Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel Andrew McIntyre (CNS) in Main Sim - Conference Room

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nytha’rae of Vael’Lume (Chief Science Officer) in Main Sim - Conference Room

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel Andrew McIntyre (CNS) in Main Sim - Conference Room
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Finn had hurriedly jumped out of bed at the captain’s call. As he was throwing on his uniform he tapped his comm badge =/\= Grady to senior staff: I need everybody assembled in the conference lounge in 20 minutes =/\=

Double-checking himself briefly in a mirror to make sure everything was in place he rushed out and grabbed a turbolift down to the CIC deck. He stopped in quickly and approached the officer on duty, who looked up at him, surprised to see the XO this early in the morning.

Finn held up a hand to stop the officer from getting up. “Good morning, sorry to come runnin’ in here like this but we need to get everybody back on board ASAP. Shore leave is cancelled and all personnel need to be back on the ship in no more than 30 minutes.”

He waited briefly for the officer to acknowledge the order and kick into gear sending out the command to bring the crew back before turning and heading next door to the conference room to await the arrival of the captain and the rest of the senior staff.

Lieutenant Commander Grady - XO

The turbolift doors parted with a quiet hiss, the corridor outside the conference lounge still carrying the subdued calm of the early morning watch. That calm, however, was already beginning to shift. The ship was waking faster than usual.
The recall message from the Executive Officer had been brief, but unmistakably urgent.
Senior staff to the conference lounge. Twenty minutes.
Lieutenant Junior Grade S. A. McIntyre, the ship’s Counselor and Chief of Counseling Services, had received the message while midway through his morning routine. The cancellation of shore leave and the urgency in the XO’s tone suggested something serious was unfolding.
He arrived a few minutes early.
McIntyre stepped through the conference lounge doors with steady, measured strides. His uniform was crisp, the teal division color of the counseling and sciences branch standing out against the otherwise muted room. Though his current role placed him within the medical and psychological support structure of the ship, the man still carried himself with the posture and awareness of someone who had spent considerable time in security operations.
Old habits rarely disappear entirely.
The room was mostly empty. Only Lieutenant Commander Finn Grady appeared to have arrived ahead of the others.
McIntyre moved toward the far side of the large conference table but remained standing rather than immediately taking a seat. His hands settled lightly behind his back in a relaxed parade-rest stance as he briefly surveyed the room—entry points, sight lines, the usual quiet assessment that came naturally to him.
His gaze then shifted respectfully toward the Executive Officer.
“Lieutenant Commander,” he said in greeting.
His voice was calm and even, carrying none of the speculation that often followed a sudden recall order. In McIntyre’s view, command briefings were for information, not guessing.
“I received the recall notice,” he continued. “If the situation is likely to place the crew under elevated operational stress, I can have the counseling staff ready to support once everyone is back aboard.”
The large Scotsman rested a hand lightly on the back of the nearest chair but remained standing for the moment.
Soon enough the rest of the senior officers would arrive, and whatever had brought the command team together this early in the morning would finally be laid on the table.

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

Freja nodded to both her XO and CNS as she stepped into the room, suppressing a yawn, “Sorry to pull you folks out of bed at this hour, but once everyone’s here, I’ll explain why and it should make sense for the speed at which command wants us getting underway.”

She stopped at the replicator and ordered a coffee, extra strong, taking a sip as soon as it appeared, “Anyone want anything while I’m up?” She asked.

~Freja Andreassen~

The doors slid open as the senior officers filtered into the room, each looking some degree of tired from the abrupt summons. McIntyre had arrived a few moments earlier and stood off to one side of the conference table, giving the captain space as she entered.
At her apology, he gave a small, understanding nod.
“No apology necessary, Captain,” he said calmly. “Ships like ours rarely move on a comfortable schedule.”
When she stepped to the replicator and offered refreshments, McIntyre shook his head slightly.
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
His posture remained relaxed but professional, hands clasped lightly behind his back as he took a position near the table rather than sitting immediately. His eyes briefly scanned the room, noting the presence of the XO and the other officers assembling.
There was a quiet readiness about him now. A sudden late-night gathering of senior staff—especially with command pushing for rapid departure—usually meant one thing: something somewhere had gone wrong.
McIntyre finally pulled out a chair and sat once it was clear the captain intended to begin shortly, folding his hands on the table.
“All set when you are, Captain.”
Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

The corridor outside the Chimera’s conference lounge carried a quiet tension now.

