Posted by Ensign Luna (Security Officer) in Annual physiological evaluation

Posted by Lieutenant Mykl Najjar (CNS) in Annual physiological evaluation

Posted by Ensign Luna (Security Officer) in Annual physiological evaluation
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The corridor leading to the counselor’s office felt longer than it should have. Luna’s boots struck the deck with a measured rhythm, each step deliberate, quiet. Her wings were held close to her back, tension tightening across her shoulders with every stride.

Routine evaluation, they’d said. Nothing serious. Nothing she hadn’t done before. But that was the problem—it was serious. And this time, the person waiting behind that door wasn’t someone she knew.

The new counselor had only been aboard for a few weeks. Just enough time to settle in, not enough to earn Luna’s trust. She didn’t like the idea of opening herself up to someone she hadn’t had the chance to observe—someone who hadn’t proven themselves. Someone who hadn’t seen what she was capable of surviving.

Luna’s gaze flicked to the deck’s smooth lighting, then to the bulkheads—subtle, subconscious checks of her surroundings. Habits she couldn’t shake, born from a time when every step could be her last. When silence had been both survival and shield.

As she neared the door, her wings twitched slightly. Her arms stayed loose at her sides, but her jaw was set, and her eyes were sharp. She didn’t slow her pace, but when she stopped in front of the door, it was with all the grace and rigidity of a soldier approaching a checkpoint—not a patient arriving for a conversation.

You’re not the same girl they locked in a lab. You volunteered for this. You chose this uniform.

The thought was meant to be grounding. It didn’t quite land.

She stared at the small chime panel for a breath longer than she needed to. Her hand hovered over it, fingers flexing once. Then, without ceremony, she tapped the control.

Let’s get this over with.

The door remained closed, the silence stretching just long enough to let the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders again. Luna inhaled through her nose, spine straight, wings still tight. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t pace.

She waited.

Ensign luna

The chime sounded just as Mykl seated herself in one of the overstuffed chairs. In a time when most things had a sleek, futuristic look to them, the counselor’s office and quarters were on the slightly opulent side. It embarrassed her a bit, but her father insisted she be surrounded by exquisite things as befit her station in the family. Between herself and Pic, they’d gotten rid of the showiest pieces and left them in storage back on Earth, unbeknown to her father.

Najjar looked at the PaDD in her lap. Ensign Luna was her next appointment. “Come in.” That spoken command activated the doors to slide open and admit the new Officer. Counselor Najjar introduced herself and motioned to the grouped furniture where she sat. “Help yourself to the replicator if you like, then come sit here with me.”

Lt Mykl Najjar
Counselor

Luna stepped into the office as the doors hissed open, the faint hum of the corridor fading behind her. Her eyes swept the space immediately—habitual, practiced. The decor was… unexpected. Plush chairs, warm tones, soft lighting. It didn’t feel like Starfleet. It felt like somewhere else entirely—somewhere private.

Her wings shifted slightly, feathers rustling as she hesitated just a step past the threshold. Too soft. Too exposed. She moved with quiet purpose, giving the room one last assessing glance before her gaze settled on the counselor.

“Counselor,” she greeted with a respectful nod. Her tone was neutral—neither cold nor warm, just… practiced.

At the offer of the replicator, Luna gave a small shake of her head. “I’m good, thank you.” Not rude, just firm. She made her way to the chair nearest the wall, the one that kept her back covered without needing to make it obvious.

She sat with measured ease, her wings folding close to her back, posture upright, hands resting lightly on her legs. She didn’t fidget, but her shoulders remained tense—subtle, but there.

“I’ve done these before,” she said, her voice even. “Once a year, like clockwork.” Her eyes flicked to the counselor’s face, gauging reaction before continuing. “I know how this works. You ask, I answer. Eventually, we check a box and I go back to duty.”

Although the session hadn’t even begun, Mykl felt hesitance in the Ensign. Was it just that Luna had a kind of white coat syndrome, or did she need to get something off of her chest?

There was no hostility in her words—just quiet weariness. A kind of settled understanding that came from repetition.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Luna added after a pause, her voice softer now. “I just want to get through this clean.”

Her gaze held steady, but beneath it was the faint shimmer of fatigue—the kind that doesn’t come from lack of sleep, but from always having to be on guard.

Ensign Luna

Mykl continued to watch the Ensign cross the floor with her slightly odd movements. “…not here to cause trouble? Well, of course, you’re not.” Waiting until the young woman was seated. “Alright then, tell me a little bit about yourself, something that’s not in your file.”

Lt Mykl Najjar
Counselor

Luna sat a little straighter in the chair, wings tightening slightly at the counselor’s words. Something not in the file. That was the part that always made these sessions harder—Starfleet could catalogue her genetics, her service history, even her therapy records. But this? This was the part no scan or datapad could touch.

She was silent for a few moments, her gaze drifting—not out of avoidance, but calculation. How much was safe to say? How much would be used to help her and how much would end up in a quiet footnote in a report no one talked about but everyone remembered?

Finally, she drew in a quiet breath and spoke, voice low but clear. “I’ve been having nightmares. More frequently than usual.”

Her fingers tensed lightly in her lap. “They’re not always the same, but the feeling is. Cold. Helpless. Like something’s closing in and I can’t move fast enough to stop it.”

She paused, her jaw shifting slightly before she added, “And lately, it’s not me in danger. It’s Cerenity.”

Her eyes dropped for a moment—not from shame, but from the weight of saying it out loud. “I know she’s safe. She’s on a secure ship. She has people looking out for her. But…” She shook her head, a bitter edge in her breath. “The older she gets, the more I feel that grip tightening again. Like someone’s waiting. Watching. Like I’m on borrowed time.”

She glanced back up at the counselor, the guarded edge in her gaze still present, but softer now. “You won’t find that in my file. But it’s there. Every night.”

Ensign Luna

The petite Ensign seemed too fragile to carry the obvious burden of fear that had settled on her shoulders. “These nightmares…were you the one in danger at first?” Dark eyes looked at the unique female across from her, truly invested in what she would say.

She checked Luna’s file. “Cerenity is your daughter? Why would she be in danger and is she in a place that someone with ill intentions could get to her?”

Lt Mykl Najjar
Counselor