Commander Theodore reviewed the third incident report between Brinus and his direct superior this past week. He was not the only parolee with multiple complaints about him, and he wasn’t the worst. One parolee had ten reports involving insubordination and another was involved in four fights in a single day. He was in his office and was red-faced with irritation because he’d been dealing with convict recruits all morning and had 20 more to go. Overall, the situation with Brinus was more dramatic than he needed today.
Then someone knocked on the door.
“Enter!” Yelled Commander Theodore.
Brinus entered the room and saluted. “Midshipman Helios reporting as ordered, sir!”
He was to be shown no exception, even if his mother was a duchess. In fact, because of his mother, Brinus needed to be held to a higher standard to avoid accusations of favoritism.
Commander Theodore realized Helios would be the fourth ex-con he had spoken with this morning alone.
The commander motioned for his chair. “Sit, Stinkball. You were involved in three separate incidents this week. Care to explain?”
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Aura's constantly on my back, and I had enough.” Brinus sat in the armchair in front of his commander’s desk, leaning forward and crossing his legs. “She’s annoying because—”
Theodore slammed his hands on his desk, causing Brinus to jump. “Sit at proper posture or I’ll escalate this to the captain right now and shut the fuck up, stinkball!”
Brinus straightened his posture, sitting with his hands by his side and legs uncrossed.
“Right! Why do you feel the need to mouth off at your commanding officer, Stinkball?”
Brinus said nothing.
Commander Theodore stood, leaned over his desk, and barked in a military voice, “You feel the need to talk back to a commanding officer right now, don’t you, midshipman? Hell, you can’t even follow basic safety protocols!”
Brinus stayed silent and still, and looked his commander in the eyes. He knew he was in trouble, and silence was the best option.
“If we weren’t at war and you weren’t a criminal, you’d be given a captain’s mass. However, you have a unique situation, and you’re given a little more leeway than the others.”
Brinus swallowed hard.
“Shape the fuck up, or I will refer this matter to the captain. In the meantime, I am putting you on half-pay for six months and will be confiscating your prize money from the Battle of the Caliver System. I am also cutting access to your trust fund under the Criminal Code of Conduct, section 32, paragraph 5. It counts as a commissary fund since you’re serving your prison sentence in the Navy. Dismissed!”
Brinus saluted and left.
He leaned against the wall and cussed when he was alone. Brinus knew he was in the wrong but didn’t care. The penalty stung at the core of his soul like a swarm of hornets.
Later that day, Brinus was on his console trying to buy a limited-time plasma sword for his character.
He rolled his eyes. He hit confirm on the payment order, and then the text screen said, “Insufficient funds.”
Thought Brinus as he hit confirm payment again two more times and received the same message.
He decided to quit the game and text Simmie. He received a sad face emoji and a hugging emoji. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something from Simmie’s end. A single acknowledgment while he was busy with duties and cadet classes.
Theodore knocked on Plato’s door. Plato simply looked at who entered and put down his datapad. “Ah, yes, Commander. Did you speak to the Ex-cons?”
He nodded and sat on the armchair in Plato’s office. “Yes, sir, I did. It took most of the day, but I did it.”
“Good, I don’t want trouble on my ship. What is your opinion on the new wave of convict recruits?”
“I think the convicts are unruly, sir, and will need further training.”
Captain Plato looked at his computer terminal and then shifted in his seat. “I agree. Your department is not the only one having difficulties with them. You’re the fourth department head to come to me. I was going over the reports and making plans for individual officers with the help of medical. We will do therapy for Brinus and Cameo, the new warp core tech, and for your other new recruits. We will do therapy on the Holosuite. They are even worse than Brinus and Cameo. Questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Commander Theodore saluted and left.
Brinus welded an armor plate onto a security droid in full gear. After losing tens of millions of credits and his commissary funds, he would not take chances. Sparks danced off his mask, gloves, and safety vest as he headbanged to the music. He sang over the sweet metallic smell of the metal. The music vibrated the walls, and the metal shavings on the floors danced like concertgoers at a mosh pit. He heard a cough, and someone knocked on the door.
“Alex! Cut music.”
