Marching Orders
Posted on 01 Feb 2026 @ 7:15pm by Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan & Lieutenant JG Ryan Collingway
2,379 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Lathira Shoreleave
Location: Main Engineering
///USS Arawyn///
Elias stepped out of Batenburg’s office with purpose, the PADD still warm in his hand. His mind was already three decks ahead—tactical array first, discipline plan second, but both now intertwined in a way that almost felt convenient. The timing was lucky. He could fold the extra duty rotations into the inspection schedule without it feeling like punishment. Extended shifts on the array would look like necessary work, not a reprimand. The crew would grumble, but they’d understand. Better that than letting them think he was just looking for ways to make their lives harder.
The tactical issue gnawed at him harder. Untested systems on a less than year-old Sovereign? That wasn’t oversight. That was someone at the yard checking boxes without ever walking the deck. His last post had been the Antares fleet yards, he would run this operation just as he had there, through and to the point.
He was halfway down the corridor before he realized the travel mug was still sitting on his desk back on Deck 16. He rolled his eyes at himself, a short, tired huff escaping under his breath. He could live without it for a few minutes. Probably.
The disciplinary plan was saved, pending sign-off. Batenburg would handle the bridge personnel; his engineers were his responsibility. He’d already mapped the extra shifts in his head: targeted, supervised, real work—not scrubbing decks or polishing panels. Diagnostics under senior petty officers, recalibrations, logging every fluctuation. Make them feel the weight of the systems they’d endangered by being careless planetside. They’d learn. Or they’d transfer out. Either way, the lesson stuck.
But the tactical logs were the real problem. He shook it off as he reached the turbolift.
“Deck 16, Main Engineering.”
The lift moved smoothly—new-ship quiet. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, running numbers. Forty-seven officers, one hundred sixty-eight NCOs. Two hundred fifteen total. On a Sovereign, engineering made up nearly thirty percent of the crew. He had bodies. He had experience. He just needed to use them right.
The doors opened. The familiar hum of the warp core greeted him—steady, blue-lit, alive. He stepped out and took in the space: cavernous, new, still smelling faintly of fresh installation. The skeleton shift worked quietly—no frantic busywork this time. They’d heard about the planet. They were behaving.
He didn’t announce himself. He just walked to the upper-level station above the main entrance—the perfect vantage point. The whole department could see him from there.
“Computer,” he said, voice carrying without effort, “emergency notification to all engineering staff, on duty or off. Assemble in main engineering immediately. Give them a ten-minute warning to be in this room.”
A few heads snapped up. Eyes widened. The core’s hum suddenly felt louder in the sudden quiet.
“Warning,” the computer replied. “There are two hundred and fifteen members on the engineering roster. Please confirm full notification.”
“Confirm,” Elias said, already moving to the central pool table in front of the warp core.
“Acknowledged. Emergency notification sent.”
He stood there, PADD in hand, then moved to the lift to the upper level and waited for the room to fill.
Ryan arrived promptly at the call. He sat next to Corin, waiting.
Elias watched from the upper-level station as the cavernous engineering bay slowly filled. The first arrivals were the on-duty crew—those already scattered across the ship on routine tasks—who filed in quickly, tools down, eyes sharp. He entered a quick corrective command into the nearest terminal: lock transporter room personnel in place. No need to pull them off duty if they were handling active beams; he remembered the roster showed only a couple assigned there anyway.
Then the room really started to fill. They came in waves—uniforms crisp, postures straight, no one daring to be late. Word had spread fast about the new chief engineer and the planet incident. No one was taking chances. Two hundred fifteen souls—forty-seven officers, one hundred sixty-eight NCOs—packed the deck, the warp core’s blue glow casting long shadows across faces that ranged from curious to wary.
He waited the full ten minutes, then gave it another thirty seconds for good measure. The room was full. No stragglers. No excuses.
Elias stepped forward to the railing, voice carrying strong and steady through the open space—no need to shout; the acoustics and the silence did the work for him.
