Main Engineering hummed with the layered noise of the Cardinal’s powerplant. The symphony of buzzing hums never fully rested. The luminous warp core stretched like a column of contained lightning from the base of the room’s lower deck to the top of the upper floor. Ceiling height here stretched twice that of a normal deck, with each engineering floor sculpted from two standard decks.

Jarred blue and white energy bands glowed with a rhythm that settled into the bones of the ship itself. Transparent panels and glossy black consoles lined with champagne colored metal were manned by a diverse array of technicians. Gold-shirted engineers moved through the wide-open space as they worked together to manage the ship’s EPS flow. A Bolian lieutenant debated a Vulcan ensign on subtle nuances of thermodynamic manipulation. The upper level ringed the chamber like a balcony. Ladders and turbolift alcoves gave access to the engine’s heart on decks above and below Main Engineering. Diagnostic consoles encircled the base of the warp core. Their LCARS displays cast a pastel wash over every officer who stood before them.

Chief Engineer Lt. Cmdr. Moon Ji-hee manned a station adjacent to the base of the sparkling tower. Her black eyes carried an enthusiastic look beneath her neat bob of dyed lilac hair. The streaks of color glowed faintly under the warp core’s pale light, giving her an almost playful look that belied the brisk, efficient energy she carried. Her sleeves were worn rolled halfway up her arms. The fitted cut of her uniform hugged her petite figure.

At her side stood Ensign Thaad Furt. The wiry Bajoran had dusty brown hair and a uniquely-ridged nose that spoke of his heritage. His uniform looked just a shade too crisp. His expression reflected his youthful eagerness and steady nerves. Bright, determined eyes studied Lt. Cmdr. Moon’s hands carefully as she keyed in a sequence on the panel.

“All right, Ensign,” Moon said as she leaned slightly against the console with one hip. “We’re going to vent twenty-five percent of the verteron particle stockpile. You’ve walked through this process in simulations before, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Furt answered tightly before audibly clearing his throat. “Though not quite with this many items in the purge checklist.”

“That’s because this isn’t a classroom,” Moon said with a grin. “It’s the real thing. You’ll get used to it. So, hotshot. Tell me the first step. What do we do to get this party started?”

Furt straightened as the pressure of the moment hit him. His gaze quickly scanned information from the LCARS display. His hands hovered uncertainly before he tapped the isolation subroutine. A low hum shifted behind the walls. It purred a deeper note than the baseline thrum of the warp core. It sounded as if part of the core’s sound had been isolated and magnified into this deeper tone.

“Good. The excess particles are now isolated into chamber three,” Moon said. She reached over to flick a second control. The computer beeped as readouts rippled into new alignments. “Now we bring this specific containment field to seventy-five percent”, she said as she pointed. “Any higher and we risk a feedback cascade.”

Furt frowned slightly. “Commander”, he began. “If these particles are so unstable, why does Starfleet store them onboard the Cardinal? I mean, every seven weeks we just dump them into a star. What are they even used for?”

Moon chuckled as she brushed a stray strand of lilac-purple hair back behind her ear. “Good question, Ensign. Think of verteron particles like wild flames. They spread on their own, multiply when you’re not looking, and can’t be bottled up forever. In the right place, they are powerful tools. Sometimes you need a controlled burn to prevent a full-on wildfire.” The two officers continued through the checklist as Chief Engineer Moon continued. “Terraforming systems use them to ignite atmospheric circulation. They travel faster than light, so they can push weather systems into motion and help balance planetary heat exchange. Without them, terraforming would take centuries longer.”

Furt’s sandy brows rose. “So we’re carrying tools to shape the future of planets?”

“Exactly. But I’d use the term sculpt instead of shape. Terraforming is an artform.” Moon’s stare softened into something more proud. “We are carrying the seeds of weather systems, Ensign. The Cardinal just has to know when to let a few of them go. That conveniently seems to happen about every seven weeks or so. They begin to multiply out of hand if you wait any longer than that to purge.”

Her fingers tapped one last confirmation before she stepped back. Moon gestured for him to complete the chain. Furt keyed in the final field rotation. The console chirped to note that chamber three was now sealed, partitioned, and aligned to vent.

Moon tapped her commbadge. “Engineering to bridge. Particle chamber three has been prepped with the isolated twenty-five percent.”

Captain Raku’s voice instantly replied with a wash of relief baked into his words. “Acknowledged, Commander. We’re holding position high above a white-hot star. Mister M’Row at Ops will fire the chamber momentarily.”

The channel clicked closed.

When the command went through, a subtle shimmer of gold streamed into the white blaze beneath the Nebula-class starship. A fraction of the stockpile was instantly devoured by fusion fire. The LCARS readouts ticked down the percentages rapidly as the warp core hummed on, unbothered.

