A Bad Ticker....

Posted on Mon Jan 19th, 2026 @ 7:44pm by Captain Zedd Sykes & Engineering Officer Mei-Lin

734 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Acquisitions & Contracts
Location: Ready Room, Deck 1
Timeline: Date 2380-01-04 at 1100

Zedd was in the ready room when the chime sounded. He had been reviewing Lindsy’s latest route projections on the desk console, more out of habit than hope. The holographic paths glowed faint blue, looping and branching across nearby systems, each one ending in the same quiet dead space.

“Enter,” he said.

The door slid open and Mei-Lin stepped inside, a PADD tucked under her arm. She looked composed in the way that only came after hours of uninterrupted work. Clean coveralls, hair still tied back, posture relaxed but alert. She paused just long enough to read the room before meeting his eyes.

“You wanted to see me?”

Zedd nodded toward the chair across from him. “Yeah. Sit down.”

She did, setting the PADD between them without ceremony.

“I’ve been going back over the core and the computer together,” she said. “Not the surface numbers. The way they interact.”

Zedd leaned back slightly. “And?”

“The warp core can still give us power,” she said. “Short runs, controlled loads. But the injectors are compensating unevenly, and the matrix doesn’t like being pushed. If we try to hold higher warp for too long, the system starts correcting itself in ways that add stress instead of relieving it.”

She tapped the PADD once, then continued.

“Normally the computer would smooth that out. Predict the drift, adjust early, keep the load balanced. Ours can’t. It hesitates. By the time it reacts, the core’s already compensating on its own.”

Zedd frowned. “So they’re fighting each other.”

“Not fighting,” Mei-Lin said. “Missing each other. Just enough to matter.”

Silence settled in.

“How tight does that box get?” he asked.

“Tighter the farther we go,” she replied. “The longer we stay at warp, the more the mismatch builds. You won’t see alarms right away. You’ll see little things. Navigation corrections lagging. Power draws spiking where they shouldn’t. Then one day the core decides it’s had enough.”

Zedd turned slightly, eyes drifting toward the viewport. New Ferenginar rolled beneath them, all bright lights and busy lanes.

“And locally?” he asked.

“We can manage,” she said. “Short hops. Careful routing. But the computer’s limits mean we don’t get much warning if conditions change. Bad plasma weather, unexpected mass shadows, anything that forces recalculation. We react late, and late reactions cost margin.”

He exhaled slowly. “So we’re boxed in by two systems that are barely tolerating each other.”

“Yes,” she said. “And both problems point to the same fix. Better control of the core, or a computer that can keep up with it. Ideally both.”

“And neither is easy to come by.”

Mei-Lin nodded. “That’s where it gets uncomfortable. I’ve been watching the traffic and supply channels since I came aboard. Nobody’s advertising those parts. Nobody’s even complaining about not having them. It’s like they vanished without leaving a ripple.”

Zedd looked back at her. “That doesn’t sit right.”

“No,” she agreed. “When shortages happen naturally, people talk. They argue. They lie badly. This feels cleaner than that.”

Silence stretched again, heavier this time.

“If we stay close,” Zedd said, “we’re safe.”

“Safer,” she corrected. “But stalled.”

“And if we don’t?”

Mei-Lin hesitated. “Then we start trusting a core that can’t be properly managed by a computer that reacts too slowly. That’s how ships drift into trouble without realizing they’ve crossed a line.”

Zedd nodded once.

“I brought the maintenance units online,” he said. “They’ll take pressure off engineering.”

“That helps,” she said. “It buys us time. It just doesn’t tell us where to spend it.”

She stood, gathering her PADD.

“I’ll keep watching,” she added. “The core. The computer. The supply channels. Sometimes patterns only show up if you stare long enough.”

“I trust your judgment,” Zedd said.

She paused at the door. “Then let’s hope it’s enough.”

The door slid shut behind her.

Zedd remained where he was, staring at the holographic routes still drifting across his console. Lines that assumed a ship could go anywhere it chose.

Below him was a vessel whose heart and mind were just out of step.

Around him was a system full of motion that somehow led nowhere.

And for now, all he could do was wait, knowing that whichever problem revealed itself first might decide everything

 

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