New Faces, New Flights

Posted on Sun Nov 9th, 2025 @ 4:10am by Lieutenant JG Aubrie Fox & Lieutenant Nerex

1,783 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Project: Frontier Day
Location: Shuttle Bay One, USS Eminence
Timeline: Present

The steady hum of the warp core thrummed faintly through the bulkheads as Lieutenant Commander Aubrie Fox stepped into Shuttle Bay One. The Eminence’s shuttle bay was smaller than most modern ships—a compact, efficient space befitting a Saber-class—but it buzzed with life nonetheless. Technicians worked around a pair of Type-9 shuttles, their hands moving deftly over open access panels, the smell of coolant and plasma residue sharp in the air.

Fox paused just past the threshold, letting her gaze sweep across the bay. Every deck officer had a rhythm, a pulse to the way they ran their space, and she was learning the Eminence’s quickly. It was clean. Tight. Efficient. That spoke well of the crew—and even more so of the officer who oversaw it.

The PADD in her hand displayed his name: Lieutenant Nerex, Chief Flight Control Officer. His personnel file had been part of her pre-boarding review—a record of flight commendations, tactical piloting, and a stint on a joint Federation–Romulan exchange mission. His precision in the cockpit was matched only by his reputation for being methodical, a trait Fox respected deeply. Still, she’d never met him in person. That was about to change.

She made her way toward the far end of the bay where one of the shuttles sat idle, its nacelles dim but pristine. The craft was clearly mid-maintenance, panels open, diagnostics scrolling across a hovering holo-display. She crouched near the ramp, tracing a finger along the smooth hull plating where new duranium met old. “Someone takes pride in their work,” she murmured under her breath. “Good.”

A crewman passing by glanced up and offered a nod. “Lieutenant Nerex is just finishing calibration, ma’am. Should be along any moment.”

“Perfect,” Fox replied, standing and clasping her hands behind her back. “I prefer to see a pilot in their element before I meet them.”

She turned toward the shuttle again, letting the low hum of the deck fill the silence. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the shuttle’s metallic surface—sharp eyes, uniform crisp, expression neutral but observant. She’d made a point to meet every senior officer personally. Knowing how each of them worked—and what they valued—was key to keeping the Eminence operating as one.

The bay doors cycled briefly, letting in a gust of cooler air from the corridor beyond. Footsteps approached—measured, confident, not rushed. She didn’t turn right away; instead, she let the rhythm of the steps reach her before glancing over her shoulder.

There he was.

Fox offered a faint, composed smile. “Lieutenant Nerex, I take it?” she asked, her tone even but carrying that subtle, commanding edge that came naturally after years of service.

She took a step closer, extending her hand. “Lieutenant Aubrie Fox, I wanted to introduce myself before we get too deep into duty rosters and shift rotations. I find it’s better to put a face to a name before we start flying into trouble together.”

Her gaze shifted briefly to the shuttle behind him. “I’ve been told you’ve made a few... adjustments to her control matrix. Something about a recalibrated pitch response curve?” There was a trace of intrigue in her tone. “I’d like to hear about it directly from you. I’ve always appreciated a pilot who understands their ship’s language as well as its systems.”

She folded her arms lightly, studying him with calm interest. “I’m getting the sense you keep this deck running tighter than most starship flight bays I’ve seen in a while. That’s something I like to see.”

A beat passed. Her expression softened slightly, almost conversational now. “So, Lieutenant… tell me what kind of pilot you are when the deck starts shaking and the sensors are screaming. The file tells me what you’ve done—but not who you are in the cockpit.”

Fox waited, posture steady but approachable, the hum of the shuttle bay underscoring the tension of first impressions.

Nerex felt himself go tense. He still wasn't used to the process of meeting someone new. He took a slow breath, and tried to make himself relax, with mixed results.

"I appreciate you reaching out, Lieutenant Fox," he said with sincerity.

"Is the ship already anticipating trouble? It's been quiet for so long," he tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. But he was hungry for action. There was no excitement for him in the day to day routine of a Flight Control Chief.

"I did adjust the pitch response curve," he said with surprise. He didn't expect crew from other departments to be so familiar with the specifics of the settings. "The shuttles can handle more stress than the Federation gives them credit for, but you have to make adjustments like that. It does make the ride a little bumpier, though. As for the flight deck, I do my best. It helps that the crew is well trained."