The music cut off, and Brinus turned off the welder and flipped up the mask on his head. He looked down at a woman with long black hair, thick coke-bottle glasses, and a navy uniform but with a green commissioned lieutenant’s military ribbon. Her name tag read Dr. Calnori with a Green rank ribbon for medical. Brinus's military ribbon was orange for engineering.
“Ma’am. Can I help you?”
Calnori crossed her arms and smiled. “I am Dr. Calnori, your psychiatric physician. Your commander believes that you would benefit from someone to talk to.”
Brinus laughed and mirrored her posture. “I don’t need therapy, ma’am. If you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”
Dr. Calnori looked up at Brinus with a blank expression, “Might I remind you that if you refuse, I will not clear you for duty?”
“Are you saying it is mandatory, lieutenant ma’am?”
“I’m saying it’s a request that I want you to say yes to it. I’ll meet you twice a week at seventeen hundred hours until you show improvement in your performance.”
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Brinus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this a joke?”
“No one’s laughing. Do you think this is a Netuber comedy skit?”
He smiled, showing his teeth in his classic screw-you smile. “Do you wanna know about my mommy issues? What about my boyfriend-problems? We have been arguing a lot lately.” He barked another laugh and rolled his eyes.
She looked at Brinus with a blank look and said, “Do you agree to twice-weekly sessions until your performance improves? Or are you refusing therapy?”
“Fine, let’s talk.”
Dr. Calnori cocked her head at Brinus and took a step forward so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I need you to say it. Do you consent to therapy, yes or no?”
Brinus shrugged and grumbled. “Yes, ma’am. I consent to therapy.”
She gestured to a pair of rolling chairs near a workbench and waited for Brinus to dismount the platform he stood upon. When they were both seated, she crossed her legs at the ankles and pulled out a datapad and stylus. “Good. For the first session, we will start with basic information gathering with a Q&A. I will let the record show you consented to therapy despite initial resistance. Are you always this rebellious?”
“What can I say? I like freedom.” Brinus leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.
“I looked at your file before I came. It was colorful.”
“Everyone is guilty of something.”
The counselor sat in front of Brinus on a stool. “It says in your file you smoke about four packs a day. What's your take?”
Brinus crossed his arms and frowned. “Yeah? And? Everyone smokes.”
Dr. Calnori adjusted her glasses. “More than twenty a day is a bit excessive even by Navy standards, isn't it? The Navy allows for up to a pack a day before either mandatory vaping or cutting back.”
Brinus’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your point?”
The therapist adjusted her shirt and said, “Do you think you smoke excessively to cope with stress? Like you're coping with life?”
Brinus said nothing because she was right. He nodded in acknowledgment.
“Are you rebellious because of your disdain for authority, or is it a self-defense mechanism to hide the pain you feel about Harper and your experiences with foster care? I know about the incident with the cop and your third foster mom.” He looked at his therapist with a sad look and reached into his pocket for a smoke but she shook her head. “No smoking in therapy. It's the rules.”
Brinus groaned but put the pack on the table.
“Right now, you reach for a cig when I mention Harper and Foster Care. What's your take?”
Brinus sat in silent contemplation. He crossed his ankles under the workbench and said, “What does that have to do with anything? Why should I tell you?”
Calnori smiled and then regained composure. “Forgive me if I am being too forward. I was recruited from the prison system and am used to dealing with convicts. We can discuss something else if you prefer. Maybe about what you’re working on or anything related to your boyfriend? I never worked with a gay client before.”
Brinus continued his silent treatment. Although he hated his situation on some level, he wasn’t going to admit it to this woman. He didn’t want to show weakness, even if he was in a therapy session.
She came up from her seat and leaned against the wall. “I know smoking is popular, but more than 20 a day is considered excessive. I don't think this session is going to go anywhere, so do I have your permission to look around your office for a moment or two before I end our session early?” The doctor smiled and patted Brinus on the back.
Brinus nodded.
As he resumed welding, Dr. Calnori looked around the robotics lab to gauge her surroundings and get a feel for her new client. Everything was neat and organized almost to a compulsive level. Boxes were labeled; the lab was sparkling clean despite the presence of the welder. The replicator was spotless, and the floors were shiny. Pictures of Simmie on various camping and fishing trips with Brinus sat on surfaces and hung on the walls.
