Hospital Ship (The Rim Confederacy #5) (8 page)

Since he now owed the casino more money, he had arranged to call his brother down on Neres at his offices in five minutes. Having a brother who had made a fortune in importing from inward was a good thing; asking him for money again was not so much fun.

He was always asking about when he'd be paid, how soon he could expect payment of the previous money borrowed, and what was the problem since you couldn't spend money on the Hospital Ship.

The fact that his brother—his whole family even—down in Neres City had no idea he owed so much to the Caliphate Casino was a sore point. Not so much to him, but he knew that one day they might find out, and if it was possible to just skate by on that, he surely had to try.

He needed a payment and a half—or about 3,000 credits. He had not a cent.

He knew if he asked Taylor, his brother would say no and then relent but wouldn't go over 2,000 credits.

So he'd ask for 6,000 credits and then saw off around $4,000 or so. He'd be able to make the payment and have another 1,000 credits to gamble with.

'Course
,
that'd put my tab with Taylor up to almost 14,000 credits—but then what were brothers for ... besides, my brother makes that in an hour.

"Hate these Ansible calls though," he said as he asked his console to place the call and tried to sound upbeat and positive.

Whoever said 'beggars can't be choosers' was wrong,
he thought.

CHAPTER THREE

Tanner settled into the large comfortable chair in the reception area after checking in with his psychiatrist's receptionist. She had nodded at him and asked him to take a seat as the doctor was still busy, and that's what he did.

The reception area was like all doctor's office reception areas—bland with little to look at other than some photos of the famous Randi waterfalls, but this time done in mosaic tiles that made the falling water look like little diamonds. Tanner looked at them, and they reminded him of a bar back on Juno that he'd had a few in and he smiled. Reminded him slightly, and he wished he had a beer.
Maybe I shouldn't try to remember those waterfalls
, he thought and smiled even more.

But enough smiles today. This is serious stuff
.

If he was to be found "sane" in his ninety days of observation, then a lot depended—in fact, it all depended—on him, how he reacted to this doctor, and how his addiction to alcohol was looked at too. If they delved deep enough, how the whole Halberd experience had changed him might affect things too.

At least,
he thought,
it had changed him.

He slept less—sometimes he tossed and turned for the night, closing his eyes until he rolled over and then opening them on the other side.

It's like my brain won't slow down—it's always turning and turning ... and that can be bad for the next day
. He nodded to himself.
Maybe I don't need a shrink at all, as I've just solved my issue
, he thought and he smiled.

"You can go in now, Captain," the receptionist intoned and he stopped smiling.

No sense wearing anything into the lion's den
.

Doctor Etter had also designed his office—at least where he listened to patients—with an eye to being bland.

The whole palette was pure bland, bland blandness. Beige was a term he thought of immediately followed by brown, then ecru, tan, and back to beige. The sofa was beige, and the carpet, deep and comfortable under his feet, was sand brown. The walls, which held no art at all, were ecru, and the wainscoting was a simple one on one with soft wood tones. Against one wall sat a large half-circular desk with the required stacks of folders and papers and a console Tanner saw was black.

No sense in giving the next patient any kind of a hint as to what was to come,
he thought, and that almost got a smile.

Who else was the doctor seeing? What an oddball thought. Wonder if I asked Maddie if that might get me an answer.

Doctor Sam Etter moved away from the desk, came over to greet Tanner, and shook his hand.

"Let's see if we can't keep the next few months on a friendly basis, shall we?" he said and pumped Tanner's hand a couple of times before pointing at the couch.

"SOP, right, Doc?" Tanner said as he walked over to the couch.

"Am I to lie down?" he added as he froze before even sitting on the brown couch.

"Not at all, Captain. You should probably just sit for today—for any day for that matter. You'll find that I'm not much of a stickler on traditional psychiatric procedures. We just talk. And you learn why you do things. It's that easy, honestly," he said and if there was one thing Tanner knew, it was that this was probably going to be true.

Tanner sat at the end of the couch and looked at his doctor.

The room was bland, the whole thing was bland ... so what could come of this?

"Me. Let's start with me," the doctor said as he settled back in the side chair to Tanner's left.

He waved over at his desk area or maybe at the wall behind it that held some kind of framed documents.

"Grad of the College of Psychiatry over on Ishtar; yes, I am one of those Ishtar citizens. What that means is that I am a sidearm owner. What does that mean to you, Captain?"

"Nada. We all own sidearms," he said, but as he did he felt as if it wasn't the whole truth.

"I see that by checking your file, you don't even own a navy sidearm anymore. You transferred in a few months back, you declared no arms then, you've not been back to any navy arsenal—or for that matter, even an Ishtar weapon shop to buy a sidearm—any kind of weapon. Care to comment on that at this time, Captain," he said, his tablet held on his lap.

Ahh
, Tanner thought,
this was how it was to go
.

He asks, I answer; the answers are recorded and then weighed for some kind of "sanity" rating, and then I go free.

Got it.

"Well, Doc—is doc okay?" he asked and smiled at his shrink.

"Fine, Captain, the use of the term doc is an accepted form of address," Etter said. "I think you'll find that I use various affective, behavioral, cognitive, and perceptual abnormalities to help me diagnose a patient. Got that?"

Tanner nodded

"And," the psychiatrist said, "we look at initial psychiatric assessment of a person typically, beginning with a case history and mental status examination. We use psychological tests and physical examinations that are conducted, including on occasion the use of neuro-imaging or other neuro-physiological techniques too. It's not invasive, but it works well for us here on the Barony Hospital Ship."

The doctor seemed to stop then and take five.

He then looked down at his tablet and swiped up a screen.

"So, what I think you want to know is—why don't I have my Colt anymore? Is that it?" Tanner said.

That got him a nod from his doctor.

"So, what that means is that as a RIM Navy man, I had to turn in all that they had issued, including my Sands-finish Colt, and all ammo, when I left their service. I left the gun along with the more than eight clips of ammo on my desk in quarters. I finished my RIM Navy service as per the rules of engagement and that's how it was. Why?" he said as his voice got a bit stern.

His psychiatrist nodded. "But, why, Captain. Should you not be aware of the impetus that a navy man should be armed?" his doctor said, "or at least available to be armed?"

Tanner nodded but then reacted. "Yes, but if you take into account that for the most part, that means that I would be able to react—using that sidearm—means that I would be relied upon to do just that, Doc ... and that is something that I do not think I would ever want to do, Doc."

The discussion had just gotten tougher than Tanner had ever thought it might.

But, as all things, it could be handled ... how though, might be something to think on
, Tanner thought,
but that was for later.

####

He wondered if he should keep his own calendar on the days he spent up here on the Hospital Ship, and then he shook his head.

No need to keep my own timeline. Ninety days was ninety days. What could be easier time,
he thought.

No Scotch though. At least not that he'd found in his three days here so far.

No sleep either, it appeared, as he'd not slept well last night again. Nor the night before either.

That worried him, but then again, there was no reason he couldn't take a nap in the afternoon.

No reason at all.

Of course, they'd scheduled his group sessions in the afternoon, three times a week, and today was the first session.

He wondered about that for a moment.

Group sessions, Gallipedia said, were events that allowed the group monitor to "judge" the various participants and how they opened up, or didn't open up, to the social pressure of the group and how they related, or didn't' relate, to the group as a whole, or to some of its members.

And perhaps most importantly
, Tanner thought,
was how they related to the group monitor.

Maybe that was the most important part of any group session,
he pondered and then had to shake his head.

Psychoanalysis was beyond any navy captain, he knew.
Just hope the group monitor is more concerned with others, than with me
. After all, there'd be a wide swath of variety when it came to the session members, and he hoped there'd be some real good stories there too.

For a moment, he wondered at that from a guilty rationale. If someone was up here in the Psych Ward, they had issues. And enjoying their problems was not a good thing to desire.
Least not outwardly
, and he grinned to himself.
Wonder what the sessions were going to be like
, he thought as he stood on the walkway on Deck A. He'd gone all the way down to the big Barony-wide deck. He knew he had to go back up to Deck B to get to the group session room, yet he was dawdling and he knew why.

Last thing I'm looking forward to is to open up to a group of loonies
.

There, I said it,
he finally admitted to himself.

While I've no idea what caused my flipping out, I do know that it was not me
.

"Not me at all," he said as he watched the Juice Bar that jutted out into the large space opposite the moving walkway. He thought he might like to take a juice up to the session that was in B-288, and to do that, he'd need to take another complete revolution on the walkway.

Such was life, and if challenged, his excuse he thought to himself,
was that he'd gotten lost.

Yup, that'd do fine.
A smile on his face agreed with him too!

He watched the various other patients, doctors, nurses, orderlies, and many others he didn't even recognize as the walkway continued to turn its way around the base of the Barony areas of the Hospital Ship.

As the Juice Bar came into view, he sighed and stepped off with only a bit of clumsiness as he tried to shred momentum and not look too much like a ship newbie. He'd thought he pulled it off as he walked up to the Juice Bar, and the fellow behind the counter gave him a raised eyebrow and then stared at him.

"Can I get a ... a smoothie please? One of those green ones, I think," Tanner said as he perused the menu board above them.

"And which of the five green ones might that be?" the fellow said, "Most of us know what flavor they want ..."

His tone was a bit uppity
, Tanner thought,
just wish he was an ensign of mine
.

"Sure, you decide—whatever one is your favorite, I mean," he said and stared right at the young man.

He shrugged and in thirty seconds or so, Tanner walked away with a tall plas-cup full of something green.

He hefted it and realized it was pretty heavy, but he took a drink anyway.

Sour. With a tang of something from a compost heap that was still good to his taste buds.

I like it
, he thought as he got off the escalator up on Deck B, and looking at the signage, he turned to port and walked until he reached room B-288.

The door was closed, but he simply waved his hand over the secure key pad at the side, and the door slid open for him quickly.

Entering the room, he first saw that he knew only one person there, Maddie, his nurse. Everyone else was new to him.

In about a dozen chairs arranged around a large group of tables that had been moved together, about a dozen other patients sat, all dressed like him in the white patient scrubs. One of them was dressed in a yellow set of scrubs and in front of him was a tablet. He looked up at Tanner and pointed to the one empty seat at the put-together table.

"Captain Scott, I presume—please take your seat, and next time please remember no drinks allowed here in group," the man said.

He watched as Tanner circled the table and pulled out his chair to sit. He watched as Tanner took a large drink of his smoothie and said and did nothing. He watched as Tanner eventually looked up at him and then he smiled.

He was an alien, from Tarvos, as the ears showed so large. Tanner saw he had two thumbs on each hand, and he knew there would be six toes on each foot, but he doubted he'd ever see the doctor without shoes on. Tarvos had some great folks, Tanner knew, as he remembered his CWO Hartford, one of the real leaders on the Ghayth mission, and the discovery of the anti-grav plates. But that was another day, and today, this Tarvian was in charge.

"Group starts promptly, Captain, at 1400 hours. You should try to remember that, Captain ... now, let's continue, Rezak, shall we?" he said as he waved over at one of the patients to his left who was glaring at Tanner.

He shook his head as if to say he was pissed at being interrupted, but he didn't approach that comment at all. Instead, he continued.

"Yes ... thanks, Doc—as I was about to say, when I lived on Gazaya, I was in charge of more than one hundred of our migrant workers, and I was able to push them to get the biggest and best field performance too. We grew the best crops, used the least amount of labor, and yes, I won awards for that kind of management of the help. Why I'm here, I have no idea as I was just doing my job," he said.