Space Lab Regula One

Posted on Thu Aug 14th, 2025 @ 6:25pm by Captain Mac Sullivan & Lieutenant Commander Jethro "Jet" Romanowski & Lieutenant Commander Kirak & Lieutenant Eve West & Lieutenant Hlath & Doctor Kim Standish & Ensign Kaaven Saenar

1,907 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Regula Gambit
Location: Regula
Summary:
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 0630

[USS Proxima]
[Main Bridge]
[0635 Hours]

The watch should have belonged to Delta shift, but Captain Mac Sullivan had made the call to have his senior staff at their stations as they approached Space Lab Regula One. The bridge hummed with the controlled tension that came before the unknown—every console manned by experienced hands, every officer alert despite the early hour.

Ensign Kaaven Saenar sat at the Communications console. The soft glow of the displays lit the contours of his face, accentuating the pronounced Haliian cranial ridges that nearly touched at the center of his furrowed brow. The ridges deepened as he focused, straining to catch every inflection in the flood of transmissions and voices. His dark eyes flitted from one gathered officer to another, absorbing posture, tone, the unspoken language of urgency and restraint.

Mac stood behind his command chair, coffee in hand, dark eyes fixed on the tactical display showing their approach vector to the Regula system. They'd been making good time through the subspace disturbances, but the closer they got, the more his instincts told him they weren't going to like what they found.

"Mr. Kirak," Mac said, his voice carrying the calm authority that had gotten him through every crisis since the academy, "what's our current status?"

"Spacelab Regula One is bearing 012 mark 077, at 50,000 kilometers and closing." Kirak stated. On the screen, the view was of the "top" of the spacelab and the dead world it orbited a vast expanse of mottled gray and brown, heavily cratered. The station's neglect was already obvious- the Spacelab was tilted at an office degree and, as Kirak put the orbital schematic into a main screen view. The Spacelab's orbit was unstable and was in a slow, languid spiral.

Proxima jerked- a roll of undulating turbulence- it was more of the same of what the ship had gone through for the past several hours. "Inertial dampeners are at maximum. Our defense fields are holding. However, as we have approached adjacent to the nexus of the disturbance, the turbulence will become more severe. Ship's systems are functioning as expected, Captain." Kirak turned to face the man. His brow rose. "However we have a development. The subspace turbulence and the lack of correctional control by Regula One has pushed the station into an unstable orbit. Without correction, the Spacelab will likely be thrown clear of Regula planetoid in approximately eighty-two solar days." Kirak turned back, relegating the final approach to Eve West who sat next to him.

Eve kept a firm hand on the helm. She made some quick adjustments to dampen the impact of the turbulence as much as she could. It was the same procedure over the last few hours, and while there wasn't too much of a change the turbulence seemed to go easier on the Proxima. "We could use the tractor beam to stabilize the station" she suggested. "Though it may put a strain on us being the only people here."

Lieutenant West looked down at her readouts. "We're on final approach Captain" she added.

Mac nodded, setting his coffee aside. The time for preparation was nearly over. Whatever had happened at Regula One, they needed to be ready for anything—from a simple communications malfunction to something far worse, "Thank you, Lieutenant. Mr. Saenar, inform DS Lambda 2 that we have arrived and are about to begin our investigation. Also pass along Mr. Kirak's observations regarding the station's orbit and request instructions."

Mac activated the communications controls from his command chair. They'd been pushing maximum warp for over nineteen hours—he needed to know how the engines were holding up. "Engineering, this is the Captain. How are our warp engines doing?"

From his position at the command console in main engineering, Jet studied the status board before pressing the comm switch on the panel in front of him. "Nineteen hours was a good shakedown for the engines, sir. We had a red line on the number one and number 6 antimatter injectors, but nothing some slight calibrations won't fix. I would recommend not pushing maximum warp for a bit though, give her a chance to cool down, " Jet spoke into the panel as the soft hum of the warp engines was overtaken by the throbbing of the impulse reactors.

"Understood, but no promises, keep us ready for warp if needed, Bridge out," Mac switched channels. "Sickbay, this is the Captain. We'll be arriving at Regula One shortly. I want you prepared for any contingency—we don't know what we're going to find out there."

Kim had been anticipating the Captain's call, but all the same had to drop her feet from where they'd been propped on her desk to the floor so she could sit forward and toggle on the comm to respond. "Ready and waiting sir," she confirmed. "Any early indicators of what that unknown might be?" Bringing her mug up she took a swig of her coffee, using the pause for Sullivan to reply as long enough pause for another mouthful.

"Unfortunately not, Doctor, but I'd get your medkit ready." The moment of truth was approaching, and every instinct he'd developed as both a pilot and a starship captain told him they were flying into trouble.

"Commander Kirak," Mac said, his tone shifting to match the gravity of their situation, "Sound General Quarters and bring the ship to Red Alert. Whatever's waiting for us at Regula One, I want us ready for it."

The Vulcan pressed the key and the bosun whistle sounded. "This is the Bridge. All decks go to Red Alert. Standby damage control teams and medical response. We will advise when further information becomes available. Bridge out." The lights dimmed. They reddened with a swinging pulse of red. The klaxon sounded.