Moon gave a nod toward the display. “Solid work, Ensign. Congratulations on your first smooth cycle.”

Furt let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A faint expression of warmth crossed his features. “That felt more intense than I expected. It still feels like we just threw away something priceless.”

“That’s because they are,” Moon said. Her lips turned upwards into a soft smile. “Priceless and dangerous. You’ll get used to the feeling.”

She clapped him on the shoulder lightly. “Now, don’t get too comfortable. Coil assembly two needs reinforcement. The drive coils have been grumbling below decks since that last sprint. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes, sir,” Furt said quickly as he snapped to a rigid posture. “I’ll check in with you in about two hours or so. I should be almost done by then.”

Moon’s eyes softened. “Take your time. Two hours, three hours. Whatever it takes. I’d rather have you work steady than rush the task. Don’t forget the radiation sweep after you’re through.”

Furt gave her a respectful nod and headed toward the access ladder. Moon watched him go for a moment before her attention returned to the console. The warp core’s cobalt glow reflected in her black eyes. Another verteron cycle had been completed. Another young officer had learned to trust the guidelines. The work never ended on the engineering decks. Neither did Lt. Cmdr. Moon’s satisfaction as she led her team through each task.

She tugged her sleeves up higher and keyed into another diagnostic. Moon walked away from the core’s base as she moved to a station along the wall. She began to study the EPS flow through a large diagram of the USS Cardinal. Glowing paths in various shades of green and yellow showed her how energy moved from equipment ranging from the phaser coils and transporter pads to the rotund sensor pod. There were a few minor hiccups, but all fell within the scope of general maintenance.

The warp core pulsed as steady as a heartbeat when Moon’s commbadge chirped again.

“Bridge to Engineering,” Captain Raku’s voice cut in, roughened by static. “We’re taking heavy magnetic interference. Sensors show the verteron vent stirred the star’s corona. Helm is fighting drift, and Ops is losing clean telemetry.”

Moon’s grin faded into sharp focus. “Acknowledged, Captain. I know what to do. Give me a few moments.”

She spun on her heel. Her soft boots clattered against the deck as she jogged toward the secondary terminal near the opposite bulkhead. Her lilac bob bounced with each stride. Her mind was racing ahead of her hands as she mentally prepared for the next step. Ionic induction was the silent thief that crept into the EPS grid whenever magnetic noise surged. If left unchecked, it could cascade through their systems like a virus.

“Computer,” Moon snapped as she skidded to the console. “Open override access to thermionic flux regulation.”

The panel chirped, as a tree of readouts unfurled across its amber and violet LCARS display. Power spikes climbed like jagged mountains across the screen. Moon exhaled through her nose as her delicate fingers darted across the touchpad.

“Okay. Nullify ionic induction relay. That means cutting the bleed-in point at junction forty-two. But only if flux inhibitors compensate…” Moon whispered to herself as she mapped equations in her head. Her dark, almond eyes narrowed. “We need an inhibition ratio. Three-point-two? No, three-point-one-seven.”

She slapped a control. The warp core’s glow flickered as its hum shifted half a tone lower. The console flashed a warning light.

“Computer, input inhibition ratio of three-point-one-seven across linear thermionic flux inhibitors. Confirm spread across all four auxiliary relays.”

“Working,” the computer replied in a calm, flat, feminine voice.

Moon’s hand tightened on the edge of the console. The percentages spilled down the screen. Systems were eighty-seven percent stabilized. The number slowly rose to ninety-three, then ninety-eight. She tapped delicately at the display to nudge the values by tenths, then hundredths. Sweat prickled at her temples as the math resolved in her head faster than her mouth could have given voice to it.

Readings slowly balanced to a level point. The jagged mountains of interference flattened into steady plains. The ship’s powerplant had been soothed. Moon could feel it in the way the deck’s faint vibration evened out beneath her boots.

The Korean engineer drew a deep breath. “Computer, reset all secondary and tertiary thermal displacement stabilizers. Authorization Moon-Theta-Eight-Delta.”

“Reset in progress,” the voice answered.

For several long seconds, the core’s sapphire glow dimmed. It brightened into a brilliant, pure tone of crystalline light and energy. The console chimed to mark success.

Moon flashed her teeth with a buoyant open smile that quickly faded into a smirk. She tapped her commbadge. “Engineering to Bridge. Magnetic interference has been neutralized. Everything is looking stable, Captain.”

Raku’s voice answered in a relieved tone still edged with tension. “Great work, Commander. We’re moving to get the Cardinal steady on her course again. My thanks to you and your team.”

Moon rolled her sleeves even higher. They slid up along her upper forearms to climb past each elbow. “That’s what we’re here for, sir.”