Before I worked in the U.S. government, I thought its biggest weakness was moving too slowly. After a year inside, I’ve come to believe that slowness is often justified. When national security is on the line, moving too fast can be just as dangerous as moving too slow.

Over the past twelve months, I’ve been embedded in two very different corners of the Department of Defense: supporting national security space launches and helping dual-use startups bridge the gap from prototype to fielded capability. Eight months were spent fully focused on national security space launches at Space Systems Command, and the final four months I split between that work and an assignment at SpaceWERX, the innovation arm of the U.S. Space Force. On paper, they couldn’t have been more different: one was about the precision and reliability required to send billion-dollar payloads into orbit; the other was about speed, iteration, and getting new tech into the hands of operators as quickly as possible.

What tied them together and shaped my perspective, was seeing how ideas move through the system, from early concept to operational reality, and where they tend to stall along the way.

What Surprised Me Most

The first surprise was the depth of mission-first culture. At launch reviews, I watched career civil servants, military officers, and contractor engineers set aside organizational boundaries to focus on one question: is the mission ready? These weren’t meetings for the sake of meetings, every line of data, every open item was interrogated until the entire room was confident the mission would be a success. The discussions could be intense, but they were rooted in shared purpose.

That same sense of alignment showed up in a completely different setting at SpaceWERX. Here, program managers, contracting officers, and startup founders rallied around a warfighter’s need, working through hurdles to adapt a promising technology for operational use. The tools and tempo were different, but the intent was the same: get it right for the mission.

The Scale of Impact

Government work operates on a scale that’s hard to appreciate from the outside. Some of the payloads we launched will quietly operate for a decade or more, enabling secure communications, missile warning, and navigation services that billions of people rely on without ever thinking about it. Take a GPS Block III satellite: on the surface, it’s just another launch, but once on orbit it becomes part of the backbone for global navigation. Every smartphone user, every airline flight path, every military operation that relies on precise timing is touched by that spacecraft. Success isn’t measured in money or time, but in the steady impact it has on the public.

At the other end of the spectrum, I saw how an investment through a program like Strategic Funding Increase or Tactical Funding Increase could fundamentally shift a startup’s trajectory, bringing a capability from “promising prototype” to “ready for field testing” years ahead of schedule. The dollar amounts might have been small compared to the private capital raised, but the ripple effects were huge. Scale isn’t just about budget, it’s about the reach of the outcome.

The Hard Stuff

Of course, working inside the system also exposed the friction points.

Speed vs. certainty was a constant balancing act. Launch work was defined by rigor. Every review, test, and sign-off existed to catch problems before they could compromise a mission. It could feel slow, but the cost of a wrong decision far outweighed the cost of waiting. In the innovation world, the opposite pressure existed: founders pushed for speed, but even the fastest acquisition authorities had hard limits on how quickly contracts could be signed. Both mindsets were valid in their context, but shifting between them required rewiring how I thought about risk.

Then there was the valley of death, the infamous gap between a promising prototype and a program of record. At SpaceWERX, I saw technologies with strong demand from operators still stall because no long-term funding line existed to support them at scale. Even mature programs weren’t immune to their own form of bottleneck. Upgrades to launch systems, no matter how beneficial, still had to move through extensive certification and coordination processes before they could be adopted. Progress wasn’t just a matter of technical readiness, it was about aligning requirements, budgets, and risk tolerance across multiple decision-makers.

And underlying it all was the challenge of bridging cultures. In launch, you had aerospace veterans whose experience kept missions safe, and newer engineers eager to push faster. In innovation, you had military acquisition professionals and startup founders who spoke entirely different professional “languages.” In both cases, success depended on translation, helping each side understand not just what the other was saying, but why they were saying it.

How It Changed Me

Looking back, this year gave me three mindset shifts I’ll carry forward:

1. Patience as a leadership skill. In launch, I learned that discipline and process aren’t bureaucracy for its own sake - they’re the price of mission assurance. In innovation, I saw the opposite: moving too quickly before building the right relationships could kill momentum. In both cases, patience wasn’t passive; it was a form of active leadership.

2. Empathy across the bridge. At SpaceX, I thought I understood the contractor’s view of the government. Inside the government, I saw why processes and questions exist - they protect the mission. At the same time, I felt firsthand why startups find those same processes maddening. Real progress came from translating between the two worlds, not choosing sides.

3. A quieter definition of impact. Sometimes it’s a satellite quietly doing its job for a decade. Sometimes it’s a meeting that connects a founder with the right office, planting a seed that won’t bear fruit for years. Impact isn’t always loud. Often, the most meaningful contributions are the ones no one outside the mission ever sees.

Closing

This year wasn’t two separate jobs, it was one long crash course in how the U.S. develops, fields, and sustains capabilities for national security. From launch pads to startup labs, I saw what happens when people align around a mission, and what happens when processes, funding, and culture get in the way.

I’m leaving this chapter with a deeper appreciation for how hard this work is, how high the stakes are, and how much more we can accomplish when government, industry, and academia bring their strengths together.

It won’t be my last time working in government. But for now, it’s time to carry these lessons to the other side of the bridge.

If you had told me a year ago that I would begin my career in the United States government, I would not have believed you. Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I was surrounded by Apple, Google, and Facebook. These companies defined what innovation and impact meant to me. I knew early on that I did not want to follow the traditional path of becoming a software engineer in big tech. I wanted to build something tangible that could create real change.

