Redline of the Redbird
Posted on Fri Jun 19th, 2026 @ 7:17pm by Commander Rosa Coy & Commander Jenna Ramthorne
2,298 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Character Development
Location: USS Sunfire - Shuttlebay
Timeline: Shoreleave
The fabrication bay had settled into the comfortable rhythm that followed a successful test flight.
Technicians moved between consoles with the relaxed efficiency of people whose reports had already come back clean. Diagnostic displays scrolled green across suspended monitors. Structural scans rotated lazily above workstations. Somewhere beneath the layered hum of power systems and environmental controls, somebody had started playing music through a maintenance speaker and earned exactly three complaints before everyone decided they liked the selection after all.
At the center of it sat the Firebird.
Fresh from her first flight, she rested in the fabrication bay with the quiet confidence of a machine that had survived every question asked of it so far. Her hull still carried the subtle sheen of newly fabricated alloys, the edges of her frame catching the overhead lighting in smooth lines that seemed to invite movement even while she sat motionless.
Rosa stood with a PADD tucked beneath one arm, reviewing the final structural report while her sling pulled gently against her shoulder whenever she shifted her weight. "Structural integrity within expected tolerances," she read aloud.
She didn't explode. Handzon sounded almost disappointed.
Rosa smirked. "That generally qualifies as a successful first flight."
Standards continue to decline.
Across the bay, an engineer cheered quietly as another report finalized. A second followed moments later. The atmosphere carried relief, satisfaction, and the subtle exhaustion that accompanied long hours finally rewarded.
The Firebird had flown, she had returned, and nobody had died; by Starfleet standards, that qualified as an excellent day. Rosa finished her review and lowered the PADD. The work appeared complete. The flight data had been collected, the reports filed, and the shuttle sat safely inside the bay. Since Jenna had unveiled the project, Rosa had rarely entertained the possibility that the work might actually be finished.
That assumption survived for approximately twelve seconds.
"Good. You're still here."
Rosa looked up.
Jenna Ramthorne emerged from between two fabrication stations carrying a cup of coffee in each hand and an expression that immediately activated every survival instinct Rosa possessed. Years of experience had taught her to recognize certain warning signs.
Jenna smiling after a successful test flight qualified as one of them. Jenna smiling while carrying coffee qualified as two. Jenna smiling while carrying coffee and approaching with purpose elevated the situation into a category that deserved official documentation.
Rosa accepted the offered cup carefully. "What did you break?"
Jenna looked offended. "I haven't broken anything."
"You sound disappointed."
"I have standards."
Rosa took a sip. The coffee was excellent. That represented a fourth warning sign.
Jenna leaned casually against a nearby workstation and turned her attention toward the Firebird. For several moments she simply admired the shuttle.
Rosa knew that look. Pilots shared it. Engineers shared it. Captains shared it. It appeared whenever someone looked at a vessel and began imagining what it might accomplish tomorrow.
Jenna finally nodded toward the shuttle. "Take her out again?"
Rosa blinked. "Again?"
"Again."
Rosa lowered the cup slightly. The answer arrived immediately, and the realization followed a heartbeat later: the first flight had already proven the Firebird could fly. That question had been answered. Jenna was asking a different question now, a far more dangerous one. "You're looking for failure points."
Jenna's smile widened. "Ye'P'."
Rosa closed her eyes briefly. Of course. Of course this was where the conversation had been heading. Every prototype eventually reached this stage. Somebody had to stop asking whether it worked and start asking where it stopped working. Stress loads, tolerance thresholds, structural limits, operational redlines - the questions every engineer wanted answered and every pilot secretly enjoyed discovering. "You want me to break your shuttle."
"I want you to find the point where she starts complaining."
"Machines tend to complain before they fail."
"Exactly."
Rosa looked past Jenna toward the Firebird. The shuttle sat quietly within the bay, elegant and self-assured beneath the fabrication lights. A beautiful little ship. A dangerous little ship. The sort of vessel that inspired bad decisions in otherwise intelligent people.
Oh, I like her already. Handzon sounded delighted. Fast. Compact. Entirely too much engine for that frame.
Many of history's memorable decisions began with similar observations, Coy observed with gentle amusement. And many memorable stories followed.
