The Doctor is In

[thecounselor]

[Dr. Price's office is just about exactly what you'd expect from a psychologist's office in the year 6972. There's a large chair next to an equally large and comfortable couch, and a coffee table within reach of both. On the other side of the room, there's large desk with some kind of a computer screen made of glowing light. The metal walls in here have been covered with dark wood paneling, and the lighting is warm and comforting.

There is one of those shitty brass-handled green plastic-shaded lamps on the desk. Why is it there? Aesthetic, apparently.

The desk is flanked by bookshelves filled with nonfiction. There's of course the DSM-40, right next to the DSM-238. Both editions look about the same age, curiously enough. There are also various other books on psychology, psychiatry, and... Artificial Intelligence?

Huh. Everyone's gotta have some hobbies.

There's a long counter with various kinds of tea and a kettle that sits on the counter next to a button, as well as a small sink expressly for washing dishes. There's also a door in the back of the room that probably leads to Dr. Price's personal quarters (good fucking luck).]

((OOC: This is where you can tag if you want to chat with Dr. Price one on one. Y'all know how office hours work by now.))

Comments

[tuskenlancer]

[ The minute the Counselor's "office hours" begin, CT is there. She slips quickly into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her, and then just...stops, back against the wall, taking in every inch of the place. Plush furniture. Wood paneling. Shelves crowded with old-timey paper books, just like the ones that apparently fill the library here.

Nothing like the Mother of Invention. The worried furrow to her brow, momentarily smoothed away when he met her eyes in the lobby, now returns. Finally, she looks at the Counselor himself, and waits for him to speak, not saying a word. ]

[thecounselor]

[The room is warm with the rich smell of fresh coffee, and when she comes in she catches him in the rare human act of taking a sip from a mug. He corrects that error quickly, setting down the mug on the desk and closing out his hard light computer screen with a couple taps against the blue-glowing touch keyboard built into the glass-covered surface of his desk.]

Hello, Agent Connecticut.

[Really now, when has he ever been the first to show his hand?]

[tuskenlancer]

[ Never. He's never once chosen to give anything away, and she should know better than to expect him to. He closes his computer display quickly, before she can see what he'd been working on, and her eyes narrow. But she has too many other questions to worry about that. So many, she hardly knows where to begin.

She just splutters for a moment, conflicted, and then the questions come out in a rush, one after the other. ]

Where are we? What's going on? Where's the Director?

[thecounselor]

[Of all the Freelancers he never expected to see again, she would have topped the list. She was one of the first to fall to the infighting when the Project began to go downhill - far from the last casualty but arguably the one that started it all.

But they're both here, now. He folds his arms on his desk and considers his answer.]

What I said earlier was all true. We're in a prison ship called "Starfield Penitentiary," a rehabilitation center.

...May I ask what it is that you remember?

[tuskenlancer]

[ CT shifts impatiently as he speaks - she wants the real story, not the cover-up - but doesn't dare to interrupt. This is the Counselor, after all. He's practically on the same level as the Director himself. ]

What I remember? [ She shakes her head, not understanding why he's asking. ] The same thing as everyone else. Nothing. I just woke up here.

[thecounselor]

[He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache, but only just.

So he stands, instead, posture perfect and not looking at her just yet.]

But before that. If you would humor me, Agent Connecticut. What were you doing before you woke up here?

[Given that she hasn't tried to hit him, he assumes she has to be earlier than the last possible point she could be from. Which...probably doesn't bode well.]

[tuskenlancer]

[ Oh.

Her heart sinks, and she looks down at the floor, face burning in shame. She knows exactly what he's asking for. ]

...The mission.

[ With an effort, she forces her head up, forces herself to look at him. She doesn't want to be treated like a fucking kid, she can't act like one. ]

Case File 01.045. Sir.

[ In her mind's eye, she can still see the words at the top of the mission report glaring accusingly at her.

MISSION: FAILURE, ALL OBJECTIVES. ]

[thecounselor]

I see.

