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

Posted by Commander Heathcliff Rinker (Chief of Psychiatry) in The Art of Psycho-therapy…Rinker meets the Elders....When the past doesn’t match the present… or the future
Posted by… suppressed (17) by the Post Ghost! 👻
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 ain’t never going be the same for you again.” He suddenly had a pre-pubescent child who already hated him for no reason....

“You know Heathcliff,” he grimaced and patted the man on the shoulder, “you could candy coat that just a little bit.” Ian held up his index finger and thumb creating an almost imperceptible space between them. Bordeaux had always used humor to mask his true emotions. This was no exception. The moment of brevity soon evaporated at Ian turned his attention back to the Brig’s main entrance. Things were never going to be like they once were however if Ian had any chance of finding some peace for him and Jessa, the route was behind that door.

Rinker paused… “I could.” It sounded like he was going to say more but just didn’t.

“Yeah but you are just gonna rip that bandaid off without counting,” Ian countered with a slight smirk. He could have continued the light banter. Rinker was a likeable guy but that type of talk could be saved for a drink at another time.

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?”

“Jessa has been incredibly productive in therapy months of progress in days… fantastic. What she has also been is less informative in mission intelligence, which I care less about.” He shrugged. “I’m not spying on her. My obligation is to do my best to make her better.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, Kel and I haven’t said it but thank you. I know you are gonna say it’s your job but to us it’s personal and we appreciate it.” In true male bonding, Ian ended the thank you. It was not that he couldn’t have said more. It was just men didn’t tend to go on for an hour when they could get the point across in two sentences.

Rinker gave a genuine smile. “Its is, and she is a pleasure.”

He looked to the door. “Now these guys, they aren’t my patients and I couldn’t care less about squeezing information out of them.”

“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.”

“I have Dr. Shan monitoring us from sickbay. They have been taking scans randomized scans and so far nothing is abnormal except for when Jessa was placed in a cell down here. About two minutes in the cell and Jessa started to exhibits signs of distress. Bloody nose, crying…they called in the medics who found some residual traces of psychic telepathy but it faded.” Ian clearly didn’t understand exactly what he was reading except for the basic definitions of the terms. “Bottom line is she is watching us like white on rice.”

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.”

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.”

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.”

“OH, one at a time, I’m not letting them outnumber 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 are 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....”

“Or don’t,” Ian said as they entered the Brig and looked at the three darkened doors each one holding an Elder behind it. “Hear me out for a second. Mardusk has had these guys under lockdown for the past few days. The big guy already read them their rights and offered legal council. They have refused. The way I see it unless they lawyer up or ask for one of those adjudicators, Jessa mentioned there is no expectation of privacy or confidentiality. We need answers so question away.” There was an iciness to Ian’s tone that rarely surfaced. Bordeaux’s anger was simmering just under the surface however, the man was smart enough to know Rinker would be able to get far more answers out of the Elder’s than he could at the moment. That is why Ian would remain silent and be a second set of eyes and ears to Rinker. “Do you have a choice between door number one, two, or three?”

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

“Well according to your junior officer Ms. Marx, Cell one has Rogan, no last name,” he read off a PaDD the highlights of her report for review. Mr. Rogan seems to suffer from narcissism with sociopathing tendencies. Cell two has Elder Da Mu Unka San Zomeil but with a notation that we are not worthy to use his surname. Mr. Mu in Della’s opinion shows psychopathic tendencies. Ms. Marx hasn’t gotten to the Cell three and the female.” There was more information on Da Mu but if Rinker was going to see them individually they could review it later. Setting the PaDD down, Ian felt a headache coming on.

“Marx works pretty independently so I don’t necessarily read all her reports.” There was a Freudian theory that you don’t ever read reports because each dynamic was unique and when you knew too much you were artificially coloring the relationship and weren’t being a true ‘blank slate.’ “Give me the narcissistic one, they tend to think they are so much smarter than everyone else… maybe I can get him monologuing like an arch-villian in a movie.”

“It amazing that the isolation isn’t getting to any of them.”

“Does it make me a bad person to say I don’t really care,” Ian said in a neutral tone. “I am pretty sure they wouldn’t if the shoe was on the other foot.”

“Seems they are all… what does Jessa say…varpholes,” Ian shrugged before pointing at a door. “Open up cell one,” he commanded assuming a parade rest posture next to Rinker.

As the forcefield shifted from opaque to transparent, Ian and Rinker would get their first view of Rogan. The man was lounging on the ledge that served as both a seat and bunk in the cell with his hands interlocked and resting behind his head. One of his legs was bent with the knee pointing up at the ceiling with the other leg dangling off the edge of the seating ledge. The calm and carefree posture would have been more suited to a couch or hammock instead of a brig cell. “Della my dinner angel you are er,” Rogan said in a happy tone sitting up before realizing Ms. Marx was not his current guest. Sitting up, Rogan’s smile did not falter but his eyes seemed to flash from warm and friendly to murderous glare and then back again.

“You can continue, I can always take your order…” Rinker responded. He smiled deferentially. “I’m not sure what I’m allowed to do, but I try as befitting you.”

Maybe you could open the door and let me out, Rogan said reaching out and grabbing the man that spoke around the throat tightening his grip until the flesh went from pink to white to red. Rogan’s fingers around Rinker’s neck began to sink past the top layer and dug into the deeper tissue below cutting off any ability to breathe. A flicker of a grin toyed with the edges of Rogan’s mouth as he watched Rinker’s eyes bulge and the man beside him desperate to pry off the fingers slowly strangling his friend. Rogan held the man a second longer before flicking his wrist and dragging the man to the invisible wall between them. Slowly approaching the force field, Rogan leaned against it silently enjoying Rinker’s panic starting to build. It felt like an aphrodisiac of sorts knowing what would happen.

