In preparation for Battle

Posted on Tue Apr 21st, 2026 @ 1:15am by Lieutenant JG Tuhjer Mil

1,070 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Flight Of The Valkyries
Location: USS Tokyo - Various Locations
Timeline: Current

Tuhjer met up with Ensign Rodriguez, the same officer who had kindly kept him company at the wedding, when he’d known almost no one and felt more like an observer than a guest. Rodriguez had proven himself easy‑going, patient, and genuinely considerate, so when the time came for a full tactical readiness sweep, he was the natural choice of partner.

The two of them shared a clear, uncompromising objective: ensure that every tactical system aboard the ship, along with its redundancies, was operating at peak efficiency. No assumptions, no shortcuts. If the ship was to face the demands of combat, then every component, from the most visible weapons array to the smallest power relay buried behind a bulkhead, needed to be flawless.

Their survey would take them across half the vessel, weaving through corridors, access shafts, and maintenance alcoves as they checked each critical element in turn. Shields first, of course, the ship’s skin of last resort. Then phasers, with their intricate power regulators and targeting nodes. Torpedoes and their launchers followed, each tube requiring meticulous calibration. Tactical sensors demanded a different kind of attention, a blend of engineering precision and tactical intuition. And finally, propulsion systems in all their forms, because a ship that couldn’t manoeuvre was a ship already halfway defeated.

Tuhjer came prepared. His trusted engineering belt hung at his hip, heavy with tools of every shape and purpose, microspanners, field calibrators, plasma cutters, and diagnostic probes. His padd held every schematic, every subsystem layout, every emergency bypass procedure he might conceivably need. He looked less like an engineer on routine duty and more like a warrior stepping onto the field, armed not with weapons but with knowledge, precision, and the determination to leave nothing unchecked.

Just as the ship would be readying itself for battle, so too was Tuhjer. This was his battlefield: circuitry, conduits, and control interfaces. And he intended to win, by ensuring that when the moment came, the ship would be ready to fight at its absolute best.

As the two men settled into the rhythm of their mission, the conversation between them drifted easily from one topic to another — the kind of meandering, good‑natured chatter that only happens when two people are working side by side for hours, crawling through access corridors and leaning over open panels.

Rodriguez was the first to break the silence after they finished recalibrating a phaser coupling.

“So, Lieutenant,” he said, wiping his hands on a cloth, “have you seen the proposed system updates coming in next month? Tactical’s pushing for a full software overhaul on the targeting matrix.”

Tuhjer gave a low hum. “I’ve seen the preliminary notes. Half of it looks useful. The other half looks like someone in R&D got bored and decided to reinvent the wheel.”

Rodriguez laughed. “That’s generous. I thought it looked like someone reinvented the wheel and then forgot to make it round.”

“Accurate,” Tuhjer said, closing the access panel. “We’ll make it work. We always do.”

They moved on to the next junction, the corridor quiet except for the steady hum of the ship. Rodriguez tapped a few commands into his padd, then glanced sideways.

“Okay, serious question,” he said. “Important question. Potentially career‑defining.”

Tuhjer raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Best pizza topping combination. There is a correct answer.”

Tuhjer considered him for a moment. “Ostu fruit and spiced kel root.”

Rodriguez stopped walking. “What?”

“It’s a Trill combination,” Tuhjer said. “Sweet, savoury, balanced. Perfect.”

“That sounds like a dessert pretending to be dinner.”

“It’s excellent.”

Rodriguez shook his head. “No, no, no. Pepperoni and jalapeños. That’s the gold standard.”

“That’s heartburn waiting to happen.”

“Worth it.”

Tuhjer allowed himself a small smile. “We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Wrong,” Rodriguez said cheerfully, “but acceptable.”

They reached the torpedo control room, where Rodriguez began running a launcher cycle test. As the system hummed to life, he leaned casually against the console.

“So,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “have you noticed how many attractive officers we’ve got on this ship? Engineering alone could staff a recruitment poster.”

Tuhjer gave him a sidelong look. “Is this the part where I remind you that fraternisation rules exist?”

“Hey, I’m not doing anything,” Rodriguez said, hands raised. “Just observing. Professionally.”

“Professionally,” Tuhjer repeated, unimpressed.

“Absolutely. For morale purposes.”

Tuhjer shook his head, but there was amusement in his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” Rodriguez said brightly.

They finished the launcher test, clean, efficient, no faults, and continued toward the sensor calibration array. Rodriguez, apparently unwilling to let the conversation rest, nudged Tuhjer lightly with his elbow.

“Alright, new topic. When we’re done with all this, and the ship’s ready for whatever’s coming… drinks. You, me, a bottle of something strong. And I’m telling you right now, Lieutenant, I will drink you under the table.”

Tuhjer stopped walking and looked at him with the calm, patient expression of someone evaluating a very bold but very misguided statement.

“Ensign,” he said, “I am joined.”

Rodriguez blinked. “And?”

“And that means I have the combined tolerance experience of several lifetimes.”

Rodriguez opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…How many lifetimes?”

“Enough.”

Rodriguez narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.” Tuhjer assured him.

“You’re absolutely bluffing.” Rodriguez stated confidently.

Tuhjer resumed walking. “You’re welcome to test the theory.”

Rodriguez hurried after him. “Oh, I will. I definitely will. And when you’re the one under the table, I’m going to remind you of this moment.”

Tuhjer didn’t look back, but his voice carried a dry edge of humour. “We’ll see.”

“Confidence,” Rodriguez muttered. “Dangerous thing.”

“Only if misplaced.” Tuhjer replied.

Rodriguez pointed at him. “That. That right there. That’s the attitude of a man who’s going to lose spectacularly.”

Tuhjer allowed himself a quiet laugh, a small, genuine sound that surprised even him. “We’ll revisit this conversation after the mission.”

“Looking forward to it,” Rodriguez said, grinning.

And with that, they stepped into the sensor calibration chamber, their banter fading into the steady pulse of the ship’s systems, two officers, two very different personalities, working in sync as they prepared their vessel for battle.



Off

Lieutenant JG Tuhjer Mil
Engineering Officer
USS Tokyo

&

Ensign Enrico Rodriguez (NPC)
Engineering Officer
USS Tokyo

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