Hlath was slightly startled by the sudden shift in lighting and sound of the alert klaxon. He’d been unusually quiet since they’d first heard the news of the disaster, there was an ocean of sensor data for him to navigate, and despite his intense focus, very little of it was making any conclusive sense. The rest of his team had been providing regular reports on their own areas of expertise, but most contradicted others, and he was forced to conclude that there was simply not enough data to make any new conclusions beyond the established facts. In the absence of further certainty, Hlath knew for sure that he would be recommending this Dr Marcus end up before a board of inquiry as swiftly as possible.

On Saenar's comms panel, each deck began acknowledging Red Alert by switching from white to red on his console.

Ensign Saenar’s lithe hands glided effortlessly across the console, his movements practiced and precise. "Readiness reports from all decks, sir," he announced smoothly, his voice calm but focused as the data streamed in. He paused, glancing at one update with a faint tightening of his brow ridges, a subtle Haliian tell that something was amiss. "Deck Eight reports that breakfast will be delayed," he added, his tone dipping slightly into wry amusement. "Apparently Crewman Bazel had a waffle mishap in the galley."

A small shake of his head followed, and the trace of a smile ghosted across his lips. “No injuries reported,” he assured, the corners of his eyes crinkling just faintly with restrained humor. The moment passed quickly, and his focus returned to the board. He was disciplined, but not without charm.

"Phasers are down to eighty percent, Captain. Forgive me, I read it wrong, phasers are functional .Torpedoes are functional. Security teams are being deployed as we speak." H'mes reported. "Agreed about not knowing what's aboard the station. Recommended we send security teams to beam over."

Bowers looked to his left for just a moment, allowing a small smile in the direction of Saenar. The phaser comment had caused a moment of surprise before H'mes caught himself. "Very good, Lieutenant, stand by." His focus shifted to the navigation plot, "Helm, slow to one third for final approach, ease us in close to the docking bay."

"One third, aye sir" Eve said as she slowed the Proxima down. "Easing us in."

As the station grew larger on the screen, Mac studied its surface intently. The docking bay came into view, revealing extensive damage to the hull. Deep energy weapon scoring crisscrossed the outer bulkheads in chaotic patterns, while several hull plates showed the telltale blast marks of explosive decompression. Most telling was the twisted wreckage of what had once been docking clamps, which were now little more than blackened metal fragments jutting from the station's superstructure where the security team's shuttle would have been berthed. Mac's jaw tightened. "Well, that answers the communication issue question. Mr. Kirak, lifesigns?"

"None." Kirak's fingers fell upon the sensor reading controls a moment before. "There is heavy damage... hull bearing stress around the docking bay. Structural integrity will be heavily compromised and it is unlikely the sections surrounding will be easily accessible." His brow raised, "The extent and sporadic nature of the damage suggests the attackers had limited knowledge of the station's defenses and layout."

Mac's fingers drummed once against the arm of his command chair as he processed the tactical situation. "Life support status in the undamaged sections, Mr. Kirak? And any interference that might affect transporter operations?"

"Thin, but breathable. It will be like functioning at approximately 4,000 meters above sea level. Heavy exertion will be difficult. The temperature is below zero degrees centigrade." With a few more strokes of keys, Kirak put his readings up on the main screen, superimposed over space. "The Mutara wave has destabilized the entire region." He turned as pulses of purple interlaid across the screen with sections darker and lighter. He addressed the Captain. "I recommend we take shuttlecraft."

His decision crystallized as the damaged station continued its slow rotation on the viewscreen. "Mr. Kirak, assemble an away team. Full tactical gear, and have Doc Standish join us in the transporter room." Mac's gaze shifted to the communications station. "Mr. Saenar, have Commander Romanowski report to the bridge. A little bridge time will do him good."

"Yes Captain," the Vulcan swiveled from his chair and was quickly reported by an Ensign. His hands behind his back, the Vulcan began to mentally process who he thought best to include. "Ensign," Kirak addressed the Security Officer at the weapons console., "I require two security escorts. Please see to it."

"Aye Sir."

Ensign Saenar gave a crisp nod before turning his chair smoothly back towards his console. His movements were practiced and efficient, the kind that came from long hours of repetition. Fingers skimmed lightly over the illuminated switches in a quick, precise sweep, ensuring the board was set exactly as needed. With one fluid motion, he tapped the control to link his earpiece into the comm system.

Lowering his voice to a hushed, professional tone, he established the channel and made contact with the Commander. There was no hesitation in his words; the Captain’s message was relayed cleanly, without embellishment, his voice carrying the unspoken calm of someone used to passing information without drawing attention. “Thank you sir.” He said finally, pressing a control to close the connection.

A mission post by:

Captain Mac Sullivan
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Kirak
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Commander Jet Romanowski
Chief Engineering Officer

Lieutenant Eve West
Chief Helmsman

Lieutenant Hlath
Chief Science Officer

Doctor Kim Standish
Chief Medical Officer

Ensign Kaaven Saenar
Communications Officer

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