He smiled, relaxing, but he wanted to make sure his answer didn't make him sound crazy. "I like taking risks, and pushing limits. The pilot's seat is where I've always felt the most comfortable."

"How about you, ma'am?" he asked. "Has Security always been the job for you?"

Aubrie’s expression shifted into something between amusement and approval. “Anticipating trouble?” she repeated, the faintest grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “No—but I like to be ready for it. Call it a professional habit.” She stepped closer, glancing toward the shuttle where he’d made his adjustments, eyes scanning the exposed access panels with practiced curiosity.

“You’re not wrong about the shuttles,” she continued, running her fingers lightly over the edge of an open console. “The safety protocols in most of these birds are written for cadets, not officers who know what they’re doing. There’s a difference between flying by the book and flying with instinct—and instinct’s what saves lives when the inertial dampers go offline.”

Straightening, she folded her hands behind her back again and regarded him steadily. “You sound like someone who prefers the edges of the envelope, Lieutenant. That’s good. Just don’t forget the envelope still exists for a reason.” Her tone wasn’t scolding, though—it was balanced, the kind of warning that came from experience rather than authority.

His question drew a quiet breath of reflection from her before she answered. “Security wasn’t always the plan,” she admitted. “My father’s a xenolinguistics professor, my mother works in planetary engineering. They wanted me in sciences or diplomacy—something a little less... tactical.” A faint smirk flickered across her face. “But I’ve always been better at reading people than languages. And I’ve never liked sitting still long enough to negotiate.”

She let her gaze wander briefly toward the flight deck viewport, where the faint shimmer of a nearby starbase glowed beyond the transparent aluminum. “Security and tactical suited me. It’s not about muscle or firepower—it’s about being the calm in the middle of chaos. The person everyone looks to when things start breaking apart.”

Her attention returned to him. “Sounds like flying is the same for you. You take the controls when everyone else is holding their breath.”

A moment of silence passed—comfortable, easy. She nodded toward the shuttle, tone lightening just a touch. “Maybe you’ll have to show me what those new pitch settings feel like. I can handle a few bumps.”

There was a glimmer of humor in her eyes as she added, “Just don’t get too used to the quiet, Lieutenant. Something tells me the Eminence won’t stay this peaceful for long.”

As he listened to her talk about flying with instinct and staying calm under pressure, he felt seen. "That's exactly it! And as far as the envelope, that's why most people don't know about these adjustments. I feel like the envelope makes people feel safe. Like if they follow the rules everything will be fine. But I know the the universe doesn't care about rules."

"My father wanted me to follow him into diplomacy," he was surprised to hear they had that in common. "But it wasn't for me, either."

"We should definitely fly together," he agreed. "But something tells me that at some point we will do so whether we plan for it or not."

Aubrie let out a soft laugh, genuine and approving. “You’re right about that, Lieutenant. The universe doesn’t give a damn about our rules—it’ll throw what it wants, when it wants. The best we can do is learn how to move with it instead of against it.” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, assessing—not as an officer sizing up a subordinate, but as someone quietly impressed.

“You’ve got the right mindset. I can see why Command gave you the conn,” she said, voice steady but warm. “You don’t fly because it’s protocol—you fly because it’s in your blood. There’s a difference between knowing how to pilot a ship and feeling how to pilot one. And that instinct—” she gestured toward him slightly “—that’s the kind of thing that keeps crews alive when everything starts falling apart.”

A pause, then a faint smirk. “Diplomacy’s loss, I suppose, is our gain. Your father and mine would probably get along—though they’d both be horrified at our career choices.”

She moved toward the shuttle’s boarding ramp again, running her hand along the hull as if getting a sense of the craft’s character. The low hum of the deck filled the silence between them before she added, more softly, “You’re probably right. Sooner or later, we’ll find ourselves side by side—either at a console or in the middle of a mess.”

Turning back toward him, she met his gaze evenly. “When that day comes, Lieutenant, I’ll be glad to have you at the helm.”

Her smile deepened, professional but sincere. “Until then, keep pushing the limits—but keep the ship in one piece. We’re going to need every deck and thruster in perfect shape before Frontier Day hits.”

She took a few steps toward the exit, glancing back over her shoulder before leaving the bay. “Good work today, Nerex. Let’s make sure the Eminence flies like she was built for legends.”

With that, Fox disappeared into the corridor—her stride steady, boots echoing softly against the deck plating—leaving behind the faint smell of plasma coolant and a new understanding between two officers destined to test their limits together.

 

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