“Good morning. I apologize for interrupting sleep or recreational activities, but we have a situation that demands our full attention for the short term.”
He let that settle, eyes sweeping the room once.
“An issue with the tactical array logs was brought to my attention. Further investigation revealed that—after installation—none of the tactical components were ever tested during the ship’s shakedown cruise, even though the official logs indicate they passed.”
A ripple of gasps and low murmurs spread through the bay. Eyes darted between crewmates, then back to him. The murmur died as quickly as it started when he raised a hand—just enough to quiet them.
Ryan said nothing, thinking fast.
“Let me be clear: this is not anyone in this room’s fault. Nobody here did anything wrong. The mistake isn’t yours to own. But the job ahead is.”
He paused again, letting the words sink in.
“Every single tactical component on this ship needs a visual inspection. That includes every phaser bank, torpedo launcher, targeting sensor, power conduit, optical data network connection, subsystem, backup, optical chip, bio-neural gel pack—everything. We are going to run the final post-installation inspection and calibration the fleet yard should have done before shakedown. Because right now we do not know the actual state of the tactical array, and I will not power it up until we do.”
He leaned forward slightly on the railing.
“Because of this, we are moving the department to a four-shift rotation. I had planned to implement this later anyway—it’s more efficient, gives better rest intervals, and reduces fatigue—but we need it now. Each shift will carry specific tasks related to the inspection. A small skeleton crew of officers and NCOs will remain on routine maintenance. It will be leaner than we’re used to, but the ship is in orbit doing nothing, so the workload is manageable. It is important we all stay vigilant in the days ahead.”
Elias glanced down at his PADD, then back up at the assembled department.
“Officers and Senior Chiefs—I will have your specific orders prepared shortly. Everyone off duty is recommended to get as much rest as possible. I will have preliminary shift schedules outlined within the hour. As soon as you know your shift, be prepared to report on time. Because we will literally be pulling panels off everything.”
He let the silence return, eyes sweeping the room one last time.
“That’s all for now. Dismissed.”
"This explains a lot," Ryan said quietly to Corin. "The schedule changes that prevented us from accessing anything important at first. They wanted to see how bad the damage was first." He was a late addition to the Arawyn. And had assumed that things had been tested.
Apparently not.
Elias stepped back from the railing, and took the lift down to the main level. He saw Ryan Collingway in the crowd as they started leaving the room.
“Mister Collingway, a word please.” Elias asked as he nodded towards his office and started walking that way.
Ryan approached him, his eyes giving a wary expression. Whatever he expected from the emergency meeting, it wasn't this. It seemed like he could only expect the unexpected right now. "What is it?"
Elias waited until the office door hissed shut behind them, sealing out the low hum of main engineering. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, arms loose at his sides, posture relaxed but not casual—eyes steady on Ryan without being hard.
“I’ve decided on disciplinary action,” he said, voice low and even, the same tone he used when briefing a problem that wasn’t yet a crisis. “Which basically amounts to double shifts for the foreseeable future.”
He paused, letting that settle.
“You’re not directly guilty of what happened on the planet—I know that. You didn’t touch the lift. You didn’t pull the trigger on the overload. But you were the ranking officer there, and you chose to cover for the ones who did. That’s leadership. The wrong kind, but leadership all the same.”
He straightened slightly, uncrossing his arms.
“I had originally planned to assign a Master Chief Petty Officer and four crewmen to each shift to handle routine ship maintenance—keep the lights on, the EPS flowing, the routine stuff that can’t wait. But now I’m giving you a choice, Mister Collingway.”
He held Ryan’s gaze, no anger, no judgment—just the quiet certainty of someone who’d been on both sides of this conversation.
“Option one: you join the tactical array team. Twelve-hour shifts, grunt work—tearing panels, crawling conduits, visual inspections until we know exactly what state those systems are in. No shortcuts. No glory. Just hard, dirty work until we’re sure nothing blows up when we power them up.”
