Manchester By the Sea

Posted on Mon Feb 23rd, 2026 @ 6:35am by Lieutenant Anthony Cardel

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Deck 27 - Saucer Section - Crew Living Quarters
Timeline: Eight Months Prior
1363 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure

His eyes blinked against the intensity of the light in his quarters.

Laid out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind wandered from place to place. His first meeting with Lieutenant Rin had been more than he expected. The way his mind replayed it over and over. His coldness.

The way Rin had looked at him.

“I’ll send… files…”

Badlands.
Chatter.
…nonsense… actual nonsense…
Cover something else.
Masking… radiation…
Probes. Agents. Pirates.
Wrong area.
Fresh eyes.
…experience…
Three petty officers.
Operate…
…under your direction.

Under your direction.

Anthony blinked again, his eyes straining from simply not blinking. They burned, urging him to close them and rest, but he wasn’t ready to shut them. Not ready to release himself from what he was feeling. Every moment that passed dug into him as he lay there trying to process who he was in that moment.

Was he a Starfleet officer?

He had been sidelined for years after Starbase 375.

Now, at the drop of a hat, Lt. Rin had handed him work. Not just any work. Complex, deep work that required him to work with others. Gone was his small console. He would have to dive in and lead people.

Still on his back, Anthony brought the padd up to his face, blocking out the blinding overhead lights.

He had let go of the possibility of working on assignments like this long ago. On the USS Halcyon, he’d been given the same work day after day. Each hour spent at his favorite console in near-perfect silence. He’d felt detached and numb during those days, his mind drifting from task to task, picking at work and completing it. Now he realized he missed the Halcyon intel room. He’d been allowed to disappear into nothingness, the sweet emptiness his work could give him. He could escape, withdraw from the world, his colleagues, and himself.

It hadn’t mattered that he was never invited to hangouts after work, that his colleagues gave him a wide berth. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried. Each time, he’d turned them down. Sometimes he was polite, but most of the time he’d stare blankly until they walked away and he could return to his console.

Back into the numbness.

Now he had a boss dangling the work he had loved years ago in front of him. The chance to make a difference. To find joy and purpose in the craft he’d spent his career building. A commanding officer willing to give him a chance to prove he wasn’t just an officer who slipped and tarnished his reputation by sleeping with his commanding officer.

“Do I want to?” he asked aloud in his brightly lit but empty quarters, as if the furniture might answer him. As if something might give him the resolve to bring himself back from the damage he’d done.

Each time he started reading the padd, a small spark of remembrance returned.

A warm feeling.

He tossed the padd aside and rubbed his eyes until he saw white specks of light.

Another warm feeling surfaced. The first time the Lt. Commander had kissed him. The shock of it. The way they had both finally given in. The way they had torn at each other’s clothing before locking together in an embrace that didn’t break.
Anthony blinked, dragged back to the harsh white lights above. His body stirred from the memory, but the feeling didn’t last. Shame and regret flooded in, dulling everything. He couldn’t force himself to think of who he’d been before the mistake.

Before the night he’d given it all away.

He had expected to walk into Rin’s office as a problem to be managed. Something to be stored away. Instead, she had given him a chance to try again. To break out of the slump he’d been in for nearly six years.

Why was he being trusted like this?

He could barely trust himself. Why the hell was he being trusted with this?

His fingers grabbed the padd again, flipping through it, searching for an answer that wasn’t there. He didn’t deserve this chance. He’d made his bed. He was prepared to lie in it.

He jumped up and began pacing, unsure where he was going. Unease tightened in his throat, driving him to press his hands against his head.

The patterns on the padd were confusing, but something danced at the edge of his mind. The thrill of the chase. The potential to be useful. To find himself again.

He shook his head hard, trying to force the thoughts away. No. He wasn’t the one for this. Wasn’t the one who should be given this assignment.

He dropped into a dining chair, rocking slightly, trying to soothe the conflict pulsing through him. It had to be someone else. Someone who could handle it. He wasn’t ready. He was too far out of the game. The edge he’d had on the Kestrel was gone. He couldn’t do this work anymore. Couldn’t trust himself not to make another mistake.

He glanced at the crumpled sheets on his bed and remembered how the first time with the Lt. Commander they had looked the same. Wrinkled. Damp. When they had taken each other in, the passion and thrill of it. The memory flooded back, bringing shame with it. He couldn’t stand it. He knocked a chair over, trying to release the pressure building inside him.

He looked at the door to his quarters and, without a second thought, stepped into the corridor.

His mind was blank as he walked. Corridor after corridor. Time felt suspended.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Tania had said when she found out. Her face burned into his memory with disappointment and anger.

He blinked and found himself outside the Arcadia Bar and Lounge.

It was nearly 0300. Only a few crewmembers remained.

Anthony took a seat at the bar and spoke a single word when the bartender approached.

“Synthale.”

He drank half of it before the bartender could turn away.

A chuckle sounded behind him. A younger crewmember, a bronzed human man in his late twenties.

“Thirsty tonight, eh, Lieutenant?” the man said, blue uniform sharp, a devilish grin on his face.

“No,” Anthony answered, finishing the drink in a few seconds.

“Did you want to see where my quarters are?” the crewmember asked, sheepish but direct, eyes flicking toward Anthony.

“Sure.”

He felt disembodied as he followed him through the corridors.

To the man’s credit, he tried to talk on the walk. Tried to fill the silence. Anthony had little to give. The quiet between them grew until they reached the quarters.

Small. Private.

Their lips met. Clothing disappeared.

For a moment, Anthony felt in control. Engaged. Wanted. Then something slipped. The way the crewmember fumbled with a piece of clothing. The way their bodies touched. It felt off.

His mind drifted to the Lt. Commander. Hands on his back. The way the pips had caught the light.

“Everything alright?” the half-naked crewmember asked, concern edging his voice.

“It’s fine,” Anthony heard himself say, pulling him down onto the bed. They continued without passion. Without purpose.
Anthony moved through the rhythm of the act and caught his reflection in a mirror across the room. His body gleamed with sweat. The room filled with sound. But his eyes were hollow.

The crewmember’s hands rested at his waist. Anthony barely felt them. He kept staring at himself.

This was who he was.

The mirror shifted with movement. For a moment, he didn’t see the man beneath him. He saw the Lt. Commander instead. Chest rising and falling from their first night together.

A few minutes later, Anthony dressed in silence.

“This is who I am,” he whispered to himself as he rinsed his mouth at the sink and moved toward the door.

“You heading out?” the crewmember asked softly, standing beside the rumpled sheets.

“Yeah.”

Anthony stepped into the corridor and disappeared into the low light of the night shift.