Posted by Lieutenant Sapeth (Chief Engineer) in Main Sim - Conference Room

Posted by Captain Freja Andreassen (Commanding Officer) in Main Sim - Conference Room

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel Andrew McIntyre (CNS) in Main Sim - Conference Room
MAststststststheshedddddd by Captain Freja Andreassen (Commanding Officer) in Main Sim - Conference Room
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
otherted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sean Moore (Operations/Helm Officer) in Main Sim - Conference Room
Posted by… suppressed (8) 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 rushe,d out and grabbed a turbolift do,w,n to the CIC deck. He s,topped in quickly an,d 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 outas side 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 Coushore leaveeeeee Chi Counseling Servicon, had received the message while midway through his morning routine. The cancellation of shore leave and the urgenc the nbut e suggested something serious was unfolding.
He arrived a few minutes early.
McIntyre stepped through the conference lounge doors witcoffeey, measured strides. His uniform was crisp, the teal division color of the counseling and sciences branch standing out agacoffeee otherwise muted roseventy-sixhis 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 thapredominantlyaking a seat. His hands settled lightly behind his back in a relaxed paa memberrrrrrst stance as he briefly surveyed the room—entry points,againstes, 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 recah erotice,” 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, a,nd 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 bedon aMarineshour, 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.”
Hithere arerererererere remained relaxed but professional, hands clasped lightly behind his back acitizensok 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 outo tside 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 farequireddddddoked almonon-marinmeagainst 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.

predominantlymall 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 per,formed 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 againis st the deck beneath the table.

was >>>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 h,er 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

A faint ripple of amusement moved through the room as Lieutenant Conner Reid finished his comment and took his seat.
McIntyre glanced over from across the table, one eyebrow lifting slightly. The security chief’s disheveled appearance and half-finished joke made it clear the captain’s summons had pulled more than one officer straight out of bed.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, the corner of his mouth tugging upward just a fraction.
“Careful, Lieutenant,” McIntyre said evenly. “Some dreams are better left classified.”
His tone was calm and dry rather than teasing, the kind of quiet humor meant to keep the room from slipping too far into early-morning irritation.
Across the table, Nytha’kae shifted on Nytha’rae’s shoulder, the small dragon tilting its head curiously toward Reid as if trying to determine whether the man was serious.
McIntyre then glanced briefly toward the captain.
“Though I suspect whatever pulled us all out of bed is going to be a bit less entertaining.”
His posture settled again, attention returning to the head of the table as the last of the officers finished gathering. The room now held the quiet expectancy of a command briefing about to begin.

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

Moore walked in and was surprisingly ready to go. He hadn’t been on shoreleave since he just arrived to the Chimera. He had been visiting the CIC and reading and honing up on the controls and specifications, looking at shuttlecraft and shuttlebays as well. But now it appeared it would be time to get down to business, and he was excited (even at this early hour).

Sean saw coffees going around. “Coffee as well, ma’am,” he said, but then added. “I can assist, if need be? Shouldn’t the newbie get the coffees?” He grinned sheepishly.

Lt., j.g. Sean Moore
Operations/Helm Officer, USS Chimera

The doors parted once again as Lieutenant Sean Moore entered, looking far more awake than most of the room. McIntyre noticed it immediately—fresh uniform, alert posture, the look of someone who hadn’t been dragged out of bed but had already been up and moving.
When Moore offered to help with the coffees, McIntyre let out a quiet breath through his nose, the faintest hint of a chuckle escaping him.
“Careful, Lieutenant,” he said calmly from his seat. “Volunteer work has a way of becoming permanent duty.”
His tone was dry but good-natured.
McIntyre shifted slightly in his chair, the large officer stretching his shoulders once before settling again. Around the table the mixture of states among the senior staff was obvious—some freshly awakened, some already in motion, others simply curious about why Command was pushing the Chimera to move quickly.
His gaze briefly moved around the room.
Reid with his overly sweet coffee.
Moore eager and ready.
Lieutenant Nytha’rae composed and silent, the small dragon still perched comfortably on her shoulder.
McIntyre rested his forearms lightly on the table again.
“Though if the captain accepts the offer,” he added, glancing toward Freja with a neutral expression, “I fully support the redistribution of labor.”
The remark drew the faintest trace of humor into the room again, but like the others he settled quickly afterward.
All eyes naturally drifted back toward Captain Andreassen.
The room was now fully assembled.
And ready for the reason they had all been called here.

