Commander Theodore reviewed the third incident report involving Brinus this week. He was not the only parolee with multiple complaints about him and he wasn’t the worst. He was in his office and was pissed because he had been dealing with convict recruits all day.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Enter!” yelled The Commander.
All of these incidents involved criminals who had recently completed boot camp.
The Commander realized this person would be the fourth ex-con he had spoken with today. They knew integrating criminals into the military would be tough which was why The Navy didn’t recruit prisoners from jails unless there was an emergency.
Brinus entered the room and saluted. “Brinus Helios reporting as ordered, sir!”
The commander motioned for his chair. “Sit down, Stinkball. You were involved in three separate incidents this week.”
“Yes, sir.” Brinus sat in the armchair in front of his commander’s desk, crossing his arms and legs in a defensive posture.
“Sit at proper fucking posture or I will escalate this to the captain right now!!!”
Brinus straightened his posture out sitting with his hands by his side and legs uncrossed.
“Right! Why the fuck do you feel the need to mouth off at your commanding officer Stinkball?”
Brinus said nothing.
Making a sarcastic smile, Commander Theodore sneered, “You feel the need to backtalk a commanding officer as you do me right now,midshipman?”
Brinus stayed silent and still and looked his commander in the eyes.
“If we weren’t at war and you weren’t a criminal, you would be given a captain’s mass. However, you have a unique situation and are given a little more leeway than the others.”
Brinus swallowed hard.
“Shape the fuck up, or I will refer this matter to the captain. In the meantime, I am putting you on half-pay for six months and will be confiscating your prize money from the Battle Caliver System. I am also cutting access to your trust fund. Dismissed!”
Brinus saluted and left. leaning against the wall and cussing when he was alone. Brinus knew he was in the wrong. The fine stung at the core of his soul like a swarm of hornets in the summer's heat. He was poor again.
Later that day, Brinus was on his console trying to buy a limited time plasma sword for his character. It wouldn't allow him to complete the transaction because the bank account it was tied to too was blocked. He put the controller down and checked his trust fund and he was locked out of it. At this moment he realized he was fucked.
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Someone knocked on Captain Plato's door and Commander Theodore entered the captain’s office at the end of the day. Plato simply looked at the commander and put down his pad. “Did you speak to the Ex-cons?”
He nodded and sat on the armchair in Plato’s office. “Yes, sir, I did. It took most of the day, but I did it.”
Captain Plato’s whiskers twitched, and his tail flicked from side to side. “Good, I don’t want trouble on my ship. What is your opinion on the new wave of convict recruits?”
He folded his arms and sighed, “I think the convicts are unruly, sir, and will need further training.”
The captain looked at his computer terminal and then shifted in his seat. “I agree. Your department is not the only one having difficulties with them. You’re the fourth department head to come to me with issues. I was going over the report and making Plans for individual officers with the help of medical. We will do CBT therapy for Brinus and Cameo, the new warp core tech, and for your other new recruits, we will do CBT therapy on the Holosuiet. They are even worse than Brinus and Cameo. Questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
He saluted and left.
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He welded an armor plate onto a security droid in full gear as the sparks danced off of his mask and gloves. Headbanging to the music, Brinus sang over the sweet metallic smell of the metal. He blasted the song Ice Corpse---a song about a medical examiner flash freezing bodies on a battlefield. The music vibrated the walls with the metal shavings on the floors danced like newlyweds at a mosh pit.
He heard a voice cough at the door.
Knock. Knock.
“Alex! Cut music.”
The music ended abruptly as he disabled the welding torch and removed his welding gear. Looking up, it was a woman with long black hair, thick coke bottle glasses, and a navy uniform but with a green acting lieutenant’s and midshipman’s ribbon. Green was for medical.
Brinus addressed the lieutenant. “Ma’am. Can I help you?”
The lieutenant crossed her arms and smiled. “I am Dr. Calnori, your new therapist. Your commander thinks you might benefit from someone to talk to.”
