Posted by Lieutenant Commander Viveca Arlander (Counselor) in Office of the Ship’s Counselor - Reporting for Psych Eval

Posted by Cadet John Morrell (Security Officer) in Office of the Ship’s Counselor - Reporting for Psych Eval
The door to the counselor’s office slid open with a quiet hiss. Cadet John Morrell stepped inside, his movements measured, precise—habits carved deep by decades of service. The gold shoulders of his cadet uniform caught the light as he came to a stop just inside the threshold.

The air carried the faint scent of replicated chamomile and the hum of environmental systems working in perfect rhythm. Morrell’s gaze swept the room once, cataloguing details out of instinct: the placement of the desk, the counselor’s chair, the viewport light, two exits. Satisfied, he straightened his stance.

“Cadet John Morrell reporting for psychological evaluation,” he said evenly. His tone was calm, professional, stripped of anything beyond what protocol required.

He remained at ease but ready—hands clasped behind his back, eyes steady, every muscle conditioned for control. Beneath the calm exterior, though, there was a subtle undercurrent: the kind of tension that lingers after too many years of command decisions and battlefield noise.

Morrell didn’t move further into the room, not yet. The evaluation wasn’t his to begin; he would wait, as always, for the order to proceed.

Cadet John Morrell, Security

“Welcome,” Viveca replied with a smile, “Have a seat, if you like you can grab something to drink from the replicator as well and we can get started.”

~Viveca Arlander~

Morrell gave a small nod at the counselor’s offer but didn’t move toward the replicator. “No thank you, ma’am,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the coarse edge of someone long used to command tones and battlefield noise.

He eased himself into the chair across from her desk with deliberate care, his prosthetic leg giving off a faint metallic click as he sat. The motion was practiced — efficient but revealing, a subtle reminder of a body that had been rebuilt more than once.

“Figured I’d get this part over with early,” he continued, resting his hands on his knees. “Paperwork says psychological evaluation, but I’ve already been through more of those than I can count. This one’s just to make it official, I guess.”

He met her eyes — steady, unblinking. “I’m fine, Counselor. Been fine a long time. I still sleep, still eat, still do my job. Pain’s a constant, but I’ve learned to treat it like an old friend. You stop noticing it after a while.”

His expression softened, if only slightly. “They said this evaluation’s standard. You can ask whatever you need, but I’m not one for dramatics or reliving things that don’t need revisiting. The past and I… we’ve made peace where we could.”

He leaned back just slightly, the quiet hum of the prosthetic filling the space for a moment. “All I want is to serve again. That’s all that’s left that makes any real sense.”

Cadet John Morrell, Security