Shuttle Bay Status: Delivered *BACKPOST*

Posted on Thu Feb 12th, 2026 @ 12:57am by Petty Officer 2nd Class Ronan Drake & Lieutenant JG Raven Windancer

Mission: Lower Decks
Location: Main Bridge

Ronan stepped out of the turbolift, the quiet hum of the bridge settling over him like background static. The main viewscreen’s field of stars caught his eye for a beat before he made his way toward the helm.

Lieutenant Raven Windancer was mid-review of a navigational chart when Ronan stopped beside her station, data slate in hand.

“Morning, Lieutenant. Shuttle Bay readiness report,” he said, offering the slate. “All craft are accounted for—Shuttle Three’s back in service ahead of schedule, and the runabout crews are prepped for immediate launch if needed.”

"Ah, good morning, Petty Officer, Drake. Thank you, that's excellent news." Raven smiled and took the slate, swallowing her urge to hit the ceiling screaming from being snuck up on!

He waited just long enough for her acknowledgment before giving a sharp nod and stepping away, already thinking about the next maintenance rotation waiting down in the bays.

[Dang, 'falling asleep at the wheel' like that'll put the Chimera in a tailspin for sure!] Raven thought to herself as the Petty Officer walked away. Raven rotated her neck and shoulders to restore blood flow and calm her nerves before looking over the report.

[Shoot, still can't believe I'm a full fledged Lieutenant JG. My old pit crew'd be proud] Raven smiled at the memory of her old racing crew seeing her off, big smiles covering tears and waves covering sobs. It had been a bitter sweet parting: her becoming what the crew had known she could be, and her having to leaving them to take flight on her own.

Ronan made it three steps into the turbolift before a thought tugged him back. He pivoted, returned to the helm, and stopped at a respectful distance.

“Permission to speak freely, Lieutenant?”

Raven nodded.

Once granted, he kept his voice low. “Recommend a quick walk-through of Shuttle Bay One when you’ve got five. Crews got nothing to due so they are probably just sitting around, Hell some of the teams are itching to brief someone who’ll actually fly their work. A face-to-face from Flight would go a long way.”

Raven's breath hitched in excitement, but she swallowed it.

He tapped the edge of his slate. “We’ve got a hot-start test hop penciled, fuel-line recal on Two-Delta, and cargo pod latch checks on the sleds. If you want to talk launch cadence or deck flow, Chief Haller and the bay chiefs can give you the straight of it. Morale’s good—could be great with your eyes on it.”

He gave a small, earnest nod. “I can have a route cleared and the chiefs ready in ten. Your call, Lieutenant Windancer.”

"Sounds like a great start to my new rank...I mean, yes, let's do it," Raven grinned, excited for the chance to play with new toys.

Ronan’s answering grin was quick and crooked, the kind that betrayed his satisfaction at her enthusiasm before he schooled it back into something more professional.

“Aye, Lieutenant. Let’s make it official then.”

Raven nodded, gave her position to another Helmsman, and headed for the turbolift. He turned on his heel, matching his pace to hers as they headed back into the turbolift together. The doors slid shut, the hum of the car rising as it carried them deckward.

He shifted his weight, giving Raven a sidelong glance. “Just so you know, Lieutenant, once the word spreads, you’re coming down, they’ll roll out the red carpet. Deck crews don’t often see bridge officers unless something’s gone sideways, so they’ll be eager to prove their worth.”

Raven arched an eyebrow, intrigued, and a little nervous.

A hint of a grin tugged at his mouth before he looked forward again. “It’s the best way to take the pulse of the bay. Reports tell you numbers—people tell you the truth.”

"Ain't that Gospel! They wanna be seen, appreciated, and heard. I was a racer, so I've learned to read those kinds of vibes pretty quickly." Raven smiled, the nerves slowly settling.

The turbolift doors parted with a hiss, spilling them into the bustling corridor that led to Shuttle Bay One. Even before they stepped inside, the shift in atmosphere was clear—the low thrum of machinery, the echo of voices carrying over the deck, and the faint tang of coolant and plasma in the recycled air.

Ronan moved with the ease of someone who belonged here, holding the pace just enough for Raven to take it all in. As the bay doors slid open, the organized chaos of crews at work came into view: one team running pre-flight diagnostics on Shuttle Three, another wrangling tools around Two-Delta’s open panels, and a sled team adjusting cargo clamps along the far wall.

Raven took a deep breath, relishing the familiar smells, sounds, and heartbeat of the bay...reminders of home.