Brinus laughed and crossed his arms. “I don’t need therapy, ma’am. If you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”
The therapist said in a professional voice, “Might I remind you that if you refuse therapy, I will not clear you for duty, and you will be sent back to prison.”
Brinus looked at the therapist. “Are you saying it is mandatory, lieutenant ma’am?”
Dr. Calnori shook her head and leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms. “I am saying it is a request I want you to say yes to. I will meet you twice a week at seventeen hundred hours until you show improvement in your performance.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Brinus sighed. “Is this a joke?”
She shook her head and said, “No one’s laughing. You weren’t the worst-behaved recruit, but you are one of the problem children.”
Brinus smiled, showing his teeth in his classic screw-you smile. "Do you wanna know about my mommy issues? What about my ‘boyfriend problem’?" He then laughed and crossed his arms.
The therapist looked at Brinus with a blank look and then said, “Do you agree to twice-weekly sessions until your performance improves? or are you refusing therapy? Keep in mind refusal could result in you losing your duke’s privileges and going back to prison.”
Brinus began biting his nails out of nerves and craved a cig. He reached into his pocket, put a cigarette into his mouth, and lit the other end. “I don’t want to go back to prison. Fine, let’s talk.”
Dr. Calnori looked at Brinus and stood next to him. “I need you to say it. Do you consent to therapy?”
Brinus shrugged and said, taking a drag. “Yes, ma’am. I consent to therapy.”
She said in a hard voice, shifting in her seat, “Good. For the first session, we will start basic information gathering with a Q and A session. I will let the record show you consent to therapy despite initial resistance. Are you always this rebellious?”
“What can I say? I like freedom.” Brinus leaned over the workbench and blew smoke into the air. He sat on a stool putting his hands behind his head.
“I looked at your file before I came. It was colorful. You did five hits for the syndicate as part of your burglary training. What was it like killing someone outside of combat?”
“Everyone is guilty of something.”
The consular came up to Brinus and sat next to him. “It says in your file you smoke about eighty a day. What is your take?”
Brinus crossed his arms and frowned. “Yeah? And? Everyone smokes.”
Dr. Calnori walked up to Brinus. She leaned onto the workbench. “When you were in the county lockup, you signed up for three packs daily. Commissary signed you up for four packs a day.”
Brinus crossed his arms and leaned back onto the wall. “What’s your point?”
The therapist adjusted her shirt and then said, “Do you think you smoke more because of your traumatic event with Harper and the stress you experienced in prison?”
Brinus said nothing because she was right. He nodded in acknowledgment.
“Are you rebellious because of your disdain for authority, or is it a self-defense mechanism to hide the pain you feel about Harper and your experiences with foster care? I know about the incident with the cop and your third foster mom.”
He looked at his therapist with a sad look and reached into his pocket for another smoke. He never really thought of it that way before.
“Right now, you’re smoking again when I mention Harper and Foster Care, and your first cigarette was when I started therapy. Yet you go twenty minutes without a one.”
Brinus sat in silent contemplation. He crossed his ankles under the workbench and said, “So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you think Harper might be a source of unresolved trauma?”
As Brinus smoked in silence. She was completely right and he nodded. Dr. Calnori took the silent smoking to mean that she was right. He also was pissed in general. First they strip his wealth from him and now they force him into mandatory therapy? Oh hell no.
“Just wondering, with the excessive smoking, are you unconsciously trying to harm yourself? Maybe you think you aren’t worthy of success because you couldn’t protect your best friend on that night or your first serious relationship from the syndicate?”
Brinus continued his silent treatment. On some level, he did hate himself. However, he wasn't going to admit it to this woman.
She came up from her seat and leaned against the wall. “I know smoking is popular, but more than thirty a day is considered excessive.” The doctor smiled and patted Brinus on the back.
