Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel Andrew McIntyre (CNS) in CNS OFFICE DECK 33
USS Chimera (NCC-97456)
Deck 33 — Chief Counselor’s Office
Stardate: 79013.2

The quiet hum of the USS Chimera surrounded Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel McIntyre as he sat behind his desk on Deck 33.

The counselor’s office was designed with one purpose in mind: creating a space where crew members could step away from the pressure of Starfleet life. Unlike the sterile environment of sickbay or the formal atmosphere of a command office, McIntyre’s office felt calm and welcoming. Soft lighting filled the room, comfortable chairs were positioned near the viewport, and shelves displayed artifacts and mementos collected from various worlds — each one representing a different perspective, a different story.

And every person aboard the Chimera had one.

McIntyre sat quietly, a PADD in hand, reviewing the personnel file of one of the ship’s newest science officers.

ENSIGN SKYE SHEPHERD
Department: Science
Position: Science Officer
Assignment: USS Chimera

His eyes moved over the information displayed before him.

Academic achievements.
Previous assignments.
Performance evaluations.
Command recommendations.

A strong officer on paper.

But McIntyre knew better than most that a personnel file only showed a fraction of who someone really was.

The real story was found in conversations.

In the pauses between words.

In the things people chose to say — and the things they avoided saying.

He scrolled through the file, making a few private notes for their scheduled session.

“Initial counseling session. Evaluate adjustment to assignment, workload, interpersonal integration, and long-term career goals.”

He set the PADD down on the desk and leaned back slightly.

Being assigned to a ship like the Chimera was no small responsibility. Starfleet officers were expected to explore unknown regions, face dangers most civilians could never imagine, and maintain professionalism under extraordinary circumstances.

Even the strongest officers needed a place where they could simply be themselves.

The terminal on his desk chimed, reminding him that the appointment time was approaching.

McIntyre reached for the cup of tea resting beside him and took a moment before opening the channel.

Then he tapped his combadge.

=^= Ensign Shepherd, this is Lieutenant McIntyre. Please report to my office for your scheduled counseling session. McIntyre out. =^=

The channel closed.

McIntyre placed his hands together on the desk and looked toward the office doors.

Now he waited.

Not as an evaluator.

Not as someone searching for flaws.

But as the person assigned to make sure the crew of the USS Chimera had someone who would listen.

Lt. J.G. Samuel A. McIntyre
Chief Counselor
USS Chimera • NCC-98730
Starfleet Medical Division
Starfleet Command

It had been a few weeks since Nytha’rae had taken a break off from the ship, meaning she was the one to keep up with every assigned experiment ongoing in correlation to Chimera’s current mission. The hybrid happened to have her head stuck in a cabinet looking for fish food for one of the tanks mounted against the wall.

Her badge chimed, making Skye tumble back to the floor.

Face looking up at a tropical forest resembling ceiling.
Several silver schooling fish had gathered at the glass, apparently fascinated by the sudden display.
One particularly bold fish swam right to the front and stared directly at her.

The science officer slowly turned her head toward it.

”…Don’t.”

The fish continued staring.

“You saw nothing”

Another fish drifted over as if joining the conversation.

“Oh great. Now you’ve got an audience.”

Now there were two silent critics.

With a sigh, Skye rolled onto her side and climbed to her feet, brushing imaginary dust from the knees of her uniform. She glanced back into the open cabinet.

“…Right.”

She peered inside again.

Another cabinet.

Nutrient medium.

Another.

Water-testing kits.

Another.

An entire crate of replacement tubing.

“…Who organized this lab?”

She opened the final drawer.

There, sitting proudly in the middle as though it had always belonged there, was a container clearly labeled:

FISH FOOD

Her combadge crackled.

=^= Ensign Shepherd, this is Lieutenant McIntyre. Please report to my office for your scheduled counseling session. McIntyre out. =^=

Skye tapped her combadge with one hand while balancing the fish food container under the other arm.

“Shepherd here.”

She cleared her throat, trying to sound considerably more composed than she had been thirty seconds earlier. =^= Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Apologies for the slight delay. I was… in the middle of feeding one of our ongoing science projects. I’ll be there in just a moment. Shepherd out. =^=

The doors to the science laboratory slid shut behind Skye with a soft hiss, leaving the cheerful rainforest sounds behind.

The corridor outside was quieter, filled instead with the familiar pulse of the USS Chimera’s warp engines and the distant rhythm of a ship carrying out its daily routine.

She rounded the corner toward the nearest turbolift, passing officers from engineering discussing plasma manifold diagnostics and a pair of security ensigns debating the results of last night’s parrises squares match. The everyday bustle of a Starfleet vessel continued around her, oblivious to the tragedy of the missing fish food.

The turbolift doors parted with a gentle whoosh as she approached.

She stepped inside.

“Deck thirty-three.”

“Deck 33,” the computer acknowledged.

The doors slid closed, and the lift began its smooth ascent through the ship. She folded her hands behind her back as the deck numbers quietly counted upward.

The computer chimed.

“Deck 33.”

The turbolift slowed to a stop, and the doors slid open onto the corridor leading toward the Chief Counselor’s office.

Ensign Skye Shepherd
Science Officer
U.S.S. Chimera - 98730 (Mjolnir Class)