Four years. At top speed, with every possible distraction eliminated, Parsons had drilled through the Academy course and left half of their lifespan behind. Starfleet did not suit the Insectoid, from the time commitment to the endless waiting to the shadow of individuality looming over the campus, the unmistakable lingering of Human ideology. It was cruelly ironic- even with the coursework's emphasis on teamwork and diversity, Parsons often found themselves isolated, watching from their workstation as the more mammalian humanoids clustered together across the room. They could have counted themselves lucky- the loneliness stung like a spike through their thorax, but wouldn't a personal connection have just distracted them? They attended no parties, passed no notes, achieved graduation through nothing but their own dogged tenacity.
And now they were here, alone as ever, gazing briefly into the glittering, towering range of options available to them for the next... how long was it? An hour? Two? It only took a half-second more before Parsons' scuttling gate began to ferry them directly for the Holodeck. They would be early. Maximum efficiency, minimal extraneity.