Redline of the Redbird II

Posted on Mon Jun 22nd, 2026 @ 1:03pm by Commander Rosa Coy & Commander Jenna Ramthorne

2,148 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: USS Sunfire / Space

The first round of tests gave Rosa exactly what she expected and absolutely nothing she wanted. A proper stress test carried a certain amount of disappointment when the machine survived every challenge without complaint. Pilots enjoyed success. Test pilots enjoyed data. The two concepts shared territory, though they rarely occupied the same seat.

The Firebird accelerated cleanly through a series of impulse bursts that would have left most shuttlecraft grumbling through their structural members. Rosa drove her through increasingly aggressive flight profiles, building speed before snapping into hard vector changes that attempted to expose weaknesses hidden inside the frame. Telemetry streamed across her displays while Jenna monitored every fluctuation with the focused intensity of a parent pretending not to worry.

The shuttle answered each challenge with infuriating competence. Rosa rolled them through a descending spiral, pulled power, pivoted ninety degrees, and poured thrust back into the engines before the maneuver had fully completed. The stars rotated across the canopy in a smooth arc while inertial compensators absorbed the punishment without a single complaint.

"Well that's disappointing."

Jenna looked up from her console. "She's tough."

"Exactly."

"You sound upset by that."

Rosa adjusted course and guided the shuttle into another acceleration profile. "A shuttle that survives everything on the first attempt leaves me with nothing interesting to complain about."

Jenna laughed into her coffee. "You are a deeply strange individual."

She's correct, Coy observed with gentle amusement.

Push her harder, Handzon countered immediately. There's always a point where things become interesting. Make her feel your touch, your control. Make her beg for mercy.

Rosa felt her mouth curve slightly.

"See?" Jenna pointed accusingly. "That smile means you're thinking dangerous thoughts."

"I'm piloting a prototype through a stress evaluation. Dangerous thoughts are part of the job description."

She rolled the Firebird into another sequence, increasing rotational velocity while feeding contradictory inputs through the maneuvering thrusters. The shuttle carved through space with an elegance that bordered on arrogance, every correction arriving exactly when it should, every response arriving with enough authority to suggest the vessel already knew where Rosa intended to go.

The final reaction test concluded with a simulated collision avoidance sequence that forced the computer to recalculate a dozen trajectories simultaneously. The Firebird completed the exercise without producing so much as a warning light.

Jenna's satisfaction grew with every passing minute.

Rosa's disappointment deepened proportionally.

"Your Redbird is annoyingly well behaved."

Jenna groaned immediately. "There it is again."

"There what is?"

"The name."

Rosa looked innocent. "It's red."

"It is called Firebird."

"It is a bird."

"It is called Firebird."

"It is red."

Jenna pointed toward the canopy. "I will eject you."

Worth it, Handzon said.

Rosa found herself agreeing.

The second test profile carried them back toward Earth and the atmosphere of a world selected specifically for environmental evaluation. Clouds stretched beneath them in vast white layers while the planet's curvature rolled across the horizon.

Jenna secured her harness another notch tighter. "I know that look."

Rosa guided the shuttle toward the upper atmosphere. "You designed her to fly."

"I did."

"You built a ship called Firebird?"

Jenna narrowed her eyes.

"You wanted this."

The shuttle entered the atmosphere with controlled aggression. Plasma danced briefly across portions of the hull before dissipating into streams of incandescent color that raced along the canopy. Rosa lowered the nose, increased speed, and guided them toward a mountain range that rose from the surface like jagged teeth. Airflow began singing around the frame. The shuttle responded beautifully.

Rosa banked hard. The mountains rolled sideways. The horizon rotated.

Jenna grabbed the armrest.

Rosa grinned.

Now we're really flying, Handzon said approvingly. I think you're making her feel it, and you like it.

Crosswinds slammed into the shuttle moments later. Rosa welcomed them. She fed opposing inputs through the controls, forcing the vessel to fight for stability while atmospheric turbulence attempted to drag them off course. The Firebird responded instantly, correcting, adapting, settling into the air with a confidence that bordered on smugness.