She went through the first aid kit. It had antibiotic gauze, a dermal regenerator, quick clot bandages, some morphine, and antibiotic cream. The morphine was a bit odd as it was a controlled substance. What was missing was silver cream, burn cream, and bed sheets for severe burns. She thought this was odd and made a note to herself. Missing burn treatment materials was out of the norm because it violated Navy protocol due to his work.
“Why do you have morphine in your med kit?” she asked.
Brinus deactivated his welding torch and flipped up his mask. “What do you mean? It ain’t morphine. It’s an epipen.”
“I don’t remember you having an allergy. Remind me, what are you allergic to again?”
Brinus saw from the smile on her face that Calnori wasn’t buying it. “I’m allergic to Bullshit.”
“And where are your burn treatment materials?”
“You didn’t see them? They are in the med kit if you keep looking.”
Calnori laughed and then closed it up. “I will be in touch for your next therapy session on Friday. I look forward to working with you.” She reminded him.
Brinus was blank-faced and neutral as she left.
He began thinking as he resumed welding.
“Computer activate music! Play Killer 101.”
Dr. Calnori sat in her office a few minutes later, writing up the report of Brinus’s initial session. She thought of being drafted into the Navy as she made her observations and created a treatment plan…
After her moment of reflection, she did resent the Navy at first. However, Calnori found her talents were better used on the Victory. They actually valued her as a person, unlike the prison. She had opportunities for promotion and didn’t have the endless depravity present in the jail.
Brinus would be a tough case. He had a hard life and was hardened by a lifetime of trauma. However, she had worse cases and managed to turn them around. Getting him to quit smoking would be a challenge. He had a severe addiction, and unless he had a drastic intervention, he would be unable to stop on his own. She could at least convince him to cut back on it or switch to vaping, which in the Confederacy was a harm-reduction method for heavy smokers.
, She thought. Calnori downloaded the reports of all of her new clients onto her TriQuarter and ran out of the door of her office.
Dr. Calnori was with First Officer Commander Norrington 30 minutes later at a restaurant. They were both at a space cow steakhouse on the promenade in the hallway seating. The restaurant had sidewalk tables with ashtrays. It was almost full, with forty-four couples and groups of officers and enlisted personnel in the dining hall.
The promenade dining space was small and cozy. It had forty chairs and twenty tables. Every table had ashtrays along with napkins, various spices, and salt. The tables were metal, and the chairs were padded.
Commander Norrington shrugged and put his spoon down. “What is your assessment of Brinus and Cameo, lieutenant?”
Dr. Calnori crossed her legs at her ankles. “Cameo shouldn’t have made it past Basic Training. I think we should discharge him. Brinus, though, will be a challenge like everyone else with C-PTSD, but in the end, he will fall in line. Although there is something odd about him.”
Commander Norrington wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and said, “You mean his ability to weld shirtless without burns, his superhuman reflexes, or his fatigue resistance? Yeah. I believe he is up for a surprise medical exam next month. We will get to the bottom of it. But genetic testing for magic is done through the Magi so it may be a while before we get his results. Anyway, do you think you can help the two midshipmen?”
Dr. Calnori thought for a moment and then tilted her head. “Yes, sir. I can help Brinus. Cameo, though, not only refused therapy but grabbed my butt and told me to ‘get lost’. He then tried to kiss me.”
Commander Norrington nodded and made some notes on his datapad. “How did you fight him off? He is three times your size.”
“I used a self-defense technique I learned in Prison from one of my inmates. The guy who taught me used to be a gang member and taught me some basic martial arts moves in case I needed to defend myself.”
The first officer chuckled to himself. “That’s why he is in the hospital wing with a broken arm.”
Calnori nodded. “It’s about attacking pressure points and the elbows.”
Commander Norrington shrugged his shoulders and then said, “I will have the captain revoke Cameo’s parole and ship him out on the first shuttle once his arm is healed.”
“Is that all, sir?”
The commander nodded, “Yes, lieutenant. Finish your meal, and I will pay for it.”
“Sir.” She nodded.
. “Check! Check!” Yelled Dr. Calnori.
A waiter came and brought her the check. She put the credit chips on the table and left her food.
Do you think Brinus will succeed in Therapy?