[His lack of reaction is enough of one in and of itself, but he does dignify her with eye contact when she forces herself to look at him.]

We're... Not involved with the Project anymore. I'm not at liberty to tell you what you don't remember, but I will tell you that much.

[tuskenlancer]

[ Her throat goes dry, and her eyes open wide in alarm. It's everything she'd feared. She's been kicked off the Project. Worse, she's being punished. Left to rot, because she'd fucked up just that badly.

Except...it still doesn't make sense. Because the Counselor's here too, and he'd said we. Why would he have left the project? And... ]

What...what do you mean, what I don't remember?

[ A note of real fear enters her tone now, her voice wavering. ]

Did something happen? Why aren't "we" with the Project anymore? Where...where's everyone else?

[ Wash. South. All of them. Where are they now? ]

[thecounselor]

[He appraises her with a neutral expression, wonders how much he can test the limits with someone from his own world.]

...The Project - and the war - is over. Several agents were discharged when the Project's assets were returned to the UNSC. Agents Washington and Carolina were reassigned to a conflict on a former colony planet, but from what I have been told they are both alive and well.

[His tone is even and consoling.]

When I was brought on to help with this project, I was not made aware that any agents of Project Freelancer would be involved.

[tuskenlancer]

[ She's reeling.

The Project and the war, both over? She'd never thought ahead to such a time. Both had seemed eternal, a fixed state. And the others...He'd only mentioned Wash and Carolina. No one else. CT shakes her head in bafflement and denial. ]

But...but how can that be? How much did I forget?

[ Her voice is anguished, lost. ]

Did I hit my head? Was there an accident? Why can't you tell me anything?

[thecounselor]

...Everyone here has some level of memory loss. I was not briefed on the extent to which each individual is affected, but the memories should begin to recur naturally within the next couple of weeks

I...am sorry, Agent Connecticut.

[Of all the Freelancers, why couldn't they have just let her go?]

[tuskenlancer]

[ It's not an answer at all. But then, she should never have expected anything else from the Counselor. She looks at him unhappily, then visibly steels herself again. ]

What is this project?

Why are you here? Why am I?

[ That word on her profile. Her supposed crime. She shakes her head, desperate. ]

I didn't do anything!

[thecounselor]

I'm here because this project required someone with...experience.

You're here for the same reason that everyone else is: because you've taken a life. And apparently, those with the security clearance to choose participants don't understand the price of war.

Just kind of slides this here; backdated to Wednesday

[thecounselor]

[Price makes himself somewhat scarce outside of his normal office hours.

But a message comes up on her PIP on Wednesday, right after the end of Blaze Dudely's office hours but before his own.

An "appointment reminder" to see Dr. Price.

>Go?]

[tuskenlancer]

[ ...Yes.


She still doesn't trust him, but she'd seen how he'd acted in the mess hall. The Counselor is scared, and that makes her scared, too.

As before, she arrives right on time and shuts the door firmly behind her, eyeing him suspiciously. ]

...Sir.

[thecounselor]

[His posture is militarily straight, and his expression is closely guarded. There's only resolution in his expression.]

The situation has unfortunately changed, Agent Connecticut. We need to come up with a plan.

[He gives her a frustratingly unreadable but still scrutinizing look.]

I need an infiltrator.

[tuskenlancer]

[ A beat, as she just looks at him, her heartrate quickening. The Counselor always looks serious - she's pretty sure he's not physically capable of actual laughter - but he looks especially so now. And she gets it. Whatever's going on here, whatever Dudely wants, it's not good.

Still. We need to come up with a plan.

She's pretty sure he's never said we before, either. ]

An...infiltrator?

[ And then it clicks, and her eyes widen. ]

You mean me.

[thecounselor]

[He watches her carefully to see when it lands. If it lands. If she was truly from well before the fall of Freelancer, then she might not even have remembered what she did to take it down.

