Minding the Store

Posted on Wed Dec 3rd, 2025 @ 3:14am by Captain Mac Sullivan & Ensign Tyler Faulkner & Lieutenant Commander Jethro "Jet" Romanowski & Lieutenant Eve West

2,059 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Regula Gambit
Location: USS Proxima, Main Bridge
Summary:
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 0830

[USS Proxima]
[Main Bridge]

[Tags for anything prior to the shuttle departure]

Tyler's fingers danced across the navigation console as another subspace shockwave rippled through the Mutara sector, the readings on his display shifting like sand in a desert storm. The gravitometric distortions were playing havoc with their sensors, turning what should have been a straightforward course plot into a constantly evolving puzzle. "Course correction, two-point-seven degrees starboard," he called out to Eve at the helm, his voice steady despite the frustration building in his chest. These shockwaves were hitting every few minutes now, each one requiring minute adjustments to keep them on the optimal orbital path relative to Regula One.

"On it" she tapped quickly and adjusted a few buttons which eventually eased the Proxima to be more steady. While the constant shockwaves were an annoyance, she lived for this, and it wasn't anything that she could not handle. Those few minutes would go by quick however. "Course corrected Commander."

The tactical display showed the shuttle bay doors cycling open, and Tyler shifted his attention to the departure sensors. On the main viewscreen, the Type-3 shuttle Tereshkova emerged from Proxima's hangar bay, its navigation lights cutting through the darkness of space as it cleared the ship's superstructure. Faulker monitored the shuttle's trajectory on his console, watching as it established its own course away from the ship. The subspace interference would make their mission challenging, but the away team knew what they were facing.

"Commander," Tyler announced, turning toward the command chair, "the shuttle has cleared our superstructure and is showing green across the board. They're underway and have established independent navigation." He turned back to his station, already plotting the following course correction that would inevitably be needed when the next shockwave hit. In this mess of disrupted subspace, keeping the Proxima on course was going to be a full-time job.

Jet sat in the command chair and nodded in response to the report as he watched the main viewscreen. "Very well. Standby tractor beam in case we have to lend them a hand," he said before glancing over at Ensign Faulkner, "Time to next shockwave impact?"

Tyler reached down to adjust the plot, responding to the Chief Engineer, "Three minutes, fourteen seconds, sir."

"Very well, tactical raise shields. Let's let the deflectors take most of the blow," Jet said as he returned his gaze to the view screen. This wasn't his first time in command of the bridge, but it was his first commanding the entire ship. As Chief Engineer, he was the Third Officer for the Proxima and he had known it would be expected that he would be placed in command of the ship when the captain and XO were both away. He hadn't expected it to be so soon in their mission however. Nevertheless, he had no qualms about being in command. He had found he was a natural on the bridge, in fact his academy instructors had pushed him to pursue the command tract, but he preferred being the guy who kept the engines humming.

Tyler's hands shifted smoothly from the navigation controls to the tactical panel integrated into his station, his fingers finding the shield control matrix with practiced ease. "Aye, sir, raising shields," he responded, his voice carrying that characteristic confidence even as he focused on the task at hand.

The tactical display flickered to life beside his navigation readouts, showing the Proxima's outline in clean blue lines. Tyler's fingers danced across the shield control interface, bringing the defensive systems online with a series of rapid commands. The ship's silhouette on his screen gained its protective outline, first as a thin boundary that pulsed once around the hull, then again with slightly thicker lines, and finally with the full, steady glow of the shield grid at maximum strength.

"Shields up and holding steady at full power," Tyler reported, glancing back toward the command chair. A slight smirk crossed his features as he added, "The deflectors should handle whatever these shockwaves want to throw at us." His attention returned to his combined navigation and tactical displays, ready to coordinate both course corrections and defensive measures as the next subspace distortion approached, "Two degrees, starboard, z-minus eleven meters, he called out to Eve."

"Two degrees, starboard, z-minus eleven meters, aye" she repeated as she did the corrections.

Jet stared intently at the view screen as it tracked the shuttle's progress towards the station. The one thing he was slowly realizing about being in command was that there wasn't much for him to do. He gave orders and delegate his authority, but he found himself slightly bouncing his knee as he sat in the command chair. He sat that way for a moment before glancing up at the chronometer and did the math to check the time the next shockwave would impact. Realizing he had some time, he stood and made his way over to stand behind the navigator's console.

"You're certain we are the only ship here in sensor range," Jet asked, not doubting the young man's skills. He was having a hard time believing that they were the only ship investigating this system. Yes they were in Federation territory, but he wouldn't put it Past the Klingons, or the Romulans for that matter, to be snooping around.

Tyler's brow furrowed as he ran another deep sensor sweep, his fingers moving with practiced precision across the console. The subspace interference was playing havoc with their long-range sensors, creating ghost readings and sensor shadows that made thorough analysis nearly impossible. He double-checked the gravitometric sensors, cross-referenced with the particle detection array, and even tried boosting the gain on the lateral sensor pallets despite the static.

"Sir, if there's another ship out here, she's either long gone or running silent with a cloak," Tyler reported, his voice carrying that blend of confidence and careful attention to detail that marked a good navigator. He paused, studying a faint reading that flickered at the edge of sensor range, barely distinguishable from the background radiation.