What is befitting me, Rogan began to speak again, would be for you to treat me like the god I am. Flicking his wrist, Rogan began to use his telekinetic ability to beat Rinker’s face on the force field as he continued to speak using the field as if it were a fist. You should be on your knees begging me for any triffing scrap I throw at you. You pompous varphole. Let’s see how humorous you are with every bone broken in your face. Releasing Rinker the man slid bonelessly to Rogan’s feet. Every bone in his face and skull fractured or shattered. Blood streaked the invisible field in thick globs and watery thin lines obscuring a clear view of how the man paid for his hubris. Unfortunately, this scene only played out in Rogan’s mind. The only indication of the fantasy playing out in Rogan’s head with the slightly tensing and flexing of his hand as he imagined strangling and beating Rinker. The brutal retribution would have to wait until they were free from the cell. Right now, Rogan needed to bond with them instead of breaking them.

“Well well I gotta say for the record,” Rogan moved from the ledge towards the door with a confident swagger. “If Della is your wife or wives,” he waggled his finger between Ian and Rinker, “she never said a thing about not being single.” Rogan punctuated the sentence with a wink at both men as his tone conveyed bravado and mirth. Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Rogan crossed his arms loosely over his body and waited for one of the two men to speak. While his actions and words were calm and gregarious, his inner thoughts were a maelstrom of rage. One of the two men had to be Bordeaux. Rogan did not have a clue which one it was but he was about to find out. When he did, he would slaughter the other one for not dropping to their knees and begging forgiveness over the way the Elders had been treated for the past three days.

Ian Bordeaux

OOC: Okay that’s morbid.
OOC: Gotta find a way to make even the most rational person despise these guys and vote for spacing and not rehabilitation right?

There was a pause, not long… in fact very brief. He was collecting his thoughts perhaps to think of an avenue of attack. It was noticeable because of its short length, not long enough to be confusion, not so long to be premeditated thought for an average person… but for a sociopath… just right. Perhaps this Marx character had it going on.

Rinker chuckled.. “You’re funny,” He turned to Ian. “He’s funny… you didn’t tell me that.”

“I am a triffing riot when you get to know me,” Rogan let a soft smirk spread across his face. “Maybe with that dinner you promised you could get us a couple of ales, put on some sporting event,” he let his voice trail off as he eyed up Ian.

No you’re not.

“Unless of course, you two are a matched set and you aren’t coming down here to defend Della’s honor. Not judging here. Love comes in all shapes and forms. Doesn’t it handsome?” Rogan watched Rinker and Ian for any sign of emotion. Emotion meant attachment and attachment was something that could be twisted and tortured for advantage later.

And sexually-oriented for purpose of manipulation… Rinker looked at Ian for a moment. “I can do better. Maybe not younger… Nothing personal.” He was going to end his feeble attempts to put him off balance sexually. He’d have to try a different attack and with changes in plans came errors.

“I have yet to try the marriage thing… much less the multiple marriages. Am I’m certain that Della can make those types of choices without my input.” As he turned back to Rogan. “Good afternoon, I’m Heathcliff Rinker… Mr. Rogan, It’s Mr. Rogan, or is it Rogan something? I want to call you by your correct name and title… due honors and respect and all.” He paused.

You triffing smug varphole, Rogan replied mentally. “Well since we came here to be friends I say let’s stick with first names…Heathcliff.” Since Della was not Della Rinker, that bargaining chip was now of the table. Time to make nice with the man on the opposite side of Rogan’s jail. Moving from his leaning position against the wall, Rogan stood in front of Rinker appearing casual. “So what brings you down here for the visit…Heathcliff and who is your friend?” Rogan’s tone was friendly but the way his eyes narrowed slightly saying Rinker’s name showed Rogan was eager to understand the substance of the visit.

“I guess we are all friends. I’m on first names basis with you after a minute, and Della is your ‘darling’ and well my friend over there is ‘handsome.’” Rinker regretted that right after he said it. It wasn’t a gullible conclusion… he put the fact together too fast… perhaps so fast Rogan would figure it out.

“If we are throwing out nicknames I want Heartthrob,” Rogan countered. Rinker wasn’t a bad looking man and the man with him was ruggedly handsome however neither of them could match his looks. They needed to know and remember this fact even it was just friendly banter. Rogan would make any girl swoon with a look when he turned his smile on them. These two second rate cassanovas could have his scraps. This would not be the first time Rogan narcissism clouded his judgement nor the last.

“So again what brought Handsome and Heathcliff the Hammer down here to meet me?” Rogan could barely contain the smile on his face. The name Hammer fit the man talking. It was a such a play on words. Not only did it have a literary quality but the man was in no way a physical threat.

Rinker smirked unconsciously. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me the hammer in any context.” That was a simple turn of phrase, Rogan couldn’t actually be that superficial… even as an attempt to build rapport it was pathetic in its transparency. Rinker expected better. Don’t underestimate him as the smile disappeared.

“Perhaps I found your story curious…” He smiled as seductively as he could manage… which was perhaps a 5 on a scale of one to 10… then paused for a moment… “But actually I hadn’t heard too much about you.” What was it called.. a neg… he never remember the new-fangled terms.

“Ask away,” Rogan spread his arms. “I am an open book.” Rogan felt his anger settling some. This was like toying with prey. All they had was Jessa and for all her simpering the kid was a product of the Galactic Union: devout, fanatical, and loyal. Rogan was all in knowing Jessa had not said a single thing to paint them in a bad light. How could she? Jessa was a product of enlightenment.

