Suck it up

Posted on Tue Jul 21st, 2026 @ 3:15pm by Lieutenant JG Dan Murphy

706 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: New Horizons
Location: Quarters

Lieutenant JG Dan Murphy sat on the edge of his standard-issue starship bunk, staring blankly at the metallic bulkhead of his quarters. The tight space felt even smaller under the weight of his own resentment. He adjusted the collar of his Starfleet uniform, his mind churning with a bitter reality he could no longer ignore: the USS Liberty was commanded entirely by women, and he despised them.

Captain Kaylia Strenvale and Commander Rhys Antaiko held his entire career in their hands. For Murphy, this wasn't just an inconvenience; it was a fundamental challenge to his worldview. He had always harboured a deep-seated disdain for females, viewing them as inherently unsuited for command, driven by emotional variance or, in the Human's case, a cold, unnatural simulation of authority.

Now, he was forced to take direct orders from both.

He leaned back against the cold, metallic bulkhead, crossing his arms tight across his chest as if to hold his temper in check. In Starfleet, obedience was not just expected; it was mandatory. The entire organization ran on rigid compliance, and a single slip in discipline—a refused order, a sharp tone, even a heavy sigh in the wrong company—could result in a swift court-martial, ending his career instantly.

Yet every time Captain Strenvale’s voice crackled over the comms, Murphy felt a physical surge of resistance, a hot prickle of resentment that defied all his training. She was undeniably sharp and fiercely decisive, demanding absolute perfection from her crew without a moment's hesitation. Under a male commander, Murphy would have respected those exact traits as signs of strong, unshakeable leadership. But coming from a woman, they felt grating, like an unnatural grating of gears that rubbed his deeply ingrained biases entirely the wrong way. He hated how easily her authority squeezed the room, and he hated himself even more for how hard he had to work to hide his sneer every time she spoke.

Working on the Liberty was going to be an uphill battle. Murphy pondered the daily friction he would face. How could he execute a tactical maneuver with genuine conviction when he fundamentally doubted the person ordering it? How could he report to the XO, Commander Antaiko, without his micro-expressions betraying his contempt? The Human would undoubtedly sense any spike in his cortisol levels or subtle shifts in his vocal tone.

He knew he had to mask his prejudice perfectly. On a starship, friction between an officer and the command team could cost lives during a crisis. Murphy didn't care about making friends, but he cared about survival and his record. He would have to swallow his bile, nod, and say "Yes, Captain" while his mind rebelled against every word.

The challenge lay in the physical reality of deceit. It wasn't just about controlling his tongue; it was about policing his entire body. A microscopic delay in his response time, a subtle tightening of his jaw, or a sudden spike in his heart rate could be picked up by the ship’s internal biometric sensors. If the bridge AI flagged his stress levels during a routine order, the Captain would notice.

To survive, Murphy had to build a flawless firewall between his thoughts and his expression. He practiced flattening his gaze, draining all emotion from his eyes until they mirrored the dead vacuum outside the viewport. When the Captain spoke, Murphy forced himself to count to one beat before responding—long enough to bury his disgust, short enough to simulate crisp military discipline. He adjusted his posture, keeping his shoulders squared and his hands resting loosely on his utility belt, consciously preventing his fingers from curling into fists.

Every affirmative nod became a calculated performance. He memorized the precise cadence of a dedicated officer, mimicking the exact pitch of absolute compliance. Inside his skull, his mind screamed insults, tearing at the Captain's authority and questioning the very right of such a creature to command a vessel of the fleet. But on the surface, Murphy remained an impeccable instrument of Starfleet. He became a ghost inhabiting a perfectly manicured uniform, delivering flawless obedience while his hatred burned white-hot, hidden deep behind a wall of cold, professional steel.

Lieutenant JG Dan Murphy
Chief Strategic Operations Officer

 

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