The next day Chaz led a woman in an official Cen Com uniform into the small yellow room. She had silver-grey hair tied into a tight bun. Her face displayed light creases that came with wisdom and age. "Braddon, I would like you to meet Dr. Dorothy Rice." Chaz said gesturing to the newcomer.

She saluted his shell. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Dr. Rice said warmly.

"Um, likewise." Braddon responded nervously. Dr. Rice was his appointed psychologist. Psych had a bit of a bad reputation when it came to brains. Shell people feared being grounded or disconnected from their posts, and the psych requirements were understandably strict due to the lives that shell people were entrusted with on a daily basis. He had heard awful rumours at school and was understandably nervous about his career now being in the hands of this unknown woman.

"I have a recording which I have been instructed to display." She said glumly as she walked over to the wall where a small data reader and control panel were concealed. "Chaz, thank you so much for the escort, but a bit of privacy would be appreciated."

"Um, right. Braddon, you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, sure, but check in before you launch ok?"

"Absolutely, no way Sam would leave without saying goodbye!" With that he gave an awkward wave and left the room.

Dr. Rice had got the display on the wall working and hit play on the recording. An elderly gentleman that he recognised as one of the higher-ups at Central Comand sat behind an impressive looking desk in full dress uniform, numerous badges and stripes decorating his chest and shoulders. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"XB-1070, I hereby inform you that due to recent events you are temporarily placed off duty until a thorough psychiatric evaluation has deemed you fit for service. During this time you will be confined to the Pride of Albion, but will otherwise have complete access to communications and other sensory inputs as requested. You will submit to a minimum of 10 counselling sessions, after which point you may request further counselling or evaluation. At any point during counselling you may request a substitute counsellor, however additional fees will be incurred after 3 substitutions. Evaluation shall be performed by two personnel, one chosen by you, and one chosen by CenCom medical. In the event that a consensus can not be reached, a third assessor may be assigned by the court. Evaluation may result in either; full reinstatement, temporary reassignment, permanent reassignment, or further counselling. You are free to ask for a representative from SPRIM to oversee your case, who will have full access to all psychiatric records. Complaints about any stage of this process can be lodged with CenCom and will be responded to within 24 hours."

Braddon was momentarily overwhelmed with the rush of information, he had vague recollections of some of the phrases from one of his legal courses, but when he reached out to access them he remembered his memory banks were still stuck out there in a launch cradle.

"We all wish you a speedy and effective recovery." With that he gave a salute and the recording finished. Dr. Rice let out a long sigh.

"Pathetic isn't it?" She said gesturing to the man's large image which filled up most of the wall. "He didn't even use your name…" She tapped away at the controls and the wall returned to the obnoxious yellow.

Braddon wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. She continued.

"Braddon, I am not sure if this has been communicated to you, but as you were assaulted by a central worlds officer, while on duty, you are entitled to compensation. Throughout your recovery you will be receiving base salary and CenCom will be paying for all medical and other repair bills."

"Oh, that's a relief, I guess I hadn't really stopped to think about the money." It was comforting to know that this little disaster wasn't going to leave him further out of pocket. He had barely made a dint on his massive debt.

"Due to this I am under considerable pressure to get you cleared for duty as soon as possible."

Braddon couldn't believe his luck, that was wonderful news! I sure as hell don't want to be stuck in this room for much longer.

She continued. "However, my primary concern is that you are given the best possible care, a great injustice has been done to you." She paused, biting her lip. "Cen Com does not wish to acknowledge blame, so when I say this it is not as an officer of central worlds, but simply as myself," She bowed deeply in the direction of his shell. "You have my most sincere apologies." She held the position for a number of seconds.

"Huh, what? I know it isn't your fault." This was not going at all how he had expected. Why would she be apologising? Unless… "Wait, you weren't the one who assessed Pacifica were you?"

Her head jolted back up and she waved her hands in front of her face, "Oh, no! Of course not. If I was they would have sent someone else. Not even CenCom is that heartless. I am however involved in assessing a number of brawn candidates. I am familiar with the process, and am appalled that we let someone capable of this through. You can rest assured a thorough review of this incident is being performed." She sighed again, shaking her head slightly. After a moment she looked up and continued. "Well, now that that is out of the way, we can move on to planning your recovery."

A chair from laboratory school had been brought along to give Braddon more sensors and mobility during his recovery, but Braddon insisted that he would rather be placed back on his ship. "You are going to be grounded for at least a month." Dr. Rice had warned him.

"Still rather be out on the tarmac than in here!" Braddon pleaded. "I have had enough of these walls. Drain my fuel if you have to, I don't plan on going rouge."

She paused, "If that is what you want."

"It is! It is!"

"You have until the medics give you a clean bill of health for you to decide. Although it is encouraging that you are so eager to get back on the horse, so to speak."

"I don't follow... "

"Oh, sorry, old Earth saying. If a horse rider were to have an accident they were encouraged to get right back on the horse before their fears had time to manifest."

"Huh, makes sense I guess." He said, trying to be as agreeable as possible.

Psych requested a brief session with Sam, who begrudgingly agreed with a cocky, "Can't keep me grounded! I hit payoff years ago!" As they were preparing to launch Sam made contact with Braddon. "Sorry we couldn't stick around longer, but you seem to be doing OK handling things on your own, and my employer is really starting to get antsy."

"Thanks for delaying as much as you did." Sent Braddon.

"Not a problem! At the end of the day my employer needs me a LOT more than I need them." Sam said chuckling.

Braddon's curiosity got the better of him "What did the psychs want?"

"Oh them? They weren't trying to draw out extra info about you if that is what you mean. They were a little worried about me. Seeing a shell like that, defenceless and opened up, can give even the most resilient of brainships shudders."

"Oh." He had never thought about that, the effect his ordeal was having on others.

"Oh, I'll be alright, always am! They give you any trouble, just let me know. Should be able to reach me on the tightbeam for quite some time."

In less than a week Braddon was back in his ship, since his hormonal control was returned he had been sleeping better too, but the 10 seconds after waking up were still the most stressful of his day. The installation had been more traumatic than the first time, and he was aghast when he had awoken to an open access panel. Due to his illness they had wanted to confirm function with him personally before sealing it up. A new tonal sequence had been encoded, and he once again had an inch of titanium protecting his feeble body from the rest of the world. He ran checks of all of his visual and audio sensors first, as if flexing his newly rediscovered muscles. He was grateful for the Helva circuit, which had undoubtedly preserved his sanity, but hoped never to have to use it again. He paused his check when he reached Pacifica's cabin. It was empty, pristine, as if she hadn't even existed. He had been told that they had emptied it out, but it was still strange seeing it empty. He continued with his checks, once he had finished the visual and audio circuits, he went on to the hull sensors, motor feedback, servos, anything he could sink his synapses into. "Ah… " He sighed. "It is good to be back."

The Psych sessions had been better than expected. Dr. Rice never made him feel like he was crazy, or that she was trying to trap him into saying or doing something that would keep him grounded. She had only made him go through a retelling once, and had kept all of her questions until the end. She had been trying very hard to conceal her emotions, but Braddon could tell she was angry. While cases like this are rare, they unfortunately did happen. Survivors were even rarer still.

After the first night of being alone in his ship he had asked if someone could stay with him and she had volunteered, taking one of the passenger rooms rather than that of the brawn. Pacifica's room still sat pristine and untouched. He opened up about his mixed feelings towards Pacifica, although Dr. Rice had probably already seen a recording of his discussion with Sam. She encouraged him to hold onto his positive memories, saying it was better than pretending the year with her had never happened. But she was clear on one point, "Braddon, it doesn't excuse what she did."

Dr Rice spent most of her waking time at the hospital, seeing other patients, some long distance, some in person. They had a formal session every couple of days. In order to give Braddon something to do, to fill up his time, and give him some sort of purpose, Lars had him helping out with some data processing. Scheduling of personnel, inventory management, going over old maintenance logs to see if something had been overlooked. Nothing that had him interacting with patients (at his request). He knew it was busy work, but it felt good to be doing something, and the other admin staff he was working with seemed very appreciative.

As part of the sessions she had got him in touch with other brains that had experienced trauma. One had suffered sensory deprivation after hijackers had got on board. Another had experienced the sudden death of a brawn. As brains were spread out over the vast galaxy, most had sent letters, or recordings. The time lag would have made direct communication too difficult. She had even tracked down a brain that had been subjected to fixation, however her brawn had been removed before anything bad had happened. It was helpful to know that he wasn't alone.

He even received a touching recording from Carille, now the DC-963. Now that he had access to his memory banks again he remembered the legal mumbo jumbo the stiff had read as something colloquially referred to as Carille's law. It was a famous case between a brainship Carille who had experienced extreme trauma. Sabotage caused an explosion that had killed her brawn and left her floating stranded in space for almost 2 weeks. Some of her memories from the incident were initially unable to be proven, and so an inspector general Maxwell-Cory had made it his personal mission to find her unfit for duty, claiming she was suffering from delusions, and was a threat to everyone she encountered. He harassed her for no less than 8 years, even fitting her with illegal warning systems, traps to prove his case, before she was finally able to find the proof needed to confirm her story. SPRIM and MM had rallied behind her, taking the inspector general to court and effecting significant changes to the regulations surrounding the psychiatric evaluation of shell-people.

One evening Braddon was having trouble falling asleep, so he had been using one of the servos to absent-mindedly rearrange the food satchels in the galley while he looked through his telescope out into the distance. More than half the starry sky was obscured from view by the station, and the light pollution wasn't helping matters, so he kept his focus on the relatively nearby systems. He was trying to focus on a gas giant in the Bernilli system. Yes, protein bars to the front, thermo soup cans to the back, she doesn't much care for them… he couldn't quite tell if the rings were made of ice or rock… not that it really mattered. Coconut flavoured juice, she was going to love that! I'll have to tell her when she wakes up… The servo dropped the can as he suddenly realised what he was doing. He groaned inwardly. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He couldn't resist bringing up the sensors in her cabin, staring at the freshly made bed, empty walls, hollow draws. He was focusing very closely on the handles to the cupboard, looking for the smallest of scratches, any sign of the time she had spent there, when he noticed movement on one of his other sensors. Panic gripped him instantly. He brought up sensors around his column first while sounding an alarm and bellowing, "Who goes there? Identify yourself!" as he proceeded to scan the rest of the ship. Standing in the hall was a very dazed Dr. Rice still in her sleepwear.

"Braddon, if I knew you were going to run drills in the middle of the night, I would have stayed in the base!" He quickly cancelled the alarm.

"Dr. Rice! I am so sorry, I thought you were fast asleep! I just thought, for a second, um... I guess I must have panicked."

"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and you weren't answering me on the room com." She said calmly, "I was just coming to check up on you." She had started walking towards the galley. Braddon quickly picked up the offending can and placed it in the cupboard before moving the servo to the corner of the small room, where it would be out of the way.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you, was just doing a bit of reorganising. I had my sensors turned down out of respect for your privacy."

"Do you have any herbal tea?" she asked as she reached the galley. "That alarm really got my blood pumping. Probably won't be able to get to sleep again for a while."

"Second cupboard on your left."

He watched as she cracked the heat seal, and gave a deep sigh as she inhaled some of the steam that was rising out of the container. She walked back to the main cabin and sat down on one of the couches, facing his column. "Since I am up anyway, why don't we have a little chat."

"Sure, why not." he said meekly, feeling like a child that was about to get scolded.

She checked the time on her wristwatch, a strange old-fashioned device that was mostly mechanical in nature. "Were you having trouble sleeping again?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Braddon, what triggered that panic?"

"Unexpected movement, when I was emotionally distracted."

"Distracted?" She raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"I was rearranging the food supplies to suit Pacifica's tastes. When I realised what I was doing, I dropped a can."

"But that didn't trigger the panic?"

"No, it was when I saw you moving, out of the corner of my eye so to speak… I wasn't expecting it."

"What else makes you feel panicked or uneasy?"

"Sleep, whenever people are near my column, touch my column, and even when people look at it, like they are trying to make eye contact…" If I could only look into your eyes… his screens flickered briefly as he remembered those words.

"Are you uncomfortable now?" She asked, still staring at his column.

"Yeah, a little…" he admitted sheepishly.

She sipped her tea and averted her eyes.

"Where would you rather I look?" She asked quietly.

"Any of the other cameras are fine really."

She picked one close to the airlock.

"Braddon, we can't send you out into space if you are going to gas your passengers for waking up in the middle of the night."

"I know, I know!" He groaned.

"But I am not going to tell you to loosen up and ignore anything unusual. Things that are out of place could be a sign of trouble, which you need to be aware of. But you need to make sure you give an appropriate response. What would an appropriate response be for unexpected movement in the corridor?"

"Bringing up my sensors and identifying the source of the movement."

"Good," she said, "now what if the movement was by a person you didn't recognise?"

"Then I would seal the doors and try to ascertain if their intentions were hostile."

"And if they were armed?"

"Then I would sound the alarm, contact the station brain, and alert other passengers. I would get ready to release sleep gas if required." This was all text book stuff.

"Was I armed Braddon?"

"Um, no."

She sighed. "Next time I expect a more appropriate response. As to the other stuff, many brawns and higher ups consider it an act of respect to look at the column when addressing a brain, but I don't think it would be rude for you to ask them to look somewhere else. If men stare at my chest when talking to me, I would definitely say something to them. You don't need to tell them the exact reason, just that you consider your whole ship to be a part of your body, and that you would prefer it if they addressed the nearest camera." She took another long sip. "Braddon, do you understand the concept of personal space?"

"Like when I should not look in my passengers' rooms?"

"Close, most people don't like it when others get too close. It is like we walk around with a bubble that people need to seek permission before entering." She gestured with her hands, tracing an invisible wall in front of her. "If I were talking to someone and they came and stood an inch away from my face," she gestured, "I would feel uncomfortable and threatened. In some cases it is acceptable for a stranger to tap on the shoulder, to get one's attention, but a tap down here, for example," she slid her hand down the inside of her thigh, "would make me quite panicked indeed."

"How is a lesson on soft person etiquette going to help me?" he asked.

"Because it applies to you too Braddon, but possibly on multiple levels. How would you feel if someone entered your airlock without permission?"

"A little annoyed." He replied.

"Probably similarly to how I would feel if someone pulled my arm, instead of asking me to move it. And someone standing an inch away from your column probably feels even worse than if someone were standing an inch away from my face, because, unlike me, you are unable to take a step back." She took another long sip as Braddon considered what she was saying. "Point is, you are entitled to your personal space, just like any other human. If someone is standing closer than you would like, you can tell em to shove off."

Her rough colloquialism made him chuckle.

"Stroking your column, just like stroking my leg, is completely off the books without express permission. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes mam!" He said cheerfully.

"I think the biggest problem you face right now is your sleep. Doc says you are going to need a fair amount, at least for a little while, and if you don't get it your anxiety and paranoia will likely increase substantially."

"How can you stand it? Becoming unconscious for up to 8 hours every night?"

"Well, it helps that I have never been attacked in my sleep."

"I'll bet." came his snarky reply.

"But I definitely feel safe with a big strong brainship to protect me."

"Even one who yells at you in the middle of the night?"

"Yes, even then."

After a couple of weeks Dr Rice asked Braddon if she could test his appropriate response. She had made Braddon tell her his sleep schedule and had started moving things around, and leaving 'traps' for him to wake up to. This ranged from finding her not on board with the airlock left open, having sensor arrays disabled in entire rooms, and she had even convinced one of the technicians to conduct some unexpected maintenance in the main cabin. He hadn't liked that at all. But each and every time he had managed to address the situation with a cool head and implement actions appropriately.

One morning something occurred to Braddon. "What happened to all her stuff?"

"I think it is in boxes waiting for transport. Why do you ask?" Dr. Rice looked up from the news bytes she was flicking through as she had her breakfast.

"Her paintings, what is going to happen to them?"

"If they can track down a family member they will get to decide."

"Oh. She was a talented artist. I would hate to see them stay hidden away in boxes."

Dr. Rice sipped her coffee.

"Did they find any new paintings? Or unfinished ones? She had been working on something over the past month, but she wouldn't let me see it."

"She probably had her reasons Braddon. Are you asking me to violate the privacy of your freshly deceased brawn?"

