Psychotherapy

[Manticore]

July 12, 820 AS

The wind was blowing a summer squall in from the coast, and sheets of rain buffeted James Lambert as he shuffled up the steps of the brown office building at Fort Bragg. Once inside, he paused briefly and attempted to smooth some of the water off his uniform before making his way upstairs. Lambert wore service dress blues today - as he did every time he had to visit this place – and his uniform was distinguished by the telltale fades of recently-removed rank stripes on his sleeves and collar.

He pushed open the heavy oak door, nodded when the receptionist waved him through, and stepped into Commander Draper’s office. The office had a warm yet distinguished feel to it, with high mahogany paneling, walls painted in a deep blue, and richly detailed paintings decorating the walls. Draper stood from behind his desk, gesturing for Lambert to take a seat in one of the plush chairs on the other side of the office.

The Commander settled into the chair across from Lambert, frowning as usual. “You had to wear those again, didn’t you?” he said with a sigh.

Lambert nodded, remaining rigid even in the comfortable chair.

Draper shot him a sharp look, then said, “You know, I do have a mess dress uniform. Perhaps I’ll wear it next time we’re scheduled to meet. That way we’ll both look ridiculous.”

He eyed Lambert for a long moment, waiting for a response. When none was offered, he sighed again and reached for the notepad he kept on the small table next to his chair. “Very well, let’s begin. Have you had any strange dreams recently?”

Lambert paused. “No, sir.”

Draper glared at him again. “We don’t have to play this game again, Ensign. This isn’t about the Navy, or the chain of command. It’s about you and me. So please, call me ‘Jeffrey’, or ‘Doctor’, or hell, even ‘Doc’. Anything but ‘sir’ or ‘Commander’ will do. Understood?”

Another long pause, as Lambert gazed sullenly at the commander. “Yes, doctor.”

Draper frowned again, but realized it was the best he would get out of the difficult man sitting before him. “So, no dreams? Not one that you can remember?”

“No.”

“Okay…” he paused and scribbled something on his notepad. “Have you heard from Pita?”

Lambert’s eyes narrowed and he glared at Draper in the same way he did every time the commander brought up that name. “No.”

“I see. And have you seen any combat since we last spoke?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“Oh? Please tell me about those experiences.”

“Killed some idiot Hacker camping a lane in New York. Easy kill. Didn’t even have armor.”

Draper scribbled some more. “Uh-huh. And the other?”

“Small Outcast fleet. Cornered them at a jumphole with a couple wings of bombers. Lost a couple men, but we got ‘em all.”

“How did it make you feel?”

“How did what make me feel?”

“Being in combat again. Killing those men. Any of it, really.”

“I didn’t feel anything. I was just doing my job again. If anything I felt happy killing those bastards.”

Draper nodded. “Uh-huh. And how do you feel about being back in the Navy?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

The commander sighed. “Your job. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m angry.”

“Why are you angry?”

Lambert’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward. “Because I went through years of struggle to become an officer in this fleet and then I threw it all away for nothing. Because I can’t forget how I abandoned a little girl when it mattered the most. Because now she’s gone and I’m the shame of the Navy, taking orders from a bunch of jumped-up children…”

Draper pressed again, as if he realized this might be his only opportunity to delve deeper. “Why did you leave Liberty in the first place?”

“Damn it, I was scared. Okay? The… girl had left me to look for that blasted Rogue and I thought she was gone forever. I was scared and I panicked.”

He paused for a moment. “And, well… I’ve always been able to run away from things like that before. So that’s what I did. I ran. Like the coward I am.”

Draper pursed his lips, obviously choosing his next words carefully. “James, did you run because you were afraid, or because you thought you had failed?”

Lambert froze. “I… well…” he paused, his voice much quieter now. “I guess I had thought I’d failed Pita. Failed another child… I just couldn’t bear that.”

“That’s not fear, Mr. Lambert. It doesn’t make you a coward.”

“I’m not sure…” Lambert said, the indecision evident in his voice.

“Why did you leave Liberty without notifying anyone? You could’ve avoided most of this,” gesturing at the removed rank insignia, “if you’d just requested some time away. Nobody would’ve faulted you for that.”

“I… had a transmission prepared for Hale. Wrote the whole damn thing out the night I left, with a request to be transferred to reserves and an indefinite leave of absence. But I never sent it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wasn’t planning on ever coming back.”

Draper nodded, writing a few more notes on his pad. “What were you planning to do? Drink yourself to death?”

“Something along those lines.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Lambert sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes briefly. “Tanya came and dragged me out of there, for starters…”

“Yes, with the Wayfarer?”

“Right. After that, I realized I couldn’t really just wander aimlessly again. I needed to go somewhere I could really… direct myself at a meaningful goal. And there was only one place I’d ever felt that way…”

“The Navy.”

“Right again.”

“So, what’s your plan now, James?”

Lambert opened his eyes and then, surprisingly, cracked a small smile. “I reckon I’ll just keep working as much as I can. Being busy is good for me, I think.”

“I think that’s a good plan.”

“Yeah. Well, thank you, Doctor. I actually… feel better. Never thought I’d actually hear myself admit that to you.”

Draper smiled. “Glad to help, Mr. Lambert. See you next week.”

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