Posted by Lieutenant Conner Reid (Chief of Security) in Reporting in

Posted by Ensign Samuel Andrew McIntyre (Security Officer) in Reporting in

Posted by Lieutenant Conner Reid (Chief of Security) in Reporting in
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Lieutenant Conner Ried stood near the central command table inside the CIC, where tactical displays cast a low amber glow across the compartment. The steady hum of the USS Chimera underscored the quiet efficiency of officers moving between stations.
Ensign S.A. McIntyre stepped through the hatch, boots firm against the deck plating. He paused just inside the compartment.
“Lieutenant Ried.”
He came to attention—measured, composed, deliberate.
“Ensign Samuel A. McIntyre reporting for duty, sir. Transfer orders have been processed through Operations. I’ve reviewed current tactical readiness reports, departmental watch rotations, and recent security advisories. I am prepared to assume assignment immediately.”
His tone remained steady, professional.
“My qualifications include tactical response coordination, armed and unarmed engagement protocols, and investigative operations. I am certified on standard-issue sidearms and qualified for shipboard security deployment teams. I stand ready for CIC watch, patrol command, or response unit attachment as you see fit.”
A controlled breath. Direct eye contact.
“I am here to reinforce operational readiness and uphold the department’s standards. Awaiting your orders, sir.”

Ensign Samuel A. McIntyre ( Security) USS Chimera

Conner looked up from his console into the face of his newest security officer. Reid was considered a good sized example of security, yet McIntyre towered over him by a good three inches.. The man looked like a brick-tall, solid, thick, the kind of guy that’s going to kick in the door when you need fast entry.

Reid, on the other hand, was slimmer, more focused on stealthy and covert entry into a situation.

“Welcome aboard, ensign. i assume you got all your check-ins taken care of? You must have, you wouldn’t be allowed in CIC if you hadn’t.”

“Before you’re added to the duty roster, the first order of business is getting to know each other. Let’s take a walk,” the security chief said while motioning for a junior officer to take over the tac console. He then led the way out of CIC and into the corridor. . . . .

Lt. Conner Reid
Chief of Security-USS Chimera

McIntyre fell in a half-step behind Lieutenant Reid the moment they cleared the hatch, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back in controlled ease rather than parade stiffness. His boots struck the deck with measured weight—deliberate, not heavy. He didn’t lumber. He moved like someone who understood exactly how much space he occupied.
“Yes, sir. All departments checked and logged. Security access confirmed by Operations before I reported to CIC.”
His voice carried a low steadiness—calm, direct, no wasted words.
As they moved down the corridor, McIntyre kept his eyes active without being obvious about it. Corners. Intersections. Personnel traffic. He noted who stepped aside quickly and who didn’t. A habit, not paranoia.
“I reviewed the Chimera’s recent incident reports en route,” he continued. “Boarding attempts along the Archanis sector patrol routes. Two internal disturbances in the last quarter. Nothing catastrophic, but enough to test response time.”
He glanced slightly toward Reid—not challenging, just professional engagement.
“My approach is straightforward, sir. Contain the threat fast. Establish dominance early. Minimize collateral risk to crew. I don’t hesitate at a breach point.”
A subtle pause.
“But I don’t rush blind either.”
They passed a viewport. The stars streaked beyond, cold and distant.
“I understand you favor precision operations. Covert insertion when possible. I respect that. Different tools for different problems.”
His jaw tightened slightly—not tension, just conviction.
“If you need someone to kick the door in, I’ll be first through. If you need someone to hold position and wait for the right ten-second window, I can do that too.”
He shifted his hands to his sides as they slowed near a junction.
“My priority is simple, sir. This ship. This crew. I don’t play politics, and I don’t posture. I execute orders.”
A faint edge of intensity entered his tone—not aggression, just certainty.
“You tell me what standard you expect from your security officers on the Chimera… and that’s the standard I’ll exceed.”

Ensign Samuel A. McIntyre ( Security) USS Chimera

Reid listened without interrupting as they walked, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. The corridor lights slid across the polished black of his uniform as crewmen stepped aside to let them pass. McIntyre’s boots had weight to them, but the lieutenant noticed something important—discipline behind the size. The ensign wasn’t stomping to prove anything.

