"Horizon" by LJC, 1/1, Rated G
Title: Horizon
Author: taraljc
Rating: G
Synopsis: She steps off the path as often as she can.
Horizon
She is a gawky child, coltish, all knees and elbows. She is uncomfortable with her height, and slouches, earning rebukes from everyone from her instructors or her peers. "Chin up, shoulders back" become her least favourite words in the Ilyrian language, and she takes to spending more and more time in her rooms rather than the Commons.
It's suggested she take up dance. She adds two new engineering courses instead.
Her trouser cuffs ride two inches above her talocrural joints and she can't be bothered to go in to be measured for new ones. Her tunics are just as short, the delicate bones of her wrists extend three inches from the slightly frayed and often ink-stained cuffs.
She wears her hair pulled back in a single braid, for convenience's sake. She prefers loose clothing, giving up on trying to anticipate her growth spurts and accepting the ill-fitting clothing as simply an annoyance to be ignored, despite the House Mother's glares.
She's expected to go into Research, her path mapped out for her by others.
She steps off the path as often as she can.
When she is thirteen, the House releases the lock on her flitter's nav system. She takes the small craft above the treeline, and sees the horizon stretch before her endless and hazy. It makes her feel both tiny and invincible.
Her flitter is grounded twice for overriding the auto-piloting controls and reprogramming the manual flight controls for even better control over the small, manoeuvrable craft. It is in violation of too many rules she finds binding. They finally take it away, claiming much-needed repairs to the guidance system, but it remains impounded instead for weeks on end. She uses all her credits and then some for extra hours in the simulators.
She prefers the library annex to concerts, and eating alone to the unordered chaos of the House dining hall. She prefers trousers to the long sweeping skirts other girls her age wear. Her hands have soldering burns and nails clipped short, instead of the long finger-less gloves that are part of everyday attire in the Capital.
The first time she sees her world from low orbit, no-one needs to chide her about her posture. The shimmering blue-green globe that fills her entire field of vision forces her shoulders back, and head up without thinking. She is awed and excited and the smallest bit frightened because this is so much bigger than rising above the canopy and seeing the mountains in the distance.
And in that moment, she knows exactly what she wants to do with her life.
She surpasses her peers in computer science, tactics, and pure applied mathematics. She applies to the Academy in secret, biding her time. Starfleet was not part of the Plan created for her at birth. That alone makes it desirable to her. Makes it worth it.
When she finally leaves Ilyria behind, she only has eyes for new horizons. She only has dreams of the spaces between the stars.
Author: taraljc
Rating: G
Synopsis: She steps off the path as often as she can.
Horizon
She is a gawky child, coltish, all knees and elbows. She is uncomfortable with her height, and slouches, earning rebukes from everyone from her instructors or her peers. "Chin up, shoulders back" become her least favourite words in the Ilyrian language, and she takes to spending more and more time in her rooms rather than the Commons.
It's suggested she take up dance. She adds two new engineering courses instead.
Her trouser cuffs ride two inches above her talocrural joints and she can't be bothered to go in to be measured for new ones. Her tunics are just as short, the delicate bones of her wrists extend three inches from the slightly frayed and often ink-stained cuffs.
She wears her hair pulled back in a single braid, for convenience's sake. She prefers loose clothing, giving up on trying to anticipate her growth spurts and accepting the ill-fitting clothing as simply an annoyance to be ignored, despite the House Mother's glares.
She's expected to go into Research, her path mapped out for her by others.
She steps off the path as often as she can.
When she is thirteen, the House releases the lock on her flitter's nav system. She takes the small craft above the treeline, and sees the horizon stretch before her endless and hazy. It makes her feel both tiny and invincible.
Her flitter is grounded twice for overriding the auto-piloting controls and reprogramming the manual flight controls for even better control over the small, manoeuvrable craft. It is in violation of too many rules she finds binding. They finally take it away, claiming much-needed repairs to the guidance system, but it remains impounded instead for weeks on end. She uses all her credits and then some for extra hours in the simulators.
She prefers the library annex to concerts, and eating alone to the unordered chaos of the House dining hall. She prefers trousers to the long sweeping skirts other girls her age wear. Her hands have soldering burns and nails clipped short, instead of the long finger-less gloves that are part of everyday attire in the Capital.
The first time she sees her world from low orbit, no-one needs to chide her about her posture. The shimmering blue-green globe that fills her entire field of vision forces her shoulders back, and head up without thinking. She is awed and excited and the smallest bit frightened because this is so much bigger than rising above the canopy and seeing the mountains in the distance.
And in that moment, she knows exactly what she wants to do with her life.
She surpasses her peers in computer science, tactics, and pure applied mathematics. She applies to the Academy in secret, biding her time. Starfleet was not part of the Plan created for her at birth. That alone makes it desirable to her. Makes it worth it.
When she finally leaves Ilyria behind, she only has eyes for new horizons. She only has dreams of the spaces between the stars.