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

Finn glanced around as people came in and took their places. They were just waiting for a couple more. He appreciated the banter going on between them, it was good to see the senior staff getting to know each other with all the change that had taken place recently, his own position included. The familiarity would come in handy when they needed to trust each other on the upcoming mission. He decided he would forego the coffee for now and took one of the seats, leaning back in the chair.

He inclined his head to Moore, “That’s really kind of you, Lieutenant but, if I’m not mistaken, I don’t think you’re the newbie anymore for this group, recent appointments considered.” He gave a pointed look and a grin to the newly promoted counselor.

Lieutenant Commander Grady - XO

Sapeth walked into the room and inclined his head towards the Captain and the XO as he moved around the table and took the last open seat.

“So let’s get started,” Freja spoke after a moment, taking a sip from her coffee, “So, roughly seventy six hours ago, Scallax Prime fell to rebel insurgents. They want out of the Federation and they are holding Federation assets and personnel hostage, essentially. We are to go in and we have some very clear mission objectives. First, we are to get any Federation citizen still loyal to the Federation evacuated. Second, we are to regain control or destroy any Starfleet tech in the system, including a research outpost, a Starfleet Armory and a starship USS Cinzano, which may have defected as she hosted a predominately Scallax crew. If we can, we can attempt to convince Scallax to remain members of the Federation, but we have one month before a strike team is assembled and goes in. It’s been made very clear to me that if we haven’t removed Federation citizens from Scallax Prime, our mission will be considered a failure. We’ll be getting underway as soon as possible, in the meantime, the information is available to us. We probably don’t have all the information we need, but I’m pleased to see there is a lot more available than other missions I’ve run in the past.”

“We’ll be accompanied by the Favereau, a medical frigate which will assist us as we are light on medical personnel at the moment. The cruiser Victus will also be joining us, but they’ll be behind by about 7 days and I will have full command of the mission.”

“Aside from the Federation citizens, our second most important objective is to secure the medical research facility. The ship and the armory cache are third and honestly if we can’t get them, we are permitted to destroy them. To quote Admiral Blackwood, research is harder to replace than ships.”

“While en route to the system, I suggest you brief your departments and start learning what we can about the Scallax system. Colonel Hammond, I will be relying your marines to assist with what likely might be combative extractions of Federation citizens, we don’t know at this stage how many people might not want to be on the rebel boat. Any assistance require from the non marine crew, let myself or Commander Grady know, you will have it. I might also need your expertise in the form of strike teams to retrieve or destroy Starfleet assets.”

“Lt. Sapeth, in addition to keeping this ship in fighting form, I’d like your department to work on some options for potentially assisting us in limiting the rebels usage of Starfleet tech,” she continued to speak, “Things might heat up really quickly and if we can use technology to shut down one or more potential threats to allow us to focus on others, I’d like to have those options in our back pockets before we head into the system.”

“Lt. Nytha’rae, I’d like the science department to focus predominately on the geography of the Scallax system. I’d like to know as we head in if there’s unique features that could pose threats or potentially assist us somehow,” She paused, “Like a moon that has a composition that masks our signature type of thing or similar.”

“Lt. Reid, security will be focused on securing the ship, as evacuees start to come aboard, we have to be somewhat vigilant,” Freja paused, “I wouldn’t put it past someone who sympathizes with the rebels to come aboard under false pretenses to try something. Main strategic parts of the ship are to be off limits to anyone not part of the crew at this stage. Engineering, CIC and vital areas will need to be secured once we have evacuees on board. Start planning that now so we’re ready.”

“Lt. McIntyre, there’s likely going to be high stress situations, I’d like you monitor the crew for that and as we get evacuees on board, assist them if they require it,” Freja replied.

“Lt. Moore, I’d like you to start thinking about some creative evasive maneuvers we can use once we are in the thick of things, feel free to run combat drills on the holodeck if that helps you.”

“And as always, if you think of something that I haven’t, feel free to bring it to my attention or to Lt. Commander Grady, we are stronger when we stand together. So that being said, any questions so far?”

~Freja Andreassen~

The room settled into a focused silence as Captain Freja finished. The weight of the mission was clear—time-sensitive, politically volatile, and with very little margin for error.
Lieutenant Junior Grade S. A. McIntyre remained standing for a moment, his expression thoughtful but composed. When the Captain opened the floor, he gave a small nod of acknowledgment before speaking.
“Captain,” he began evenly.
He shifted slightly, resting one hand on the back of the chair in front of him, his posture still formal but not rigid.
“With your permission, I’d like to expand the scope of counseling operations beyond standard monitoring.”
He paused briefly—not for effect, but to ensure clarity.
“We’re looking at two separate but overlapping stress profiles. First, our crew—who will be operating under sustained pressure with potential combat exposure and moral strain, particularly if we’re forced into situations involving Federation citizens resisting evacuation.”
His tone remained calm, clinical.
“Second, the evacuees. Some may be displaced, some may be ideologically opposed to leaving, and others may have been exposed to coercion, propaganda, or direct trauma at the hands of the insurgents.”
McIntyre glanced briefly around the room, acknowledging the broader team.
“I recommend establishing a triage-based psychological intake protocol as soon as evacuees begin coming aboard. Rapid assessments, classification of risk levels, and separation if necessary—particularly in cases where individuals may pose a threat to ship stability.”
A subtle nod toward Lieutenant Reid’s domain.
“In addition, I’d like to coordinate closely with Security to identify behavioral red flags early. It would be more efficient to prevent incidents than respond to them after the fact.”
He returned his attention fully to the Captain.
“For the crew, I’ll implement rolling check-ins for high-risk departments—flight, security, marines, and engineering. Quiet, non-disruptive. The goal is to maintain operational effectiveness without adding unnecessary strain.”
A brief pause.
“One further consideration, Captain—if we encounter Federation citizens who refuse evacuation on ideological grounds, I would advise against immediate escalation where possible. A controlled dialogue approach may yield better compliance rates than force, depending on the situation on the ground.”

“Oh I fully expect we might encounter one or two in that situation,” Freja replied. “At this stage, once we go in, we’re going to want to assess the ease at which some evacuations will be conducted. I suspect some will be easier to extract than others, it will depend on what the rebels have chosen to do with respect to the existing Federation presence on the ground. We don’t know the details of that right now. I’m suggesting we play this, initially at least, as we’re simply in the system to evacuate anyone who doesn’t want to be part of the new independent Scallax. Sort of almost doing the rebels a favor by removing anyone who might oppose them or cause issues for their dreams of independence. At least for now, refrain from divulging that the larger strike force is coming, play that card when we need to. If we can avoid conflict, we certainly will take that road, but there’s a reason Admiral Blackwood wanted us in there now rather than a more diplomatically inclined starship.”

He straightened slightly.
“No objections to the mission parameters, Captain. Just a recommendation that we treat morale and psychological stability as operational assets from the outset.”
McIntyre gave a small, respectful nod.
“That’s all from me.”
Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

“Any other questions?”

~Freja Andreassen~

“No questions Captain,” he said as he sat calmly in his seat. It was a straight forward enough assignment, and the sort of challenging, out side of the box project, that most engineers enjoyed working on.

Lt Sapeth - Chief Engineer

Reid had been leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand, the earlier humor having faded as the mission briefing settled over the room like a weight. By the time Sapeth finished, his posture had shifted—forward now, expression sharpened and fully awake.

He glanced briefly toward McIntyre, giving a small, approving nod.

“Coordination works both ways,” Reid said, his tone even but firm. “If your team flags someone as a potential risk, I want that information early. We’ll handle it quietly before it becomes a problem.”

He took a sip of his overly sweet coffee, then set it down.

“Captain,” he continued, turning his attention forward, “Security will establish layered access control as soon as we start bringing evacuees aboard. Main systems—engineering, CIC, tactical—will be locked down to crew-only clearance. I’ll also post rotating details at key junctions and access points. Visible presence without making it feel like a prison transport.”

He paused.

“We’ll designate controlled habitation zones for evacuees—comfortable, but contained. Internal sensors will be tuned for unusual movement patterns, and I’ll have my team running passive behavioral sweeps in coordination with Counseling.”

His gaze moved briefly around the table, then back to Freja.

“As for infiltration risks… if the rebels are organized enough to take a planet, they’re organized enough to try and get someone aboard. We’ll implement identity verification protocols beyond standard scans—cross-referencing Federation records, service logs, anything we can pull from the database en route.”

His jaw tightened just slightly.

“And if something slips through,” he added, “we’ll be ready for that too.”

Reid leaned back again, though the casual edge from earlier didn’t return.

“One question, Captain. Do we have a number of possible evacuees? The Chimera’s evac limit is a little over 13, 000. Just a heads-up—once we start taking people aboard, this ship stops being just a starship and starts being a target.”

A brief beat.

“Wait, check that. Another question. Have there been any negotiations with the rebels? Other than seceding from the Federation, have there been other demands? I think this information is tantamount to a peaceful solution, rather than showing up with a military force ready to light a fire.”

Lt. Conner Reid
Chief of Security-USS Chimera