“Lieutenant on deck!” Chief Haller’s voice boomed across the hangar. Instantly, spines straightened, and chatter dimmed, though the proud grins of the deckhands were hard to miss.

Raven automatically stiffened as well...then silently laughed at herself for forgetting her rank for a moment.

Ronan shot Raven a quick side glance, murmuring low enough for her alone. “Told you they’d roll out the carpet.” Then, more formally, he gestured toward the chief. “Chief Haller, Lieutenant Windancer is here for an inspection and to hear directly from the crews. Let’s get started.”

Raven gave a quick, excited nod, eager to begin her examination.

Haller stepped forward, already ready to launch into his rundown, while the crews looked on with a mix of pride and anticipation.

The call had barely faded when Chief Haller strode forward, broad-shouldered and carrying himself with the confidence of a man who’d spent years owning this deck. His sharp eyes landed first on Ronan, and the corner of his mouth ticked upward in something just shy of a smirk.

“Well, well. Petty Officer Drake, bringing the brass down to the deck, huh? Didn’t think you had that much pull,” Haller said, the words edged with smug amusement.

Raven swallowed a retort, knowing Pit Bosses had a lot of snark, but if they were worth their salt, the sass was overlookable.

Ronan held his ground; shoulders square but face unreadable. Haller let the jab hang a moment before shifting his attention to Raven. He straightened, tone turning crisp and professional. “Lieutenant, welcome to Shuttle Bay One. Chief Petty Officer Haller, Bay Chief. My crews and I keep these birds in the air and ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Glad to finally have someone from Flight Control step off the bridge and see it firsthand.”

Raven nodded approvingly, again having to swallow her sass with the knowledge this guy'd not seen her fly before...plus, most Pit Bosses did indeed have low opinions about the 'Brass' that she was now a part of.

He gestured broadly to the bustling bay behind him. “We’ve got teams staged for the hot-start test, the recalibration on Two-Delta, and sled latch checks. Happy to walk you through and answer any questions you’ve got.”

"*Whistle!* You sure run a tight bay! I see you're working with Astralen FourX instead of the standard Loxon Three," Raven walked up to the Two-Delta, running her hand over the ship's skin, almost feeling the coiled power ready to be let loose.
Haller’s brows rose a fraction, clearly not expecting her to clock the difference at a glance. His smug edge softened into something more like respect, though his voice kept its rough gravel.

“Sharp eyes, Lieutenant. Most wouldn’t spot that unless they were elbow-deep in the guts of one. FourX gives us a cleaner burn and steadier fuel flow—less temperamental than the Loxon units, especially in cold starts. Saves us a headache when we’ve got to spin one up in a hurry.”

"Ain't that the truth!? I had a run-in with some Nausicaans who couldn't accept loosing to a rooky. I had to book out of there REALLY quick!" Raven chuckled, rubbing her shoulder at the memory.

Ronan, standing just off her shoulder, allowed himself the barest ghost of a smirk. He’d seen Haller pull the smug routine on fresh officers before—this was the first time he’d watched the chief get caught off guard.

Haller clapped a calloused hand on the side of the shuttle, nodding toward the open panel. “Crew Chief Varga’s running the recalibration now. She’ll walk you through the changes if you’d like to see the guts of the upgrade yourself.”

He stepped back, gesturing for Raven to take the lead. “Your inspection, Lieutenant. We’ll show you anything you want to see.”

"Thank you, Chief Haller. I'd be honored." Raven beamed, unable to fully hide her excitement at being able to be around this world again.

"Oh, yeah! This is flying upside down shasnatela!" Raven whistled, admiring the intricacies of the machine and remembering all the times her Pit Crew would work on all sorts of machines together.

"How fast have you gotten this thing up to, Chief Varga?" Raven asked, pulling her head out of the guts of the ship.

Ronan hung back just enough to give the Lieutenant space, but he kept a watchful eye on the crews as they straightened up with a little extra pride. Chief Varga wiped her hands on a rag, stepping forward with a nod of acknowledgment.

“Fast enough to make the inertial dampers complain,” Varga said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “We’ve pushed her through a full burn-up test after the refit. Smooth response, no lag, and she held calibration the whole way. She’s ready for whatever Flight wants to throw at her.”

"Nice! She's definitely hot to trot. You've all done well, and anyone worth their salt'd better not say otherwise!" Raven smirked, making sure to include the whole bay in her gaze.

Haller crossed his arms, satisfied. “Everything you’re seeing here is at one hundred percent status, Lieutenant. Hot-start team’s prepped. Recal team’s wrapped. Sled crews are staged for their checks. If you want a full report or readiness summary, Petty Officer Drake can have it on your console before you’re back on the bridge.”

Ronan gave a short nod. “Just say the word, Lieutenant.”

"Make it so...dang, I've been wanting to say that for like ever!" Raven's work mask broke and she beamed like a little girl.

The bay crews watched with quiet anticipation, ready for whatever direction she gave next, the inspection running smoothly and right on pace.

"Alright, how are the sled latches going?" Raven swung to the next group, determined to adress and encourage each group before she headed back.

Ronan caught the slip immediately and adjusted without missing a beat, falling into that quiet, competent rhythm that kept inspections moving without stepping on an officer’s toes.

He gestured down the bay as they continued on. “Cargo sled interface checks are green. Mag-lock tolerances are within spec, grappler rails recalibrated at shift change. No drift, no hesitation.”

[Oh phew! I slipped up!] Raven thought, huffing softly.

They passed a refuel team sealing a plasma feed, the hiss and clang sharp and practiced. Farther along, technicians ran diagnostics on a personnel shuttle, nacelles glowing as power cycled cleanly through the system. Overhead, a maintenance cradle glided along its track, locking into place beneath a runabout as tools whirred to life. Ronan pointed things out as they went without lingering.

“Environmental seals pressure-tested this morning. Tractor emitters aligned. Launch doors cycled clean on the last drill.”

They slowed near the bay’s edge, stars visible beyond the shimmer of the forcefield. Ronan gave the space one last look, then nodded.

Raven hummed softly in acknowledgment as she watched the stars twinkling outside.

“That’s the sweep, Lieutenant. Bay One’s running clean and on rhythm. Unless you want to deep-dive a station, we’re good to call the inspection complete.”

As the formality settled, the bay noise softened around them. Crews drifted back into their routines, leaving a brief pocket of quiet between them.

“Off the record,” Ronan said, meeting her eyes, his voice lower but steady, “you fit down here better than most Flight officers I’ve met. You actually see the work.”

He let that sit for a beat.

Raven let a small grin lift the corner of her mouth, not smug, just understanding. Top brass were usually tight, short-shirted types who wouldn't know a spine flew from a drops coil.

“I won’t pretend I don’t want a crack at the helm someday,” he continued. “But if I get there, I’d rather it be because someone who knows what flying feels like thought I could handle it.”

A small, crooked grin surfaced, then faded as he stepped back, giving her space again.

“And for what it’s worth,” he added, tone easy, “this was a good first run. I’m glad it was you.”

He waited, unhurried, leaving the moment open.

"Thank you. It sure was. I ment it when I said you ran a tight ship, Ronan, which leads me to think you'd do good flying...we could run some practice drills sometime if you want." Raven winked, keeping her stance open and relaxed.

Ronan paused, the grin still there, but softer now, more deliberate.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, then caught himself again with a quiet laugh. “Lieutenant. Guess I should work on that.”

"The Lieutenant thing's just for when the Captain's around. Ma'am or even Raven are okay with me. While I do have rank, I put my pants on same as everyone else, one leg at a time." Raven cleared her throat, wondering why she'd said something so dumb.

He shifted his stance, meeting her eyes without rushing it. “I’m definitely in for the drills. Clean runs, no shortcuts. I’ll earn it.”

A beat passed. Then, more casually, like it just occurred to him.

“Off duty though,” he added, voice easy, “what are you doing tonight?”

He tipped his head slightly, respectful, unpressured. “No pressure. Just figured I’d ask before the bay steals us both back.”

"I'm free after twenty-hundred hours. We'll start with the light stuff...with the possibility of race track shenanigans." Raven chuckled, a soft blush climbing up her cheeks for some reason.

Ronan’s grin turned slow and unmistakably pleased, eyes flicking briefly to the chronometer before returning to her face.

“Twenty-hundred,” he repeated, like he was committing it to memory. “Light stuff with a chance of track trouble. Sounds dangerous.”

He leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “I’ll make sure I’m off duty and out of uniform by then. Wouldn’t want Starfleet regulations getting in the way of… shenanigans.”

A wink followed, easy and confident, and as he straightened, he lifted two fingers to his lips and blew her a soft, playful kiss. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced.

“Guess I’ll see you tonight, Lieutenant.”

Joint Post:

Lieutenant JG Raven Windancer
Chief Flight Control Officer

Petty Officer 2nd Class Ronan Drake
Chief Support Craft Pilot