The Whys of Spies

Posted on Mon 8th Oct, 2018 @ 10:26pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran

902 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Oblivion
Location: Chief Counselor's Office
Timeline: MD-4

Two days after the capture of the woman who had transmitted signals from Starbase 109, Damion Ildaran presented himself at the lobby of the Counseling offices for the appointment he'd scheduled upon resuming official Starfleet duty. Lt. Miller had placed him on leave status since his transfer from the Hermes, and Damian was still due to see the Counselor for his onboarding appointment. The receptionist escorted him to the back, indicating the office door of a Lt. Cmdr. Paul Graves, PsyD.

Damion's eyes widened. Graves was the second officer, wasn't he? He pressed the chime, wondering how a staff officer had wound up in the command line.

He'd expected the door to just slide open, but it didn't right away. When it opened, the counselor himself stood in the doorway, ready to greet him. "Good morning, Lt. Ildaran; I'm Dr. Graves. I think we've met once before, but very briefly. Please come in."

His accent was unusual, a combination of British and something more exotic sounding. Damian's gaze settled on the man's dark eyes. Betazoid--half, given the Terran name he thought. Well, this will be interesting.

"Thank you, sir. Good to get better acquainted," he said and entered Graves' office. Damion glanced about the room. One exit. Good placement of desk by the door in case he needs to escape. Oh, gods, that window-- He hastily flicked his gaze away from the rectangle of blackness and star-filled space and concentrated his attention on the paintings--beautiful paintings of waterfalls and stone bridges that adorned the office walls.

"Nice art," Damion said. "You ought to go by the River Falls Inn sometime, if you like waterfalls."

Graves smiled. "I've been there--though I prefer the waterfall view outside the Inn. Can I get you something to drink, Lieutenant?"

A stiff bourbon, if you expect me to not think about that exterior window, Damion thought and suppressed a shudder. "A glass of iced water would be fine, thanks."

Graves went to the replicator and brought Damion a glass of water without comment, along with a mug of tea for himself. He sat down behind his desk and faced Damion. "What can I do for you today, Lieutenant?"

"I'm here for my transferring-in appointment," Damion said. "I've been on leave, or I'd have reported here sooner. I'm a bit surprised to be seeing the Chief Counselor. I'd think any ensign could do this."

"You're in the Intelligence department, one of the higher-ranking officers currently there," Graves said. "You served as CIO on the Hermes, and I'm certain your counseling sessions over there were done by the Chief."

Damion smiled. "They were."

Graves nodded and tapped his computer screen a couple of times. "You transferred in from the Hermes a while ago. I hope you enjoyed your leave."

"It had its moments," Damion said. "I met some interesting people."

"Where did you go--Risa?" Graves asked.

Damion snorted. "I said I met interesting people. Been there once. I was bored stiff. No, I helped a friend out at his repair shop. I like to tinker with things."

"Did you do a lot of that on--Turkana IV?"

"Since I was a kid. I always liked the technic, and my Dad was for anything that would keep me out of trouble."

Paul chuckled. "Got in trouble a lot, did you?"

"My fair share," Damion admitted. "I liked to go looking for junked-up old gadgets in the deep tunnels." He grimaced. "Stupid. They're an insanely dangerous place to go into, not lit, but my friends and I thought we were immortal--until we weren't."

Graves eyed him. "One of the forays in there ended badly?"

"Very." The expression on Damion's face did not invite further inquiry.

"I can see it affected you deeply," Graves said. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm more than willing to listen."

"And--I can see you mean that," Damion said after a moment. "Maybe once I get to know you better I will, sir."

The counselor gave a sudden smile, which Damion thought entirely lightened the man's rather serious face. "You are one of the few people I've ever met who'd be willing to get to know me better, Lieutenant. So many people see those four letters after my name and run."

"No more than they do when they see my gray uniform. They either want me to tell them spy stories, or they think I'm up to something devious. Though, of course, I usually am."

"How do you feel about always being up to something devious?" Graves asked. "For an intelligence officer, you're a rather straightforward man. You might not seem so to others, but that is the distinct sense I get from you."

"When I'm deep into a role I don't see it as deviousness; I see it as my persona behaving the way he naturally is. I took what they call mindful awareness training to learn to do that, to immerse myself in that invented person's mind, to experience the world as he does so I can behave in it as he would."

"So you're an infiltrator," Graves said. "I am dying of curiosity to know what you were sent here to infiltrate. A few possibilities come to mind."

"I think 'Avast, me hearties!' might ring a bell," Damion suggested. It was the safest answer.

 

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