“You ready, Tyra?”

Graduation Day. The eventual end of your education at a Flight Academy.

For her, the day she’d finally get to use her body for real. To sail the stars, scream across the dark void of space. To go where she hadn’t gone before, entirely under her own power.

She looked up at the young man who’d spoken to her. Asked her that age old question.

Am I ready?

She thought so. The Admiralty thought so.

Her parents thought so.

Her siblings had never stopped thinking so, even before they knew what they were. Their big sister Tyra could do anything!

But that wasn’t much help on her nerves, cute as the memory was.

Am I ready?

Tyra searched the face of her erstwhile companion.

John clearly thought so.

That was good enough for her. “Yeah,” she said, standing up from her seat, “I’m ready.”

John held his hand out to her and smiled. “Then let’s knock em’ dead.”

She giggled, placing her hand in his, and allowed him to sweep her off her feet towards the curtain separating the stage and the back.

Towards her future. With John.

They stepped out from the backstage curtain with flourish and grace. John looked every bit the gentleman he pretended to be, and she was clad in a figure hugging prom dress.

Said figure being the cause of several unfortunate nose injuries during her time at the Academy.

A wave of cheers swept over the assembled crowd. There were so many people packed into the flight school’s auditorium it was almost impossible to see the floor.

Somewhere in the audience were Tyra and John’s families.

It didn’t take her long to find them, despite the concentration of people. Tyra zoomed in on the huge banner her siblings were holding up, bouncing around just as they did. Her two oldest siblings were on either side, her brother holding the left and her sister the right, while her youngest sister grasped the middle with her small hands. She must’ve boosted her height by standing on her chair. The banner had the graduating pair’s names painted on it in massive block lettering.

John Lake and TRS Tyrannia.

“Yeah! Whooo!” Tyra’s littlest sister Jen yelled at the top of her vocal output, seemingly uncaring how she made the banner jiggle more, “GO TYRA!”

Tyra glanced at John and snickered under her breath. His answering grin told her he had caught it as well.

Jenovia would figure out how to emulate normal sounding speech eventually. Her sisters weren’t going to help her. Neither were their parents.

It was a rite of passage, after all.

It also helped that her pouts were the most adorable things in the universe, and their family had declared them an endangered species that must be protected at all costs.

The pout she made at that was one of the purest joys in Tyra’s memories.

John lead Tyra to the podium in the center of the stage. A tall, burly kind of woman stood behind it, or in front of it from the duo’s perspective. She leaned on her synthetic arm, head tilted and laying on her fist, as she watched them approach. Her long brown hair cascaded down her broad back, over her shoulders and green eyes, and framed the twin mountains that had earned her the nickname nobody had ever dared say to her face.

“Tyra and John,” Admiral Sarah Olympia greeted them, waving her other hand. “Wondered how long you were going to be.”

“Just making sure we looked good, Ma’am,” Tyra cheekily returned fire.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sorry for the wait, Ma’am.”

She shrugged. “Not a problem. It wasn’t long enough to become an issue. Better to make sure you take a little extra time before you-”

“Go in with your head cut off and running away sewn to a chicken,” Tyra and John interrupted, synchronized almost to the syllable.

Sarah smirked and chuckled at the two of them. “Remember what I’ve taught you and you two will do great things.” She stood up straight, taking her synthetic arm off the podium and swiping two comms badges at the same time. Almost in the same motion her other hand grabbed one of the two badges, twirling it around her fingers.

Admiral Sarah was one of those rare people who could give Synthetics a run for their hand-eye-proprioception money.

She was also one of the extremely few humans capable of beating ship humanoid forms in CQC.

Tyra unconsciously rubbed a nondescript spot on her arm. She couldn’t bruise and there were no indicators of anything wrong, but Sarah did notice and smirk slightly.

Admiral Sarah stepped forward she held out her hands. In each of her palms were one of the communicators, waiting for them to pick them up.

They were also gold, a fact that didn’t escape John or Tyra’s notice.

The two stared at her with shocked faces. That was clearly her intent, judging by the shit eating grin she gained at their reactions. “Go on,” she said, presenting her hands even more forward. “Take them. You’ve earned these.”

John swallowed thickly, reaching for his. “Th-thank you, ma’am,” he managed. A revered slap to the chest later, his communicator was statically bonded to his dress shirt.

Tyra was still gobsmacked. “Me?” she asked, dumbfounded.

Sarah nodded. “You.”

“But- I-” she stammered, trying to find a way to protest.

“Despite what you may think, Tyra,” she continued, “I do respect someone capable of taking down a battleship under my command with nothing more than a recon cruiser.”

Tyra found her momentum again. “I just read the instructions of the scenario,” she protested.

Admiral Sarah nodded. “And then leveraged those rules into out regenerating the damage we could do to your shields, while pounding down ours. That kind of clever thinking is what every ship needs, and frankly, what your classmates could learn a thing or two about.”

Tyra only had one more chunk of ammo left. “I cheated,” she refuted.

Sarah raised her eyebrows and grinned. “Did you?” she asked, walking towards Tyra. A moment later the gold communicator was being pressed into her palm. “Or did you find the third option?”

Tyra’s eyes widened.

“There is always a third option. There is always a third door. You just have to find it,” Sarah had told them, right before that simulation.

“You- What?” Tyra managed, looking up at the woman who’d taught her so much more than she ever believed possible.

John was just as wide eyed as she was.

Admiral Sarah smirked at that, chuckling. “Remember, there is always a third option.”

Tyra found her eyes slightly watery. “I will.”

Sarah nodded. She then turned back to the audience and raised her synthetic arm. “I give you the graduating valedictorians of 2048, TRS Tyrannia and John Lake!”

The audience was so loud Tyra had to dial back her audio sensors. And if anybody asked, she would deny the tears leaking from her traitorous eyes. She looked down at the golden communicator in her palm… and smiled.

I am ready, Tyra nodded to herself. She directed her gaze to her family in the audience, saw the proud smiles on her parent’s faces and the hero worship of her siblings, and gave in.

She placed the communicator on her left breast, not even noticing when her nanites accepted the static field.

John caught her eyes again, giving her a reassuring and proud smile.

“We’re ready,” he said, though it was only via lip reading that she could tell.

She nodded and squeezed his hand. “We’re ready.”

They were ready.

It was time for a new chapter in their lives to begin. The future called, and Tyra couldn’t wait to meet it.