In Serving Others

Posted on Sat 22nd Aug, 2020 @ 3:44am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Renato Solis

2,476 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Refugee Center Midnight (Renato PI office)
Timeline: MD-16 2100

-Start-

{Refugee Center "Midnight"}

The lights were perpetually dim in this little section of the decks. Unofficially designated "Midnight" for its near darkness at times of the early morning, the respite from industrial fluorescence faded to electric lantern, and flame. His early morning walks through the district forced him to consider his entire life as he observed others, and it was a necessary action before he met with Dr. Graves. Ullians had flawless memory recall, and Dr. Graves took omissions or forgetfulness as clues towards pathology.

The fact he had to condition his mind to embrace reality and not deny the facts therein was galling. Dr. Graves had helped him move past the humiliation and guilt, but at the price of remembering every damn thing he ever did. Now, these somnambulist sojourns provoked a familiar melancholy, a rosary of pain and victory, wherefore each bead counted a step. As always, his paranoid mind scoped the angles of his cozy nook. The Pawnman and Mechanist wouldn't arrive for some time, neither of them early risers.

No highwaymen today, no ambushes for his pockets, primed ready with coins for the hungry thief. In the middle of three suites, his door was left open, but this was not a surprise. Nothing inside was worth stealing. He did however smell Raktajino, and knew Kya had made him food and drink for his session this morning. Once inside his solemn bare shingle, a strange satisfaction came over him, a dozen people slept in peace, well-fed thanks to this place. He wasn't sure how it mattered to anyone outside this room but it gave him happiness.

His private office was locked, that was good, at least it meant no cleaning or evictions from his workstation used often for gaming and cigarette ash. Kya had staged a thermos and small fruit tray for him, bless her. Trusting the slumber was deep, he set music on low volume, Moszkowski’s Spanish Dance No. 5. Dr. Graves would arrive shortly, always perfectly punctual. Though he had no evidence, observation told Renato the man modulated his steps to pace his arrival precisely. The cadence would always be ever so different as he walked up, based on the timing of the day.

At 32 seconds to the hour, footsteps fell, .6 seconds apart, he would arrive in 29 seconds. Renato poured the chai and pulled the door ajar before seating himself, coffee in hand.

At 28 seconds, Renato croaked as he tried to speak with a dry mouth. "Dr*ahem*Graves, good morning."

A soft laugh echoed through the air, and Paul entered Renato's office. "You always know when I'm coming," he said. He was clad in a dark blue shirt, gray trousers, and a dark brown, Betazoid-style wrap. "It's good to see you, Renato. How are you doing?"

"Well rested, thank you very much for your help. I very much enjoyed our cookout by the way, thank you for coming by. I regret the condition of our place but the money goes where we need it."

He gestured the good Doctor towards the chair, setting the fruits out for both of them. A small pile of honied granola greeted him that he hadn't spotted before now, nestled under delicate fruit bread. Kya was very good, it was hard to surprise him like this.

Paul snorted as he seated himself. "There is nothing at all wrong with the condition of the place. It fits its purpose, the same way my Fleet office does. And I enjoyed the cookout very much! I was able to meet a lot of people there. I've been wanting to meet Brown Sector residents without the pall of 'Starfleet Counselor' being cast over everything. At your cookout I was able to become acquainted with them in a social setting that was relaxed and enjoyable. I cannot thank you enough for inviting me."

He deflected praise of any kind, it was poison for his ego and caused bloat. "The Bajorans take the credit, it was their insistence to mark the occasion here, in their neighborhoods, to show this place has come up from where it once was. Kya has lead the community in faith and community, I am a humble servant to larger forces. I am also glad you enjoyed it. Perhaps we can have you here more often, let the residents come to know you?" What was unsaid, that they sorely needed his services but Dr. Graves needed to be down here, to be seen, in order to do that.

"I would very much like that," Paul said. "The first time I came down to these decks, in uniform..." Paul shook his head. "Meeting and becoming friends with people down here in a way that doesn't threaten them is the only way I have a hope of being able to help them." He glanced back at Renato. "On the way here, I saw flyers for a civilian therapist, Dr. Anderson. I've met her, and I can recommend her for people who are dead-set against seeing a Starfleet counselor."

"Yes, we spoke briefly! I didnt trust her enough... I resented the uniform for a long time myself. I don't need to rehash it with you, but their outreach was crucial to my linking up to you, I do owe her a call. Oh, and if you ever have any Starfleet resources that need washing feel free to launder them here."

He heard a baby cry in the upper floors, and movement from the freshly awoken parents to get her. She was hungry, that was a common theme here.

"I'll be happy to send them your way," Paul said. He produced from under his wrap a container of freeze-dried candies and set it on the desk next to the fruit bowl. "I'll be interested to see how many people from the cookout come back to learn more about the services you have here. You attracted a good-sized crowd."

The count had gotten fuzzy past four hundred, the best guess was 291 diners, 430-445 Visitors. They had nearly run out of food, Kya had produced last-minute pastries to hold over the crowd as the community families raced home to get side dishes. The dishes at the beginning of the affair made sense and balanced well, by the end was a civil war of flavors ruled by necessity.

"We made it to the end without a problem, it was the answer to my prayers. These are a treat, thanks by the way." The freeze drying process couldn't be replicated, the candies yes, but the process to make them puffed and crunchy had to be done over 12 hours in a special machine. It took time and effort, a worthy gift from a worthy friend. The last year and a half had seen his life turn around, this was a great man and Renato certainly appreciated him for it.

"I appreciate why we couldn't really talk at the event, but is it appropriate to ask that we adjust to a more casual interaction? I'd never ask to tread on your professional ethics but I enjoy your company, and would seek your counsel publicly were it permissible."

