Matthew glanced at the PADD for the 10th time, ensuring he was standing before the correct door. The door even said “CHIEF SCIENCE OFFICER” on it; it couldn’t be any clearer. He sighed, flipping the medallion he hadn’t realized he had been playing with in his right hand, then quickly pocketed it and pulled out an isolinear chip.

You were old for a cadet, and you’re old for an ensign, he thought.

But you have the knowledge to back that up, he retorted. You’ve done what many have never been able to do: become a Starfleet officer.

That’s not the hard part. The hard part now is proving yourself. Every moment of every day.

He shook his head. He knew that wasn’t actually true, but that was a part of him he could never change, that search for perfection, even to his own detriment sometimes. He felt, rather than saw, the slight change to his peripheral vision that accompanied a serotonin stim. His shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep, easy breath, and pressed the chime for entrance.