“All that being said, I’m coming to speak to you partially for the Elder Jessa. She really would like to speak to you, but there are some barriers and a chat between the two of us could go a long way in greasing the wheels for that…”

Rinker

The mention of Jessa’s name made Rogan stiffen. The edges of his eyes narrowed as Rogan momentarily exhibited laser focus on the alien officer addressing him. He held his breath for half a second trying to control the rage threatening to boil over the calm persona Rogan had been exuding. “She is Guardian Novar,” icy words spilled from Rogan’s lips. “You said you wanted to use correct titles. Hers is Guardian, not Elder. She is a child and does not have the experience or education to be an Elder or of my status.” So many questions ran through Rogan’s head however before they could be addressed, there was a situation that needed to be rectified. The stormy, roiling fury behind Rogan’s eyes dissipated and was replaced with a well-honed expression of worry and concern.

“Its important to get her title right, but not yours… you must be very modest.” Rinker spoke very slowly. “A noble trait.”

Rogan nodded listening to Rinker’s words. “Nobility and modesty is the hallmark of being an Elder. My job is to serve and protect. Jessa is mine to protect so it concerns me that I have not seen her. Tell me,” Rogan let his gaze settle on Rinker. The attempt was to show concern but it still retained a hint of aggression.

“Yours?” Rinker question… “In what way. Our analysis doesn’t see any genetic connection.”

Rogan’s eyes narrowed and darted between Ian and Rinker. His subconscious was slowly seeping into the observable. Rogan might be trying to convey a emotion of empathy and concern but he did not feel it. These emotions did not come easily to someone when they knew everyone was beneath him and mattered little in his life. How dare you you little smug fleeker? You answer my questions not converse with me. Rogan’s right hand began to make small movements, fingers splaying out slowly before curling back into a fist. His breath was not steady but every few breaths was held as if Rogan was trying to find something subtle to restore his calm. To anyone other than a psychiatrist it would look like Rogan was cracking under the pressure of interrogation. Rogan however was struggling to contain both his exhilaration and fury with Rinker.

Rinker noticed the hand clenching… that man wants to punch me so badly. It was almost a micro-expression of the hand as opposed to the face. A subconscious tell of his real emotions. Rinker hid his mirco expressions by closing his eyes for an extended blink which allowed him to roll his eyes in frustration without being noticed.

Rogan had to keep Rinker on the topic he wanted and not let the weak and soft man control any part of this encounter.

“Has she done something?” The inflection in his voice was well-rehearsed. “Please,” Rogan let a slight plea coat his tone. “She is just a kid. If she has done anything I beg you to remember that. In our society children are cherished, seen as a gift.” Walking up to the forcefield, Rogan placed his palm on it letting his mouth dip down into a frown. “She has to be scared out of her mind. I know the barrier between her and me and it is you. If I could have just a minute with her…to let her know I am here for her and that things are going to be okay.” These people were soft. That would be their downfall. If they needed to see a distraught and worried parental figure, that is what Rogan would show them. Once he was out of this cage, Rogan would show the officers on this ship what it meant to have the power and use it.

Rogan

OOC: I give you full permission to make up whatever you want to glean from this about Rogan. I assume Rinker would pick up on things and if you need to add to Rogan’s parts for Rinker to “notice things” feel free to add or change the post. As a psychologist, I think there are things Rinker would pick up on about human nature. If I left something out or did not expand enough add it in. I will run with whatever sparks your creativity. ~ Kate

OOC: Absolutely… I predict this will be very engaging… for me at least. Your writing is very detailed. There’s tons there I don’t have to make anything up. In fact there’s so much i have to ignore stuff.

Rinker hated playing the sucker. He could do it and pretty convincingly but he patience drew thin in about 20 minutes. Rogan was particularly slimy… he wondered if he could even make twenty. He was too over the top with his fake concern. He was almost reading from a script of terms that he thought would pull at the heart strings. “We feel the same way about children. Part of our concern is the last time she was even in the same room as you we had had some moderate medical issues. Could you help explain that? I would be really interested in trying to help her.. and as far as she’s concerned. Helping her means getting her back in contact with you and back on whatever you were supposed to be doing.” His statement had the value of being honest. Here’s a little line… swallow the bait… you arrogant ....

Rinker

A flash of shock spread over Rogan’s face, moving closer to the invisible wall. The kid must have done or said something to not have them returning her to them. This part of the mission was taking far longer than they expected. The question was why was it taking so long. Most civilized groups revered their children. The way to control a populace was to control their offspring. You did not need bombs or weapons to control able-bodied men. You just needed to secure their child. Was that what this Rinker was trying to do? Use Jessa to control them? Long seconds elapsed as Rogan weighed his response. Rinker was a clever interrogator. That was clear to Rogan. The question was which room was he referring to. Was it the transporter room or the prison cell?

She had been in contact after the injury of the arrival room. While that injury had been severe and required immediate medical treatment, it was necessary to ensure Jessa had access to the ship. Since Rinker did not seem upset or agitated by it, this meant whatever excuse Jessa invented had been accepted as fact by this crew. Rinker had to be talking about the kid’s trip to jail.

Rubbing his jaw Rogan paused for a second as he thought. Jessa would not be stupid enough to mention the neural link that could be established when the four of them were in close contact. This was also the reason, Rogan knew Jessa was not in the cells with them. Sure she at times had a small neural bleed from her nose when the connection occurred but Jessa was clever enough to fake it as nothing important. These people could not be so soft they were worried about a nose bleed. It was then Rogan’s face fell. Da Mu ordered her to perform the Ritual of Cleansing and the stupid little varphole did it, he put the two events together. That was why this Rinker was preventing access to Jessa. Time to play the concerned father figure, Rogan let out a breath he was holding.

