There's A Storm Brewing

Posted on Thu Jul 16th, 2026 @ 4:24pm by Captain Piraa sh'Zamhlass & Commander T'Zara & Lieutenant Commander Eden Corwin & EDEN

1,675 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Green Sky
Location: Epsilon Indi, Muster Area 3
Timeline: July 27, 2401 || 1030 hours

Eden hit the pad last.

The familiar hum of the transporter still clung to her bones when the world snapped into focus—heat, grit, and the sharp metallic tang of ionized air. Her boots sank half an inch into dust‑soft soil as the beam dissolved, leaving her and the rest of the SAR team in the middle of a wind‑scoured clearing.

The kit she carried felt heavier planetside, as if the ground itself resented their presence. She took a slow breath, letting her eyes sweep the terrain. Jagged rock formations ringed the clearing like broken teeth. The sky overhead was a bruised violet, clouds dragging low and fast—too fast. Weather instability. Not ideal for a rescue.

Nearby was a group of civilian scientists, no more than five. They were surrounded by research equipment, all of which they were hastily setting up as the clouds closed in. One of them, a Bolian, called out to the woman with the highest rank. "We'll be just a minute, Commander. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up!"

Eden turned toward the Bolian. “I hear you,” she said, voice steady but edged with the kind of authority that didn’t need to be raised to be felt.

A low rumble rolled across the sky. She lifted her gaze. The clouds were stacking fast—dark, heavy, and moving like they had somewhere urgent to be. Not a good sign. “But make it quick. That front’s coming in faster than your data set.”

"You don't need to tell us twice!" snapped the Bolian. "Any chance you can pause that simulation of yours?"

Eden’s jaw flexed—just a tiny tell, but enough for anyone paying attention.

“EDEN, pause simulation,” the human Eden ordered, unsure what was to come.

=^=Negative. Simulation cannot be paused.=^= came EDEN's voice over her combadge.

Eden exhaled through her nose, a thin ribbon of patience slipping away as EDEN’s flat denial crackled over her combadge. Of course the simulation couldn’t be paused—not mid‑scenario, not with the weather profile already in motion.

She turned back to the Bolian. “Alright. Then you really do need to work as fast as possible,” she said, tone firm as the sky above them was churning harder, the storm building. “Tell me what you still need to get online. If my team or I can help speed this up, we will.” Her gaze flicked to the clouds again, then back to him. “But we’re on the clock whether we like it or not.”

The Bolian pointed a gloved finger at some nearby crates. "We've got two sets of trilateral sensors over there, along with a couple of tethered balloons. The balloons are good to go, but they need to be anchored to the sensors."

Eden didn’t waste time.

“Got it,” she said, already moving toward the crates the Bolian had indicated. She popped the first one open and hauled out a sensor unit, then set it on the ground. She anchored her boot against it for stability and clipped the balloon’s tether line into the sensor’s locking bracket, tightened the coupler, and gave it a firm tug to confirm it held.

“One down,” she called over her shoulder, grabbing the second set. The wind was picking up, tugging at her sleeves as she worked.

Eden secured the next balloon just as quickly, fingers moving with the kind of muscle memory that came from too many field drills in too many bad conditions. She straightened, brushing dust from her gloves. “The balloons anchored. Get your readings while they’re stable.”

"It is going to take several hours to collect the data that we need," said the Bolian. "But we need to at least make sure our data is collecting. Once we do that, we can follow your drill."

Eden glanced up as another ripple of thunder rolled overhead, the clouds boiling darker by the minute. The storm felt close enough to breathe on them.

She looked back to the Bolian, meeting his urgency with her own steady focus. “Once we get those sensor units fully active, you’ll be able to start the collection process,” she said, raising her voice just enough to cut through the wind. “Let’s hope these hold up against what’s coming. Get your systems online. We’ll try to keep the area stable as long as we can.”

“Gravimetric shears are increasing. Get everyone to the geothermal maintenance caverns immediately," EDEN's voice came over Eden's combadge. "Transporter lock retention will be significantly higher."

Eden’s hand went instinctively to her combadge as EDEN’s voice cut through the rising howl of the simulated storm. The words gravimetric shears were enough to make her spine stiffen. She turned sharply toward the Bolian and others present, the wind whipping her hair and sending grit skittering across the ground. “Alright, that’s our cue,” she said, voice firm but controlled. “We’re moving to the caverns. Now.”

