Fesarian Blues [Backpost]

Posted on Sat 9th May, 2026 @ 11:11pm by Commander Mindo & Sundae & Commander Paul Graves PsyD

2,361 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: [MAIN] From The Ashes
Location: Counselor's office
Timeline: Backpost, "From the Ashes"

ON

Commander Mindo was a little nervous standing outside the door to Commander Graves' office; he didn't know why. Ever since the incident... ok, incidents, at the Academy he had been given strict orders to see a therapist on a regular basis, to be determined by the therapist themselves. The whole matter happened at Starfleet Academy after Mindo was the centerpiece in a torrid affair. The majority of the report was redacted to preserve not just the reputations of those involved, but the very institution itself. With some help from the Fesrarian Embassy, Mindo was given permission to stay enrolled, provided such matters never came up again. Mindo was also ordered to attend therapy on a regular basis for the duration of his entire career.

Mindo had strong regrets on the matter, but he'd grown from the experience that had happened nearly ten years ago. As a full-fledged adult, Mindo was a little more careful with his promiscuity. To help that, he drank very large amounts of alcohol during the day. Due to the unique biological chemistry in a Fesarian's body, alcohol tempered the more egregious sides of their libidos.

Mindo, SB109's latest addition and new Chief of Security, knew of Commander Graves, but had never actually met the man. Not everyone liked Mindo at first, and Mindo disliked plenty of people in return. But maybe he could get along with the station's Second Officer. He drew a breath and pressed the door chime.

A few moments later the office door slid open, and the Chief Counselor stood in the doorway. "Commander Mindo, please come in," Paul said, stepping aside so the Chief Security Officer could enter. "I'm Paul Graves. It's good to meet you."

Mindo's eyes widened for a second at the appearance of Counselor Graves. This man is a walking statue, thought Mindo. Is he sure his name isn't Gorgeous McHandsomehot?!

"Likewise," Mindo managed to say, walking into what appeared to be par for the course for a counselor's office. Mindo knew the man was going to say something like, "Sit wherever you're most comfortable," so instead of asking, the small officer chose a comfy looking chair and climbed into it. As the doors whished shut, something furry came through the door and made its way to another chair. Mindo recognized the cat, named Sundae, with whom Mindo was now more than an acquaintance.

"Sorry about the cat," Mindo said. "I'm not sure who her master is." Sundae gave a low meow as she sat straight in the chair, looking more ready for the session than Mindo was. Mindo continued, "I know she likes to follow me sometimes, but I didn't notice her in the hall just now."

"Sundae gets around; it's a mystery," Paul said to Mindo. He looked at the calico cat, who sat as poised and elegantly as a well-bred lady. "Hi, Sundae. Would you like something to eat or drink? I think they added sabrebeast bits to my replicator's menu. And what can I get for you, Cmdr. Mindo?"

"I'm good," said Mindo, settling back in his seat. "This office is a lot roomier than the usual starship office."

"I do have alcohol available, if you'd like any," Paul told Mindo. He hadn't noticed any particular interest in food from Sundae, so he set out a bowl of water for her.

"Yes, it is larger than the usual office," Paul said. "Sometimes, I host group sessions in here, so I need room for people to sit. Usually, though, it's just me and one other person, so having Sundae here too is a welcome change. She clearly likes you."

Mindo smiled. "The alcohol is a nice gesture, but I'm okay." Mindo looked at Sundae. "I've never owned a pet before, but I find having a cat around me a lot can be nice or annoying. I don't really know what kind of pet person I am. A lot of humans like dogs, and I hear a lot of 'dog person,' 'cat person' talk from them. Then there are the psychopaths who have fish..."

Paul burst out laughing. "When I first moved into this office, it contained a moldy, godawful tubular aquarium in that corner--" He pointed. "--that the previous occupant hadn't bothered to clean out before leaving. So I have to agree about the psychopath part."

"I've never been anywhere long enough to own a pet, but I don't think it's for me," Mindo said. "Lots of responsibility for something that can't even talk to you, even though you feed it and give it a home."

Sundae meowed. Mindo pointed to her.

"Like, what did that mean?" he asked.

Paul concentrated on Sundae for a moment. "I think that just meant 'Meow.' It was her way of being in the conversation," Paul said, "But if you see her tail held straight up and waving gently from side to side, that generally means she's happy, and if she lashes it from side to side, that's frustration or anger."

"Then... she seems pretty content, I guess," Mindo replied. He looked back to Paul. "So what should I talk about?"

"Today's meeting is meant to be low-stress. We don't even know each other. There's no way for you to have enough trust in me after just one meeting for me to expect you to bare your soul to me," Paul said. "Good counseling takes time. I am half-Betazoid, so what you feel is going to be something I'll notice, but I do my best not to pry unless I have a very good reason to. My people have a code of ethics that I follow, and I can send you a copy of it, if you'd like. I have ways of blocking how much of your emotions I notice--and I sometimes do that. But I also feel, what's the point of having a skill if I don't use it? So I feel as if I'm walking a tightrope at times. Some people are not comfortable with it, and if you're one of them, I will certainly find you a non-psionic Counselor." He gave Mindo a serious look. "For safety reasons, I cannot extend that offer to every patient, so please keep that information to yourself and do not share it, even with people you trust."

"The amount of people I trust could probably be counted on one hand, and virtually none of them are on this station," Mindo said.

Paul blinked. "On one hand, I look at you and think, 'That's smart," and on the other hand, I look at you and think, 'That's tragic.' Is it serving you well to not trust most people?" He had to remind himself that Mindo was 30 years old, not a child, however much he might resemble one. Much could happen in 30 years to erode one's general trust in the universe.

