Posted by Fleet Captain Kelly Bordeaux (Commanding Officer) in The Art of Psycho-therapy…Rinker meets the Elders....When the past doesn’t match the present… or the future

Posted by Gamemaster Deus Ex Machina (GM) in The Art of Psycho-therapy…Rinker meets the Elders....When the past doesn’t match the present… or the future

Posted by Fleet Captain Kelly Bordeaux (Commanding Officer) in The Art of Psycho-therapy…Rinker meets the Elders....When the past doesn’t match the present… or the future
Ian paced outside the Brig waiting for Rinker. His body was being fueled at the moment by high octane emotions. The end of Jessa’s session with Rinker was brutal. He could not deny a part of his anger was with Jessa and her outburst towards Rinker. It was probably not uncommon for patients to lash out at their therapist but to Ian, Jessa not only crossed a line but obliterated it with photon torpedos. Even though he had apologized for the confrontation, it didn’t help to ease the embarrassment, Bordeaux felt about it.

The more he paced, the more he let his mind drift to all the other things that were pissing him off. The theological fascists of the Galactic Union, Jessa’s mother, and the people in the brig held the brunt of his anger. Ian had no idea if Rinker wanted to see all three Elders as a group or individually. He would leave that up to the counselor. He was only there to listen and try to glean any information out of the conversations about to be had to figure out first what was actually going on and second to try and understand how Jessa became the way she was. Glancing down at his wrist, Ian checked his watch again. Rinker was not late. Ian was just early.

Ian Bordeaux

“Hey Ian, what’s shaking?” Ian seemed far more agitated then he was familiar with.

“Hey Heathcliff,” Ian replied rubbing the back of his neck. “Just ready for all this to be over and a return to some sense of normalcy.” This was as close as Ian got to a counseling session in the five years he had been on the Altantis. It was however fleeting as Ian crossed his arms and looked at the door separating the two men for the three people they had come to see. “Do you think they are going to be any more help than Jessa has been?”

“It ain’t never going be the same for you again.” He suddenly had a pre-pubescent child who already hated him for no reason....

“This probably will be an exercise in verbal sparring. I presume you will be recording these sessions and I imagine that these gentlemen are untrustworthy and perhaps have some sort of secondary weapons, perhaps pheromones, probably telepathic. I want to be monitored medically… I have taken the liberty of taking a neural inhibitor on the telepathic sections of my brain making me even less receptive than normal, but that is only a minor defense if they are truly powerful.”

He tapped his fingers on his leg. “They haven’t demonstrated that level of force, but who knows a Commander might seem worth the effort.”

Rinker

“Thank god Kelly didn’t give me that promotion last round then right,” Ian joked with a half-smirk. It was easy to see why people trusted Rinker. The counselor had a way of effortlessly blending humor into the serious. “So since I didn’t get the neural inhibitors that makes me the control. Just do me a favor and if you gotta sedate me because they brain jack me stab me in the left arm because I am right-handed.” Dropping the humor, Ian became serious. “Okay so how do you want to do this? See them all at once or individually? I have read the security reports and the basic personality assessments from that counselor Dela Marx in your division. We will have the meeting recorded for review later. I think we should do the meet and greet with them in their cells. We have the firepower to put them down if they get frisky but it would be easier to just use anesthizine if we need to control or contain them.”

Ian Bordeaux

Rinker tilted his head, “Making me a commander, is kind of like giving a dog a medal. It looks cute on its neck, but you know damn well that he isn’t going to do anything with it.”

“OH, one at a time, I’m not letting them out number me.” He paused as he thought. “Although maybe a set would get them arguing....” He stared slightly off. “I’m not an interrogator, I’m a therapist. My understanding is when people or together they are harder to get to turn on each other. That’s why the first thing police do is separate them. This isn’t a therapy session to me, its a questioning. There is no confidentiality, no protections of that nature. I’ll make it clear....”

He looked at Ian, “Send me to the nicest or most slimy of them…” Rinker was willing to see who was better with the word games.

Rinker