And away we go ...

Posted on Wed Jul 22nd, 2026 @ 5:44am by Commander Nasra sh'Zarath & Captain Connor Nolan & Lieutenant Talia Renn & Lieutenant JG Daniel Rimkin & Lieutenant JG Jippo & Petty Officer 3rd Class Virawin Kerara

1,482 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Preamble
Location: Bridge, USS Venture
Timeline: MD01

The bridge of the USS Venture was a hum of last minute activity. The cacophony of beeps from alerts across the bridges expansive set of consoles acted as a backing track to the voices of the officers at work. After a three month long refit, an overhaul of the command team and senior officers, the veteran starship was ready to once more return it its original mission of discovery.

The typical horseshoe layout of the Galaxy Class bridge remained, but the ramps that provided the gradual gradient from the top section of the bridge, down to the large viewsceen at its front were now banked by a raise set of additional consoles bringing additional functionality to Command centre. This included a dedicated section for Security and Intelligence on the Portside, and a flexible mission specialist set up on the starboard side which could be adapted for specific shipboard departments at short notice.

Lieutenant Talia Renn stood at the portside Security station, one hand braced lightly against the console while the other moved through a sequence of command menus that should already have been where she left them.

They were not.

Again.

The station had reverted to its default bridge configuration sometime between her last systems check and final departure readiness. Her tactical overlays were buried two submenus deeper than she preferred, internal patrol status had returned to a generic shipwide display, and the alert routing she had carefully separated between Security, Intelligence, and Operations had collapsed into one untidy stream of competing notifications.

For a moment, she considered fixing all of it.

Then the bridge shifted around her in that particular way a starship did when it was moments from leaving dock. The volume of voices changed. Anticipation gathered in the room, bright and uneven, brushing against the edge of her awareness before she let it pass without trying to identify who felt what. Excitement. Nerves. Pride. Impatience. A flicker of doubt from somewhere behind her, quickly buried beneath duty.

Talia exhaled slowly and left the customization menu closed.

This was not the time to chase preferences.

Instead, she brought up the essential Security displays manually: internal forcefield grid, armory status, restricted access alerts, cargo transfer locks, and the current watch rotations. It was less elegant than the layout she had built, but it was functional, and functional would have to be enough until the Venture was underway.

“Security station is standing by,” she reported, keeping her voice even as her eyes moved across the reset console one last time.

The Andorian Second Officer and Chief of Operations entered the bridge, coming from her office. Her antenna were leaning slightly forward as if pointing her in the direction of her chair. She glanced toward the operations console and saw that the person who she'd assigned for this shift was in fact present at the console. She held a hand up to prevent them from leaving the station as they turned and saw their department head had entered the bridge.

With that she continued over to the command chairs and took her seat to the left of the Captain and sat down to login to the small console that was part of her chair.

The main viewer showed the inner curve of the dockyard around them: gantries, umbilicals and workbee traffic moving with choreographed precision across the Venture’s hull. Beyond it, visible through the great doors of the orbital facility, the stars waited in silence.

Nolan crossed to the command chair and remained standing beside it.

“Report.”

“Dockyard control confirms final clearance,” said the operations officer. “All external work crews have withdrawn. Mooring tractor emitters are standing by for release.”

“Engineering?” Nolan asked.

A voice answered over the comm. “Main power is stable. Impulse manifold is hot. Warp core is at standby output. We’re ready to answer helm.”

Nolan glanced to sh’Zarath. She gave a small, confirming nod. “All systems are reporting within tolerance. Docking umbilicals are soft-disconnected and ready to retract.”

“Very well.” Nolan turned towards the forward stations. “Seal all exterior hatches and depressurise the docking collars.”

“Exterior hatches sealed,” sh’Zarath replied. “Depressurising docking collars. Umbilical pressure is falling to zero.”

“Helm, bring thrusters to station-keeping.” Nolan spoke, getting into the rhythm of the directing the orchestra that was the bridge.

“Thrusters at station-keeping,” the Petty Officer manning the flight controller console said. “Attitude control is green.”

“Ops, release docking clamps.” the Second Officer spoke, with a sense of urgency.

“Releasing clamps.” A pause. “Primary clamps are clear. Secondary restraints are retracting. All moorings released.”