As Brinus smoked, the therapist began looking around the robotics lab to gauge her surroundings and get a feel for her new client. Everything was neat and organized almost to a compulsive level. Boxes were labeled; the lab was sparkling clean; the office had pictures of Simmie on various camping and fishing trips with Brinus on four different planets. There was an ashtray with twenty tarken tea butts. The replicator was spotless, and the floors were shiny.
She went through the first aid kit. It had antibiotic gauze, a dermal regenerator, quick clot bandages, some morphine, and some antibiotic cream. The morphine was a bit odd as it was a controlled substance. What was missing was silver cream, burn cream, and bantha bandages for severe burns. She thought this was odd and made a note to herself.
“I will be in touch for your first therapy session on Friday. I look forward to working with you.”
Brinus was stotic as she left.
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Dr. Calnori was with the commander. They were both at a space cow steak restaurant on the promenade in the hallway seating. The restaurant had sidewalk tables with ashtrays. I was almost full with forty-four couples and groups of officers and enlisted personnel in the dining hall.
The promenade dining space was small and cozy with forty chairs and twenty tables. There were ashtrays on every table with napkins and various spices with salt. The tables were metal and the chairs were padded and made of wood.
The Commander shrugged and leaned on the table. “What is your assessment of Brinus and Cameo, lieutenant.”
Dr. Calnori began cutting up her meat into strips and said, “Cameo shouldn’t have made it past Basic Training. I think we should discharge him. Brinus, though, will be a challenge like everyone else with ASPD, but in the end, he will fall in line.”
The commander began dipping the roll in the garlic butter sauce and then ate two of them. “Do you think you can help the two midshipmen?”
Dr. Calnori after chewing and swallowing her food, “Yes, sir. I can help Brinus. Cameo, though, not only refused therapy but grabbed my butt and told me to ‘get lost’.”
The commander shrugged his shoulders and then said, “I will have the captain revoke Cameo’s parole.”
“Is that all, sir?”
nodding and dipping their breadsticks in the dipping sauce, they exclaimed, “Yes, lieutenant. finish your meal, and I will pay for it.”
“Sir.”
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Dr. Calnori was in the captain’s office. She had a shot of whiskey in her right hand. The captain was going over treatment plans for the twenty ex-cons identified for talking therapy. They came across Brinus and they crossed off yet another name.
“Next on the list. Brinus Helios. What is your plan with him?”
Dr. Calnori looked at the captain. “I plan on addressing the excessive smoking because I think it is a form of subconscious self-harm. I think he hates himself, and it manifests in his rebellion against authority and other self-destructive behaviors like heavy smoking and getting into arguments with superiors. My goal is to get him to drastically reduce down to six cigarettes a day. I also plan on addressing his PTSD from his time in foster care and the syndicate. I also want to address the trauma around Harper. I think if I address those things, his behavior will improve. It also seems that his rebelliousness stems from a fundamental distrust of authority. I think we need to get him to trust us and know we won’t screw him over like the syndicate."
Captain Plato made some notes on his pad and put his stylus on the desk. “You don’t think he trusts us?”
Dr. Calnori Leaned over in her chair. “I think he has been burned so many times by authority figures he probably doesn’t view us as having his best interests in mind, Captain, sir.”
“How will you convince him we are not here to screw him?”
“I think he needs a mentor. I have a few in mind.”
“Noted. How will you get him to reduce his smoking?”
“I plan on using a combination of CBT to change his way of thinking about smoking and NRT to manage the withdrawal symptoms. I want to make him realize he is using cigarettes to cope with trauma and does not need them.”
The captain looked at Dr. Calnori. “How long are we looking at? What is the treatment plan?”
“I don’t know. Brinus has some significant authority-related trauma. I think he will eventually, with time, trust us, but it will take a while.”
“How long? What is the timetable?”
“I can’t give you a timetable, sir. I have said this every time you asked for each client, like the last ten clients, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
The lieutenant saluted and left the office