A Captain Adrift

Posted on 11 Apr 2026 @ 8:25pm by Lieutenant Commander Joey Geisler & Captain Harvey Geisler

2,246 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Acceleration
Location: Geisler's Quarters
Timeline: February 1, 2391 || 1230 hours

Joey stood in the living room of what felt like her home once again, the gentle thrum of the engines vibrating through the deck plating like a steady heartbeat. The space was definitely lived in—soft blankets draped over the couch, toys scattered on the floor, and the sounds of dogs barking and toddlers laughing coming from the next room. Six months ago, this place had felt impossibly distant, all because of a woman that looked like her. But now, it wrapped around her like a warm embrace. This was where she belonged. It was a place she’d fought her way back to.

Her body felt whole again. The gauntness that once hollowed her cheeks had filled out, her strength returning in slow, deliberate increments over time. The medical team had cleared her physically monthss ago, but it was the counseling sessions—every one of them—that had helped her reclaim the parts of herself she thought she’d lost in captivity. The nightmares still came, but they no longer ruled her nights. They were echoes now, not chains. She could sleep. She could breathe. She could wake without feeling like she was still trapped light‑years away from her family and everyone she cared about.

This ship, with its busy corridors and constant hum, had become her sanctuary again. She’d relearned how to laugh here, how to trust the quiet, how to let herself feel safe even when surrounded by metal and stars. The trauma hadn’t vanished, but it no longer defined her. It had shaped her, sharpened her, but it hadn’t broken her.

As she stood there, hands resting lightly on her hips, Joey felt something she hadn’t expected to feel so soon: readiness. Not the forced determination she’d clung to in the early days, but a genuine certainty. She was ready to return to her duties—not because she needed to prove anything, but because she finally felt like herself again. Strong. Capable. Present.

Outside in the corridor stood Harvey Geisler. Not only had he just met the ship's new Executive Officer, but he'd also just been permanently reduced in rank. An optimist would argue that the glass was half-full, that Harvey was released from brevet-purgatory and now knew full well what his purpose was as a Captain. And that was certainly not to suggest that he coveted the flag officer's rank. It just felt cruel for this all to unfold this way.

Harvey would admit something else entirely. He just didn't know how to feel. Disappointment and relief and similar emotions swirled around in his nervous system. But he was too unfocused to return to the bridge. He had to speak with someone he trusted, someone he could be totally honest with.

But he couldn't bring himself to step forward and trigger the door sensor. Was it embarrassment? Was it pride? What was it?

"Sir," said a voice to his left. A simple glance over informed him that two officers were passing through, and Harvey being in the middle of the corridor obstructed their path. The Captain nodded and took a step forward, unexpectedly triggering the door sensor.

Harvey blinked in surprise. Prepared or not, he spotted Joey in the living room just inside the door. There was no escape now, so he did the only thing he knew to do. And that was step inside the cabin.

Joey’s smile bloomed the instant she saw the door slide open—warm, instinctive, the kind that might have been a bit forced some months back. But it vanished just as quickly. Harvey’s posture, the unfocused look in his eyes, the way he hovered just inside the threshold… it all hit her at once.

Her expression softened with concern, and she crossed the room in a heartbeat, everything else fading behind the sudden rush of worry. “Harvey?” she asked, voice low but urgent as she reached him. “What’s wrong?”

The doors swished shut behind him, almost masking the sigh Harvey just exhaled. "I just had a visit from Admiral O'Connell. He dropped off a new XO. And..." He sighed again, letting his eyes meet Joey's own, "And he put an end to all of the inquiries and limbo. It's all done."

Joey held his gaze for a long moment, her brows knitting as she searched his face. The words he’d spoken should have brought him relief—anyone else would have been celebrating the end of months of uncertainty. Her head tilted slightly, eyes soft but intent, trying to read the pieces he wasn’t saying out loud. “Harvey,” she murmured, her voice low and steady, “if it’s all done… why don’t you seem relieved by that?”

It was at that moment that Harvey lowered his head, albeit just a quick nod downward to the adjusted rank he now wore. "No longer a temporary rank. Captain's going to stick for a while."

Her gaze dropped to the new pips on his collar, and her frown formed before she could stop it. She hadn’t been aboard when he’d first been bumped up to the temporary rank of Commodore, but she’d still felt nothing but pride for him, and—quietly—she’d hoped it would stick. He’d more than earned it. And there had to be loopholes, exceptions, something that would’ve kept him from being chained to a desk somewhere far from the bridge he belonged on.

“I’m… sorry, Harvey,” Joey said softly, the words carrying both sympathy and frustration on his behalf. Her eyes lifted back to his, searching, steady. She hesitated, giving him space to pull back if he needed it, then added gently, “How did it happen? If you’re willing to talk about it.” Her voice stayed steady despite the anger surging inside of her. She wanted nothing more than to pummel Admiral O'Connell since he was the one responsible for this.

"It's... odd," he said gently, while stepping closer and lowering his head so that his forehead rested on hers. "I never wanted to be a Commodore, to fly a desk. Nothing about these last few months felt right, and now that it's over, I'm not sure how I feel."

Sighing, he also closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "I'm thankful, relieved, and at the same time, absolutely livid. These emotions shouldn't co-exist."