She gestured for her SAR team to regroup, then looked back at the scientists, locking eyes with the Bolian to make sure the urgency landed. “Pack what you can carry and leave the rest. Once we get those sensor units confirmed active, they’ll keep collecting on their own. But we need to move—gravimetric shears will tear this whole site apart.”

Another rumble rolled overhead, closer this time. “Move fast. This storm isn’t waiting.”

"I need two minutes," the Bolian replied. He did look to his right to see the quickly approaching storm. "So which is actually playing havoc with your sensors? The simulated gravimetric shears? Or that storm we're racing to beat?"

Eden didn’t slow her stride, but she did look back at the Bolian—long enough for him to see the answer in her expression before she spoke. “It’s both,” she said, raising her voice over the rising wind. “The simulated gravimetric shears are what’s scrambling EDEN’s lock, but that storm is what’s going to make this whole site unsafe in about ninety seconds.”

Another blast of wind hit, harder this time, rattling the anchored sensors.

She stepped closer, planting her boots against the shifting ground. “You’ve got seventy-five seconds. Work fast."

The Bolian muttered something about people always shaving time off the clock, especially since there was only so fast an organic body could move inside a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere on a planet with a gravitational constant equal to Earth. But he and two other scientists worked as quickly as they could, planting the sensors firmly into the dirt and pointing at the sky. "The transmitter is active. We should be able to configure this as we move."

Eden nodded once—sharp, decisive.

“Alright, let's go,” she called, gesturing for her SAR officers to start guiding the scientists toward the cavern entrance. Boots shifted, gear snapped into place, and the first pair began ushering people downslope.

She turned back to the Bolian, meeting his eyes through the rising haze of dust the storm was kicking up.

“Good. If the transmitter’s active, then you go,” she said, voice steady despite the wind clawing at her sleeves. “Start heading for the caverns. I’ll take up the rear and make sure everyone gets inside.”

The Bolian fumbled with the transmitter, trying to make sure it was properly communicating with the field gear. There was something odd about it, and the scientist chalked it up to the magnetic interference the storm was causing. “The signal isn’t locking in!”

He took two steps back to the one of the sensor units, but his face remained downturn on the device, The signal would materialize, then vanish, or appear intermittent, all signs that the sensor distortions were not a simulation. “I need ten seconds!”

And made the most of those ten seconds he did. His hands flew over the controls, and by widening the mid-range frequencies, he was finally able to establish enough of a lock to bring the sensor grid online. “Got it!”

Eden exhaled—just once—as the transmitter finally stabilized. “Alright,” she said, softer than the storm deserved but firm enough to cut through it. “You did it. Now we leave.”

She placed a steadying hand between the Bolian’s shoulder blades and guided him toward the others. The wind was howling now, pulling at her hair, tugging at her uniform, but she kept her steps measured, deliberate. “The grid will hold,” she added, more reassurance than instruction. “You don’t have to.”

A deep rumble rolled across the clearing, the kind that vibrated in bone more than air.

Eden glanced back at the sensors—just once—then turned fully toward the caverns. “Stay with the others,” she said. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

The Bolian didn't need to be told twice. He took the control pad and dashed off towards the caverns. It was a thirty-second trip at a full run, and the Bolian didn't need any more encouragement to pick up the pace.

Eden followed the Bolian at a run, the storm’s breath on her neck, the air thickening in that uncanny way that always preceded a gravimetric break. She pushed harder, lungs burning.

The Bolian slipped into the cavern, then she crossed the threshold just as the storm unleashed itself.

A violent rush of air slammed into the entrance, howling past her like something alive. She flinched, a tremor running through her as the cold hit—sharp enough to raise goosebumps along her arms.

She caught herself on the wall, breath sharp, a shiver running through her as the temperature dropped. Her eyes swept the cavern, counting heads, scanning faces. "Is everyone accounted for? Are we all here?"

"I sure hope so," said an unfamiliar voice from the shadows. On cue, several green columns of light appeared, surrounding the scientists and Starfleet security.

The owner of the voice stepped forward, revealing a mid-ranking Romulan officer. "I would hate that some eager ensign would spoil the surprise."

 

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