He took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair. Rogan paced a bit just for dramatic effect to present the persona of a distraught caregiver. “Oh my god....trife,” he cursed in a low breath looking up at the ceiling. Moving back to the forcefield, Rogan placed his palms on the invisible wall. The symbolism of the pose would help to create the image of Rogan helpless, powerless, and giving up. “Tell me she is okay? I…I heard her screaming. What did you do to her?” Rogan instantly forced the blame on the crew instead of the Elders.

“Us?” Rinker was slightly stunned by the new ploy. Not that he believed it it, he was more surprised by the audacity. Did Rogan know so little of the Federation that he would even think the accusation that a Federation would harm a child would gain the slightest traction with the the person central to her care.

Rinker’s utterance seemed to give Rogan a small amount of pleasure. He liked the feeling of knowing people felt off balance and on edge. These people did not like to feel like an aggressor. Being the aggressor was the only emotion, Rogan lived for.

“How could you hurt her? She is just a child.” As if to punctuate the point, Rogan slammed his fist against the forcefield for show. It would be a normal reaction for someone distraught over their child. Rogan would know. He had seen it hundreds of times when they separated parents from their children. “I demand to see her. You can’t tell me she got hurt and then expect me to take your word she is okay.” Rogan’s pulse quickened allowing his breathing to increase. He loved these games of cat and chrisven mouse.

Rogan

Heathcliff ignored his theatrics. It was an attempt to put him on the defensive. Rinker didn’t do defensive, it just wasn’t his nature… and wasn’t what therapists did particularly good ones which immodestly he was. Rogan picked the wrong Huckleberry for that. “We would no sooner hurt a child than we would hurt a person in custody… have you been harmed? No? Likewise we, have not harmed Jessa. She had an injury, actually two, which we treated… expertly by the way. We have… however done a medical review… and we have been able to detect all of her injuries of any and all magnitude in her history. Would you like to speak to that?” It was a proactive bluff. It didn’t occur to him to have an analysis of her body done, but they certainly could and there was no way Rogan would/could know that.

Rinker

She is mine. She is one of us, Rogan beat the invisible wall with his hand. Learning begins the second you draw your first breath and continue until the flames consume your body. He began to recite his interpretation of the scripture as he saw it. We own her. She is ours to teach the way of the universe. That is through blood and pain in conquest. Rogan raised his hand and flicked his finger three times tossing the three security officers behind Rinker and Ian like rag dolls against the walls and bulkheads. Their bodies crumpled to the deck with a sickening thud now devoid of life. Moving to inches from the forcefield, Rogan’s breath slightly fogged up the barrier as he spoke. So don’t learn as if this is your last hour. Learn so that your last hour is filled with understanding. That is why I will not impart the truth to you. You will just forget without having struggled and sacrificed for that knowledge. Those dead in our wake were sacrificed for the knowledge you refuse to learn. Jessa needs to learn the power she possesses. She needs to understand how to bend those to her will to achieve a greater purpose. You, however....have no purpose but to piss me off. With a flick of his wrist, Rogan snapped both of Ian’s and Rinker’s necks. Looking over the room, Rogan slowly moved back to the ledge and assumed the position he had been relaxing in before the two men arrived.

Blinking twice, Rogan slipped out of his fantasy and gave Rinker an awww shucks grin. It was the type of grin most people felt instantly connected with the person sharing it. “We have a saying in our culture. Learning begins the second you draw your first breath and continue until the flames consume your body. So don’t learn as if this is your last hour. Learn so that your last hour is filled with understanding. That is why I will not impart the truth to you. You will just forget without having struggled and sacrificed for that knowledge. It is by a prophet named Tan Nastratt. A brilliant philosopher but a little too fire and brimstone with his eloquence if you ask me,” Rogan relaxed attempting to appear cooperative.

Well his emotional response passed very quickly. Rogan stopped because the scene was over for him but real emotions don’t pass that quickly. Actors stop suddenly because the cameras are off… grieving parents grieve whether people are watching or not. Rinker was confident it was theatrics, but now he proved it. At every turn he made Rinker more certain he was truly one without any empathy for anyone. He viewed everyone was just a pawn in his large game of chess. Only as valuable as he could use them… certainly less valuable than himself. Oh did his pseudo emotions disgust Rinker… he held a long blink dismissing the disgust from his eyes and voice.

“You asked me two questions. The first was my connection to Jessa. The second was her physical well-being. Of course, I want to…how did you put it,” Rogan let his voice trail as if searching for something in his mind. “Help her get back to us and help us get on with our purpose. So to show you I have no other concern than the child I will answer this. Our culture does not need a genetic connection to care for others we see as..family. We are communal in our approach to life. Those of us that excel in one area can be entrusted with the care of other’s children. Jessa’s mother and father gave us the honor and privilege of teaching her the real-life application of enlightenment. So you are correct. I am not her father but more of the loving, doting Ur-Damin Rogan.” While the term might not readily translate, it could be surmised Rogan was trying to play off the relationship as Uncle and niece.

“For the second question, what can I say,” Rogan threw up his hands with a small laugh. “I mean have you met Jessa? I think the adjectives best used to describe her would be tenacious, impulsive, and headstrong. She attempts things she is not ready for and at times has gotten hurt. We can only do so much to protect her. That is why we say only through struggle and sacrifice does one learn. I can tell her a thousand times if she falls out of a tree she is going to break something but only when she does fall out of a tree and breaks something does she learn.” This should satisfy any medical scan they had done and given possible answers for the series of broken bones Jessa had received during her education.

Rinker pursed his lips at the response and made a slight face. “I’m not sure that is fully consistent with what we have. But if that’s what you want to tell me now…’ He shrugged. Rinker bluffed and got him to lie. Wasn’t as good as the truth, but sooner or later the lies were going to twist upon themselves…

“What is consistent with what you have then?” Rogan felt his irritation growing with Rinker. The man seemed too affable, too neutral, too little emotion. This waiting game for Jessa to do what was needed was growing old. Nothing in the plan was going according to it.

