(Backlog) Gamma Shift, vol 1

Posted on 14 Sep 2025 @ 3:11am by Ensign Lucas Scott & Lieutenant Alexander Powell & Lieutenant JG Halux-denari-vettaliin

2,326 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Fractured Accord
Location: Bridge, USS Arawyn

=/.= Bridge, USS Arawyn

It was well into gamma shift, that quiet, reverent hour when the ship usually exhaled. Most of the crew would normally be asleep—if not for the fact that the Arawyn was in final preparations for departure. Systems were coming online, departments syncing, and the ship herself seemed to stir with anticipation. Yet even amid this low thrum of readiness, the bridge held a unique sort of calm: alert, but not frantic. A dim-lit theater before the curtain rose.

From the rear of the deck, in one of the small auxiliary observation alcoves, Lieutenant Halux Vettral-Danari stood watching. Not lurking—observing. His presence was approved, logged quietly on the watch schedule. As Chief Counselor, he made it his business to understand the rhythms of the crew, and tonight’s scheduled tactical drill offered a window into how the Arawyn performed under pressure… or the illusion of it.

On the main viewscreen, the stars idled in their eternal drift, awaiting the chaos to come. Lieutenant Alexander Powell, acting officer-of-the-watch and Chief Operations Officer, occupied the center seat with an ease Halux found curious. There was a poise to the man—a sort of theatrical elegance—flamboyant, perhaps? But not careless. His command presence wasn’t muted by humility, nor inflated by ego. Instead, it shimmered with a self-awareness that made his confidence feel deliberate, even curated.

And then there was the jazz.

Smooth, brushed snares and warm horns played softly over the bridge’s internal comm system—an unusual atmosphere for a combat scenario, simulated or otherwise. It was Halux's understanding, passed from another overnight crewman, that it had been Powell that had started the tunes. But it suited Powell. The music didn't distract; it framed the moment. It was controlled chaos waiting in a velvet-lined box.

He hadn’t come to interfere. He wouldn't take notes, not formally. This was listening with the whole body. The drill would begin soon—he could feel it in the subtle shifts of posture, the minute recalibrations of consoles. And he would be there for it, silent in the shadows, reading what stress might say when no one was officially being asked to speak.

As Lucas walked onto the bridge, unable to sleep and still curious about the Arawyn's layout, he was greeted by music that was to say the least unexpected.

"Hello?" he asked before looking around and spotting the other presence on the bridge. "I'm sorry, I..... I shouldn't be here Sir."

“You’re on the Helm, handsome,” Alex called over his shoulder, “And for that matter, I need an idea of what we’re lookin’ at.”

At this very moment Alex Powell was probably having a panic attack. He couldn’t be entirely sure, but based on his heart rate and the fact that the ship’s shrink was hovering around in the middle of the night lead him to believe that everyone was exactly where they should be… except himself.

What he was looking at didn’t look good, however the simulation wouldn’t begin until the crew reported to their stations.

“And if you wouldn’t mind grabbing Sci/Ops, also-handsome-but-in-blue, I guess you’re playin’ AXO today. You boys got names?”

Halux blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching in the faintest flicker of amusement. He hadn't expected to be drafted into the simulation, much less in front of the gamma shift bridge crew, and certainly not with that particular turn of phrase. There was no way to sidestep it now—not gracefully, at least. And truthfully, he was curious enough to see it through.

He straightened slightly, stepping forward without hesitation. “Lieutenant Halux,” he said with a calm nod, his voice steady, measured. “Counseling department.”

Despite the faint flutter of uncertainty, there was a practiced composure in his steps. Halux moved toward the auxiliary console, keenly aware of the shift in dynamic. Observation had turned to participation. And while he wasn't here to command weapons or shield harmonics, he understood people—and tonight, this exercise would be just as revealing about the crew’s psychological rhythms as it would their tactical readiness.

