Stars, Like Flashlights, Part 2
Posted on Mon 30th May, 2022 @ 8:23pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran
929 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
The Hunted
Location: Counseling Holosuite, Deck 83
Timeline: MD-2, 1420 hours
Previously, on Starbase 109:
"Damion, RUN!"
More than anything else, it was the terror in Rona's voice that moved him, that gave him a sudden burst of energy to turn and race toward her and Aric. He didn't look back at Jorn or the man who had him. He didn't want to know, and he didn't want to see those flashlights ever again.
"Computer, end programs. Lights on full!" Graves shouted, and sunny light flooded the grid-marked room. The shadowy tunnel in Damion's mind withered away to nothingness, as did the spots of light from flashlights and the godawful stench of the remote tunnels where the worst of the gangs lived.
"Damion! Lieutenant, can you hear me?"
He lay curled in a tight ball on the floor, Damion realized fuzzily. Who was calling to him? Why did the air smell different?
"Where are they?" Damion whispered, his voice shaking. He darted his gaze everywhere that he could, trying to find their position.
"They're gone," that same voice said firmly. "Damion, would it help you to hold my hand?" the stranger asked, crouching beside him on the deck plating.
Suddenly, reality reoriented itself around him. He was with the Chief Counselor in a holodeck. Such intense relief filled Damion that he collapsed into a limp heap where he lay, trembling from the force of it as he sucked in air.
Graves' words promised a lifeline back to sanity. He grasped the Counselor's warm, solid hand and concentrated on the welcome feel of it, shut everything else out lest it crush his soul. The awareness that this man now knew everything he felt made Damion shudder, but there was no hiding it now. Graves might not have it out of him today, but Damion knew he would have to speak of it soon.
"Thank you," he gasped and licked dry lips as he fought to slow his breathing.
"You're welcome. Anything you need, Lieutenant, just say so," Graves said in a soothing tone. "Take your time."
"I--didn't expect it to hit quite this hard," Damion said.
"Neither did I," Graves replied. "I think we can rule out agoraphobia for the most part. What truly terrifies you is darkness, not open spaces." He eyed Damion. "When you're ready to talk about it, I'll listen."
"I don't bloody want to talk about it."
Graves nodded. "Of course you don't; no one does. But if your goal is for your upcoming mission to succeed, you cannot just keep all of this guilt and remorse locked up inside you."
Damion swore inwardly at the reminder of why he was trying to overcome his phobia in the first place. He glared at Graves and let go of the Chief Counselor's hand. "You are a low-down emotional manipulator, you know that?"
"I prefer to think of it as a therapeutic use of leverage," Graves said.
"You can put your therapeutic use of leverage where the sun doesn't shine," Damion informed him. He let out a ragged breath. Anger was good. It helped him slow his breathing and finally stand. "I really don't want to talk about it, but I know I'll have to. You'll not rest until I do."
"Actually, if you didn't have this mission coming up so soon, I would back off so you could deal with this in your own time, in your own way, Lieutenant," Graves said as he too stood. "Even with your mission, I will avoid pestering you as much as I can. I can offer counsel all you like, but in the end, it is your decision how much help you accept and when you accept it. Force is a tactic I would use only as a very last resort, if other people's lives would be directly endangered by your mental condition."
"That's the problem, isn't it?" Damion shot back. "Others' lives will be endangered if I go out there and have another fit like this one." He shook his head. "I should withdraw from the field team now."
"We'll see about that, Lieutenant. Do you want to withdraw?" Graves asked.
Damion snorted. "Of course not! It'd ruin my career. And I want to do anything I can to make sure Dobbs is put away. If I withdraw it would be a waste of all the work I've already done. I couldn't do that to Zelda, to Dr. Addams. But if I screw up this mission and get people killed, my career would be over, anyway." He sighed. "Does one good act balance out an evil act?"
Graves eyed him and spoke carefully. "In the eyes of the Deities, maybe, but not in the victim's view of it. Life isn't a set of scales, Lieutenant, where good actions directly cancel out bad actions. No matter how much good you do elsewhere, the victim hurts just the same, unless you find a way to help the victim--and even then, it's not certain. The victim has to accept the help and forgive."
Damion went pale but nodded. "I agree." He let out a breath and swallowed hard. "I suspect he's beyond help by now, if he's even still alive. I hope he died long ago. It would be kinder."
The Chief Counselor studied him for a moment and then shifted his gaze. "I'm going to make this room more comfortable so we can talk. I don't think you're in any condition to be walking down the corridors right now," Graves said. He glanced toward the arch. "Computer, run program Graves-001."
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