Good News, Bad News Situations

Posted on Wed Sep 24th, 2025 @ 12:20am by Captain Samantha Curry & Lieutenant Nathan Cole

2,028 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Long Night
Location: Forward Starboard Armory
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 0000

[NX-03 Challenger]
[Forward Starboard Armory]
[December 31st, 1430 Hours]

Nathan Cole leaned over the tactical console, his fingertips hovering above the display as calibration data scrolled past. Challenger’s phase cannons were still tied into dockyard power, but he was not about to leave the shakedown checks to anyone else. New ship, new systems, new quirks. He wanted to be the one to find them before some poor ensign did in the middle of nowhere.

The forward starboard armory smelled faintly of oil and ion residue, even this fresh out of the yard, and the environmental systems hummed steadily against the bulkheads. The space itself was larger than anything Nathan had known on Horizon. Wall-mounted racks of phase pistols and rifles gleamed under overhead lighting, each weapon freshly serviced and locked in place. A row of torpedo loading racks stood along the far bulkhead, their articulated arms waiting for their first real test cycle. Calibration benches lined one side of the compartment, diagnostic gear humming softly as they ran self-checks. Even the deck plating still looked new, its yellow hazard striping sharp against the polished metal.

It was comforting in its own way. Nathan had led an armory division before, but never on anything like this. The NX-class was Earth’s most advanced starship, and Challenger the most refined version yet. Everything about the ship felt sharper, more powerful, more ambitious. It was not just another assignment. It was a responsibility that sat heavier on his shoulders, but also filled him with pride.

He ran a diagnostic loop on the starboard launcher, watching the targeting matrix cycle from green to amber to green again. Satisfied, he jotted a note on his slate. Everything looked good, which usually meant something was waiting to break.

Nathan allowed himself a small smile at that thought. He tapped the edge of the console, humming absently to himself, a fragment of an old song his mother used to sing, as the next system cycled online.

The deck plates reverberated faintly with the sound of approaching footsteps. Nathan did not look up right away. He figured it was one of the techs returning from the torpedo bay. Still, something about the pace, measured and deliberate, made him straighten his shoulders and glance toward the hatch. He had a feeling this was not going to be a routine check.

Their owners appeared a few moments later. The cause of her deliberate stride, equally displayed. Samantha Curry was studying a datapad with a pensive frown. She stopped just short the the two-step descent in to the main area of the Armory. She lowered the datapad and rolled her head back to rub her neck. "Nathan." She flashed a smile. It was a tired smile. "Tell me you have better news than I have for... us."

She strode slowly, almost stiffly swaggering, to the situation table. She dropped the datapad on to it- the clatter was muted, soft edges on reflective surface. Her fingers splayed up over it, saying that for the moment, it wasn't important. With a quick head toss, Samantha tried to fix the boy cut bangs of her hair.

Nathan straightened as she came down into the Armory, her tired smile tugging a smaller one out of him. He could guess what kind of news she was carrying; if he had to bet, it probably had MACO written all over it. "I don't know if what I've got is better or worse, Cap," he admitted, a faint laugh slipping out. "Good news first, phase cannon targeting checks out fine, power cycles are steady, all well within spec. I ran it multiple times just to be sure."

"Small favors are welcome, so there's one." Sam put her hands on the backs of her hips. "If you're right, we're the first NX to move out with their phase cannons working correctly." Dark eyes fell toward the table in a casual study.

He tapped his PADD against his palm before continuing. "Bad news… torpedo targeting's giving me headaches. The calibration keeps drifting. It looks like the Andorian deflector system is bleeding into my targeting sensors. It's nothing dangerous, just interference, but enough to throw off precision. I'll be down in Engineering later today to sit with Lieutenant ch'Bari and get it sorted. Figure out whether it's a grid tuning issue or just me needing to learn his system's quirks."

Samantha bobbed her head with a suspended breath. "It's not just your targeting sensors. The main sensor array has this..." She paused, twisting her hand with a sort of animated shrug, "Let's say weird... weird is the best word I've heard so far? Ghost image that pops up every time the shields do their refresh." She glanced up at the diminutive Armory Chief. "I believe he just came up with our new Comms Chief. Sousa." her eyes narrowed, studious. "I haven't met either one yet."

Nathan gave her a lopsided grin, tone light even if the report wasn't. "So, cannons are ready to bark, torpedoes not quite housebroken. But they'll be trained up before you take us out of here." He let his eyes rest on her for a moment, noting the weight behind hers. "Alright," he said gently, "your turn. What's the bad news? We aren't getting rid of the MACO, are we?"

Samantha breathed in again, held it. Her eyes narrowed. She pushed her breath out with a tilt of her tilt. Her face was written with delay, "Did I mention they finally got the theater working?" She stalled with a slight quirk of a smile. "I think the Chief chose a comedy." She leaned against the table with a twist of her mouth into a pensive knot. "I asked him to, anyway. He suggested something called Young Frankenstein."

