"So, just to be absolutely clear," said Counselor Alara Hisarlik, "you believe that the crew of this ship is gradually succumbing to some form of mind control?"
Lieutenant Semya Kuznetzov, Captain Vasser's second-in-command, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Hearing it out loud was even worse than she'd anticipated, even though Alara, the Inyx's counselor, was somehow able to keep her voice free from scorn or incredulity. The chair wasn't helping. The counselor's office had big comfy, cushioned, reclining chairs that couldn't be found elsewhere on the ship. They were meant to be relaxing; for Kuznetzov, they were proving just the opposite.
"Not... I wouldn't put it quite like that," Lieutenant Kuznetzov replied slowly. She was choosing her words carefully. She knew she sounded crazy, but hopefully not completely crazy. "I know how it sounds. And I'm not exactly convinced of it. But I am worried about it. It's what my gut is telling me, I guess. I just can't shake the feeling."
"I see." Alara leaned in, concerned. "And this is because of the behavior of the crew?"
"Yes," Lieutenant Kuznetzov explained. "I've been noticing something wrong with people, all across the ship. I keep catching crew members spacing out at strange moments, like they're listening to a voice I can't hear. Often groups of people at once. But afterward, they'll insist nothing happened. Or I'll notice them moving in perfect harmony. Unnatural harmony." She sighed. "There's this ancient movie: Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Maybe you've heard of it. Pod people? It's like that."
Alara nodded. "That's very troubling. I can understand why this would be preying on your mind."
It was easy to see why Alara Hisarlik was a ship's counselor. She was, quite simply, perfect for the role. In her early fifties - Kuznetzov had read every crew member's personnel file - she was older than most of the people on the ship, and had an effortlessly matronly demeanor that made her shockingly easy to talk to. Her office was comfortable, warm, and friendly, and since she didn't need to wear a uniform she was free to dress herself in a comfortable jumpsuit that made her seem all the more disarming.
The jumpsuit was plenty flattering, too, and Kuznetzov observed that Alara was taking full advantage of the fact that she didn't need to pass Alliance fitness tests either. Her physique was just as motherly as her demeanor, and it suited her well. Kuznetzov felt a little guilty for noticing that, but it couldn't be helped. She was a lesbian, after all.
"It has been," Lieutenant Kuznetzov confessed. "That's why I'm here. I needed to talk to someone."
"Why not Captain Vasser?" Alara asked. "If you suspect something's wrong on the ship, surely she needs to know."
Lieutenant Kuznetzov hesitated before answering. "I considered it," she replied eventually. "But I really can't tell if I'm just being paranoid. If I am, then you're the person I need to talk to. Not the captain. And if I'm not paranoid, then..."
"Then it's entirely possible she's been affected too," Alara finished. "Is that right?"
Lieutenant Kuznetzov nodded, grateful she didn't have to be the one to say it. "I've noticed she's seemed a little... off, lately."
"I see." Alara took that in stride and smiled kindly. "But you're happy talking to me. I take it I seem like my usual self?"
"Yes," Lieutenant Kuznetzov said, before adding: "as far as I'd know, anyway."
This was the first time Kuznetzov had taken it upon herself to visit the ship's counselor. She'd never seen the need. Doctor Hiraga handled routine psych evals; the counselor was for the benefit of crew members who just needed to talk, or who preferred to speak with someone who was a couple of steps outside the usual chain of command. Kuznetzov, though, preferred to deal with her own problems herself. She was the stoic type, or so she liked to think. It suited her butch looks and dress sense. But her current troubles necessitated a reality check, and she'd judged that Alara Hisarlik was the best person to speak with.
"Glad to hear it," Alara replied, a touch playfully, before turning more serious. "Lieutenant, this is clearly a new feeling for you. Have you been under any particular stress lately?"
Kuznetzov shook her head. "No more than usual."
"That's good! Now, I know you haven't been assigned to the Inyx for long. You were transferred just recently. Have you been fitting in well?"
"I believe so. Captain Vasser seems happy with my performance."
"What about socially? Have you gotten to know the other officers?"
Kuznetzov gave a slight smile. "I'm not exactly a social butterfly. It doesn't bother me."
"I see." Alara sounded a little less pleased with that answer, but didn't press the issue. "And there's nothing else that's been on your mind? Nothing troubling?"
"No, not at all."
"Hm." Alara cocked her head to one side. "Well, Lieutenant, I don't think you're crazy. That doesn't mean you're right about this mind control thing either, of course, but it does behoove me to investigate concerns about the mental states of other crew members aboard this ship. There may be a perfectly innocent explanation. To that end, I think the best course of action is that we keep this between ourselves for now, and I discreetly form my own opinion. Could you give me the names of some of the people you've been suspicious of?"