Rinker tilted his head with a shrug… strangely it wasn’t just a human behavior. Rogan liked being in control… dictating things. Rinker wasn’t only going to play his game. Normally he liked making people comfortable… Rogan wasn’t most people.

Who are you, his mind began to drift into varied lines of thought. Rogan’s icy stare fixated on Rinker like a predator on a prey.

Rinker just blinked innocently into the stare. If indeed he was prey he just stared trustingly into the eyes of the lion.

It was cold and menacing looking for any sign of weakness. “I said tell me what you think you have?” Rogan let each word out slowly and punctuated each one as if it was a direct command with a pause long enough for all Rinker to cut him off but not long enough to ever reply. The long pause of silence between the men spoke more than any words. The small illusions of power and authority were lost on this man. Correction, they were not lost, simply ignored. Whoever this Heathcliff Rinker was, the man weilded considerable power. If he was not in a position of command on the ship he held the ear of those that did. In Rogan’s experience the latter could be far more dangerous. Frustration and anger swelled like a lump in Rogan’s chest. A flick of his hand would make his fantasy come true and demonstrate his real power; however, it would also let these people gain the advantage. That was the only thing keeping Rogan in check.

Running a hand over his face Rogan let out a sigh. Diplomacy and politics were never his things but power and control were. Glancing back at Rinker, he decided to try again. Raising a finger he spoke, “You should hold that answer. I think that is going to be a long conversation so I have a request.”

“If we are going to continue this little meet and greet maybe you could get me a chair? It is rather taxing standing and when you attacked us upon our arrival, I think I might have hurt my knee. It’s not bad…just tender. You did say your intent is not to harm us any further…right?” Rogan winked and rubbed his knee slightly. He was tired of the men controlling everything in this encounter. It was time for Rogan to exert some control. They wanted information and Rogan was going to make them pay for it even if the price was something as small as a chair.

Rogan

“That’s not the way I heard it go down.” Rinker shook his head for a moment. “I’m going to have to take the time to look at the tapes and see the actual sequence of events.”

“Are you saying I am lying? If you have to check the tapes then maybe you should do a little research before you come to me asking me to fact check for you or taking the word of a child over that of an adult.” The time for friendly banter was rapidly expiring. Shifting his weight, Rogan’s posture took on a more authoritative pose. It was subtle but Rinker would not miss the shift. Rogan no longer slouched and stood with his ankles crossed leaning against the wall. He stood with his spine ram rod straight and his shoulders back taking up as much space as possible. He longer fidgeted with is hands but kept them still. Rogan spoke in slow, deliberate sentences.

“Medical has been monitoring you since your arrival. If there was an issue it would have been addressed.” It was the first time Ian had spoken verbally. Plenty had been been going on in his head and Rogan was lucky Rinker was here. Actually much later that night Ian would realize he was the lucky one. Rinker appeared to have the man at least speaking and Ian would have probably done something rash by now.

“I never said Jessa told me anything. In fact, aside from her repeated requests to speak to you she’s said very little about whatever happened in the past. But.. if you don’t want me to take her requests at face value.. then I would need more information from you.”

The comment about Jessa not talking about the past curled the tips of Rogan’s mouth. The result was a smug sneer demonstrating the confidence Rogan had Jessa would not deviate from the story dictated by the Galactic Union. “Well…all you had to do was ask. Now about that chair.” The haughty grin displayed Rogan’s deep desire to control these people even if it was only making them comply with something as simple as a chair. Deep in the darkest recesses of the man’s soul, Rogan let the dream of how he would seek revenge upon the smug men and women of this crew for the injustices he suffered.

Rinker eyes brightened. It looked like he swallowed the detail about Jessa revealing nothing. It was important to push that in, just in case they had to return the girl for some reason. Her continued safety was likely dependent on her loyalty and he wanted to be sure that it was unquestioned.

Rinker looked at Ian. This wasn’t Jessa who was looking for any sort of control to establish some emotional regulation. If Rogan got the opportunity he would use any item to try to kill them and escape… “You seemed very adept at sitting on the edge of your bed. That’s the way it was designed. The Star-Fleet engineers would be very disappointed if they learned that you were dissatisfied with their hours of pain-taking work.”

“Yes but then I could not look you and Handsome in the eye when we speak now could I,” Rogan glared at Rinker and threw Ian a side glance. “In the best interest of detente, I will push through.”

“You mention to be on your way on your mission… what was the way you wanted to go???”

Rinker

Rogan never broke his stare at Rinker nor his posture. “Obviously not be shot or locked in your prison. You said you needed to review the tapes to understand the course of events. How about I tell you what you are going to see? Your logs will show we asked to meet. You fired upon us with your light ray removing us from our vessel. You placed us in a hostile situation with weapons pointed at us. While Elder Da Mu may have reacted he did not react first. Jessa was hurt in your attack upon the soverign entity of the Galactic Union. The way it was supposed to go was that we all sit down at your diplomatic table and discuss a mutually beneficial relationship for all parties involved. Since I don’t see that happening anymore you will return Guardian Novar to us and then release us so that we may return home.” Rogan’s patience were watery thin. It was a mistake using the girl in such a pivotal role in the mission. Now they had her so the only way to ensure the success of the mission was to get her back.

Rogan

“Truly an advanced weapon that allowed you to shoot first… I’m certain, at least in hindsight, you understand if that was an attack, we could have placed you in cells like this, or directly in space… or at the very least in a position where we could have shot first. Are you really insisting that the intention was an attack…”

“No,” Rogan kept his tone calm, “but things are not always black and white, right or wrong, just or unfair , trustworthy or deceiving. Sometimes they are just events and the people write the adjectives painting the events. Sometimes events are not what you preconcieve them to be. Beware of what you think you know because it will lead ultimately to your demise.”