Luke couldn't help but to look between the two other officers, both of whom outranked him. "Ensign Scott, my apologies Sirs.... just still... can't relax to sleep." His thoughts turned to the suggestion of manning the Helm station. The Academy has given him a few chance encounters during emergency drills but this was not the time to show off how poorly he'd done with those opportunities.

"Aye sir.... Scott to Helm."

“Thank you, Ensign.”

Alexander took a deep breath.

It didn’t work, so he tried again. {{Y’know what? Fuck it.}} he finally decided as he rose from the command chair. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, and he was almost certain he was about to vomit--which didn't make sense because he hadn't eaten anything in the past 12 hours. Then again, that could be a problem on it's own. He paced back and forth for a long moment, oblivious to the eyes on him as they waited for orders. 87 seconds passed before he stopped in his tracks. “’Step 1: hail ‘em…’ right?’” he quoted and/or queried in the general direction of Halux.

Halux had remained standing near the aft science station, arms loosely folded, eyes quietly observant. Powell’s nervous energy had been palpable since they stepped onto the bridge—part theater, part raw tension. But now, with the full weight of simulated command on his shoulders, that performance veneer had cracked just enough to let the counselor in.

He didn’t step forward or make a show of intervention. Instead, his voice met Powell’s question with a calm, grounding tone—warm and unhurried. “It's my understanding that it would be the standard play, yes,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. “Open a channel. Assess intent. Try not to panic.”

His gaze was steady but not invasive. There was no judgment in it. Just an offering of presence—of shared air and unspoken understanding. Halux was trained to see beneath masks, but he also respected them. They served a purpose.

Lucas felt a weird vibe, it was almost as if he'd wandered into a standoff that he hadn't expected. There wasn't much he could do from helm but assess the other craft's position and keep the Arawyn in an advantageous firing position. Comms were not something that Helm could deal with directly unless there were no other option. "Sir I am....." Stopped in his tracks Scott had found a loophole, using navigation to route the frequencies. "I'm limited sir but sending out pings. They should be able to open a channel...."

"Fantastic," Powell replied as he stepped forward, coming shoulder to shoulder with the young Acting Helmsman. "Let's not regret that which we didn't do..." He paused, turning back to glance at Halux. For a second his brow furrowed, as if a question was forming before it'd been discarded.

"This is Acting-Captain Alexander Powell of the USS .... A-something. What you are doing is a hostile act, and will not be tolerated. Respond, stand down, or be destroyed. The choice is yours. End transmission."

Halux stood quietly, one hand clasped behind his back as he watched the bridge dynamic unfold. The jazz still played faintly beneath the tense silence that followed Powell’s transmission—something mellow and brassy, but now at odds with the tautness in the air. Halux's eyes flicked between the helmsman and the officer in command, taking in the subtle shifts in posture, the furrow of Powell’s brow, the slight tremor in Lucas's voice.

Without a word, Halux looked down toward the science console, fingers gliding across the surface as he activated a secondary sensor sweep. The system acknowledged him with a soft chirp, and within seconds, the schematics of the opposing vessel unfolded on the display—faint power signatures, engine heat blooms, and a spiking energy curve along its forward array.

His brow creased.

“Lieutenant,” he said calmly, eyes still fixed on the readout. “Their primary weapon systems are cycling. Estimated charge at seventy-one percent and rising.”

He glanced back up then, the warm hues of the console casting faint shadows along the sharp ridges of his Denobulan features. “Looks like we’re about to see how committed they are to their silence.”

Lucas wasn't an experienced helm officer, let alone any sort of engineer, but something was bugging him. "Sir?" He shook his head knowing he was wrong but the way the opposing vessel was drifting, ever so slightly to the port, bugged him. "They may be damaged or somehow are seeing us as a threat. I'd suggest backing off as they approach but definitely raising shields. Weapons may be seen as a hostile act." His eyes shot open, wondering if he'd just ended his career with one opinion.

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed as he glared as he weighed the options: those both practical, and many that were fatalistic versions of worst case scenarious that were far too outlandish to apply to this specific situation. “Let’s do both,” he concluded. “Ensign, full power to forward shields and let’s slide back.”