Kuznetzov nodded. "I'll make a list and send it over."
"Very good." Alara smiled again. "I'll let you know what I think very soon."
"Perfect." Kuznetzov felt the tension in her shoulders easing, and she sighed with relief. "And... thank you, counselor. Not knowing whether this is real or not has really been weighing on me. I'm very grateful that you've taken me seriously. I'm not sure whether or not I expect you to form the same impression I have, but just knowing that you're looking into it puts my mind at ease."
"You're very welcome." Alara's smile grew even warmer. "That's exactly what I'm here for, Lieutenant."
***
Alara tapped her soon impatiently against the rim of her teacup as she waited for her next appointment to arrive. Crewman Hannah Weiss was late, of course. Everyone on this ship was always late. They always had excuses, of course. Important duties and important orders, on their important mission to catch Wasp. Everything on the Inyx was so damn important. Everything except for Alara and her counseling sessions.
The one thing nobody on the crew seemed to make any time for was taking care of their own mental health - which meant that, as the ship's counselor, Alara's life was devoted entirely to chasing after other people's problems. After all these years on the job, they were just so infuriatingly cliché. Burnout. Anxiety. Insecurity. She'd heard it all before.
That didn't mean Alara didn't care, of course. She wanted to help just as much as she had when she'd first started out in this line of work, three decades before. What had made her bored and cynical over the years was learning that she couldn't help, because no one ever listened. Alara could offer advice, training, medical, therapy - and it didn't matter because, to most people, she was nothing more than a convenient way to unburden themselves. They didn't respect her or her expertise, and so she was condemned to the Sisyphean experience of listening to crewman after crewman coming to bleat to her about some inane problem, giving them the perfect advice, and seeing them out the door knowing perfectly well that they weren't going to heed it.
If only there was some way to make them listen.
As a result, even as Alara had aged into the perfect, matronly counselor everyone wanted, she'd become thoroughly disillusioned and tired of her work. The years had ground her down, leaving her cynical and hopeless. She'd vowed this would be her final tour of duty aboard an Alliance ship, but fate had conspired to drag them out to the far rim for months longer than expected, chasing shadows, leaving Alara more frustrated by the day. The crewmen who darkened her door were becoming nothing more than an indistinct succession of blurred faces, each more forgettable and annoying than the last.
At least, until Lieutenant Kuznetzov.
A conspiracy to take over the ship by secretly mind-controlling members of the crew? In all her years as a counselor, Alara hadn't heard that one before. It sounded like a paranoid delusion, but Kuznetsov's psychological profile was rock solid. She displayed no signs of any associated psychological tendencies or conditions that would predispose her to such an elaborate delusion. Which meant that Alara finally had something that could hold her attention.
If nothing else, a spontaneous delusion like this could make for a half-decent case study to write up.
But first, Alara figured that she should investigate what Kuznetzov had been suspecting, and so she'd arranged an innocuous appointment with one of the people the XO had mentioned: Crewman Hannah Weiss. Mind control was unlikely, but not strictly impossible, and talking to her could shed light on reasons she might have been behaving differently or suspiciously.
And if it was mind control? Alara certainly couldn't miss out on a chance to study it up close and personal. She had a deep, abiding interest in the subject. Strictly professional, of course.
The door to Alara's office chimed to indicate that her appointment had finally arrived. The counselor set down her teacup, rose to her feet, and went to greet her guest.
"Crewman Weiss," Alara said, plastering her well-worn welcoming smile on her face as the door opened. "Thank you for coming. Please, come in."
"Alara."
Hannah Weiss offered a friendly nod as she entered the room. She was young - less than half Alara's age, in fact - and much slighter and mousier than most expected of a member of the Alliance military. The Inyx was her first posting, and she'd been struggling to adjust to the rigor and claustrophobia of starship life. Though she'd adjusted over time, following up on her earlier troubles was a reasonable pretext for an appointment.
"Have a seat," Alara said as she beckoned Weiss in.
She was gesturing to one of the two big, comfy chairs that dominated her office's central space. Alara had made her office as comfortable and welcoming as the Inyx's small, spartan bulkheads allowed. In the center of the space, between the chairs, was a simple table, and the room was lit by a special bank of holographic lights that could provide gentle, soothing illumination when needed.
The two of them sat down, and Alara immediately leaned forward so that she could pour Weiss a cup of tea from the still-steaming teapot on the table. Weiss accepted it gratefully, and then Alara sat back with her own teacup and teaspoon in hand.
"So, um," Weiss began nervously. "What's this about?"
