Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Vanessa Slade (CNS) in Office of the Counselor = Psych Eval

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Edelu (CMO) in Office of the Counselor = Psych Eval

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Vanessa Slade (CNS) in Office of the Counselor = Psych Eval
Posted by… suppressed (7) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The corridor outside the counselor’s office was quiet, with only the low hum of the ship underfoot and the occasional muffled hiss of a distant door opening. Dr. Edelu paused there—not out of hesitation, but out of habit. The Mintakan way was to observe before acting. And though Federation culture leaned more toward efficiency than contemplation, some instincts refused to be unlearned.

He adjusted the edge of his medical coat, simple and traditional in its tailoring. A visible badge of belonging, and yet still a symbol of distance—of a journey traveled farther than most Starfleet physicians would ever imagine.

He had read what was available about Lieutenant Junior Grade Vanessa Slade. South Boston roots. Big family. Big energy. No patience for nonsense. The kind of person who probably made her patients talk even when they didn’t mean to. He imagined her office smelled like burnt espresso and lavender hand lotion.

He didn’t mind that.

The real question, as always, was whether she would mind him—a Mintakan, trained off-world, charting a life far beyond what his own people still believed possible. He had met counselors who recoiled at his logic, or tried to coax out trauma where none had been claimed. But something about Slade’s file told him she didn’t deal in fragility. She dealt in real.

That, at least, they would have in common.

He stepped forward and tapped the chime, his voice smooth and even:

“Lieutenant Commander Edelu, reporting for onboarding psychological clearance.”

Then he waited, standing at ease, expression composed—ready to face the first of what would be many first impressions aboard the Genesis.

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

His response was not immediately met. Instead small grunts and soft pops could be heard if Edelu was listening carefully enough. About ten seconds after he reached out, he heard a breathy yell of “okay be right there,” followed by some more soft pops and grunts. A minute later the door opened and Vanessa along with another crew member appeared in the door way. They were dressed as if they were playing tennis and breathing as if they just competed in something like Wimbledon.

“I am really sorry about that vase Vanessa,” the officer said. “My back hand can get a bit crazy at time.” He had a sheepish look and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Its fine,” she waved him off. “I mean it was only something my grandmother made in her pottery class at the senior center. I will just get her to whip me up another one. Next week same time,” she said.

“Yeah but can we do something less physical. Maybe we can play scrabble. See you. Sir,” he nodded at the CMO before walking out of the room.

Edelu nodded in acknowledgement of the young officer.

“Sorry about that,” Vanessa said dropping the racket into a basket by the door. “I sent a timer on the program but it didn’t seem to go off. I will get engineering on it. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?” Heading to the replicator, Vanessa replicated a large iced coffee.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” as was Mintaken tradition, you always followed your host’s lead.

Generating two iced coffee’s Vanessa hoped it would be okay. Many people liked tea over coffee but it was too early to tease him about his beverage choices. She also grabbed a tin box that was hexagonal in shape.

After finishing with the replicator she plopped down into one of the large living room type chairs in the space. Her outfit was not the tradition counselor uniform. It was in fact a white tennis skit with navy trim and matching white v neck sweater with with navy trim. Her hair was pulled back into a long pony tail that bobbed with each step and movement. “So how was your trip here? Easy enough of I hope?” Vanessa had an easy and relaxed quality to her personality. She greeted the CMO as if he was a friend stopping by for a long overdue chat and not with the formality of an intact meeting.

Vanessa Slade CNS

Edelu appreciated the informality immediately. Protocol, rigidity, and formality—these were all constructs he’d had to learn when he joined what he often referred to as “the advanced universe.”

“I always find long trips on quiet transport vessels rather relaxing,” he said, settling in. “It’s the closest I get to feeling like I’m back on Mintaka III—outside a holosuite, that is.”

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

Vanessa had placed his coffee on the table and opened the tin. Inside were several large, oblong cookies. “My grandma’s keep me stocked up on these. They are called biscotti. The are a cookie that is hard as a rock. They are twice baked so they are supposed to be like this. The benefit is they travel really well because they have the consistency of a brick.” Tapping it on the table she let out a small chuckle. “What can I say though. It is a piece of home. Help yourself but if you don’t like it please don’t be polite. I am not one to stand on ceremony around.”

“So I hate,” Vanessa said leaning down and untying one shoe as she talked, “the whole tell me about yourself. What are you deep secrets schtick.” Pulling off one shoe she started working on the other. “I mean who would just sit down and unload their crazy on their first visit. Normally it takes a second one,” she laughed again kicking her other shoe off. “So how about we do a twenty question type thing. I will tell you something about me and then you can tell me something about you. Since we are going to be DH buddies I figure we should get to know each other a bit more. To make it less weird I will go first. I have nine brothers and they all start with the first letter D. Dalton, David, Daniel, Duncan, Dane, Dallas, Dylan, Dexter and Dennis. Its not some weird cult thing. We are Catholic. Typically you name your first born son after the dad however my brothers were twins and there was a small mix up when they were born. The doctor delivered them and then presented them to my mom but couldn’t remember which one came first. So my parents decided to use the first letter instead of calling one Doug junior and later finding out he was technically Doug the third.” Vanessa wore a small smile on her face. My next two brothers were named after my uncles so the D thing just kept going except when I came along. My Dad decided to use my Mom’s first letter. Anyway that is the weird fun fact about me. I have a football team of brothers that all start with the letter D. Your turn.”