In high school, engineering classes and my experience starting an edtech company confirmed that hardware was where I thrived. When I chose mechanical engineering at Purdue University, I was drawn to its reputation as the “Cradle of Astronauts.” Joining the student rocketry program gave me a front-row seat to a field that could shape humanity’s future. That passion led me to an internship at SpaceX, where I worked on technology supporting NASA missions.

As graduation approached, I was searching for something that combined mission, scale, and impact. Most of what I found felt either too technical or too disconnected from the bigger picture I wanted to be part of.

One afternoon, I was walking through the halls at Purdue when I saw the NobleReach team setting up to talk about their work at the intersection of academia, industry, and government. During their session, they spoke about the NobleReach Scholars Program, a pathway to work on some of the most pressing challenges in the public sector. They also had copies of their book, Venture Meets Mission. I picked one up, started reading that night, and couldn’t put it down. The stories and vision in those pages resonated with me in a way nothing else had. By the time I finished the book, I knew this was exactly the kind of impact I wanted to be part of. The program promised a rare chance to bridge technology, policy, and national security while learning alongside a tight-knit cohort of driven peers.

What is the Scholars Program?

The NobleReach Scholars Program is a one-year fellowship for early-career professionals to explore the intersection of government and emerging technologies. Scholars are embedded within federal agencies, paired with mentors, and participate in training modules in Washington, D.C. These modules include policy workshops, conversations with senior leaders, and visits to key government institutions.

I joined the program with many of the stereotypes about government work. I assumed it was slow, overly bureaucratic, and staffed by people simply waiting to retire. Those assumptions were quickly proven wrong. Through bootcamps, I met dedicated professionals who were deeply committed to serving the public. I realized that while industry is celebrated for its successes, the government is often judged only by its failures. This creates a distorted perception of how much actually gets done, and it gave me optimism about my placement with the United States Space Force.

One of the most valuable aspects of the program was the cohort. My peers came from different disciplines, but each of us was motivated by a desire to serve and innovate. During the year, especially through the chaos of the administration change, I leaned on my cohort for advice and encouragement. Priorities shifted, programs were reevaluated, and while none of us fully understood the uncertainty we were facing, we were experiencing it together. There was something grounding about having a group of people who were equally unsettled yet determined to keep moving forward

What I Did

Falcon Launch Enterprise

My primary placement was with the Falcon Launch Enterprise within the Assured Access to Space (AATS) program office. I worked as a structures responsible engineer for National Security Space Launch (NSSL) missions involving SpaceX’s Falcon 9 and Falcon Heavy rockets. I monitored the build, integration, and performance of actuators and mechanical systems to ensure mission success and reduce risk during flight.

This role gave me a rare perspective. Having previously interned at SpaceX, I now saw how the Department of Defense (DoD) collaborated with one of its largest contractors. It was fascinating to understand how technical requirements and risk assessments looked from the government side.

The stakes were high. These missions carried payloads critical to national security, where failure was not an option. There were long nights and high-pressure reviews, but working alongside the AATS team taught me how to stay calm under pressure while keeping the mission front and center.

SpaceWERX

My secondary placement was with SpaceWERX, the innovation arm of the United States Space Force. I worked as a program manager on the growth-stage investments team, managing Strategic Funding Increase (STRATFI) and Tactical Funding Increase (TACFI) awards. These programs bridge the “valley of death” that startups face when transitioning from prototypes to field-ready solutions.

I evaluated cutting-edge dual-use technologies, coordinated with industry and government stakeholders, and ensured that funding agreements were executed effectively. This role showed me how government investment can accelerate innovation, helping promising startups make the leap from early prototypes to operational systems. Conversations with my cohort, who were working on similar programs in other agencies, often gave me fresh ideas and perspectives to bring back to my projects.

What the Programming Added

The D.C.-based modules were a highlight of the year. We had direct access to leaders like former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, Secretary of Commerce Gina Raimondo, and Jen Easterly, Director of the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA). These conversations underscored the importance of our work and how it fit into the larger national security landscape.

Visiting the White House, Capitol Hill, NASA Goddard, and the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center provided a deeper appreciation for the scale of government operations. Discussing these experiences with my cohort immediately afterward helped me connect what I was seeing in the field to broader policy goals.

Key Takeaways

Government work is fundamentally mission-driven. Nearly every person I met, whether civilian or military, shared the same motivation to serve the public and make a positive impact. That shared purpose is powerful.

The government also operates on a scale that few industries can match. Systems like GPS and national security satellites impact millions, even billions, of lives. However, that scale comes with challenges. Projects can move slowly due to risk mitigation and the sheer complexity of coordinating across agencies and contractors.

My time at AATS taught me that risk aversion in government is not a weakness. When you are responsible for ensuring that critical infrastructure functions without failure, caution is both necessary and justified.

Reflections

The NobleReach Scholars Program gave me a unique perspective on public service. It showed me that a career in government is not a one-way path but a stepping stone that can open doors to impactful opportunities in both the public and private sectors.

From AATS to SpaceWERX, I saw how the government can partner with industry to scale innovation. The line between the two worlds is far more collaborative than I once believed.

To future Scholars or graduates considering government work, I would say this: go in with patience and curiosity. It takes time to learn the culture and processes, but once you do, you will find opportunities to make a real impact. Whether you stay for a year or twenty, your contributions will matter.