Her eyes softened the moment his forehead touched hers, allowing them to close as she drew in a slow breath. The contact was steady, quiet and intimate in the way only deep trust could be, and she trusted him with her life. Without hesitation, she lifted her hands and gently took his, threading her fingers through his.

“Harvey…” she murmured, her voice low and warm against the small space between them.

Joey opened her eyes then, wanting nothing more than to make everything okay for him and to throttle Zach in new and creative ways. “Every one of those feelings is justified,” she told him, her thumbs brushing lightly over the backs of his hands. “Even if they don’t make sense together. Even if they contradict each other. You’ve been dragged through months of uncertainty, pressure, and expectations no one should’ve had to shoulder alone. Of course you’re relieved. Of course you’re angry. There’s no wrong way to feel about something like this."

"Is there a right way?" Harvey asked with an uncomfortable chuckle. "O'Connell drops in with a new XO, changes my rank, and announces we've been reassigned to Gamma Command..." A sigh escaped his lips, just one of many over the last hour. As much as Commander Barnes had tried to cheer him up (somewhat successfully in fact), perhaps his nature condemned him to brood and wallow in his own valley of self pity until his stubbornness yielded to the positive reinforcement of the only safety net he knew.

The very same safety net that held him securely now.

"Distract me," Harvey said softly, his head still resting on Joey's. "Distract me from this last hour. Anything."

Joey’s jaw tightened at the mention of O’Connell, a flash of heat rising in her chest. She didn’t say it out loud—Harvey didn’t need her anger on top of his own—but the urge to wring the admiral’s neck was immediate and fierce. Dropping all of that on him in one blow… it was careless at best, cruel at worst.

She drew in a slow breath, letting the frustration settle before she opened her eyes again. Harvey was still leaning into her, still holding on, and she squeezed his hands gently as she pulled back just enough to look at him. “Okay,” she murmured, giving real thought to his request. “If you need a distraction… we can make that happen.”

Her gaze flicked toward the twins’ room, then back to him. “We can activate the holo‑nanny for a bit. Let it keep an eye on the kids while we sneak off to the holodeck. Maybe hit a beach program—sun, waves, a couple of boards. Let you breathe somewhere warm and bright for a while.”

She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, her voice softening. “Or… if you don’t want to leave the quarters, we can just go lie down for a bit. Shut the door, shut the world out, and just… be. Just say the word.”

The latter option didn't seem appealing to Harvey. He was never one to cut and run, and he felt that retreating to the bedroom was a lot like running. Though, he supposed the same could be said for the holodeck.

"How about we beam down?" Harvey asked, pulling his head back and looking for her brown eyes. "We still have a couple of days before the next cargo run. We can afford to take a night on New Risa, just get away from it all for a bit and refocus."

Joey’s brows lifted slightly in surprise, but the idea settled over her almost immediately—warm, welcome, and far better than anything she’d suggested. She gave a slow nod, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time since he’d walked through the door.

“You know…” she said softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I think I like your idea a lot better. Putting a little distance between us and this ship might be exactly what you need. A night on New Risa… warm air, real sand, no bulkheads humming in the background.” Her smile grew, warmer now, touched with something like relief. “That sounds perfect.”

A smile appeared on his face. It might have been weak, but at least it was genuine. "I'll reach out to the Administrator personally," he told her. "It'll be nice to call in a long overdue favor, especially one that'll benefit us."

“Good,” Joey said softly as returned his smile with one of her own—small, but steadier than his. She gave his hand a warm, reassuring squeeze, letting her thumb brush lightly across his knuckles. “Calling in a favor sounds like exactly the kind of justice this day needs.”

There was a spark of something almost mischievous in her expression—relief, maybe, or just the simple comfort of seeing him take control of something after being blindsided. Maybe it would help distract him from what happened. She let out a slow breath, nodding once with quiet resolve. “While you do that,” she continued, her tone gentle, “I’ll pack an overnight bag. Just the essentials.” Her smile warmed. “We’ll be ready to beam down the moment you get the green light.”

He gave her hand a squeeze in return, just before releasing the hand from his own. Just the thought of leaving the ship, and putting all of the cares behind them had started to ease the weight bogging down on his shoulders. For so long, Harvey had put being a Commodore (or Captain) and duty and fatherhood to the forefront that he'd neglected being a husband. Even worse, he'd neglected himself and his own sense of worth. A night to put it all aside and relax would give him ample opportunity to return to a new slate. One that wasn't clean, but one that he could use to define what he needed and wanted to look like in this new era.

"I'll go make that call," he told her. It wouldn't be Bora Bora, a time of freedom before parenthood, but it would be a fresh start. A time to open the main sail once more and allow a fresh wind to propel them. With that, he moved over to the desk to access the ship's communications array.

Joey watched him cross to the desk, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to let her breathe a little easier. She lingered for a heartbeat, making sure he was as okay as he could be.

With that, she turned and headed toward the bedroom. As she moved down the short hallway, she allowed herself a small, private hope that a night on New Risa—warm air, real sky, no ranks or reports or admirals—would give Harvey the reset he deserved. Maybe even the reset they both needed.

She disappeared into the bedroom, already mentally sorting through what to bring, determined to make this escape as easy and restorative as possible.

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