“Right, yes. The witness is being held in Medical.”
“Lead the way.” Jason motioned him forward.
The interior of the Prisaris station was significantly more utilitarian than TSS Headquarters, lacking the wood accents and warm painted tones that made the other base so inviting. Instead, the corridors were lined in brushed stainless steel with occasional accents in black, gray, or dark blue. Though stark, it complemented the starscape visible through the ample viewports along the exterior bulkheads.
“None of the Agents here have been able to get through to the guy,” Trevor said as they walked. “I feel awful for him. What he must have been through…”
Jason couldn’t imagine losing his friends in the horrific ways detailed in the report, let alone family. No wonder the survivor was messed up. “I’ll see what I can do.” The code of ethics for TSS Agents was specific about the use of telepathy in interview situations. Violations of the mind were a serious concern. In general, high-level gleanings were acceptable, but deeper dives required justification. Depending on what Jason found, he might be forced to take information the survivor wasn’t willing—or able—to give freely.
As they approached the door labeled as the entry to Medical, Trevor said, “He’s in one of the isolation rooms through here.”
Jason paused just out of sensor range from the automated door controls. “I reviewed the reports on my way over, but I’d like to hear your impressions before I go in there. Any anecdotal observations you’d like to share?”
The young officer shifted on his feet. “He’s not entirely coherent, as you’ll notice right away. The moments of lucidity seem to be tied to his mother. The Guard escorts who dropped him off also mentioned that he was talking about her when he first woke up.”
Jason nodded. “He probably had a close relationship with her. It appears he was supposed to take over the ship from her when she retired. A family business.”
“Yes, and with the destruction of the ship and the death of his mother, he’s lost everything.”
“Every action is magnified when you work with loved ones,” Jason said. I know a thing or two about that.
“Yeah, so, he’s still processing that, while also being messed up from whatever that telepathic assault was that knocked him out in the first place.”
“Has he seen the information that he was carrying with him?”
The other Agent looked down. “Sadly, that’s what… well, forgive the phrasing, but that’s what broke him. He was dazed before that, kind of muttering to himself. We had him look at it, to see if he could tell us any more, and he just… It was difficult to watch, sir.”
“All right, so thoughts of his mother level him out, and the attack sends his thoughts into chaos,” Jason summarized.
“Based on my limited interactions with him, yes.”
Jason began plotting his approach to the upcoming conversation. “Thank you, Trevor. I appreciate your insights.”
“Gladly.”
“Okay, time to get some answers.” Jason walked through the doors into Medical.
Compared to the dim hallway, the bright, white surfaces within nearly blinded him. He blinked to force his eyes to adjust as he took in the infirmary. Six beds stood perpendicular to the back wall, with a lab area behind a glass wall to the right, and two smaller rooms with opaque walls to the left.
A middle-aged woman dressed in white turned to face them, looking over Jason from head to foot. She had no aura of abilities, marking her as a doctor from the Militia division rather than one of the Agents who’d honed their Gifts for medical pursuits. Her brows raised with surprise upon seeing him. “Are you here to interview my patient?”
Jason noted she didn’t add an honorific, despite him being dressed in Agent black. He didn’t care, but it was clear that she viewed the infirmary as her domain. “I am. And to potentially escort him back to TSS Headquarters for further evaluation, should I deem it necessary.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He didn’t want to pull rank unless it actually became an issue, so he let it go. “My understanding is his greatest injuries are to his mind. That is one of my specialties.”
“This is Jason Sietinen,” Trevor quietly hissed.
Recognition passed across the doctor’s face, followed by a pink flush. “Of course, forgive me. I’ll leave you to your evaluation.” She took a step back to allow Jason free access to the isolation room’s entry door.
Jason sensed the man inside before he saw him—radiating pain, confusion, and a projection of scattered thoughts. Without any concerted effort of telepathic gleaning, Jason was struck by the raw grief in the man; he was lost and alone.
I can’t treat this like an interrogation. He needs a friend. With that approach in mind, Jason activated the door controls.
As the door slid open, the young man inside didn’t so much as glance to see who was entering. He was younger than Jason had expected, maybe not even out of his teens. His blond-highlighted brown hair was mussed from too long without a proper shower, and the scent of stale sweat in the room confirmed it. The young man’s gray-blue eyes were cast downward at the seam between the floor and wall opposite the bed on which he sat. The only other furniture was a small table in the corner with an accompanying chair.
“Hi, Darin,” Jason greeted. “I’m sure you don’t feel much like talking, but I’d like to see what I can do to help.”
“There’s not a foking thing you can do.” Though the retort was barely above a whisper, the acidity of the tone had the presence of a shout.
Jason approached slowly, trying to balance his expression between friendly and sympathetic. “I can’t bring back your family and friends, but I am in a unique position to help heal your mind.”
