Pax et Arcadia

Posted on Sun May 17th, 2026 @ 11:22am by Captain Gary Taylor & Captain Samuel Woolheater

Mission: Interlude
Location: Arcadia Bar & Lounge - Deck 04 - USS Elysium
Timeline: That morning
1606 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Captain Samuel Woolheater – Pax et Arcadia

((Arcadia Bar and Lounge, Deck Four - USS Elysium))


The coffee had gone just past perfect. It wasn’t hot but also not cold. And it wasn’t fresh either. That narrow band in between where the heat had settled and the bitterness came forward just enough to matter. He’d drink it no matter what though.

Captain Samuel Woolheater didn’t seem in a hurry to fix it. One hand wrapped loosely around the mug. The other rested flat against the table, fingers spread, like he was feeling the ship more than sitting in it. Boots planted on the deck. He could feel the thrum of the engines. His back resting easy against the chair. His eyes moving with that slow, deliberate, never lingering scan of his. Not long enough to be mistaken for staring.

The Arcadia had its own rhythm. Low voices. Glass against glass. A laugh somewhere off to the right that didn’t quite carry.

He took a sip of the warm coffee anyway and didn’t react to the taste. He let the moment sit longer than it needed to. There were some civilians here, enjoying their day. Sam was glad that people could still find the time to enjoy life. A couple of civilians glanced his way. He gave a small nod and left it at that. Woolheater didn’t fill the silence. Didn’t rush to speak into it either. Just let it sit there, unbothered, like it had every right to exist. A beat passed.

The room shifted. Subtle, but there. Woolheater didn’t look right away. Didn’t need to. When he did…it was Captain Taylor.

“XO.”

Not a question. Not quite a greeting either. An acknowledgment. He opened a hand toward the empty seat.

“Seat’s open, sir.”

Gary didn't reply, he just slipped fluidly into the offered chair his eyes still on Sam. Only after he was seated did he speak. "Captain Woolheater." he acknowledged.

He took another small sip, set the mug down with care.

“Quiet ship.”

Gary gave a brief look around the room before his gaze settle on Sam again. "Yes." He agreed. " It and the crew are reflecting on all that has happened so far and what is yet to come as we make our way toward home.. This." He gestured with one hand, "Is a period of quiet introspection."

Woolheater gave a small nod, like that tracked.

“Yeah.”

He let that sit a second, eyes drifting briefly across the room again before coming back. “Feels like the kind of quiet you don’t rush. You know? Its more than quiet...its peace.” Another beat. Not uncomfortable...just honest. “The crew has earned it.”

Gary gave a nod, "Yes, they certainly have. " He agreed "And much more."

Sam's fingers shifted slightly against the table, grounding more than fidgeting. “I been thinking about home. You know? I wonder if I'll even recognize it?” Not a question. Just said. He glanced back to Taylor.

Gary was silent as seconds ticked by then answered his eyes on Sam. " Of course you will recognize it. Not doubt in my mind about that. It just be a little different than how you remember it." He pointed out

“Good different, I hope.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Gary's mouth. " Nothing is good or bad except how we perceive it. So. my answer is this, when you get home view it without any preconceived ideas and take it from there. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

Woolheater gave a small nod, though the answer stayed with him longer than he expected.

“That’s probably the trick, ain’t it?”

Sam looked down at the coffee, then back toward the room.

“Not dragging the whole...experience...home with you and blaming the front porch because it don’t look like the battlefield.”

A faint, tired smile touched his face.

“I’d like to be pleasantly surprised.”

Gary nodded, :You have correctly identified the problem Mr. Woolheater. Despite our best intentions we can't help but attach our hopes our dreams to an idea."

Gary looked across the table at Sam, "I think and believe that if that is the outcome you want, that is the outcome you will get. You just need to remain positive and that is a battle in and of itself. However I feel you are up to the task."

Sam didn’t answer right away. He took his time to think, to feel. He rolled the mug once between his palms, then set it down.

“Positivity,” he said, almost to himself. A small breath. Measured.