Rosa sighed into her coffee. "I feel obligated to point out that we are becoming a terrible example of responsible Starfleet officers."
Jenna considered that. "We're actually an excellent example."
"Really?"
"The responsible officers stayed home."
Rosa laughed despite herself. The sound drew several curious looks from nearby technicians who immediately returned to their work once they confirmed nothing catastrophic had happened.
Jenna took a drink from her own cup before gesturing toward the Firebird again. "The first flight gave us confidence."
Rosa nodded. "And now?"
"Now I want to know what happens when we stop being nice."
The answer carried enough sincerity and enough authority to cut through the humor. That part Rosa understood completely. Every vessel possessed a theoretical limit. Every engine carried a threshold. Every frame concealed a number somewhere deep within its structure. Eventually somebody had to find it. Better to discover that number during a controlled test flight than during an emergency years later.
Rosa turned her attention back toward the shuttle and allowed her gaze to follow the contours of the hull. The Firebird waited patiently beneath the lights, a question disguised as a spacecraft, a promise waiting for verification, a challenge wrapped in alloy and engine housings. As she studied it, she felt the familiar spark begin to stir - the one every pilot carried - the desire to know, the desire to push, the desire to discover exactly how far something could go before it demanded respect.
Jenna noticed immediately. "You've got that grin."
Rosa raised an eyebrow. "What grin? I've no idea what you're on about."
"The one that makes engineers nervous."
"I have several of those."
"You know the one I meant."
The two women stood together for a moment, studying the shuttle. Beyond the bay, technicians continued their work. Reports continued processing. Systems continued humming through the walls and deck plates of the Sunfire. The ordinary rhythm of a ship at work.
The Firebird waited at the center of it all. Jenna finally pushed herself away from the workstation. "I'll start securing flight clearance."
Rosa watched her go. Then she looked back toward the shuttle. The Firebird remained motionless within her bay. For the moment. Soon enough, they would discover whether the little vessel preferred singing or screaming.
Rosa smiled. "Let's hope she sings before she explodes."
The fabrication bay gradually fell behind them as Rosa and Jenna crossed the deck toward the waiting shuttle, their footsteps echoing softly across the metal plating while technicians continued working around them. Several engineers looked up as they passed, offering waves, nods, and expressions that ranged from pride to barely concealed concern.
One young lieutenant actually winced when he saw Rosa heading directly for the access ramp. "Commander?"
Rosa glanced over.
The engineer pointed toward the shuttle. "Please try to bring her back in one piece."
Jenna looked offended. "That implies we wouldn't."
The lieutenant stared at her.
Rosa stared at her.
The lieutenant slowly looked toward the ceiling as though appealing to higher powers. "Sir," he said carefully, "you built a shuttle with a theoretical top speed and no verified maximum velocity."
"I call that optimism."
"That's called paperwork."
Rosa patted the engineer gently on the shoulder as she passed. "We'll bring most of it back."
The young man closed his eyes.
Jenna looked pleased. "See? She's learning."
The engineer appeared moments away from requesting a transfer.
The access ramp extended into the belly of the Firebird, and Rosa found herself slowing slightly as she stepped aboard. The scent greeted her first, carrying traces of fresh fabrication, warmed circuitry, new insulation, and recently energized systems. Every vessel possessed a smell during its earliest days, a distinct mixture of machine and possibility that gradually faded as years layered themselves across bulkheads and deck plates.
The interior lighting glowed softly overhead. The consoles rested dark and waiting. The pilot's station sat exactly where it should. It was home or at least it would be for the next few hours.
Beautiful little ship. Handzon sounded immediately captivated.
Rosa felt his attention settle across the shuttle the way another person might admire a thoroughbred racehorse.
Compact frame. Aggressive engine placement. She looks fast standing still.
"That's because she inherited her mother's ego."
Jenna dropped into the co-pilot seat. "I heard that."
"You were supposed to."
She's built wrong.
Rosa paused while lowering herself into the pilot's chair. Wrong how?
The interesting kind of wrong. Handzon's amusement deepened. Some engineer looked at a list of reasonable decisions and selected none of them.
Jenna began activating secondary systems. "Why are you smiling?"
"Handzon approves."
"Well... that's worrying."
"It should be."
The cockpit came alive around them as systems awakened in sequence, with a roar. Displays illuminated one after another. Diagnostic grids unfolded across the consoles. Status indicators shifted from standby amber to operational green. Rosa settled deeper into the chair and placed her hands upon the controls. The fit felt immediate, natural, and comfortable. The way a well-made instrument settled into the hands of someone who understood its purpose.
Deep within her awareness another perspective stirred. Coy carried a different relationship with starships. Handzon loved speed. Handzon loved risk. Handzon loved discovering whether a bad idea could become an excellent story. Coy listened, observed and remembered.
As the systems completed their initialization, Rosa felt impressions rising from deeper within the joined consciousness, fragments of memory and perspective carried forward through generations of hosts. Alezxander's appreciation for craftsmanship. Blaze's instinctive understanding of command. Neither voice emerged separately. Neither host surfaced fully. Their influence drifted through Coy's awareness like familiar currents flowing beneath deeper waters.
She was crafted to soar, Coy observed quietly, the thought carrying a weight shaped by centuries of experience. Every vessel tells the truth eventually. Wise captains learn to listen before circumstances force the lesson upon them.
Rosa ran through the preflight checklist while that thought lingered.
• Power distribution.
• Flight controls.
• Environmental systems.
• Structural integrity field.
• Impulse reactors.
• Warp core status.
Every report returned exactly as it should.
Jenna watched the process unfold with the particular intensity engineers reserved for moments involving things they loved and people they trusted. The combination often produced remarkable outcomes. It occasionally produced disasters. Rosa suspected they occupied a position somewhere between those possibilities.
"Flight control responding."
"Confirmed."
"Navigation."
"Confirmed."
"Life support."
Jenna raised an eyebrow. "I would certainly hope so."
"Please answer the checklist."
"Confirmed."
Rosa nodded. "Thank you."
"You take all the fun out of things."
"You say that every time."
"Because it's true every time."
Outside the forward canopy, the massive shuttle bay stretched outward in layers of scaffolding, maintenance platforms, work crews, and support vehicles. Beyond it rested the stars, waiting, patient, and endless. As Rosa looked out across them, Coy's earlier observation lingered in her thoughts. Every vessel told the truth eventually. The wise captains learned to listen before circumstances forced the lesson. Ahead lay the first chance to hear what kind of truth the Firebird intended to tell.
Rosa completed the final sequence and rested her hand against the throttle controls. "Ready?"
Jenna smiled. That smile looked remarkably similar to the one people wore immediately before launching experimental vehicles into space. "Absolutely."
Rosa shook her head. "One of these days I'm going to discover you possess something akin to survival instincts."
"Just not today. Besides, you're one to talk."
Rosa glanced around the cockpit. The polished crimson accents reflected softly through the instrumentation. The hull designation glowed proudly across a nearby display. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Ready to take the Redbird out?"
Jenna groaned immediately. "Oh come on."
"What?"
"You know exactly what."
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
"The ship's name is the Firebird."
"It is red."
"Rosa."
"It is also bird-shaped."
"Rosa!"
"Those are simply observable facts."
Jenna muttered something impolite under her breath.
Handzon laughed.
Coy seemed amused.
Rosa activated the thrusters. The shuttle eased forward with a smooth responsiveness that immediately drew her attention. Power flowed through the controls with an elegance that felt almost eager, as though the vessel had spent its entire existence waiting for someone to release it from the fabrication cradle.
The bay doors opened ahead of them. Stars flooded into the canopy. Space unfolded around them like a welcoming blanket of nothingness. The station fell away behind them. The Firebird crossed the threshold with effortless grace, leaving the safety of the shuttle bay and slipping into open space as though she had always belonged there.
Rosa guided the shuttle through a gentle roll while the stars wheeled around them. The engines responded instantly. The controls felt alive beneath her fingertips. The vessel seemed to stretch into the movement. To enjoy it.
A smile slowly formed across her face. "Well."
Jenna looked over. "Well?"
Rosa guided the shuttle through another smooth banking turn and watched the stars sweep across the canopy. "The Redbird, flies beautifully."
Jenna sighed dramatically. "I am going to throw you out of my ship."
Rosa laughed and pushed them farther into open space, carrying the little vessel toward the proving grounds where questions waited for answers and limits waited to be discovered.
TBC
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