Stars, Like Flashlights, Part 3
Posted on Mon 30th May, 2022 @ 8:33pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran
1,533 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
The Hunted
Location: Counseling Holosuite, Deck 83
Timeline: MD-2, 1440
Previously, on Starbase 109:
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."
A replica of the Chief Counselor's office sprang into being around them. "You look exhausted, Damion. Have a seat." Graves gestured toward the sofa and accompanying armchairs. "If you get thirsty or hungry, you know where the replicator is--or I can get something for you."
How, Damion wondered, could the man act so normal? His own body felt as if he were standing by sheer force of will; he longed to collapse back onto the deck. The sofa looked wonderfully inviting. Damion walked toward it on unsteady legs and sank onto it, slouching into the corner formed by one armrest and the back cushion at one end. "If I tried to eat or drink anything right now, I'd probably throw it up, so let's just talk. What is it you want to know?"
Graves glanced at him and then moved a rubbish bin close to Damion's side of the sofa. He sat down in one of the armchairs. "What is it that you want to tell me?" Graves asked.
Damion flitted his gaze to anything but the counselor. He bit his lip. "I guess I do want to tell you, actually. I've had no one to talk to about it for so long. I've been too ashamed to discuss it with anyone, especially anyone whose opinion mattered to me. No one here really understands what life is like, back home. They've never known it; most of them can't even imagine it." He let out a breath. "It happened in the tunnels. I was about eight at the time."
"Eight's a young age for something this bad to happen to you."
"It didn't happen to me!" Damion snarled. "It happened to Jorn. We--we--" A tremor shook through him, and he couldn't speak. Suddenly, tears flowed down his face, and he pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I'd been g-gone from home for years before I understood how b-bad it was, what we did. At home, you grow up learning not to care, that it's every man for himself. I never quite learned that. It's part of why I left when I had the chance, why I'm so glad I've stayed away."
Graves paused a moment and then spoke, his words slow and measured. "If I understand you correctly, you're trying to say that, after you did something harmful to another child when you were young, you matured after leaving home," Graves said. "You feel that you matured in a way you never could have if you'd remained on Turkana IV. And that insight made you realize the harm you did. Is that correct?"
"Sort of," Damion said. He snatched a facial tissue from the box that Graves always kept on the coffee table and scrubbed at his eyes with it. "I always felt what we did wasn't right. But it was only when I began taking ps-psych classes at the Academy that I really understood in a deep way how we--" He grimaced. "How we must have made Jorn suffer. How we left him to suffer."
He watched as Graves got up from his chair and ordered a cup of hot jestral tea from the replicator.
"That does explain a lot of the horror and guilt you're feeling," Graves said after taking a couple of sips from his mug and retaking his seat. "It doesn't explain why darkness frightens you, though."
"Oh, that's easy," Damion said. "We ran for our lives after they grabbed Jorn--barely got away from them. It seemed to take forever, and the remote tunnels are darker than night. We turned off our flashes so they'd have a harder time seeing us, but they had their own, so that didn't help much."
"'They,' who?" Graves asked, looking at Damion intently.
"The--the gang."
Graves stared at him. "At age eight you went up against a gang in Turkana City?"
"We would never do that," Damion said. "We ran from them like our feet were on fire." He paused. "I guess I should start at the beginning."
"If you would, please,"
"I was with three friends of mine--Rona, Aric, and Jorn. Jorn liked to go exploring, and so did I. Rona and I, we planned to become soldiers in the Alliance someday. I'd probably have married her if I'd stayed home. Aric was like a younger brother to us. Jorn had found someone's dumping ground for old technic--tech items--that didn't work anymore. I figured I could repair some of it and trade the pieces, if there was anything halfway useful--and we did find some decent pieces. But then we spotted the gang coming and had to hide." Damion grimaced. "Except Jorn didn't want to hide. The gang found us, anyway. We had to dump what we'd found and run. The gang wanted to kidnap the four of us and sell us for joy dust."
"That's an addictive drug?" Paul asked.
"Oh, yes," Damion said with a nod. "The problem was, Jorn didn't want to give up what he'd found, and it weighed him down. That's how he was caught." Damion frowned. "He was--so determined to keep what he found, he was willing to fight the gang for it. I'd forgotten all about that, but remembering it just now--I could see the look on his face, plain as day. He was furious at the idea of having to give any of it up."
"Then I would say he contributed to his own downfall," Graves said. "What happened to him was terrible, but you shouldn't feel so responsible for it."
"Except I was responsible," Damion replied. "I threw what I had at the guy holding Jorn, but all the flashlights made it hard to see. When I ran out of things to throw, I made a very conscious decision to cut and run. I left Jorn to be sold by the gang. Or used by them, or whatever they might choose to do. It was him or me, and I chose not to try to save him."
"You were eight years old," Graves pointed out. "Would the world be a better place if you'd allowed the gang to capture and sell you, too?"
"At least Jorn wouldn't have had to suffer alone! I'd have been there with him. He wouldn't have had to know his own friends abandoned him!"
"What about Zelda Alegari? Who would have moved heaven and earth to get her a lawyer, if not you, Lieutenant? Anyone else would have left her with a court-appointed attorney and been done with it. You found Ischemia Addams. You cared enough to get her the best defense possible. You cared enough to dig. You care enough today to confront your own worst fear, just so you can continue helping her. You are not the horrible person you think yourself."
Damion gave Graves a tired sigh. "Aren't you the one who, not five minutes ago, told me that good actions and bad actions don't balance each other out?"
"And they don't," Graves said. "All the good you've done for Zelda can't erase the sight of you leaving him behind from Jorn's memory. If he felt abandoned by what you did--or if he felt you did the smart thing--nothing you did for Zelda affects how Jorn feels about you--if he still lives. That, I'm afraid, is a bitter pill that we all have to swallow."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Damion asked. "There's no way I can earn his forgiveness, much less ask for it."
Graves nodded. "I certainly wouldn't recommend that you go on a one-man rescue mission to Turkana IV to save him."
One corner of Damion's mouth twitched upward for an instant. "Even I can see how ridiculous that would be."
"I'm glad you see that. The only thing you can do, Lieutenant, is move forward. Acknowledge that you will likely never feel happy about leaving Jorn to the gang--and then deal with the problems for which you can make a positive difference.
"I think part of why you feel so guilty is that Jorn is the friend you liked the least. If you'd had to choose someone to abandon, it would have been Jorn. You respected Rona; you felt protective of Aric." Graves shot Damion a brief look. "You had no use for Jorn, and frankly, I can sympathize. He sounds like he was a handful and not particularly likable. I can imagine why he behaved that way, but that doesn't help you feel less guilty, and I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I can't offer you anything better."
Damion said nothing for a few seconds before he looked back at Graves. "I think what you've offered me is good enough, and I think 'good enough' is the best I'm likely to get. The rest of it's up to me."
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