…”

“You’ll get your ruling soon, you know.”

He frowned and ignored her, picking up the computer to see if he’d fried it or if it’d just gotten mad at him. He was positive electronics acted more like people than things around him, not that he'd ever tell anyone that. He had enough problems.

“You will,” she repeated when he remained silent.

“I suppose." He shrugged. His thoughts were on the fact that all of his classmates, Veronica included, were receiving their assignment offers already. But here he was. No offers. And no ruling on what would no doubt decide his fate in the Alliance.

Just then there was a knock on his door.  

Veronica's eyes widened. “Oh my God, we talked it into existence.”

“Yeah, right,” he muttered as he went to answer it. “It’s probably just cookies from Granny Mel.”

“I love her cookies.”

Vince nodded in agreement. Actually cookies sounded wonderful right now, though he wondered if he'd be able to enjoy them. But when he opened the door, the courier was holding what was obviously an official Garrison package and not a package of cookies. “Specialist Vincent Hayes?”

He nodded and signed where he was told, not able to speak. He stared at the envelope, shaking with anxiety. It’d taken so long to arrive. Turning, he held it out in the air until Veronica realized he wanted her to take it.

Well, okay. Rolling her eyes, she took it and ripped it open, glancing over it… and her eyes bugged out.

“What?” Vince asked, terrified. That reaction was not a good sign.

“You won’t believe this,” she said quietly, and handed it to him.

He'd kind of hoped she would take enough pity on him to read it out loud, but he had just fried her computer, so fair enough. He skimmed the beginning of the document, he already knew the case summary. “The disciplinary board has cleared you for this incident," he read in a monotone, dread filling him as the message continued. "However, given your history of similar incidents it has been decided you will be assigned to an Explorer Team as soon as a spot is available."

Veronica looked at him. He looked back at her. And finally, silently, he dropped the paper and went back to her computer. What was he even supposed to say?

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Sergeant Mariska Faraday was new to the Security Division, and she'd completed her qualifications for probation oversight less than a week ago. Now here she was, already questioning her judgment, at the Delta Fortress to spring some outlaw technician. Apparently he'd triggered the three strikes rule by stabbing a crewmate in a bar fight, but the Alliance had seen fit to give him one last chance.

They couldn't have eased her into the job, clearly.

A guard led her through the harshly lit hallways, making small talk until they reached the maximum security wing. "Your man's in here. Don't know why, to be perfectly honest; one stab doesn't usually get you in max, and if it does you aren't leaving."

Oh, that made her feel so much better. "Has he caused problems?"

"He's a right little prick, but otherwise no." Shrug. "Eh, the brass can do crazy things if they want. Here you go." He stopped at a cell and pressed a hand to the locking mechanism; the door opened and the security field flickered to life.

The room was pitch black. Faraday frowned; even the worst inmates were allowed light. She couldn't see anything, which put her immediately on edge…

A glint of green light seemed to spring to life in the cell, then a second, and she found herself staring into a pair of bright green eyes that nearly glowed. Or maybe just reflected, like a cat's. It was unnerving as hell either way, and she could've easily done without it.

"Get up, Stoker. You're out of here."

Faraday was able to make out a vague outline by now, and could see him lower his head and put on a pair of glasses that thankfully dimmed his eyes a bit. He rose more fluidly than she'd ever seen from anyone in cuffs and approached the door.

Wait. What the hell?

From what she'd heard of Stoker's exploits, she'd expected some grizzled old spacer on the wrong side of decades of alcohol. What she had in front of her was a young man who couldn't possibly even be old enough to drink. Something about his features was just a bit inhuman, never mind those eyes, but…

Who or what is this… kid?

Whatever he was, he bowed his head calmly. "I'm ready." His voice was low and held a slight rasp that made her doubt he used it often. Or maybe he'd just been in here awhile.

"Here's the key to his restraints." The guard passed her a keychip and looked back at the young man with a scowl. "Try to stay out of trouble, Stoker. We don't want you back here."

"Yessir."

He took that better than she'd expected, too. "Go ahead and let him out, Corporal. I'll be able to handle him."

Stoker gave her a doubtful look. How exactly she was meant to interpret it, she didn't know or care. He was cuffed and unarmed and, frankly, tiny. What was there to worry about?

The first answer to that came as they exited the prison, and suddenly he wasn't in cuffs anymore. Faraday had no idea how it had happened, even though she'd seen it. She'd looked down to make sure he was following her, and with an odd flick of his wrist he was free of his restraints.

"What did you just do?" she demanded, drawing back and putting a hand on her sidearm. Not quite the way she'd have approached it if she hadn't been blindsided, but it would do.

He blinked, looking at the pair of cuffs in his hands. "Was I supposed to keep them on?"

How… "I'd prefer you did, for the time being," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Oh." With a somewhat confused look he slipped his hands back into the cuffs just as easily as he'd first gotten them out. "Is that better, ma'am?"

The question seemed entirely sincere, which only made Faraday want to smack him. She was going to be stuck dealing with this kid for awhile, and now it was looking like it would be a very long while. "Yes." Flustered as she was, she forced herself to fight down all the screaming questions that had raised and focus on regaining control. "My name is Sergeant Faraday. I'll be your probation officer until the brass decides what to do with you."

Nod. "Okay."

And again that didn't seem quite like the correct answer, but whatever. "I know who you are, but if you'd like to introduce yourself on your terms this would be the time."

"Why would…" He trailed off, shrugged, and nodded. "Yes ma'am. Everyone calls me Pidge."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Part 2 of Pride will start going up in a couple of weeks. Thanks for reading!