But even before then, she was one of their best intel gatherers.]

It will be dangerous. I want you to feel free to say no, despite the history between us.

[Hamilton hasn't died yet, but they've all seen what happened to Shirou.]

If you choose not to accept, I'll say nothing else about it. But there is no one else that I would trust with this, either.

[tuskenlancer]

[ Is he trustworthy? Akande had asked. Should I be watching your back? Varric had offered. She'd given both of them the same answer. I don't know.

She still doesn't.

He's here, thousands of years in the future (or so they tell them), and no one else she's met is from Freelancer, even seems to know what the UNSC is, and it can't be a coincidence. It can't.

But someone is dead, and Blaze Dudely is inciting them all to kill again. Even the Director had never gone that far. Even he'd never ordered the Freelancers to murder each other or face the consequences.

She swallows, mouth dry, and realizes that she's been quiet for a long time. ]

...Why are we here?

[ She hadn't gotten a straight answer before, probably won't this time either, but she has to ask one more time. Has to try. ]

Is the Director behind this? Is it a test? Please, just tell me.

[thecounselor]

[He's silent for perhaps a second too long, as he paces away from her. His steps are even and measured, and his feet take him behind his desk, sparing a glance at the shelf full of books about AI.]

...The Director of Project Freelancer is dead, Agent Connecticut.

[He looks at her, meets her eyes.]

This wasn't intended to be a test, but I'm afraid that it's become a trial. If the Captain's arrival was planned, I was not aware.

[tuskenlancer]

[ She goes still, staring. It seems impossible. Unthinkable. He could have told her that Carolina was dead, Maine...but the Director? The revelation prompts a million more questions - what had happened, how, if that was the reason for the end of the Project.

She doesn't ask any of them.

There are more pressing questions. More pressing problems, like the madman taking over the ship and trying to make the inmates - CT and the others - turn on each other. Like the one he'd already killed, for not following the rules.

She breathes out, slowly. ]

What would you need me to do?

[ He believes he can manipulate you, Akande's voice echoes in her head. She does her best to ignore it. ]

[thecounselor]

[When she remembers more, he'll tell her. For the last week it's what he's been telling himself, because he can recognize the small part of himself that wants, selfishly, for someone else to know. He wants her to know how vindicated her crusade turned out to be.

But right now, he wants to protect the inmates under his charge.

If this is a test for anyone, he wonders, might it be a test for him?]

Nothing that you're unfamiliar with. You would need to infiltrate his ship-

[This being the day before the resident founding father is executed for doing the same]

-to find any information that you can about where he came from and his crew.

[He paces around his desk again, glances at the smooth glass keyboard on top of it.]

Give me some time and I'll try to get your armor to you. With your illusory enhancement intact.

[Say, perhaps, if you make sure to have a regain earned for Week 4's mid-week delivery.]

Until then, see if you can get any information from him personally.

[tuskenlancer]

[ Right now, CT doesn't even know about her crusade. The risks she'd taken, the sacrifices she'd made. She doesn't know that the Counselor is asking her to do something very similar to what he's already seen her do.

What she does know is that something has to be done.

Her eyebrows shoot right up her forehead when he mentions her armor, the question half-formed before she can think twice. ]

How could you -

[ Never mind. It's not like he'd explain just how he has access to her armor, and anyway, it's not important. Still, the thought of getting her armor back is enough to erase any lingering doubts from her mind, at least for the moment. After practically living in it for so long, she feels terribly vulnerable without it. Especially now.

She nods, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she thinks quickly, already starting to formulate plans. It'll be hard. A challenge. But...it's necessary. It'll save lives, her own included. And maybe this time, she'll be up for it. ]

Yes, sir. I'll - I'll do my best.

[thecounselor]

[He affords her the kind of half-smile she ought to be well accustomed to. But there's something less condescending about it. It's still closely guarded, like a warden among unstable inmates, but it's the most genuine he's been this whole time.]

I know that you will, Agent Connecticut.