Mindo shrugged. "My career has survived two court-martials and several scandals you're not authorized to know about because of times I trusted people. The only thing that keeps me alive is being so untrustworthy myself!"

"Fair enough," Paul said. "I'm sorry people treated you that way. No one deserves that. " He paused. "What situations have you taken to avoiding, to reduce your risk of betrayal?"

Mindo thought for a second. "Off the top of my head, I guess the biggest would be kneeling in front of someone and handing them a ring."

"Marriage? Someone betrayed you romantically?" Paul pursed his lips. "That has to be just about the unkindest cut of all. Some people are true jerks."

Mindo forced a nervous chuckle and looked away for a moment, scratching his head. "Uh, yeah, actually it's usually me doing the betrayal. It's impossible to ask me to have just one romantic partner for the rest of my life."

"I like that you understand that about yourself and are honest enough to acknowledge it," Paul said. "But, in that case, why get married at all?"

"Exactly!" Mindo said. "Some people can make it work, and good for them. I run away the second they mention introducing me to their parents. That's when they're starting to think we're 'getting serious.' Fact is, I'm never serious... seriously!"

"Are other Fesarians generally the same way about relationships?" Paul asked. "You're the first Fesarian I've ever met, so I'm curious about your people."

Mindo shrugged. "Pretty much. But we're not immune to something like falling in love. And we are able to have close relationships with each other. We just like a sense of freedom. Unfortunately much of Fesarian life is dictated by bureaucracy and the rich. Fesarians love their money. There are distinct societal classes. I was on the lower end of that. Orphaned at an early age and inheriting nothing due to my father's gambling. He died penniless, and I was moved into a government-run orphanage. My only possession was a very scenic cabin by a lake, which is useless to a barely adolescent child. When I became of age, I spent a year living there and doing odd jobs in the small town nearby. A lot of that was fixing things. I got really good at it too. That's when I decided to be an engineer. Since tuition at the Academy is completely free--provided your test scores are good--it was an easy decision to join. I've never regretted my Starfleet career. At times I have hated it, and ran from it at one point. But my life here has always been better than home, if I can call it that."

"I've known several Starfleet officers who feel that way," Paul said. "Whether it's bad families or a bad world--ask them, and many will say they consider Starfleet, for all its flaws, to be their true home. You're in good company."

Sundae meowed.

"Well," said Mindo. "I've never been a Chief of Security before. I'm used to cores and nacelles to worry about. But Captain Francis has a lot of faith in me. And I'm glad to hear you do too."

"How are you getting on in Security?" Paul asked. "Generally, it's a bunch of tall and athletic men and women. Are you being treated with respect and listened to when you give orders?"

Mindo smirked. "How am I getting on with all these tall and athletic and gorgeous men and women?" he said. "I'm like a diabetic living inside a candy jar! I want to 'get on' all of them!" He laughed. "That said, I did get challenged once. I'm obviously not physically imposing, but I know how to get out of a fight. After I left that guy crouched over trying to breathe, the rest of them saw that when I get knocked down, I get up again, and they're never going to keep me down."

Paul laughed with Mindo. "Just so long as the temptation isn't overwhelming," he said, still trying to stifle laughter. "And good," he continued. "I'm glad the rest of them are more professional and mature than the one guy, and maybe the one guy learned something from the experience." Paul leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows loosely on his knees. "Do you ever get to do any engineering now?"

"Not as much as I'd like," Mindo said. "Running Security is fairly cushy. My officers pretty much do all the work. I just tell them where to go and what to do. My decisions don't carry the peril of something like preventing a warp core breach, or falling into a black hole."

"Being stretched into spaghetti is not a fun prospect," Paul said, referring to black holes. "What kind of engineering do you like the most--engines, electrical, mechanical, civil, something else?"

"I love gadgets. Ever see those old spy movies, where an old communicator is hidden in a shoe? Or there's an old mechanical pen that's really an explosive? I love me that kind of tech." Mindo patted his leg braces. "I developed these myself. They're very similar to the old, bulky rocket boots, but quieter and much more stylish. They only have to levitate me, and not very high. They're made with simple enough supplies and parts, and are powered electrically, with a charge lasting up to two weeks. I designed them at the Academy. This pair is the fourth model. I just wanted some way I could look people in the eye when I talk to them. I'm also great with transporters, holodeck engineering, demolitions, and pretty much any kind of computer or artificial intelligence, though that's more like a hobby. I also design warp cores, hence my degree in Warp Theory, but my designs are still--technically--theoretical. I've never had the opportunity to build one from scratch. I guess that's the dream."

"Build a warp core from scratch? I would never in a million years dream of being good enough at maths to do that," Paul said. "That is one thing I love about serving in Starfleet--working with so many highly accomplished and fascinating people who can do amazing things. I hope you get to design that warp core some day, and I hope I'll get to fly in a ship built around it."

"I didn't mean it to sound like some project in a garage," said Mindo with a chuckle. "I'd be the one designing and overseeing the construction, not injecting the deuterium or encasing the antimatter personally. I'd need a team of a few hundred people for such a project! And yeah, designing the core would entail the design of an entire ship to go around it. Who knows? Maybe there's a Mindo-class starship in my future..."

"I hope there will be," Paul said. "You're right; I was rather imagining the garage build and not seeing the reality. But it's another thing I like about Starfleet. If you have a talent, you're encouraged to pursue it if you want to. Technically, I should not be a line officer. Counseling is a staff position. But I was offered the job of Second Officer, and I decided I wanted to pursue it. So, at some point, go for that warp core."

Sundae meowed.

OFF

 

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