Rinker thought it was interesting how he presented the facts… “You’re objective was negotiation. Okay, negotiate.” Rinker was curious how prepared he was for this avenue of deception. “Perhaps start with what you thought would be good for us to trade with each other… What was each of your roles? Who’s the lead negotiator, what was Jessa supposed to do?”

You only hold the weapon that will be the key to your destruction and we will use it to slaughter your precious Federation into atoms, Rogan nodded as if weighing the proposition suggested by Rinker. “We come to trade the knowledge of enlightenment through which all things are possible. In the Galactic Union we trade ideas which builds hope, faith, and love in our fellow man.” The words were slippery and rehearsed for the masses yet unlike Jessa who showed a fanatical belief in what she had been taught, Rogan seemed to approach their religion with a grain of salt. It was in the way his eyes seemed to drift off and lose their conviction. The slight slump of his shoulders as if he was only reciting it because it was required and not believed. “If we were at your negotiation table we would be discussing education, philosophy, and faith in how our two worlds could find unity. We would share our technology which,” Rogan let out a small chuckle and scratched the area above his eyebrow as if trying to explain something to a child, “is far and above anything in your backwater corner of the galaxy.”

“Wonderful, could you speak more of this technology and this education. We are explorers at heart, curious by nature. We welcome any information freely given.”

“We also welcome freedom to explore but,” Rogan spread out his hands, “at times we don’t always get what we want.” It was a feeble attempt to gain his freedom from the cell and yet Rogan didn’t think it hurt to mention it again.

“Right now the largest freedom I can offer is a choice between meat and fish for dinner.” He seemed genuinely disappointed by his limited powers in this regard. He had to work at finding things he was actually didn’t mind giving him. “But you didn’t actually answer the question… of what technology and knowledge you would share.. or trade.”

“Oh Hammer I am pretty sure you could do more…if you set your mind to it. Meat…bloody,” Rogan replied in a cold tone putting in a dinner request. He had no idea if Rinker actually could produce something besides the oily brick the crew was calling Nutraloaf. “Dessert,” he glanced at Ian, “something sweet and soft.” The comment had nothing to do with attraction. It was meant to solely provoke the man next to Rinker. Something would get under his skin and make the man speak. It was just a matter of finding out what that was.

Rinker tilted his head slightly, he was probably right, he could do more if he were so inclined. He wasn’t really of the mind to give Rogan anything. He was a scorpion and in this case Rinker was the frog. He wasn’t going to change Rogan no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he tried. But food was a minor concession one that he was willing to trade. He glanced over to the security officer and gave him a slight nod.

“As for what we can trade each other… Hammer don’t patronize me and I won’t you. You don’t want any technology. You want the technology.” The verbal games helped to soothe the ire burning in Rogan’s soul since he had arrived on the Atlantis. This was the first time Rogan had ever been in the theoretical position of prisoner. In a way it was exhilarating and would give Rogan something to think about in the monotony when his guests left. “Weapons? You what to know how we kill those that oppose us?” The comment was icily cold and spoke almost as if it were a threat instead of a question. “Propulsion? How did we get from there to here when you move across the inky blackness of space at the pace of a slug?” Rogan appeared far more relaxed as he spoke. “Ignorance and malaise is fueled when information is given without sacrifice or struggle. Only those that learn and experience sacrifice and struggle to obtain knowledge through education can profit from the progression of a rotting soul in darkness to become a beacon of light on the path of enlightenment.” The sing-song melody of Rogan’s rhetoric would sound familiar.

Rinker didn’t want anything, in truth… he actually wanted knowledge.. nor did he believe Rogan was going to give him anything of value, so Rogan was being deceptive in some fashion. By saying he was going to be honest was the first clue he was going to lie some more.

“Yeah yeah give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. We got poetic quotes too buddy but there is a more universal one even you might understand. Put up or shut up ‘cause saying you have fleek doesn’t mean you actually have fleek.” Ian was getting irritated with Rogan far quicker than his fellow officer. The comment was intended to bait Rogan but the use of Jessa’s expletives in it had a purpose. Over and above Ian’s skills as a diplomat, he was also a polygot. Using one’s personal language showed honor and respect to another’s civilization. In this case, however, it was meant to hint that maybe the Galactic Union was not as shrouded in as much mystery as the Elders appeared to make it want to be. The snapping of Rogan’s eyes on Ian spoke volumes. Yeah buddy go ahead and worry about what you think we might know.

Directing his gave back to Rinker, Rogan’s eyes held a bit more fire. “What about the location of our home galaxy,” Rogan suggested. “That would be a juicy bit to fling at the dogs howling back at your command. Is our home location worth something to you?” Tactically it was suicide to reveal such a thing but it would take this Federation a hundred generations over just to reach the outskirts of the Galactic Union but these simpering fools didn’t realize that.

“It would if our intention was aggression. Know where your enemy is so you can get at his base of operations, his resources, his people. It speaks to the nature of a people. Do you think we want information so we can harm you?”

“No I don’t think you have the ability to harm us. I think you would send diplomats and emissaries to broker a peace or treaty with us yet in the end you would be like the rest of the galaxy. You would abandon all you are and join us. What we offer always beats what you have.” This was the first time Rogan was honest and appeared not to want to manipulate Rinker one way or the other. What he said is what he believed.

Resuming his more lackadaisical posture, Rogan continued to answer Rinker’s questions. “You asked about a leader,” he returned to his line of questions from earlier. We do not have a leader per se because all of us are equal and speak for each other. As Elders, we all hold the same rank and power between us. A promise from one of us is binding by all of our group. It helps in situations like this,” he swished a finger about. “Like when we are separated because someone thinks one of us will break. A little hint,” he leaned in motioning symbolically for Rinker to do the same, “you can’t break ever break a quad.”

