Standard Operating Procedure
Posted on Fri Dec 5th, 2025 @ 6:51pm by Commander Jenna Ramthorne
925 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
For Bajor!
Location: USS Sunfire
Timeline: The Next Day
The USS Sunfire drifted in a steady, almost meditative orbit above Bajor, her hull glinting against the soft gold of the planet’s morning light. Jenna stood at the center of the bridge with her hands loosely clasped behind her back, feeling the quiet rhythm of the ship like a second pulse beneath her own. Days like this were rare, no alarms, no rushing, no unseen threat creeping in from the margins. Just a ship, a crew, and the austere beauty of a planet healing beneath them.
When Ops announced an incoming transmission, Jenna already felt the shift before she turned. “On screen,” she said, stepping forward as Colonel Kira’s image resolved into being. The Bajoran commander looked as though she’d been up since before the dawn, which was likely true. Her tone was crisp, to the point.
“The new satellite is ready. Diagnostics are clean. We’re releasing it to your authority.”
Jenna inclined her head, mirroring Kira’s professionalism without borrowing her edge. “We’ll retrieve it and move it into position. Expect an update once final activation is complete.”
Kira gave a single nod, the kind that said good, this part of the day won’t explode, and ended the transmission. The viewscreen shifted back to the stars.
Jenna turned to her crew. “Helm, three-quarter impulse to Deep Space Nine. Ops, notify the station we’re en' route.”
The Sunfire eased forward with all the unhurried confidence of a creature built for the void. The bridge settled into a comfortable quiet, the soft tapping of consoles, the low hum of environmental systems, the faint vibration through the deck as they slipped toward the station.
From the command chair, Jenna watched the stars stretch and swirl with each slight course correction. She exhaled slowly. It wasn’t often she got to be the one in charge without a crisis chasing her heels. The simplicity of it made her shoulders loosen in ways she hadn’t realized she needed.
Three hours later, Deep Space Nine came into view, rotating with the slow, deliberate grace that stations seemed to learn after years of simply persisting.
“Bring us in,” Jenna said, rising once more. “Thrusters only.”
Her crew handled the approach cleanly, almost elegantly. DS9’s docking ports gleamed as the Sunfire matched alignment. The handoff of the satellite was punctual, a rare pleasure when dealing with equipment that usually had opinions of its own.
“Tractor emitters online,” Devran called. His voice always carried a faint undercurrent of pride during moments like this. Jenna didn’t blame him, he made it look effortless.
The satellite eased free from DS9’s mag-locks. For a moment, it drifted between ship and station, caught in that breathless space where neither gravity nor intention laid claim. Then the tractor beams wrapped around it in a gentle, invisible grip.
“Capture secure,” Devran reported.
“Take us back to Bajor,” Jenna answered. “Same course, same speed.”
Another three hours. Another stretch of quiet. Jenna walked the bridge intermittently, checking on each station, listening to reports that were so normal they felt almost luxurious.
When the Sunfire returned to orbit, the view of Bajor filled the screen once more, its oceans a deep sapphire, its continents dusted in green and brown, the scars of its history slowly fading with time and patience.
“Release tractors,” Jenna said. “Helm, nudge the array to its programmed orientation.”
The satellite drifted into place, turning with slow precision until its dish aligned with the grid of the existing network. Ops guided her through the activation sequence, a cascade of checks that Jenna had memorized but liked to monitor personally.
Power channeling: stable.
Stabilizers: leveling.
Signal array: warming.
Planetary uplink: seeking handshake.
Continental coverage: calibrating.
One by one, the indicators blinked to green. “Signal lock established,” Ops said. “Full integration confirmed.”
A small satisfaction unfurled in Jenna’s chest, the simple joy of something working exactly as it was meant to. No sabotage. No anomaly. No unexpected explosion. Just... function.
“Good work,” Jenna said. “Helm, set a course back to DS9.”
The return trip felt even smoother, as if the Sunfire herself approved of the day’s rhythm. When they approached the station again, the docking pylons stretched like welcoming arms. The Sunfire slipped into her assigned slot with barely a whisper from the maneuvering thrusters.
Jenna leaned slightly against the command chair, watching the last of the clamps secure. The bridge lights warmed to docked status, shifting the ambience from operational readiness to quiet harbor.
She opened her mouth to begin the stand-down order when the comm chirped.
“Sunfire, this is Commander Coy.” Rosa’s voice carried through the speakers, steady but with the faintest thread of tension woven beneath. “I am on approach with the Trill delegation. Requesting clearance for immediate docking.”
Jenna straightened, tapping the console. “Acknowledged, Commander. You’re cleared for direct approach. We’ll have a team meet you once you’re aboard.”
“Understood. See you shortly. Coy out.”
The line closed, leaving the bridge in a soft hush.
Jenna looked around, at her crew, at the familiar shape of the station outside the viewport, at the subtle shift of her ship settling into dock. Another task complete. Nothing flashy, nothing dramatic. Just the everyday heartbeat of Starfleet. One job done cleanly so the next could be faced with confidence.
She exhaled, the kind of breath that grounded her. “Bridge,” she said quietly, “set standard docking protocols.”
The ship responded beneath her feet, and Jenna stepped forward, ready for whatever came next.
OFF
RSS Feed