Deck Eight – Crew Lounge
USS Chimera
The doors to the Crew Lounge parted with a soft hydraulic whisper as Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel McIntyre stepped inside carrying a steaming cup of black coffee in one hand and a data PADD tucked beneath the other arm.
The lounge was calmer now than it had been earlier in the shift. A few scattered crews occupied tables near the panoramic windows while soft conversation drifted through the room beneath the ever-present hum of the Chimera’s systems.
Sam paused just inside long enough to survey the room out of habit.
Not security habit.
Counselor habit.
There was a difference.
Security watched for threats. A counselor watched for strain. Fatigue. Isolation. The subtle body language of people carrying too much for too long aboard a starship that never truly slept.
An exhausted engineer slumped over a late meal near the windows. Two operations ensigns quietly talking with the forced energy of people trying not to think about tomorrow’s shift rotation. A lieutenant from medical sitting alone, staring into untouched tea.
Sam noticed all of it automatically.
Then he moved toward an open table near the bulkhead where the lighting was lower and the traffic lighter. Quiet corners made paperwork easier.
Setting his coffee down first, he slid into the chair and activated the PADD with a practiced motion. The LCARS display illuminated across the screen.
COUNSELING DIVISION
CREW EVALUATIONS – PENDING REVIEW
CMDRE. GRADY
Sam exhaled softly through his nose.
“Could be worse,” he murmured to himself.
He took a sip of coffee before beginning.
The first file involved a follow-up evaluation for a junior science officer experiencing long-term sleep disruption after extended gamma-shift rotations. The second concerned a married couple in Operations requesting transfer counseling after six months assigned to opposite duty cycles.
Nothing dramatic.
But aboard a starship, small problems became large ones if ignored long enough.
Sam’s fingers moved steadily across the PADD as he finalized session summaries and recommendations. His notes were concise but thorough—clear observations, practical solutions, no unnecessary psychobabble.
Commander Grady appreciated efficiency.
So did Sam.
He leaned back briefly, rubbing a hand across the bridge of his nose before returning to the next file.
Outside the lounge windows, the stars drifted silently across the blackness beyond the hull. Around him, life aboard the Chimera continued in low voices and tired laughter.
Coffee steamed beside the PADD.
Reports waited patiently.
And somewhere else on the ship, another crewmember was likely realizing they needed someone willing to listen.
That was the real work.
Not fixing people.
Just helping them carry the weight long enough to keep moving forward.

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera