The beginning of light

9

Sammrock stepped out of his cabin into the corridor and headed towards the captain's bridge. On the way, he encountered the Minister of Security of Interplanetary Forces, leaving the general meeting room, followed by a neuropsychoterapist who did not express any enthusiasm or benevolent disposition. Sammrock greeted them, very surprised that they had a minister on the ship, and, having received a dry greeting in response, continued on his way.
Mekhen was sitting in his chair as always, only this time his expression was even more menacing than before.
“The Minister of Security is walking around out there, are you aware?” Sammrock asked, flopping into his chair.
“I'm aware,” the captain muttered. “I don't know what they all want from me...”
“Is something the matter?” His assistant raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What does any of this have to do with you?”
“Last night I had an acute episode of neurocarditis,” Mekhen shared with obvious displeasure, not accustomed to letting anyone in on his health affairs. But now, for some reason, he wanted to share. “I woke up all sweaty from this damn dream!” The captain slammed his fist on the table, prudently choosing a place without sensors and holograms for this. Even when he gave himself the freedom to express any emotions, he was still selective with how he allowed them to be expressed, and did not do it uncontrollably. Sammrock whistled.
“And what did they say?”
“They said it was all post-traumatic depression and that I need to keep taking the drugs. And even I, Sammrock, understand that this is not like the last millennium, it's just... the Martian era! What is the point of these endorphin stimulants?! They don't solve anything. They only make it worse because time passes and nothing really changes. All of these therapists have clearly lost their minds. They are trying to create an illusion that everything is fine, but I don’t understand why,” Mekhen threw his hands into the air, surprising the assistant with his frankness and emotion.
They both fell silent as they considered what had been said.
“I think Neirali could help you. More precisely, one of their Lucisian centers of spiritual and physical health. In this regard, they have a smooth running system, and the average life expectancy on their planet is one hundred and twenty years due to the excellent state of the physical body due to complete harmony with the soul and mind.”
“Maybe you’d be better off advertising these centers on other planets, rather than piloting a space boat,” Mekhen said sarcastically, still bristling and sullen after visiting the conference room in the morning.
“Perhaps I will do that. It’s still better for me than working here,” Sammrock did not fall for the captain’s causticity and, standing up with dignity, calmly walked out the door, picking up the incoming call on his earpiece.