Mark lifted his forehead off the frame of his cabin door. This was one meeting he truly didn’t want to attend. There was nothing Mark hated more than somebody trying to get in his head. He hated when people would try and analyze his feelings or scrutinize his thoughts. That was the exact job description of the person he was about to meet with. The ship’s counselor.

Alright. Let’s get this over with. He said as he brought his arms down to push his body away from the door. He took one last look in the mirror and leaned forward at the sight of his jet black hair. A gift from his mother’s side of the family. He pushed the stray long hairs from the top of his head and slicked them up and back with the rest of them. He ran his fingers along the shaved sides of his scalp and made sure his hair was properly parted where the hard part had been drawn with a razor. Leaning back again, he straightened his uniform and marched promptly out the door.

Outside of the Counselor’s office, Mark struggled to bring himself to press the chime on the panel beside the door. Inhale. 1. 2. 3. 4. Exhale. 1. 2. 3. 4. He thought as he brought the cool air in through his nose and out through his mouth. He pressed the chime.

When the doors opened, he stepped inside and was immediately greeted by the sight of whom, Mark could only assume, was the Saracen’s Counselor. Mark tried to look as comfortable as possible. “I’m Engisn Mark Atlas.” He said, his deep Tennessee accent becoming apparent. “I was told to come here for a psych exam.”

Ensign Mark Atlas, Medical