The faintest of tremors passed through the deck. It was not dramatic. It was barely enough to disturb the air. But Nolan felt it all the same: a great ship becoming her own weight again.

“Helm,” he said , “ease us out.”

“Aft thrusters, one quarter. Ventral trim at three percent. Moving us off the cradle.”

On the viewer, the dockyard structure began to slide away by degrees.

“Distance from berth, twenty metres,” sh’Zarath said. “Thirty. Forty. Clearance remains within tolerance. “Slow and clean, helm.”

“Aye, Commander. Reducing aft thrust to one eighth. Holding lateral drift at zero point two metres per second.”

“Sixty metres,” sh’Zarath continued. “Seventy. Eighty. We are clear of the primary support frame.”

Nolan allowed himself one breath, the Venture was a big ship. And for the vessels that passed through the outer bay doors of Earth Spacedock, a Galaxy Class had the least margin for error. They couldn't get this wrong.

“Bring our bow to departure bearing.” he directed,

“Coming to bearing one-eight-zero mark zero. Port thrusters at one quarter. Starboard thrusters answering.” responded the Helm officer.

The Venture began to turn, slowly at first. The mass of the saucer section resisted the motion with the stately reluctance of something not meant to be hurried.

“Rate of rotation increasing,” sh’Zarath said.

“I see it,” the helm officer replied. “Port thrusters are running three percent hot.”

Nolan’s eyes stayed on the viewer. One of the dockyard pylons drifted into view, larger than it ought to have been “Petty Officer, I hope you see that pylon. Compensate.”

“Easing port thrusters. Starboard correction, half-second pulses.” she answered, giving the Captain the much needed ease he required. She had this. He was confident of that.

“Clearance to upper pylon, one hundred and twelve metres,” sh’Zarath said. “One hundred and five. Ninety-eight.”

“I know you have this, Kerara. But that is tighter than I’d like,” Nolan said.

“Correcting now. Bow thrusters, two-second burst. Pitching down five degrees.”

The stars tilted across the viewer. The pylon moved past the saucer’s edge with dignified slowness, close enough for every officer on the bridge to understand the scale of what they were handling.

“Clearance, eighty metres,” sh’Zarath said. “Holding at eighty. Now increasing.”

“Helm?”

“Rotation stabilised. Departure bearing acquired.”

“Engineering,” Nolan said, tapping the control on the arm of his chair. “Helm response is sluggish. Recheck thruster calibration against the refit control tables.”

“Already on it, Captain,” came the answer from engineering. “Port thruster output was reading high. We’re trimming the control response now.”

“Do better than trimming it,” Nolan said rather sharply, it was safe to say he had gotten off to a great start with his acting Chief Engineer. “I want it predictable.”

“Aye, sir.”

The correction took only seconds, but Nolan felt the bridge settle with it. The Venture’s motion smoothed. The pylon fell behind them, and the mouth of the dockyard opened wide across the viewer.

“Dockyard perimeter in two hundred metres,” sh’Zarath said.

“Helm, take us out.”

“Aye, Captain. Ahead one quarter impulse.” The ship passed through the great doors and into open space.
For a moment, no one spoke. The dockyard dropped behind them, all scaffolds and lights and patient machinery. Ahead lay the starfield, clean and indifferent. Nolan finally lowered himself into the command chair.

“Lay in a course for the rendezvous point.”

“Course laid in. Engineering, stand by for warp speed.” came a response from the front end of the Bridge.

“Warp drive standing by.” echoed back over the ships tannoy from Main Engineering.

“Helm, engage at warp one.” Nolan ordered.

On the view screen, the stars stretched, flared, and became motion. Other than a low increase in the frequency the ships thrum as ship slipped into faster than light speeds that was the only indication of the Venture taking to warp.

“Warp one, Captain.”

Nolan looked around the bridge: at the officers watching their panels, at the new seams in the old ship, at the quiet confidence beginning to form beneath the ritual of departure.

“Well done,” he said. “Once we’re clear of the traffic lanes, increase to warp six. Then have tactical begin readiness drills.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The Venture carried them onward, no longer a vessel in refit, but a starship back in space..

 

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