Good.

At the junction, Reid slowed and finally turned his head slightly toward the larger man.

“Confidence is good, Ensign,” he said evenly. “Security officers who hesitate at the wrong moment tend not to last very long in this line of work.”

They resumed walking.

“But let me clarify something about how we operate here on the Chimera.”

Reid gestured subtly with one hand as they passed another intersection.

“You’re right. There are times when a situation calls for force—fast entry, overwhelming presence, the kind of response that ends a threat before it can escalate. When that moment comes, I expect my officers to act decisively.”

His voice remained calm, measured.

“But if we reach that moment, it means something else has already gone wrong.”

Reid stopped near a viewport and folded his arms, turning to face McIntyre directly now.

“My job—and by extension yours—is to make sure most problems never reach the point where someone has to kick down a door.”

His eyes studied the ensign briefly. Not judging. Measuring.

“Starship security isn’t just muscle and phasers. It’s observation. Pattern recognition. Reading a room before anyone realizes you’re watching it. Knowing when someone is about to cause trouble five minutes before they do.”

He tapped a finger lightly against the viewport frame.

“That’s where the real work happens.”

Reid gave a small, approving nod.

“But don’t misunderstand me, Ensign. When the situation does turn ugly, I want people exactly like you standing between the threat and the crew.”

A faint hint of dry humor touched his expression.

“And preferably standing in front of me.”

He pushed away from the bulkhead and continued down the corridor.

“The standard you asked about is simple. My officers are calm under pressure, precise with force, and loyal to the crew before anything else. We don’t intimidate our shipmates, and we don’t escalate situations just to prove we’re the toughest SOB’s in the room.”

Another glance toward McIntyre.

“We’re the last line of defense, not the first excuse for a fight.”

They approached the turbolift.

Reid stopped and gave the ensign a final look—this one slightly more approving than before.

“If you can be the man who waits for the right ten-second window and the one who goes through the door when I say go… you’ll do just fine here, Ensign McIntyre.”

A beat passed.

“Now tell me something useful.”

The turbolift doors slid open behind them.

“What made you choose security in the first place?”

Lt. Conner Reid
Chief of Security-USS Chimera

McIntyre stepped into the turbolift beside the lieutenant, the doors sliding shut behind them with a soft mechanical sigh. He stood straight but relaxed, hands resting behind his back in the same quiet posture Reid had been carrying through the corridor. The ride began smoothly, the faint hum of the lift filling the pause.
For a moment, the ensign didn’t answer. Not out of hesitation—more like he was considering how to say it without dressing it up.
“Respectfully, sir,” McIntyre finally said, his voice calm and steady, “I didn’t choose security because I like fighting.”
His eyes stayed forward on the lift doors.
“I grew up around people who believed someone has to stand the watch when everyone else is trying to live their lives. Police officers, firefighters, soldiers… people who understood that most folks never notice when things go right. They only notice when something goes wrong.”
He shifted his weight slightly as the turbolift descended.
“When I applied to the Academy, I looked at the divisions. Command was leadership. Engineering builds the ship. Science explores. Medical saves lives.”
A faint breath passed through his nose—almost a quiet chuckle.
“But security… security protects all of them while they do it.”
He turned his head slightly toward Reid.
“My father used to say the strongest man in the room isn’t the one throwing punches. It’s the one making sure nobody else has to.”
The lift passed another deck marker.
“I’m not the fastest officer Starfleet’s ever trained,” McIntyre continued plainly. “And I’m not the smartest mind in the sciences either.”
His broad shoulders shifted under the uniform.
“But I’m big enough to stand in a doorway when something dangerous is on the other side. And I’m patient enough to wait for the right moment before I move.”
His gaze returned to the doors.
“Seemed like the right place to put my skills.”
The turbolift slowed slightly as it approached the next deck.
“And if I’m doing my job correctly, sir,” McIntyre added in a quieter tone, “most of the crew will never even realize I was doing it.”
He paused, then gave the smallest hint of a respectful grin.
“That’s a good day in security.”

Teniente Jr. Grado Dr. Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Quimera