He let that sit for a second.
“Option two: you take the engineering leadership role. I’ll assign the rest of the officers on this disciplinary plan to your shift. You’ll be the lead on the skeleton crew handling normal ship operations—coordinating maintenance, monitoring systems, keeping the department running while the rest of us rip the tactical array apart. You’ll still be on double shifts, but you’ll be in charge of the routine side. You’ll make decisions. You’ll own the results. And you’ll learn what it actually means to lead when the easy choice isn’t on the table.”
Elias pushed off the desk, standing straight now.
“I’m giving you the choice because you’re a ranking junior officer and I think you have the ability to decide for yourself. Take the grunt work and keep your head down, or step up and lead. Either way, the double shifts stay. Either way, you’ll be accountable.”
He waited, expression unchanging.
“Your call, Lieutenant. What’ll it be?”
Ryan said nothing for a moment. "I need to know something first. How did you find out about this? Was it the new Lieutenant-Nathan, I believe his name is? Because the thing is, someone knew there was a problem before either of you two arrived. I know this much for a fact."
“Yes, Lieutenant Nathan Caldwell. He transferred in as a System’s analyst.” Elias paused for a moment. “Tell me what you know?”
Ryan hesitated. He wanted to say it was nothing. They both knew it wasn't. "Before we went on shore leave, and Lieutenant Evans had gone...our schedules just changed without explanation. Every single engineer that was in charge of maintaining a vital system had been reassigned to a lesser function. Even the lesser functions had two engineers assigned, not one. It was as if, for a short time, none of the engineers had been trusted. And then, without explanation, our schedules returned to normal after shore leave. It was as if we had all been double-checked somehow."
He shrugged and looked down. "I don't understand how that factors into the fact that nothing had been tested. That would have been drydock. Not us. But the pieces don't quite fit together. At least, not yet."
“I’ll look into it, thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Elias said
Ryan looked away then back again. "I'll take the leadership role. But if there is something else going on, than I would rather not walk into it blind. Sir."
Elias studied Ryan for a long second—arms still loose at his sides, expression unchanging except for the faint nod of approval that barely moved his head.
“I’m not sure if anything is going on yet, but I’ll let you know. And good choice,” he said quietly. “Leadership’s not about taking the easy path. It’s about taking the one that matters, even when it’s hard.”
He straightened, and smoothed out his uniform. “But you won’t be going into it blind. If you see a problem, you flag it. You think something’s off, you say it. Come see me. No games, no cover-ups. I don’t need heroes who hide mistakes—I need officers who catch them before they become disasters. That’s how we keep this ship flying.”
Elias grabbed the earlier forgotten travel mug off his desk and took a drink. “Your new rotation will start in the morning and run from 0600 till 1800 hours. The others will be notified, and you’ll be in charge. I’ll also be working the same shift as you but I’ll be working with the tactical array teams. Any questions?”
"No sir," Ryan said. A lot was being thrown at him in a very short amount of time. He thought of the potential damage this could have caused. The Arawyn could have been potentially attacked, and unable to fire a shot.
Elias gave a small, almost imperceptible nod—respect, not warmth. He turned back to the desk, already pulling up the roster to start slotting names. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
A sudden thought suddenly burned into Ryan’s brain. Did his own ship, the USS Thysia, actually fire a shot when it was attacked by the borg?
Ryan didn't know. He paled slightly at the thought.
He realized Commander Harlan was waiting for his dismissal. "I'll keep you updated, sir," he said simply, and left.
Elias watched the doors close, then exhaled once—long, slow, the tension of the day bleeding off just a fraction.
He looked down at his travel mug, stared at it for a second, then set it aside.
Tomorrow was going to be long. But at least it was moving forward.
--
Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn
Lieutenant Junior Grade Ryan Collingway
Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn
Ensign Corin Ardel
Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn (apb Mira)
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