The ship had begun to stir faster than normal boots in the hallways, low voices over comm channels, the subtle hum of systems shifting toward operational readiness.

Then the conference room doors parted.

Lieutenant Nytha’rae stepped inside.

Her presence altered the room immediately, though not through sound.

She moved quietly.

Her bare feet touched the deck with soft, controlled steps, the pads of her toes adjusting instinctively with each shift of balance. Against the clean metallic plating of the starship the sight was striking almost out of place but the confidence in the way she carried herself made it seem intentional rather than informal.

The Starfleet science uniform rested across her frame with visible precision, yet it never quite seemed natural on her body.

The structure of the jacket sat straight across her shoulders, but the lines of the fabric looked almost restrictive against the fluid way she moved. The sleeves ended at her wrists, revealing the faint shifting tones of her green-blue skin, the colors subtly blending like shadows beneath a forest canopy.

Across her cheekbones and along her throat the delicate bioluminescent markings of her species pulsed faintly, the glow responding unconsciously to the tension in the room.

Behind her, her tail moved slowly through the air an unconscious counterbalance. The dark tuft at its tip brushed lightly against the back of a nearby chair as she paused near the entrance.

Perched comfortably on her shoulder was Nytha’kae.

The small dragon shifted his jewel-toned wings slightly as he entered with her, claws gripping lightly into the fabric at the shoulder seam of her uniform. His scales shimmered in shades of emerald and sapphire under the conference room lighting, his eyes alert as they surveyed the unfamiliar gathering of officers.

For a moment Nytha’rae simply observed.

Her dark eyes moved across the gathered officers the captain, the executive officer, the counselor reading posture, tension, and attention with quiet instinct.

Then she stepped forward.

Before taking her seat she performed a small, deliberate gesture.

Her right hand lifted and rested over the center of her chest.

Her head bowed slightly.

The soft glow of her markings brightened briefly along her throat.

“May the Mother feel your steps as gentle.”

Nytha’kae’s glow brightened faintly at the same moment, a soft flicker that mirrored the greeting.

Nytha’rae then moved toward the table.

Her steps remained silent as she approached her chair.

Instead of pulling it back abruptly like many officers would, she turned it slightly and lowered herself into the seat with controlled balance, her bare feet resting lightly against the deck beneath the table.

Her tail curved gently behind the chair, settling in a relaxed arc so it would not brush the officers seated beside her.

Nytha’kae remained perched on her shoulder, his head tilting as he watched the room with bright curiosity.

Nytha’rae’s hands rested calmly atop the conference table.

The glow of her markings dimmed again as her breathing slowed.

Her gaze moved toward the captain, posture attentive but unforced, waiting quietly for the briefing to begin.

LT.JG Nytha’rae

The subtle shift in the room when Lieutenant Nytha’rae entered did not go unnoticed.
McIntyre had already been seated near the far end of the table, his large frame composed and still, hands folded together in front of him. Years of security training had conditioned him to observe entrances automatically, and his eyes lifted the moment the doors opened.
For a brief second he simply watched.
Not with surprise—Starfleet was far too diverse for that—but with the calm, professional awareness of someone cataloging details out of habit. The quiet step of bare feet on deck plating, the faint glow of her bioluminescent markings, the slow motion of the tail settling behind the chair. Even the small dragon perched on her shoulder registered in his mind as just another unusual but accepted element of life aboard a Federation vessel.
When she gave her greeting, McIntyre inclined his head respectfully in return.
“Lieutenant.”
His voice remained low and steady, acknowledging her presence without interrupting the atmosphere of the room.
As she settled into her seat, McIntyre leaned back slightly in his chair, the posture relaxed but attentive. His eyes briefly flicked toward the small creature on her shoulder.
“That’s quite a companion you have there,” he said in a quiet aside, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly in polite curiosity before his attention returned to the captain.
The room had filled now.
The tension of a late-night summons still hung in the air, but with the senior staff assembled, the expectation was clear. Something significant was about to be set in motion.
McIntyre rested his forearms lightly on the table again, gaze shifting back to Captain Andreassen.
Waiting.
Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

Reid entered the room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, bed head slightly apparent.

He nodded to the others assembled and walked to the replicator. “Coffee, black, extra sugar.”

Conner took the cup and plopped down in an empty seat. He was about to show his humorous side.

“Really?? Right now?? You couldn’t have waited like 30 . . . 45 minutes, tops? I was right in the middle of a real good dream and she was about to . . . . never mind.”

Lt. Conner Reid
Chief of Security-USS Chimera