"It is more than appropriate," Paul said. "It is very much welcome. Yes, by all means." He smiled. "Besides, given how you thanked me at the cookout, it would look odd if I had to pretend to not know you now." He sipped from the mug of chai tea. "This is delicious, by the way. Thank you--or thank whoever makes the blend."

"Locally grown, it's from soil, that's what you are tasting. I'm stunned at the resilience of this community... Your work should be in the light of day... I was one of the hundreds who rallied when Starfleet returned to take control, well you know.... but it's time we treat these people the way you treated me. Here, look at what the girls came up with for my Doorjamb." A long wooden Shingle, painted green, black lines of laser etched filigree in old English font depicting the name "Renato" vertically arranged along a decline. Renato was pointing to the by line in plain script,Find Help Here.

"He is five years old, I hated trying to come up with slogans. This... translates efficiently into nearly every language, and people respond to it well... I have such love for the simple brilliance of a child."

"That's beautiful," Paul said as he looked over Renato's door sign. "What a thoughtful and useful gift. And you're right. Leave it to a child to state something with elegant simplicity." He handed the sign back to Renato. "Will you be putting it up tomorrow?"

"Yes, the cookout was a resounding success, though many of the requests I've received today would be better served by law enforcement. Missing persons, Thefts, Abuse, I've referred Criminal cases to the local constable's office but I'm not sure who the Sheriff is these days. If you could add weight to those cases, maybe Starfleet could send someone, there aren't many people down here to look into these things."

It wasn't likely for Starfleet to send anyone, Renato just needed to set up the conversation to allow Commander Graves to add his weight to cases worth paying attention to. The uniform attracted attention, and Commander Graves in fact wasn't as welcome as Paul Graves MD. This way both men could serve the community rather than have him hide who he was.

"Missing persons?" Renato abruptly had Paul's complete attention. His voice, however, was calm. "How many missing people do you know of, and how long has this been happening?"

Renato looked troubled as he considered one case brought up, the case he had been stewing on for a month. His lacking confidence deprived him of his usual talents but his memory was sharp as ever. He needed material evidence but could remember the things he missed. Paul was a safe place to bounce ideas, test hypotheses with, so he asked. "Several, I'll get it all together for you, what I've sent off to the Constabulary here. There's a deeper problem though, Paul. I've been hearing of a place. You know of anything called "Oblivion"?

Renato had spent a fair amount of time on the bottom of this barrel, some secrets he came to honestly, more often it wasn't. A name kept being mentioned in the darkest of these places. Despite his keen observations, no evidence had come to light. This was bigger than him, he would need help. Renato believed Paul Graves was the answer. He continued after letting the name pass over his friend's face. "As far as I know it is an offsite black market sector with deep roots to this community. I've been identifying some of their handiwork... and I've been in contact with some people from there. This is everything I have on my investigation. I'm no detective, but I've always prided myself on observation. These people don't want Starfleet to even know their face, and I am still gathering material evidence... so this is between us."

"I've heard of Oblivion," Paul confirmed. "The person I learned of it from was heavily drugged while there and could give few details of the place, unfortunately."

Nodding, it was a solemn recognition, like the first discussion of a terminal illness. "I never got a thread to pull, try as I might. Don't even ask about it. I used a proxy once, just asking for a man in a bar for a drink, one I knew was going back to Oblivion. I needed to see his face was all, and... she was one of the missing cases I am afraid. She left with him, for no reason I can imagine. A week later I see her, and she said had no recognition of me, I can sense such things and was aware this was a lie she was telling herself in total terror. No scars, face was composed, but the lie was there, and kept in place in white-knuckled terror. I have kept my distance ever since. There are many stories like this."

"Many? That's disturbing, to put it mildly." Paul forced himself to not automatically feel drawn to one particular suspect when he had no evidence of that person's involvement. That was difficult.

"Do you feel that Sheriff Li would be at all willing to work with station security on this--or even with the Intelligence Department--if it were warranted?"

"I don't know the man personally, I've avoided law enforcement until recently. If you feel he can be trusted I'd follow your lead in an investigation. I'm not sure how much I can do on my own and I'd hate to endanger anyone without resources to protect them."

"That is exactly what concerns me about getting Sheriff Li involved," Paul said. "His greatest asset is that people down here know him and trust him. But he lacks access to resources that would help him gather information and be able to correlate it with seemingly unrelated crimes. Because he doesn't have those resources or manpower, he has to be careful whom he goes up against. I wouldn't want to throw him into something that might be more than he could handle. But I also respect him, judging from what I've observed, so it is vital that he be included in the loop."

Choosing his words with great care, he agreed with Paul but said only, "My senses have returned, Paul. I can feel emotions; errant memories come to me when I shake hands. I can tell that baby had its foot twisted in the blanket and was trapped. I can sense that you... are deeply concerned about the Alegari investigation."

Renato stopped himself. One of his problems was fixation, and he forced himself to review his actions from afar as he had learned in therapy. He was too close, this was threatening the even keel of emotional well-being.

"I just want to offer what skills I can, so that in serving others I might serve myself as well. But I need guidance as well."

Paul gave Renato a startled look; he hadn't mentioned the Alegari investigation to him. After a moment, he said, "That investigation leads to dangerous waters. I would very much appreciate your help, but don't ever let yourself become known to the person behind it. With your mental abilities, you would be--tempting."

Danger was not anything new, but Commander Graves didn't use words lightly. The warning was taken into fact, and Renato appreciated the candor. "I'll be careful, thanks. We should continue these meetings then, albeit with a new purpose."

Renato let the quiet of night pass over them as Paul contemplated this purpose. So he gently pushed, "Shall we start tomorrow evening, I'll gather what breadcrumbs I have and we can compare notes?"

-End-

Renato Solis

Commander Paul Graves

 

RSS Feed