Turning, Powell quick-stepped toward Halux, speaking with his hands. “C’mon XO, getting people to talk is your specialty, yeah? I really don’t wanna blow these bastards up, but we have to protect the colonists!” he exclaimed, gesturing toward the viewscreen where the as-yet-unmentioned colonists’ crippled vessel tumbled through the void of space.

Luke couldn't help himself but he didn't like the current situation. One way or the other they needed more time and there was only so much he could do from his current situation to arrange that. He began with a slow turn to port, not to expose the other ship but rather to show a defensive stance. If his hunch was right and they couldn't tell who the Arawyn was let alone her intentions there were other ways to communicate.

Halux’s fingers hovered over the console for a brief moment, the steady hum of the sensors a counterpoint to the rising tension on the bridge. His gaze flicked toward the drifting vessel, the subtle roll of its hull speaking a language of its own—one that didn’t align neatly with the aggression their charged weapons suggested.

“They’re posturing,” Halux said evenly, turning his eyes back to Powell. “Defensive behavior, not offensive. Power cycling could be precautionary, or a systems fault. Either way, escalation will push them into a corner.”

He stepped closer to the command well, his tone quiet but steady, carrying just enough weight to cut through the hum of the bridge. “If you want them talking, we need to signal intent. Broad-spectrum hail, visual channel. Something that says we’re here to listen before we’re here to fire.”

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one—as his gaze returned briefly to the stars beyond the screen. “Sometimes silence is fear, Lieutenant. Let’s give them room to breathe.”

Luke set in a slight course deviation, just turning the Arawyn enough to allow both her fore and aft arrays a clear shot but at the same time reversing from their current heading to give more space attempting to mimic the slight drift the other vessel was demonstrating. "Standing by on impulse." the ensign announced, his only other idea being if the other ship indeed turned hostile they'd need some time to get the Arawyn's shields and weapons ready to bear. While he hadn't had a lot of tactical training the basic concepts still applied and he looked to both Lieutenants with a nod. "Tactical standing by."

With a heavy sigh Alex paced between the two officers at their stations, weighing the implied options: (1) Starfleet doesn’t attack first (2) They’d already been warned on an open frequency, and chose not to respond. He then questioned his wording: “repsond, stand down, or be destroyed…” There really wasn’t any wiggle room there.

“Let’s hail them again; but this time you do the talking, XO. Handsome,” he added, shifting his attention back to Ensign Scott, “Any way we can snatch the colonists serruptitiously while the grown-ups are talking?”

Luke's thoughts raced, this was definitely a situation outside of his main skillset. Only one thought came to mind so he decided to roll with it. "Sir if they're damaged perhaps instigating a power fluctuation might mask a transport signal? Depending on how we initiate the surge....." If timed properly the more concerning power issues would possibly prevent the other ship from even detecting the transport. "But we'd have to get closer so the timing is right."

With the senior officers still debating amongst themselves Luke did what he could. Maneuvering to the right spot wasn't an issue, the key was going to be starting a power surge in the right way. The only means possible was communicating with Engineering to generate a pulse of some kind, something with enough drain to confuse the other ship's diagnostic sensors. "Transport should be possible in 30 seconds Sir..... but I could be wrong." He wanted to prime the main weapons systems in case he were but Luke didn't want to provoke the other ship into an antagonized response. "Standing by."

The rest of the simulation didn't go much better but that was to be expected. Luke was working with unfamiliar officers and wasn't too sure of himself at the same time. There were going to be hiccups and hours of looking at his own performance. Tactical operations were definitely going to be studied, the best way to secure Arawyn was to never let anyone get close enough to harm her. To do his job better Luke knew he'd need to understand the roles of others.

--- End Log ---

Lt. Powell
COps
USS Arawyn

Lt JG Halux-denari-vettaliin
Counselor
USS Arawyn

Ens Lucas Scott
ASec
USS Arawyn

 

RSS Feed