“There are first among equals,” Rinker countered. “Even in Camelot, where all were considered so equal, there was a round table so no one could sit at its head, there was a king and a first knight. Is there no rank structure at all?” He paused.

“Okay sot that is not exactly true. There is one among us that is not equal but above,” Rogan bend his head from left to right working out a kink. “The Divine chooses one of us to speak for all. This person, for now, is the Rectoress. When she dies another will be appointed from within our ranks. That is why I say we are all equal.” The neutral tone was probably the closest thing to honesty Rinker and Ian had seen from the man so far. As suddenly as it rose to the surface it again dipped below the oily surface of the Rogan’s smirk. “Don’t wanna screw over your boss before you know they are your boss if you know what I mean.” Again, Rogan attempted some light banter and humor in the conversation. “She oversees all in the Galactic Union. Politicians, the military, the Elders…everyone reports to her and she…,” Rogan took a deep breath reciting a mantra, “leads us on the path of enlightenment.” The mantra lacked the deep spiritual fanaticism demonstrated by Jessa. It matched more lip service to rules and regulations that one followed but not exactly to the letter of the law.

“We have a motto, don’t step on people on the way up… they are the same people who can step on you on your way down.”
“Is Jessa not part of your quad? You were very emphatic that she was not an Elder.”

For the first time Rogan dropped his carefully manicured act. A momentary flash of concern washed over his face, tightening his jaw and stiffening his body. His eyes darted to Rinker as if a word or action had slipped and the man discovered an important fact. Rogan like the rest of the Elders needed Jessa because she was an intricate part of the quad. Without her, they could not form a temporary psychic bond and share what had happened to each of them. They needed her and the more time Jessa was a part of them the less they could pretend they were a united front. It was time to play on their soft, sensibilities. “Because she is a child and you seemed hell-bent on leaving us in here to rot. Sacrifice. It is what one does for those they love. We distanced her from us for her protection…from you.”

“From us,” Ian scoffed rolling his eyes slightly dropping his parade rest posture to something more authoritative. “The us that have treated her for her injuries? The us that....,” his voice trailed off. Too many years as a diplomat meant Ian knew he let Rogan know how important Jessa was to the crew. At this point, however, Ian didn’t care. Jessa was never going back to this man or his roving band of fanatical monks. In time, when they finally hunted down the kid’s mother, Ian and Kelly would decide on the next course of action but if Momma Novar was as die-hard fanatical as the rest of them then the Bordeaux’s might permanently increase by one. Heathcliff had done wonders in the past few days. He would just add your mom is unfit to the therapy plan if needed.

Rinker gave Ian a sidelong glance, well he lasted longer than Rinker thought he was going to. But equally true, Rogan didn’t try to threaten them or Jessa too much. So it was only a matter of time.

Straightening up, he turned his gaze to Ian. The man had been too quiet up to now. Maybe it was time to see which of the two men had a vested interest in negotiations and which had an interest in the girl. While Rinker was asking all the questions, the man behind him had to have a role in this. The question was what was that role. Obviously he had a vested interest in the kid. Rogan was about to see how much.

Rogan let his gaze dip to Ian before addressing another question of Rinker’s. “You asked what Jessa’s role is in this. Her role is to learn from us. We are her teachers, her family. She will not stray from us because we have the one thing you can never possess.”

Glancing directly at Rinker, Rogan let a cruel expression play over his face. It was smug and spoke of unwavering faith in the conviction of his answer. “We have her mother.”

Rogan

Rinker responded quickly, “To what end?” He looked perplexed as if the statement was gibberish and he couldn’t see the cruelty in Rogan’s eyes… how quickly your thin veneer of civility fades. . “All of our mothers are in the Federation’s bosom. Certainly that is the safest place for them. I would think she would welcome the great care your Galactic Union gives all the mothers of its ambassadors.”

rinker

Something snapped and twisted deep inside Rogan at the mention of Bria’s mother being one of them. “She is a traitor and rebel. Do not ever bring up her as Jessa’s mother again,” Rogan suddenly turned vicious. Bashing his hand against the invisible barrier between them, Rogan twisted so that his breath fogged the area slightly by his mouth and spittle flew from his lips. “Novar will die the way all those who turn against the Galactic Union deserve. In a pool of her own blood, blinded by her huberis from the glory of the Divine and deafened by her own screams. Nothing will remain of the triffing little dren. She ran from us once but we hunted down the fleeking varp.” Pounding on the screen in rapid succession with his fist set off a small klaxon in the security bay. There was no chance Rogan could break out of the force field and yet the shimmering wall registered a microsecond of disturbance in its integrity before again achieving full power.

“Sir,” the security office said in a low tone but did nothing to react. They had rehearsed the plan enough and he was crystal clear on the instructions to not react unless given a command by Rinker to do something.

Rinker stepped towards the force field. He trusted the technology, but more important than all of that he continued to want to confuse Rogan with his effects on others… particularly him. The sudden aggression is what people do to intimidate and manipulate. Rinker was not a child easily terrified by loud noises nor was he passionately in love with Rogan - whose self-esteem was looped into his affection. “You are aware you brought her up… right.” It was common in therapy that patients would blame the topics on the therapist. In this case, he was surprised that Rogan made this error.

Rage began to blind Rogan. It was a combination of Rinker not backing down and treading into a topic that Rogan never wished to discuss. Pounding the invisible wall in rapid succession directly at Rinker’s face, small red marks on the man’s knuckles grew darker. Bruises would develop later but Rogan’s adrenaline was peaking. Pure fury clipped every word and sped up the rate at which Rogan was speaking. “You equated her with an equal of me. Never do that again. She is a blight and her memory will be stripped from the collective universe. I am the one that has burned in Jessa’s mind as a constant for the past seven years. I will be the one Jessa drops to her knees and begs for comfort and forgiveness when she falls from the path. I am the one that has seared from Jessa’s mind the vile rhetoric she spewed condemning her daughter to a life of pain and suffering.” Breathingly heavily, Rogan slammed both palms on the forcefield on opposite sides of Rinker’s head. The action was meant to symbolically create the sensation Rinker was trapped and pinned against a wall like prey that was cornered. Rogan’s fingers curled and opened on the invisible wall working out his inability to choke the life out of the man before him. The ringing rage that dulled Rogan’s hearing slowly began to dissipate and was replaced with a new sound.

“That’s going to bruise… If you want I’ll get my medical bag and take a look at that for you later.” Rinker again gave him bits of information that he wanted him to have and enough to keep his mind churning in the wrong direction. “There are so many small bones in the hand, you can break and dislocate them surprisingly easily.. boxer fractures we call them.”

“You are a doctor?” The small creases in the corners of Rogan’s eyes along with the lines on his forehead deepened displaying confusion. Glancing to the left, his mind processed a fact that had literally been staring back at him. This man wore blue. The man beside him wore red. Different colors. Different uniforms. Doctors did not command fleets. They only put those on them back together again. This man would not aid the mission, only distract from it. Rogan’s mind simmered with fact yet none of them lined up into a clear direction. Returning his stare back to Rinker, Rogan mulled over this man’s connection to Jessa. If you are not in command then why are you speaking on Jessa’s behalf and the one to decide if I see her or not.

A glaze drifted over Rogan’s countenance as he tried to connect dots that did not line up. A flicker of his eyes towards Ian and back to the security guard finally defined the man’s role. Handsome is here to protect you because you fear me. Straightening up he moved his hand to his side. “You going to fix me up? Use your antiquated medicine? I will be better before you can get back with your archaic tools.” Laying his forehead on the glass, several breaths fogged the space between the two men.

The klaxon was enough to snap Rogan from his rage and back to reality. Taking a step back, he lifted his hands off the wall as if surrendering. “Do not let Jessa blind you as her mother did us. Both are dangerous in ways you can’t imagine.” Taking a deep breath, Rogan stared menacingly at Rinker. “I am tired of your games. What do you want for me to see the girl?”

Rogan

“Its a shame you have nothing to offer because I can be bought.” Which was true, but his fees were in terms of life, and happiness… “How much are little girls worth to you?”

Rinker

“The ability to destroy your enemies like the wrath of God himself. Our ship holds enough technology to keep your engineers busy for ten lifetimes. Bring me the girl and I will give you weapons that can destroy a planet with a single ship. I will give you the power to travel between galaxies at the snap of your fingers. I will give you the power of the Galactic Union…for one little girl.” Rage and aggression polluted Rogan enough that he was willing to pay any price to get his hands on Jessa. Once he had the girl, he would inspire Jessa to work faster to accomplish their mission. These people were too backward to reverse engineer anything to stop the mission. To Rogan it was like giving a loaded weapon to an ant. They did not have the strength or the intelligence to use it.

Rogan

“Promises, promises. I don’t think we’ve reached the level of trust where I would give you something expecting you to pay off later. Not to mention, we have you, your ship, your friends, and Jessa - you are trying to barter with things we already possess. Anything you don’t have inside your head right now is something we don’t need you to get or learn… it certainly won’t take ten lifetimes to pry the secrets you offer from your ship or your friends.”

“You do not have Jessa,” Rogan roared furiously as he began to pace his cell like a caged animal. His heart rate and respiration increased along with his strides as Rinker talked. “She is one of us. Nothing comes between us. You can’t own us…pit us against each other like the vapid, simpering masses who genuflect for our scraps. Our bond is sealed by the Divine. That may not mean much to me but it does to Jessa.” The words sounded hollow in Rogan’s ears. Doubt was creeping onto the edges of tone. They had put the fear God into Jessa for a month on the journey here. It could not have been unravled in three days.

“So what facts do you have in that wondrous brain of yours that I would like. Or is there nothing there except evasions, threats, and impotent banging on a force-field?” Both a compliment and a statement to induce rage. Rogan didn’t like being in the weaker position, and his attempts to enrage Rinker was failing… and even his attempts to provoke Ian weren’t gaining too much traction… he would panic and start clawing for a way to reassert dominance… perhaps with the knowledge he claims to have.

Stopping his pacing, Rogan strode up to the force field as if he were on the other side of it and not contained behind it. “You seem to know a lot about Guardian Novar. You talk to her a lot? You must if you are speaking to us on her behalf.”

“What has Jessa told you that you believe with those sad blue eyes she fixes upon you when she speaks? Did she tell you we are here because of her? Has she spun a yarn about being abducted by us? It was her plan and probably that triffing Pellan that brought us here. You want to know why were are here in this cell? It is not because of your light slide. It is because we did not come with a command aramada in response to the message your precious Federation sent us? We came with assurances that Captain Bordeaux would greet us and give us what is rightfully ours. You want confirmation of this…bring me Captain Ian Bordeaux. I will wait.” Rogan felt his pulse pounding in his chest. He was tired of these games and being told what his role was instead of assigning roles to others.

Rogan

OOC I feel bad, you write much more than I, but Rinker and the situation is where Rinker certain would do his best to get Rogan monologuing.

Rinker

OOC: Never feel bad. I absolutely love your writing. I also agree 100% with your approach as a therapist. You certainly get me monologuing lol. I honestly feel like your writing portrays a strength in Heathcliff that makes him fascinating to read. I only worry I write too much and bore you. I think we have a great rhythm. ~ Kate