Vanessa Slade CNS

Dr. Edelu arched a brow at the counselor’s unconventional approach. It wasn’t unwelcome—just unexpected. But he found he appreciated it. The honesty. The looseness. It reminded him, faintly, of home.

He accepted the biscotti with a polite nod but made no move to eat it yet.

“My parents died in a famine when I was nine,” he said evenly, settling deeper into the chair. There was no weight of drama in his tone—only quiet finality. “I nearly died as well. But we endured. My tribe took me in.”

He let the words sit for a moment, not to elicit sympathy, but to honor the truth of them.

“That’s my one for the round,” he added softly, offering the smallest trace of a smile.

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

“Hell of a round one,” Vanessa said. Her tone was empathetic but she could not hide the surprise in her tone either. Many in Starfleet had lives very different than her upbringing. Depending on who she spoke with, they wore the same expression she had hearing how large her family was and how close they were. Vanessa didn’t know if and when Edelu might want to circle back and talk about his family. She also knew this was a check in. Before he left, she would circle back and let him know that her office was open for more than light banter.

“What do you do to unwind? I run marathons. Well I run the Boston Marathon. I am not one of those crazy people that scour the universe to try and win a trophy,” she corrected her statement to be more accurate than a single sentence.

“The answer i tell people about why is that I have nine brothers and if you weren’t the fastest to the dinner table you didn’t eat.” She wore a warm smile as she spoke. In Starfleet families were more like acquaintances due to the large distances between one’s home world and their place of employment. “The actual reason I started running the Boston Marathon was due to my job at the VA. As you might have noticed, I try to engage my clients in their hobbies as part of their therapy. Ensign Becker is a tennis nut. The holodeck was full so we just played the computerized version on the PaDD. It tends to give people more control. Especially when I don’t know my ass from my elbows about their hobby. They teach me and I help them work through things. Anyways,” Vanessa waved her hand casually as if clearing the air from her previous statement. Edelu was not a normal check in from the standpoint he was a department head. He was also the doctor and it was not uncommon for Vanessa to limp in after a therapy session due to an injury.

“A lot of my prior clients were ex-security types at the Boston VA. The one thing they all have in common is running from training and PT and such. Normally we would just run around most of the session. Well that was before I could manage to keep up,” she let out another laugh. “I had one client who pushed me as hard as I pushed him. He promised to start opening up if I promised to train for the marathon. In the end we ran it together as in he took off like a bat out of hell and I showed up four hours later at the finish line. The hobby stuck although I haven’t run a real marathon in the past year.”

Vanessa Slade CNS

Edelu listened with the same attentiveness he gave to patients in crisis, though a faint smile curved the edge of his mouth as she described her marathon experience. There was something comforting in her candor. Unvarnished, unforced. Like conversation on a warm evening under open skies.

“Running,” he echoed thoughtfully. “I’ve never quite mastered the appeal of moving quickly for pleasure.”

“Oh you will learn,” she laughed. “Especially when you are being chased by Rodent like being or stuck in a maze with timer over your head like some bizzarro version of GlaFlix’s Squidaro game. I swear every away mission I am running for my life.”

He raised the biscotti to his lips and tried to take a bite, nearly chipping his tooth in the process. He looked at the pastry inquisitively.

“Yeah they are supposed to be that hard. Use your molars,” she said off handedly.

“When time allows,” he continued, “I prefer stillness. Meditation. The preparation of tinctures. I maintain a small collection of medicinal herbs—some traditional to Mintaka, others more… contemporary.”

There was the faintest glint in his eye as he said this—just enough mischief to suggest that some of those “herbs” might offer more than just antiseptic properties.

“I find pharmacognosy a deeply satisfying art,” he went on, composed once more. “There’s something meditative in working with your hands, grounding volatile elements into something that heals.”

“As in boom volatile or cleanse the colon volatile?” Edelu was very interesting. He was free with the information but also cryptic. The adjectives he chose made her want to run down into his lab and start mixing things up.

Edelu allowed the faintest glimmer of amusement to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Both,” he replied simply, with an elegant shrug. “Depending on the dosage. And the moon phase. And whether or not your spirit is in alignment.”

His tone was perfectly measured—just ambiguous enough to leave Slade wondering if he was joking.

Then, with the air of someone offering a serious aside:

“I’ve found the colon responds quite decisively to improperly prepared sel drava root. But that was a hard lesson, learned early.”

He folded his hands again, gaze steady and serene.

“Still, better the root than the fireberries. Those do go boom.”

He looked over at her, calm and unhurried.

“It’s not as physically demanding as a marathon, I’ll grant you. But it clears the mind. Brings the body into focus. And some of my preparations are excellent for sore muscles—should you ever find yourself limping into Sickbay.”

“Well I will be sure to pop in.”