"Well not when you put it like that… sorry I asked."

"No, no, sorry I snapped at you, it was a reasonable question. You know how I am before I have finished my first coffee." She waved the can and grinned in apology. There was something else in her tone that was unusual. He suspected she had seen the painting of him that he knew Pacifica had been working on. If she wasn't going to tell him about it, the chances of him ever seeing it were slim, and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to. He decided to let it slide and moved on to his main objective.

"When we first met she told me that she had used one of my pictures as the basis of one of her paintings. She hung it in the cabin, over there." He said directing lights to flash briefly on an empty section of wall. "Any chance I can keep it?"

"Was it a gift?"

"Um, no, not exactly. But it was in shared space for the entire time. If she had left, for another job or something, I always thought she would give it to me."

"Hmm. Can you show me an image?"

He pulled up an image on her screen, taken with his cameras as it sat in the spot he had previously pointed out.

"Can you show me the photo she based it off of?"

He pulled up his photo on the adjoining screen, so Dr. Rice could compare the two. The scene showed an arm of a spiral galaxy with a large nebula in the background.

"Very nice." She said slowly, eyes dancing between the two images.

"Her rendition loses the technical accuracy of course, but the way she has played with the colour, is... " He struggled to find the word "inspiring."

"What do you think of when you look at this painting?" She asked, taking another sip.

"I think of her, I think of how I inspired her, and how I might be inspiring others. It makes me feel proud, and it makes me want to better my own work and techniques, to be worthy of praise."

"It doesn't bring up any negative feelings?"

"No more than a pressure suit or that empty bed."

She sipped her coffee gazing at the images on the screen.

"I don't want to just erase her… well, sometimes I do, but No. It would mean a lot if I could keep something… something tangible."

After a minute Dr. Rice gave a soft sigh. "I'll see what I can do about the painting."

At the end of his next sleep cycle he awoke to find Dr. Rice standing a foot away from his column. Exactly where Pacifica had been. He knew it was a test, he knew he wasn't in danger, but it all came flooding back. He sounded the alarm, started yelling "Get back, Get Back, GET BACK!" and had even flashed bright lights. Dr. Rice quickly placed her hands over her ears and took a few steps backwards before falling over completely and yelling, "Cancel the alarm!" The room went silent, and the lights returned to normal. While Braddon was grounded she could override any of his commands.

Braddon's heart was pounding. He wanted to scream at her to get off his ship, but he also didn't want her to declare him emotionally unstable, his assessors would have access to all of her records. "You, you!" he started to stammer, he needed to calm down, he adjusted his feeds. He wanted to feel in control, so he toggled the door to the medical room a few times as quickly as it would allow, while scanning all internal and external sensors in case there were any other surprises for him. She pulled herself up off the floor and stood dazed, leaning on the control panel. "Sorry!, I just..." Braddon continued, realising that he should apologise when she held up a hand to stop him.

"Damit Braddon! I knew I should have worn earplugs for that one!" She slumped into the pilot's seat and looked into the camera on the control board. Braddon's heartbeat had begun to slow as she gave a long sigh. "All things considered, I think that could be classified as an appropriate response."

"What? Really?" Braddon was stunned. He stopped fiddling with the lift.

"If you find your next brawn staring at your column while you sleep, you even have my permission to use sleep gas on them." she said calmly.

"My next brawn… oh." He was still cycling through all his other sensors, but more slowly than before. "I am really not looking forward to choosing."

"Afraid of making the same mistake?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He had been so careful when he chose Pacifica, and that had blown up in his face.

"You might not need to worry about choosing just yet."

"what do you mean? I thought I was only going to be grounded for a month! You haven't decided to extend it have you? After that little display..."

"No, no, nothing like that, you are honestly making great progress. I have found a mission with a temporary brawn that you might find appealing, that is if I can get you cleared before then. I just make recommendations. The assessors have to approve them. The road to recovery is a long one, and I don't think keeping you here for much longer is going to help you down it. Time to get back on the horse, so to speak." She winked. "I will need to do some follow up sessions before you go on any more long term missions to the far edges of explored space."

"Thank you, I can't wait to give these engines a good workout!"