The ship flowed through the storm front like it had been designed specifically for this environment. Perhaps it had. Rosa guided them through a narrow canyon run afterward, threading between stone formations while the shuttle danced through the gaps with astonishing precision.

Jenna's telemetry displays continued reporting good news.

The shuttle continued refusing to fail.

Rosa found herself enjoying the experience despite her professional frustration. By the time they climbed back into orbit, the atmospheric evaluations had produced pages of useful data and exactly zero structural concerns.

Jenna sat back in her seat looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

Rosa looked suspicious. That suspicion grew as she reviewed the reports. Every system remained within tolerance. Every subsystem continued performing above expectations. Every answer generated a new question.

Eventually she looked away from the data and toward Jenna. "What's her rated maximum?"

Jenna's expression shifted. The hesitation lasted less than a second. It proved entirely sufficient.

Rosa stared at her.

Jenna stared back.

A slow grin spread across Rosa's face. "You don't know."

Jenna shrugged. "As the Lieutenant said, nobody knows."

The answer settled between them.

Rosa blinked once. Then twice. "You built a prototype shuttle?"

"Yes."

"You assembled it using a custom frame?"

"Yes."

"Experimental fabrication techniques?"

"Yes."

"Geometry that would make several engineering professors develop stress-related illnesses?"

Jenna looked proud. "Probably, also yes."

Rosa leaned back in her chair. "And nobody actually knows how fast she can go?"

Jenna spread her hands. "Theoretical models exist."

"Which means nobody knows."

"The calculations are very encouraging."

"Which means nobody knows."

Jenna sighed dramatically. "The calculations suggest..."

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "...that nobody knows."

The silence that followed lasted exactly long enough for Jenna to realize what she had just admitted.

Oh this is wonderfully sweet, Handzon said.

Every vessel eventually tells the truth, Coy observed, his voice carrying distant echoes of engineers, mechanics, captains, and dreamers who had spent lifetimes listening to machines reveal themselves. The question is whether we possess the patience to hear it.

Rosa's eyes drifted toward the warp telemetry displays. Numbers waited there. Possibilities waited there. Questions waited there. And somewhere beyond those numbers sat an answer nobody currently possessed. A grin slowly spread across her face.

Jenna saw it immediately. "Absolutely not."

Rosa looked over. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

"I was merely thinking..."

"You were thinking about testing her maximum warp speed."

Rosa's grin widened.

Jenna saw it form and closed her eyes with the weary resignation of someone who had already lost the argument.

"We should fix that."

"You say things like that right before I'm forced to do paperwork." Jenna closed her eyes and sighed. The next phase of testing was suddenly inevitable.

Rosa settled comfortably into the pilot's seat and adjusted their course toward the nearest approved warp corridor. "You built a prototype shuttle and somehow didn't determine the maximum velocity."

"I didn't forget."

"Postponed then."

"I prioritized."

"You forgot."

Jenna pointed a finger at her.

Rosa ignored it and opened a channel to traffic control. Moments later, the stars ahead stretched into brilliant white threads as the Firebird slipped into warp. The first acceleration profile remained conservative by every reasonable standard.

Warp Five arrived smoothly.

The shuttle settled into the velocity with effortless confidence, her engines maintaining perfect balance while telemetry rolled steadily across Jenna's displays.

Warp Six followed.

The transition felt equally clean. No vibration. No instability. No hesitation. And yet, beneath the smooth acceleration, Rosa thought she felt the faintest hint of a vibration - so subtle it might have been her imagination, gone again before she could be certain it had ever been there.

The Firebird seemed entirely comfortable living at speeds that pushed most shuttlecraft toward the upper edge of their design envelopes, power flowing through the frame with remarkable efficiency and every system settling into the velocity as though this was exactly where the ship expected to be.

Rosa watched the instruments carefully while her hands rested lightly upon the controls. The ship felt eager, responsive and alive in a way that reminded her of high performance interceptors and racing craft. Power flowed through the frame with remarkable efficiency, every input answered immediately, every adjustment reflected through the controls with a clarity that encouraged confidence.

Jenna leaned back slightly. "I may have built something ridiculous."

"You absolutely built something ridiculous."

"Good."

Rosa smiled. A few moments later she advanced the throttle again.

Warp Seven arrived without ceremony.

Stars continued streaming past the canopy. The warp field remained stable. Engine temperatures held steady. Structural stress measurements barely shifted.

Jenna's attention drifted toward the telemetry displays with increasing interest.

Rosa's attention drifted toward the ship itself.

Faster. Handzon's voice arrived immediately.

Rosa ignored him.

Pusher her harder.

She ignored him again.

You're embarrassing both of us.

"You're becoming annoying."

Jenna glanced over. "I haven't said anything."

"I know."

Jenna gave her the death glare.

The Firebird continued accelerating.

Warp Seven point One.

Warp Seven point Two.

Warp Seven point Three.

The shuttle continued to carry the speed beautifully. A faint smile touched Rosa's lips as she watched the readings scroll across her display. Tom Paris would have appreciated this machine. The thought drifted through her awareness naturally. A tenth faster than the Delta Flyer and still climbing.

Jenna stopped pretending she was relaxed. Her posture shifted subtly as she leaned toward the engineering telemetry. Numbers commanded her full attention now. Power distribution. Field stability. Subspace interaction. Every figure remained encouraging. Every figure suggested there was still room ahead.

The playful conversation that had followed them through the earlier tests gradually faded beneath concentration.

Warp Seven point Five arrived. That was where the ship began talking.

The change revealed itself through details so small another pilot might have overlooked them entirely. A minute fluctuation appeared along the warp field geometry before correcting itself. Tiny asymmetries rippled across the subspace envelope. A subtle vibration emerged somewhere deep within the frame, delicate enough to feel rather than hear.

Rosa's eyes narrowed. There.

Listen. Coy's voice carried a different quality now. Within it she heard echoes of Alezxander studying engine performance and Blaze listening to vessels under his command. Hendrixi, lover of music, recognizing the tones as one does notes in a symphony. Generations of experience turned their attention toward the same place.

Rosa adjusted several display windows. "Field harmonics."

Exactly. The response carried quiet satisfaction. The vibration returned. Barely perceptible. A note hidden beneath the larger song. The shuttle remained stable. The engines remained healthy. The warp field remained firmly within acceptable tolerances. Yet something had begun revealing itself.

Every vessel told the truth eventually. The truth simply preferred subtle introductions.

Jenna looked up from her display. "You hear something too?"

"Something like that."

That earned a look. "What are you hearing?"

"I hear a ship."

Handzon laughed.

Jenna sighed.

The two reactions felt entirely predictable. Rosa advanced the throttle again. The stars outside brightened. The engines answered.

Warp Seven point Six.

Warp Seven point Seven.

The vibration strengthened slightly. The harmonics shifted. Data streamed across Jenna's screens faster than she could comfortably absorb. Her excitement grew with every passing second.

Rosa's focus deepened.

By the time the shuttle reached Warp Seven point Seven Five, neither woman felt particularly interested in conversation. The number carried the weight all by itself.

Warp Eight sat directly ahead.

For a vessel this size, Warp Eight represented more than velocity. It represented ambition. A declaration. Proof that somebody had looked at conventional expectations and chosen a different direction. The cockpit grew quieter.

Jenna studied telemetry with the intensity of a scientist watching history unfold in real time.

Rosa rested her fingertips lightly against the controls and listened.

The vibration remained. The harmonics continued evolving. Deep within the ship's structure, something resonated with growing clarity. Not distress. Not danger. Something closer to anticipation. The Firebird felt aware of the speed. Aware of the pressure. Aware that they were approaching territory few shuttlecraft would ever see.

Rosa smiled faintly. "Your Redbird wants to run."

Jenna's eyes never left the telemetry. "It's called Firebird."

"She's feeling faster than a Firebird."

"That's still not how names work."

Rosa's smile widened.

The stars streamed endlessly ahead while the shuttle continued racing toward a number that had existed only on theoretical projections a few hours earlier. Somewhere beyond the displays, harmonics and engine readings, Rosa could feel a limit approaching. She could not define it yet. She could not measure it, but she could feel it waiting.

TBC

 

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