Counselor de Jour

Posted on 06/18/2020 @ 9:05am by Lieutenant JG Remigius ("Remy") Fawkes Ph.D. & Lieutenant JG S'Lace

Mission: S1E3: Visit to Starbase 375
Location: Couselor's Office
Timeline: Day 2 at 1000

Fawkes had spent several hours on his office. There was no desk, he did the paperwork in his quarters. Nothing that looked officious or clinical.

Comfortable furnishings that invited a person to enter, to linger, to relax. A long sofa with throw pillows on both ends and a soft, nubby afghan tossed over the back. An oversized coffee table with an assortment of items he had spent years collecting. There was an old stone bowl, wide and shallow, engraved in ancient runes, in which had been placed an assortment of puzzles, things you could work with your hands while you spoke. There was a tiny zen garden with a rake, though the lines were crooked and in one case, broken. There was a trio of fat, squat candles, currently unlit and standing beside the tallest, a short statue, intricately carved in old gleaming wood. Across from the coffee table, was a wing-tipped chair and beside that, a low end table draped in cloth.

There were no paintings. Instead there were shelves upon shelves stuffed with books. Textbooks. Mysteries. Books about philosophy and culture. Old journals. Gifts from friends. And of course, every book he'd ever written either under his own name or one of several nom de plumes.

At the moment, he sat in the wing-tipped chair, one leg crossed over the other, sipping from a cup of tea while he read reports from a PADD. He looked up in surprise as the chime sounded. "Enter," he called out in a husky purr.

S'Lace was not looking forward to this meeting, she never enjoyed talks with any of the counselors in the past. She did not want to talk about herself, about what she was thinking, what she was "feeling". She expected this session to go much like the others.

The fact that the person who was on hand was not counselor Toran came as a complete surprise.

She stood in the doorway for a few moments, then said, "I have arrived at the correct office, so I must conclude you are another counselor. What happened to Lieutenant Toran?"

"Transferred out," Fawkes said as he dropped the PADD and rose to his feet. "I'm Remigius Fawkes. I was just making a pot of Vulcan Spice tea," he said as he gestured toward an antique apothecary's cabinet on the far wall standing next to a Chinese half-moon table upon which sat a squat ceramic pot and two cups. "Would you join me?" He gestured for her to take a seat while he brought over the matching china tea service complete with a small plate of cookies. He poured a cup then moved toward the second, empty one and looked at her expectantly.

S'Lace did not immediately join the counselor, instead she wandered over to the book shelf and noted the titles on some of them. People did not print books overly much these days; either they were antiques or keepsakes. One name stood out. She considered the name, then turned and glanced at the items in the room.

"'The Garden of Blood and Sand," she noted, nodding to the zen garden. To the stone bowl, "From the book Auguries of Death, the bowl in which the prophet knelt over the pool of water, her last vision was that of her murderer standing behind her with a blade," She nodded at the candles "From The Three Part Conundrum, where three different concoctions were placed into three different candles. Light one or two and you were unharmed, but light all three and the fumes combined into a lethal poison."

She nodded to the shelves, "S. S. Wigmaker. Sue Sif Wigmaker. An anagram of Remigius Fawkes. I have read all your works, Counselor. And no, thank you. I am not overly fond of tea. I was exposed to something called 'root beer' years ago and I confess I have succumbed to it's insidious sweetness."

"Root beer," Fawkes repeated and shivered delicately. "Far too sweet for my tastes but well done in figuring it out." He took a sip of tea, placed the cup back on its saucer, and leaned back. "Friends over the years present me with gifts. Its a sort of game. Can I make this the focal point of the book somehow." He nodded toward the squat figurine. "That's the latest challenge from an old and dear friend. I promised to bring him a signed first edition the next time I'm on Risa." He grinned cheerfully. "So its also motivation since I can't go back until I finish the book."

S'Lace nodded absently at the compliment, "Mysteries interest me, Counselor. I..." she hesitated, then gently removed a book from between a pair of journals. "Boldly Gone," she murmured. A book comprised of short stories from the crew of the USS Enterprise. Not the bridge crew, but those who had worked with them. enlisted personnel, yeomen, junior officers. It had been a fascinating book, seeing how people could interpret the same person in different ways.

"When I was a child my aunt gave me a copy of this book," S'Lace noted, holding it up, "In reading it I could not believe half the stories were true. I confess it might have induced me into joining Starfleet. I was...dissatisfied with Vulcan. I dislike sand, you see."

"As do I," Fawkes said with a delicate shudder. "Gets in everywhere. He picked up his teacup, favoring the type without a handle, and held it between his hands. Warm but not scalding hot. "I especially liked the story of the youngest yeoman who found himself holding his breath whenever someone from command walked by and didn't even realize he was doing it ..."

"I found myself doing much the same," S'Lace admitted. She replaced the book, "Then I achieved the rank of petty officer and found the gods were mortal after all. So, Counselor, I assume you have read my file?"

"I have not," Fawkes said quietly. "I know something of the teachings of Surak and the value that Vulcans place on their privacy. Invading yours is not something I would do without talking to you first." He took a sip of tea, studying her while she perused the shelves. "I do have one question though ... would you like to borrow one of my books?"

"Between my various obligations I find little time at the moment for reading another book," S'Lace replied, "Counselor under normal circumstances I would likely find a conversation with you of great interest. But we both know why I am here and that you will ultimately have a report to write about it."

"Maybe so, but not today. In the meantime, we shall ... converse. Get to know each other a bit and we'll see where we go from there," Fawkes said. "For now, I'll let you go. And maybe next time? You'll even sit down."

S'Lace gave a nod of acknowledgement at that. She did not particularly look forward to the next meeting.

But as she left she had to admit to herself that as far as counselors went Fawkes was...less odious than most she had met. And perhaps she could keep him occupied talking more about himself rather the other way around?

Fawkes lingered over his tea for a few minutes deep in thought and slowly began to formulate his strategy.

A Post By:

Remigius Fawkes, Ph.D.
(Acting) Chief Counselor
USS Crazy Horse

and

lt. jg S'Lace
Chief Medical Officer
USS Crazy Horse