“Candor, Counselor, is a characteristic of my race. I’ll give you answers to every question you may have…”

A pause. Then, dry as desert air.

“And unlike your friend from the VA, I won’t make you run a marathon to earn them.”

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

“I appreciate it that. I also don’t know if you know but I am a registered nurse. Before I enlisted into Starfleet I attended Bunker Hill community college. I got my degree hung out a Mass General in the neurology department. One of the doctors there I got really close to. He flip flopped several times between civilian life and Starfleet. Nathan was great to work with and piqued my curiosity with the mind. He answered the call of Starfleet and re-enlisted when they needed his skills on some border skirmish. The day he left Mass Gen I applied to the academy. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Vanessa Slade CNS

Edelu tilted his head slightly, absorbing the counselor’s words with more interest than he outwardly expressed. Registered nurse. That detail settled into his awareness like a stone tucked in a healer’s pouch—unobtrusive, but potentially vital. Useful in a crisis, he noted silently. Not that he expected one—but crisis rarely cared what we expected.

“Mass General has an impressive legacy,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. “And I imagine neurology gave you no shortage of puzzles to unravel.”

He let the observation sit for a breath, then leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his hands with the kind of deliberate stillness unique to someone used to quiet observation.

“As for me…”

His voice softened, touched with the weight of memory.

“I was a medicine man. On Mintaka.”

A simple statement—but not without gravity.

“In my tribe, healing was… holistic. We used minerals, plants, pressure points. Chanting, sometimes. The work was intimate. Intuitive. You knew your patients, because you shared the same fire with them at night.”

His gaze drifted briefly to a point just beyond the counselor’s shoulder, eyes distant but not lost.

“When I left,” he continued, purposefully vague on the when or how, “I thought I was leaving medicine behind. But then I saw what Federation science could do. The speed. The precision. The—” he smiled faintly, “—luxury of antiseptics.”

His fingers tapped once, lightly, against his knee.

She watched him tap his knee and let her mind wander as he spoke. The tapping might have been a physical reaction to a memory or just a gesture. All people had small tells they used when dealing with emotions. She would have to pay attention to see if this action was a pattern or a one time thing.

“It fascinated me. Still does. Healing in minutes what once took weeks… or couldn’t be healed at all.”

His eyes found hers again—calm, open, and utterly sincere.

“Turns out, whether you’re brewing poultices or calibrating dermal regenerators… the goal is the same.”

A pause, then a dry addendum:

“I still prefer herbs for headaches, though. Old habits die hard.”

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer

“My nonna’s would love you,” she said. “Medicine is free but time is not. With a family as large as mine someone was always sick and spreading it to the rest of us. If my mom took us to the doctors every time we had a sniffle, she would have lived there. Her go to was onions, potato, and soup,” Vanessa let out a huge laugh. “Onions for ear aches, potatoes for headaches, and soup for everything else that ails you. Although,” she chewed another bite of her biscotti as she thought, “they were not wrong. All the fancy medicine we develop has always come from plants and animals. Mostly plants but the universe is a remarkable place. A weed can be a cure for influenza for a Betazoid but deadly to a Vulcan.” This was not a fact but more to demonstrate the point that something common to one place could be scarce in another or something helpful to one thing could be deadly to another.

“I don’t know anything about herbs and medicine but I do believe in knowing what to do when technology fails you. I mean what good is it to be in medical shuttle full of equipment if that shuttle crashes on a planet and loses power. It is just hunks of junk. What made you choose to become a doctor?”

Vanessa Slade

He listened without interruption, the corners of his mouth tilting ever so slightly upward at the mention of Nonna’s home remedies. There was something universal in it—in the way all grandmothers, on all worlds, turned to soup and root vegetables before synthofabricated pills.

“Onions, potatoes, soup,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. “It’s always the humble things that carry the deepest traditions.”

He folded his hands loosely in his lap, then let the silence breathe for a moment. When he finally spoke again, his voice had softened into something more intimate—still calm, still measured, but drawn from a deeper well.

“You asked what made me choose to become a doctor,” he echoed. “The honest answer is—I didn’t.”

He paused—not dramatically, just long enough to let the weight of it settle.

“I was chosen to be a healer by my elders. The way one is chosen to keep the fire lit, or tend the stories of the ancestors. We didn’t think of it as a profession. It was a role. A burden. A gift.”

He glanced toward the nearby tea service, watching a curl of steam drift lazily from a cup no one had touched.

“It wasn’t until I left Mintaka that I had to make the choice for myself. To seek out medicine again. But this time… with scanners instead of smoke. Lasers instead of leeches.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. His tone shifted—not joking, but drier now. More wry.

“I confess, dermal regenerators took some of the mystery out of it.”

Then, after a beat, quieter again:

“But the heart of it remains. People still hurt. People still fear. And sometimes, they simply need someone to sit beside them while the fever breaks.”

He met her eyes.

“That part hasn’t changed.”

He didn’t say anything more just then. He let the moment linger—gentle, unhurried—as if giving her permission to speak… or not. Some truths didn’t require follow-up. They only needed to be heard.

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer