Posted by Lieutenant Celador Theinna (Chief Tactical Officer) in Main Sim: Bridge

Posted by Commander Balfor Kolar (XO/CSO) in Main Sim: Bridge

Posted by Gamemaster Emily S. (Gamemaster) in Main Sim: Bridge
Posted by… suppressed (6) by the Post Ghost! 👻
(Snip)

Harel remained at the Ops station as the captain and Hudson departed the bridge. The faint whine of the turbolift doors closing behind them barely registered—his attention was fixed on the data scrolling across his display.

Sector thirty-three. A masking anomaly. And now, a new course that happened to cut through it.

That wasn’t coincidence. Or if it was, it was an elegant one. Too elegant.

His fingers moved quickly, discretely tagging the new course path with a passive subspace telemetry sweep—nothing active enough to trip an alert, just enough to build a silent baseline. If there was something waiting in that sector, it wouldn’t stay hidden for long.

“Ensign Goodspeed,” Harel said quietly, without looking up, “Run your staggered sweep as planned. No active pinging. Low-profile filters only. Flag any fluctuations in particle density or reflected harmonics.”

Goodspeed nodded and his fingers began to dance over the console to start his scans.

There was no urgency in his tone, no overt tension. Just the same calm precision he always carried. But behind it, something sharpened.

Something was off. And he didn’t intend to miss it.

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

Goodspeed paused and looked back at Harel. “Sir?” He asked tentatively. “What do you think is out there?” He asked with nervous anticipation.

• GM

Harel didn’t answer right away.

His eyes stayed fixed on the sensor data, watching the telemetry feeds unfold in slow, deliberate lines. Sector thirty-three. The numbers were steady—for now—but there was a pressure building behind them. Something waiting for shape. Or name.

He’d seen this kind of quiet before. Not in the readings, but in the stillness between events. Turkana IV, the Orion freighter, the Leviathan anomaly—each one had started with a lull. A breath held too long. A system that should have behaved, echoing something it wasn’t.

“Nothing good,” he said finally—calm, not ominous. Just honest.

He leaned forward slightly, fingers adjusting one of the scan filters by a fraction of a degree.

“But that doesn’t mean we won’t be ready for it.”

A pause. Then, more quietly:

“Whatever’s out there… it isn’t the first thing that’s tried to come out of the dark. And it won’t be the last.”

He glanced toward Goodspeed, just briefly. Not with alarm. Not with fear. But with the sober clarity of someone who had outlived every moment he should not have.

Harry gulped and nodded, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Keep scanning. Eyes open. That’s how we start.”

Then he turned back to his console, the calm returned. But his posture had shifted, just slightly—centered, grounded. Like someone bracing for something they couldn’t yet see.

Lt. Commander Llakar Harel ●○●

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

Balfor XO

Goodspeed diligently began going through every inch of his scan data, hoping something would jump out at him. Whoever had masked the signal had been extremely thorough. Had he not have been trying to redeem his earlier blunder, they may have missed it altogether. Narrowing and intensifying the scan area he focussed on sector 33. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to redirect them through that sector and there had to be a reason. He nervously chewed on his lip as he began to go through the data with a fine tooth comb.

After what felt like an eternity, Goodspeed let out an excited squeak as he peered intently at the screen. “Lt Commander Harel, I think I’ve found something…” he said, beckoning Harel to his screen.

Checking his data again, Harry nodded to himself. “Right there sir, I’ve narrowed the scan field and increased the intensity and I noticed something at these coordinates,” he replied, jabbing a finger at the console. “It was only a momentary fluctuation in readings but it originated from here…at least…I think it did…” he added, starting to second guess himself.

• GM

Harel rose from his seat with unhurried precision, stepping around to stand beside Goodspeed’s station.

He didn’t immediately look at the coordinates the ensign was indicating—instead, he watched the younger man’s posture, the edge of doubt creeping into his voice.

“You saw something,” Harel said evenly, more statement than question. “Don’t discard it because it doesn’t shout loud enough to be obvious. The first sign of trouble rarely does.”

Harry nodded slowly in agreement as he indicated on the screen the exact location of the disruption.

Only then did he turn his attention to the display, eyes narrowing slightly as the filtered readings scrolled past. A brief flicker in the data, subtle enough to vanish if you weren’t looking for it—if you didn’t know to look.

His hands moved to the auxiliary controls, copying the coordinates into the Ops console’s log and flagging them for silent, continuous monitoring. No active pings. No changes that would announce their interest.

“We’ll keep eyes on this,” he said quietly, straightening again. “If it repeats—even for a fraction of a second—I want it caught, logged, and cross-checked against every other fluctuation we’ve recorded in sector thirty-three.”

“Aye sir,” Harry replied quietly, as if even the mention of it might alert the enemy.

He turned toward the center of the bridge. “Commander Balfor—Ops has detected a possible fluctuation in the masking field we flagged earlier. We’ve isolated coordinates for quiet monitoring and will report immediately on any repeat activity.”

A glance toward Goodspeed, measured but certain.

“You were right to flag it. Now let’s see if it’s willing to show itself twice.”

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

“Good eye Godspeed,” Balfor stated before adding to Harel, “Let me know the minute you know anything more.” Years on the bridge of the Olinski had taught Balfor patience. The enemy would always reveal itself given time.

Balfor XO

Harel’s gaze flicked once toward the XO, acknowledging the order with a small nod.

“Aye, sir,” he replied, steady and unhurried, before returning to his console.

His fingers moved back over the controls, re-centering the scan displays and locking the fluctuation’s coordinates into the quiet monitoring sequence he’d established. The rhythm of his attention narrowed again—steady, disciplined—eyes following each line of telemetry as though waiting for the next faint tremor to ripple through the dark.

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

Goodspeed kept his eyes fixed on the readings, afraid to blink in case he missed it. As he watched the screen the blip appeared again for less than a second but his fingers were poised and he logged it in a split second. “There!” He shouted a little louder than he intended and blushed as he felt the entire bridge crew’s eyes on him. “It was definitely coming from those coordinates, a brief spike in radiation…” he continued a little quieter.

• GM

Harel’s focus sharpened at Goodspeed’s exclamation. He moved beside the ensign’s station, eyes narrowing as the radiation spike scrolled across the display—faint, but repeatable. Not noise. Not chance.

“Confirmed,” he said quietly, locking the coordinates into Ops’ primary grid. His fingers worked in swift sequence, copying the emission profile and transmitting it across the internal bridge relays.

He straightened, voice carrying with steady clarity. “Tactical, Ops is forwarding confirmed coordinates. Recommend passive targeting solutions brought online—no active lock, but have dispersal patterns primed against a cloaked vessel or remote array. Helm, stand by to alter course on minimal notice.”

His gaze returned briefly to Balfor. “Sir—radiation spikes of this kind are consistent with masked impulse activity or the bleed of a cloaking field. At present, it’s intermittent—suggesting either a vessel running low-profile systems or an unstable concealment array. My recommendation is Yellow Alert. Silent readiness without announcing our hand.”

Settling back at his console, he keyed a final sequence into Ops—tripwire alerts that would flag even the faintest echo of repetition. His posture eased, but his attention stayed fixed on the steady stream of telemetry.

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

Harel’s focus sharpened at Goodspeed’s exclamation. He moved beside the ensign’s station, eyes narrowing as the radiation spike scrolled across the display—faint, but repeatable. Not noise. Not chance.

“Confirmed,” he said quietly, locking the coordinates into Ops’ primary grid. His fingers worked in swift sequence, copying the emission profile and transmitting it across the internal bridge relays.

He straightened, voice carrying with steady clarity. “Tactical, Ops is forwarding confirmed coordinates. Recommend passive targeting solutions brought online—no active lock, but have dispersal patterns primed against a cloaked vessel or remote array. Helm, stand by to alter course on minimal notice.”

“Yes sir.” Celador replied simply, adjusting to manual control of the weapons. He also set a secondary pattern to rapid fire, low energy burst in a 360 degree arc, not enough to damage anything, but enough to determine if there was a hit or not.

His gaze returned briefly to Balfor. “Sir—radiation spikes of this kind are consistent with masked impulse activity or the bleed of a cloaking field. At present, it’s intermittent—suggesting either a vessel running low-profile systems or an unstable concealment array. My recommendation is Yellow Alert. Silent readiness without announcing our hand.”

Settling back at his console, he keyed a final sequence into Ops—tripwire alerts that would flag even the faintest echo of repetition. His posture eased, but his attention stayed fixed on the steady stream of telemetry.

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

-Cel

“Agreed. Take us to yellow alert,” Balfor confirmed watching the screen. “Cloaked ships have the advantage when we have our shields down, we can reverse the trap if we keep the shields down until the act, but only barely. Its a game of give and take…” He glanced to the science station… “as long as we are alert.”

Balfor XO

OOC: GM, I took a few liberties here. I don’t think it’s anything too farfetched. If I overstepped, however, please let me know and I will edit my post. -Harley

IC: Harel’s acknowledgment was immediate.
“Aye, sir.”

His fingers moved over the Ops console with practiced precision. The bridge lights dimmed by a fraction as the yellow alert indicators flared to life along the overhead panels, the familiar pulse of readiness thrumming quietly through the ship.

All decks received the condition code: security to standby, engineering notified, medical updated, and every console across the Saracen echoing the shift in status.

He watched the last of the shipwide confirmations roll across his display before leaning back slightly, eyes narrowing once more on the telemetry stream from sector thirty-three.

“Yellow alert established shipwide. All systems reporting ready,” he confirmed, voice steady. Then, quieter, almost to himself: “Now let’s see if they blink.”

Lt. Commander Harel ○●●
Chief of Operations
U.S.S. Saracen

OOC: All good, I’m going to move this along a bit in light of Terry’s absence.

IC: The tension on the bridge was palpable as the Saracen silently closed in on sector 33. Every eye was glued to their screens, waiting for any flicker of movement. As they cautiously crossed into the sector the readings remained steady.

Goodspeed kept his eyes focussed on the coordinates. “Perhaps there’s no one here?” He whispered as his console sprang to life with alerts. He let out a yelp as he quickly processed the information in front of him.

“Sirs! Ship decloaking at 226-mark-58!” He squeaked as he brought up an imposing image of a large warship on the viewscreen. The ship did not appear to be of any recognised faction but the readings would show there were elements of Federation, Borg, Breen and Romulan technology present in the ship’s systems along with a number of unknown components.

Goodspeed bit his lip nervously as he checked the readings. “The unknown ship is holding position with weapons charged…” he reported solemnly, his fingers poised to jump into action.

• GM

“Hold it steady,” Kolar stated waiting to see what the aliens would do next. “Shields up, keep the weapons unlock… repeat do not lock on.” He wasn’t going escalate. Frankly they were cloaked and had the advantage, they gave that up, and didn’t even bother to lock on. It might not be a friendly gesture, but he certainly wasn’t going to take it as hostile.... It might just be the pasicfist in him.

Balfor XO

“I’ve switched to manual targeting.” Celador reported from his station as he rose the shields. The fact that this unknown ship hadn’t fired when they first decloaked indicated that this captain was a cool customer.

-Cel

Lt Valharra, being medically and psychologically cleared for duty stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge. He quietly went to his station and sat and started reading the information to catch himself up.
Lt. Valharra, Chief Intelligence Officer