She paused with her mouth puckered with annoyance, "Brand said the MACOs are non-negotiable. We're supposed to welcome two of their fire teams aboard in the next day or so." She finally pushed the datapad toward him, "I come with homework." She paused so Nathan could take up the datapad- or at least glance at it. "We're heading for the Orion system. You might want to read up on Starfleet and civilian encounters with them. All the way back to Enterprise, but there's been some recent encounters with us and the Andorians. I'll get you the ship's logs from the Sh'ridan, and our ship, the Sinclair. They were harassed last month on patrol."

Nathan groaned softly as soon as she said the word. “Figures. Every time something good comes down the pipe, there’s a catch.” He shifted his PADD from one hand to the other, eyes dropping briefly to the deck before lifting again. “Two fire teams. That’s not just backup, Cap. That’s half the maximum an NX is designed to carry.” He exhaled through his nose, a wry sort of acceptance. “Silver lining, I guess. Could be worse.”

"I'll handle them," Samantha confirmed with a line drawn with the shape of her mouth. She didn't relish it. It was no offense to anyone who came aboard. But she didn't need the military breathing down their necks, waiting for these "civvies to fail." She smiled wearily at her Armory Officer. "There's nowhere in the regs that says they are entitled to their own center. I'm tempted to disperse them among the rest of the general crew." She sighed and rocked forward in her lean on the table. "Otherwise they won't know us, and we won't know them."

He tapped the PADD against his thigh once, a nervous habit he didn’t quite check in time. “Not that I disagree with you. I know you’d rather we didn’t have them either. But I trust the people in Starfleet uniform here to defend this ship. Bringing in soldiers… it blurs lines that shouldn’t be blurred.” His tone was steady, more conviction than complaint.

"It's a problem." Samantha agreed. "I'll make it very clear to their incoming commander that when its ship-side and normal away team operations, you are in charge." She swung a finger toward him. "They take point when we are dealing with military confrontations." Again her mouth formed a line and she glanced down at the datapad.

Nathan finally reached for the datapad she’d nudged toward him, scanning the header. His lips pressed together as he saw the word Orion. “Orions,” he muttered. “That’ll be fun. Half the stories about them sound like ghost tales from the belt. The other half end with someone losing their cargo.” He lifted his gaze back to Curry, expression firm. “Still, that far out… we really will be all alone in the night.” He paused, then added with quiet certainty, “But I’ll have your back.”

"Best estimates from the star maps we have, its almost a month to their space. We have a few stops to make along the way. I want to test out the engines. And we'll find some way to test our weapons and these new shields." She did quotations on the new term. "I'd like you to set yourself and some of your staff on a new project. I'd like you to create automated firing solutions that will coordinate the phase cannons. You've got eight of them. Might as well put them to good use. I've also read that the Vulcans have found ways to adapt their equivalent for drilling, excavating. Let's work toward that goal."

Nathan glanced up from the datapad at her air quotes. “Some folks are calling them screens. Might not stick, but maybe it should. Feels a little less like we’re hiding behind something.”

"Screens." The Captain digested that and put it away for later.

He let his thumb brush along the PADD’s edge, mind already working. “Coordinated firing solutions… yeah, we can do that. If we can sync the cannons on an automated pattern, we’ll cut response time and give ourselves the kind of wall of fire nobody’s expecting from a ship of our tech base. I’ll put together drills for the team. And if the Vulcans can point a cannon at a mountain and call it excavation, then we sure as hell can adapt ours for something practical too.”

He gave her a small, firm nod, the kind of look that came from a man who’d already committed in his mind. “Consider it done, Cap. We’ll make sure Challenger can defend herself, and more than that, prove what Earth can do.”

"That's almost all I ask... except one last thing." Samantha half-winced. "Since Starfleet Command is grasping for every experienced command-level officer to hand a ship to. You'll notice we're short on a First Officer." Her mouth twisted, "You'll need to hand off some of your Armory and Brig duties to your assistant. Until Starfleet gets us a First Officer, I'm giving you some of the responsibilities. I'll disperse some of the rest to the command team."

Nathan’s throat bobbed hard, and the gulp he managed was loud enough in the quiet armory that Curry would have heard it. For a second, he just stared at her, the weight of what she’d said pressing down heavier than any firing solution or weapons drill. First Officer duties, even in part, weren’t something he’d ever expected to land in his lap.

He straightened slowly, setting the PADD down on the table so his hands didn’t betray the tremor in them. “Understood, Cap,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I won’t let you down.” The words weren’t loud, but they carried the raw sincerity of a man who meant every syllable.

"I know." Sam pat his arm with a reach over the table. "You've got a working net. It'll be alright." She looked down at the table. "I'll let you get back to it. I have to go listen to Chef rail at me because her garam masala is held up in customs." Her dark eyes widened, "Pray for me." She rapped her knuckles against the situation table and took her leave.

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