The Six Shifts of Christmas
Posted on 04 Feb 2026 @ 9:16pm by Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan
1,202 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Lathira Shoreleave
Location: Forward Torpedo Launcher
It had started as a simple tune Elias hummed to himself, but now it was getting out of hand.
On the first shift of inspection, my team found for me:
Four faulty relays,
Three bad network connections,
Two failed modules,
And an isolinear chip installed the wrong damn way.
They had stared at the chip like it had personally insulted their mothers. It was upside-down. In a slot labeled “THIS SIDE UP.” In big red letters. Someone at the yard had apparently decided “up” was optional.
On the second shift of inspection, my team found for me:
Five leaking plasma conduits,
Four faulty relays,
Three bad network connections,
Two failed modules,
And an isolinear chip installed the wrong damn way.
The conduits were weeping like they’d been dumped. One of the petty officers muttered, “This isn’t a tactical array, it’s a plumbing emergency with phasers.
On the third shift of inspection, my team found for me:
Six miswired targeting sensors,
Five leaking plasma conduits,
Four faulty relays,
Three bad network connections,
Two failed modules,
And an isolinear chip installed the wrong damn way.
They had to stop for a moment of silence when we realized the targeting sensors were wired to point at each other. In a crisis, the ship would have shot itself in the face.
On the fourth shift of inspection, my team found for me:
Seven overloaded EPS relays,
Six miswired targeting sensors,
Five leaking plasma conduits,
Four faulty relays,
Three bad network connections,
Two failed modules,
And an isolinear chip installed the wrong damn way.
The EPS relays were so overloaded they were practically singing opera. One of them had a scorch mark shaped like a middle finger.
On the fifth shift of inspection, my team found for me:
Eight phantom power surges,
Seven overloaded EPS relays,
Six miswired targeting sensors,
Five leaking plasma conduits,
Four faulty relays,
Three bad network connections,
Two failed modules,
And an isolinear chip installed the wrong damn way.
Phantom surges. Of course. Because why have real problems when you can have imaginary ones that trip every alarm on the ship at 0300?
And so it continued.
By the time they hit shift six, the tactical array was less a weapon system and more a very expensive, very angry jigsaw puzzle that hated the engineering teams personally.
Which led them to Deck 13.
Sovereign-class ships had plenty of awkward spaces you couldn’t reach directly from a main corridor—either by sheer luck there was a turbolift access right into the compartment, or a maze of crawl spaces and vertical tubes you had to climb to get anywhere useful. Deck 13’s forward torpedo launcher bay was one of the former: tight, dimly lit, and smelling faintly of ozone and old insulation.
Out of six shifts, Elias had been present for four. He was beyond sleep-deprived and caffeine-empowered now; the only thing keeping his body upright was pure spite aimed at whoever had let this slide at Eridani. He’d been writing an ongoing report the entire time—every detail, every mistake, every phantom surge—because this wasn’t just sloppy.
This was reckless.
He stood in the forward torpedo launcher compartment, the launcher itself impressive as always: sleek, massive, serial number and component logs showing it was fresh from manufacture, flawless on paper. The last of the phantom surges had finally been tracked to its source—an unshielded EPS junction, almost identical to the one that had sent Lieutenant Caldwell falling through a vertical hatch on Deck 17 to Deck 18.
Simple fix. Just a matter of rerouting, shielding, and re-securing. But it was the same story he’d seen half a dozen times already: cabling and conduit connectors manufactured with shielding in place, yet somehow delivered bare. He couldn’t fathom why. Shielded stock hadn’t been available? Someone was on a time crunch? Whoever made that call had to know the sins would catch up eventually.
But that wasn’t Elias’s problem.
He knelt beside the junction, tricorder in one hand, hyperspanner in the other, already mentally drafting the next line of his report: Unshielded EPS coupling at junction 13-F-7. Identical to prior incidents. Recommend full audit of yard procurement records for shielded vs. unshielded inventory discrepancies during construction window 2424–2425.
“I think that’s it, Chief,” Nathan Caldwell said as he stepped out of the lone turbolift that serviced the cramped forward torpedo bay. “We checked and rechecked the system. Power distribution on this deck is back to spec. We also tracked down the diagnostic routine that was stuck in a dead loop—turns out it was choking on a corrupted buffer. Diagnostics are finally showing the remaining faults clearly.”
Elias huffed—a short, tired sound that carried equal parts relief and irritation. “Finally. At least now we know what’s wrong and why it’s wrong without having to crawl around the ship like moles.”
He took the PADD Nathan offered, eyes already scanning the updated report. His frown deepened almost immediately.
“Ensign Torres found the diagnostic error in a tactical sub-processor on Deck 10.”
“Must have been a tight squeeze,” Elias said offhandedly, still reading.
“If you listen to him tell it,” Nathan replied with a small grin, “he was hanging on by a ladder rung while one hand was trying to reset the processor. Kid’s got guts—or no sense of self-preservation. Probably both.”
Elias gave a faint hint of a smile—the first real one in hours. “Okay, this is good. That means the bridge can finally see the true state of the tactical array. Now that the station is blinking red all over the place, hopefully that’ll keep people from pushing buttons they shouldn’t. I’ll update the bridge myself. I just finished down here, so the next shift can do their low-power launcher test on schedule.”
“Right,” Nathan said, taking the PADD back.
He hesitated, then added quietly, “Um, sir… this isn’t normal, is it? For a ship to leave dock in this state?”
Elias paused, eyes drifting to the massive torpedo launcher behind them—silent, pristine, and completely untested.
“There have been ships that left dock in worse shape than this,” he said after a moment, voice low, “and still managed to save the day.”
He thought briefly of the Enterprise-B—launched with half her systems still in pieces, maiden voyage turning into a desperate scramble to save a transport full of refugees from a rogue energy ribbon. History was full of ships that should never have flown… and somehow did.
He looked back at Nathan. “But normal? No. This isn’t normal. And I intend to make damn sure it never is again.”
He gave the younger officer a small, tired nod—respect, not warmth.
“Get some rest, Caldwell. You earned it.”
Nathan managed a faint smile and headed for the lift.
Elias stayed a moment longer, staring at the launcher then turned and walked back toward the turbolift, already mentally drafting the bridge update.
The tactical array was a liar. But it wouldn’t stay one much longer
--
Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn
Lieutenant Nathan Caldwell
Engineering Officer/Systems Analyst
USS Arawyn (apb Jeff)
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