"I just find it hard to believe that we are truly the only ship out here. With all the controversy Genesis stirred up, i highly doubt the Klingons wouldn't be looking around for themselves," he said before turning back around and retaking his seat at the command chair. Noting the time on the chronometer, he used his thumb to activate the ship wide comm, "All hands, brace for shockwave impact."

"I am picking up what might be an ion trail," he continued, leaning forward slightly as he tried to coax more information from the degraded sensor data. "But if it is a trail, it's ancient, maybe eighteen to twenty hours old, and it's been so degraded by these subspace shockwaves that I can't get anything useful from it." He ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, a gesture of mild frustration. "Could have been anything from a cargo hauler to a scout ship, or just ionized debris from the Genesis explosion for that matter."

Tyler turned in his chair to face the command area, his warm brown eyes meeting Jet's gaze. "The interference is making it nearly impossible to get clean readings on anything beyond a few thousand kilometers, Commander. If someone was here, they had a substantial head start on us."

A low warning tone chirped on Tyler’s board, cutting through the usual hum of the bridge. His eyes darted to the attitude control readout, and his stomach dropped. “Portside Saucer RCS thrusters just went offline,” he called out, hands already moving to reroute power. The console flickered under his touch, stubbornly unresponsive.

“Attempting to reset the array, no response,” he said after a beat, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Looks like a full cascade failure on the number four manifold. We’ve got limited yaw control.” He turned slightly toward the command chair. “If we take another shockwave like that, we’re not going to be able to hold steady.”

"I like a good challenge" Lieutenant West quipped from the helm. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried. However, she was confident in her abilities. She felt that the Proxima wouldn't have gotten as far as she had without that confidence

Jet furrowed his brow before standing and making his way over to the engineering station. He leaned over behind his duty officer as he looked at the status board, following the red flashing lines indicating the offline thruster pack. He reached over and pressed the comm button on the console, "Bridge to
Engineering, send two damage control parties to deck 10, Jefferies tube 21-13 baker. Reroute the primary control systems through the secondary EPS grid on that deck. Standby for rapid impulse engine commands."

He then turned and resumed his seat in the command chair before looking at the helm station, "Alternate power between the port and starboard impulse engines. She won't turn as pretty, but it will allow us to keep her bow into the wave."

Eve begun inputting the power levels into her console. "Alternating power levels sir. It's keeping us steady" she reported.

Tyler kept his focus locked on the navigational readouts as the deck thrummed underfoot. The diagnostic panel scrolled lines of amber text before resolving into steady green. “Thruster control’s stabilizing, Commander. We’ve got partial response, twenty percent output from the portside grid.” His tone carried more relief than he’d admit. “Damage control estimates ten minutes for full restoration.”

He glanced toward the forward sensor array as another alert chimed softly. A new blip appeared—faint, but moving. Tyler blinked, checked the shuttle telemetry, then frowned. “Sir… the Tereshkova just undocked. They’re inbound to us, and reading one additional life-sign aboard.”

Jet furrowed his brow as the image on the main viewer changed to show the shuttlecraft aboard. Something seemed off. The captain and the boarding party couldn't have checked the whole station in that short amount of time. "Open a channel," Jet said to Tyler. When the comm chimed, Jet spoke louder, "Proxima to Tereshkova, We are reading an additional life sign aboard. Did you find a survivor?" The sound of a distorted signal echoed through the speakers.

"Mr. Faulkner, can you try and boost the gain," Jet said before trying again into the comm, " Tereshkova, your signal is breaking up. Do you require assistance?"

The comm channel crackled as Tyler boosted the gain, the interference peeling back just enough for a voice to cut through the static. “Proxima, this is Sullivan aboard the Tereshkova.” Mac’s tone was steady, but there was an edge under it—controlled urgency, the kind he only used when every second mattered. “We located one of the security team's personnel. He’s alive, but barely. We need medical standing by in the shuttlebay.”

More distortion rolled through the speakers, but the next part still pushed through clearly enough. “Once we’re aboard, break orbit and get some distance between us and that station. The shockwaves are worsening.” The signal popped twice, then went quiet.

Jet shook his head. "This feels off. Alert sickbay to standby to receive casualties. And Mr. Faulkner, " he said and waited for the navigator to look at him, "Have a security team standing by in the shuttle bay just in case."

Tyler’s hands were already moving before Jet gave any orders, routing the alert to Sickbay and flagging Security for a standby team at the shuttlebay doors. “Medical and Security notified, sir,” he reported, eyes still on the shuttle telemetry as it threaded its way home through the interference. “Tereshkova is on final approach.”

Jet watched as the shuttle craft approached the shuttle bay doors. When they reached the outer perimeter of the shields he gave the order for the shields to be lowered so the shuttle could pass through safely. The ship began to rock as the shockwaves impacted without the protection of the deflectors. Once the shuttle was inside and the shields back up, he looked towards the helm station.

“Helm, break orbit and bring us about to heading 279, full impulse power. Get us to minimum safe distance form the shockwaves, but keep us in sensor range of the station,” Jet ordered as the view screen changed back to the forward view of the ship.

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