Polaris Garden

Chapter Seventeen: Exopolitician

The next day, the Thuban station's populace was rife with rumors about the cause of their leader's outburst, and Nols' refusal to acknowledge anything happened at all had done nothing to help the situation. The only information available to the general public was that an intern had overheard a furious screaming and smashing from the governor's office. Concerned for their leader's wellbeing, the new-hire decided to call for security, claiming it was a "possible emergency." The guards who responded to the call were met with Nols standing by a destroyed desk, with all sorts of paperwork and broken electronics scattered around the trembling man. After an awkward silence, time measured in heavy breaths from the violent violet eshek they had come to protect, the security officers were ordered by Nols to bring him one of their designated Therapy Unit-class cybernetic personnel.

And so, they did.

The tan protogen was escorted into the office by two eshek guards, each one avoiding eye contact as they walked through the halls of the station. He frowned, looking at a notepad he had been given -- the standard equipment for a Therapy Unit was a pen and a pad of paper.

Writing detailed records was something all Therapy Units were trained to do, alongside a number of protocols designed to help soothe an angry patient. Eshekkan Therapy Units were skilled psychologists with pain tolerance just short of combat units.

Rory had never been called to active duty, and as he walked to Nols' office, he couldn't help but ponder the setup process. They had selected him, withdrew him from his holding cell, and brought him into rooms larger than he'd ever seen in order to cut his claws down to the minimum size to avoid injury and trim his fur down as to make him appear smaller.

While he didn't find any of it comfortable, it was far from unreasonable. A stressed or scared patient, he figured, could be intimidated by something larger than themselves -- even if he were really the same size.

His focus returned to the present as the crew reached the office door of the Sector Four governor. The guards glanced to one another with frowns, opened the door, and gestured for Rory to step in. The protogen looked at his escorts in confusion and concern before obliging with their silent commands as the door shut behind them, leaving him enclosed with a violet eshek in a significantly more decorative uniform, leather shoulder pads replaced with ones made of silver, gold, and blue glass.

Rory gave a faint smile, approaching with caution.

"Hello," He said with a gentle, friendly tone in an effort to avoid intimidating his patient.

Nols returned his approach with a glare of contempt, pointing at the protogen before moving his finger to aim at a chair sitting in front of the ruined desk.

"Take a seat," Nols ordered, "And let the session begin."

The door of the large, spherical ship parked at Ophiuchi opened for Jora as he stepped in, supporting his creator's weight on his shoulder as he walked into the stolen vessel.

"That's odd. Why aren't there light switches next to the door?" Hera-Hes asked, glancing about the dark ship as they entered, "I know Protogen cannot see in the dark without more equipment... Right?"

Jora nodded, stepping back to push the door open wider in hopes of letting more light into the room. Hera-Hes quirked a brow before going in deeper, moving in a large circle around the room's perimeter as she observed her surroundings.

"What are you doing?" Jora called out, "Don't you have a-- Right. No equipment, hospital gown..."

Hera-Hes snickered.

"We unmar can see in the dark," She replied, "Our ancestors were nocturnal -- that only changed so we could easier interact with other races on our home planet."