“I’ve seen that go sideways when things get loud.” His eyes came back to Taylor.

“But you’re right about the part that matters.” A beat—held, not stated. “You don’t bring it home.”

A glance across the lounge. Civilians. Normal life. “You leave it where it belongs.”

Gary made no comment, his nod of approval was his answer.

“Front porch deserves better than that.” A faint, steadier smile. “I can do that.”

"Yes you can and you will deal with it. More importantly don't add to the issues you and we all will face when we return home." Gary replied, offering a smile of his own.

Sam hadn't seen the XO smile all that much. Recent events left little to smile about. But now, it felt real and earned. Sam looked down at the mug in his hands and finally huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Hell, listen to us.”

He shook his head once.

“Two officers sittin’ in a lounge talkin’ like retired monastery keepers.”

The faint smile stayed this time.

“Ship’s still flyin’. Coffee’s still terrible. Civilians are still flirtin’ three tables over.” He gestured lightly with the mug. “Life seems pretty determined to keep happenin’ whether we’re ready for it or not.”

A beat.

“Maybe that’s the real trick.”

Taylor nodded in silent agreement then after a beat spoke, " We've been to hell and back and endured more than any five ships. We're battered and bruised but still determined and still moving forward."

His eyes moved across the Arcadia again. The laughter. The glasses. The ordinary rhythm of people trying to be people again.

“Not just survivin’ long enough to get home.”

He glanced back toward Taylor.

“But rememberin’ how to live once you do.”

Gary met Sam's look. "Real people rejoining the living and not robots going through the motions but relearning to laugh, smile even cry. To feel and have hopes and dreams." He paused, his gaze lingering on Sam. "And never giving up on your dreams. To keep and hold to faith."

Sam's eyebrows went up and he nodded, "Wise words."

A burst of laughter erupted from somewhere near the bar. Loud enough that several people turned.

Sam blinked once, then looked over to see a civilian nearly fall off a stool while trying, and failing, to impress someone two seats over. He stared for a second.

“See?” he muttered. “That right there.” Sam shook his head slowly, amused.

“Galaxy feels like it nearly ends and people still tryin’ to get laid over bad jazz and watered-down whiskey.”

A beat. Back to Taylor

“Maybe we’re gonna be alright after all.”

Gary chuckled softly at the sight and muttered softly, "Damn Clown." then looked back to Sam. "Of course we. We're all in this together. We sink or swim together."

Sam sat with that for a moment. "We sink or swim together."

His eyes drifted again toward the civilians near the bar. The laughter had settled into easier conversation now. Somebody had managed to get the jazz quartet playing something halfway respectable. Somewhere behind him, glass clinked softly against glass.

Life continuing.

"I feel like I've done too much of the yakkity-yak here? You doin' OK XO?"

Gary didn't rush and answer as he thought on Sam's question. Was he doing ok? Lia had died and her death devastated him but through the pain and loss he and Naxea had found each other and it was good for both of them. Plus he had LL and she kept him busy and happy. He wished he could bundle her energy. Then of course there was the crew and his circle of friends, Phoenix, Kyle, the Doc, Alicia and Savar, Tate and Sam along with a few others. The crew and ship kept him busy and occupied and gave him purpose as they made their way home. he stopped his thoughts as he realized he had been silent for longer then necessary and he nodded at Sam. "Like everyone Sam, I am coping. The screw and ship help in that process. What about you?"

Sam sat with the answer for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I think that’s probably the word for it.”

Coping.

He rolled the mug once between his palms again, feeling the lingering warmth against his hands. “Some days I feel alright.” A faint shrug. “Other days it still feels like my head’s waiting for another alarm to go off.”

His eyes drifted briefly toward the civilians near the bar again.

“But this helps.” A small gesture with the mug. The lounge. The people. The ship. “Seeing everybody still trying to live normal lives again.”

A beat passed.

Gary nodded, his head lowered. Then after a beat he raised his head. He was silent for several seconds and then spoke. "You take every day as it comes. Every day is a new opportunity. We all need to make the most of them."