Pilot Episode, Act I

We cut from Blakeney and Capt. McCurry shaking hands to the interior of a small science lab. Through a small window, we can see part of Gaia Station, and the interior styling is different in here than the rooms and corridors we saw on Gaia.

There are containers and pieces of equipment on tables, clearly in the process of waiting for a permanent place to be, making it clear that this place is being put together for the first time. A man in his late twenties/early thirties is frowning as he decides where to place something, and a woman of about the same age becomes visible for the first time as she stands up from having been doing something under a table. She's holding up a framed diploma.

"Found it! Make sure you stick this on the wall in your office. It will reassure the patients that you are, in fact, a trained psychologist." She grins at him as she hands him the diploma.

Edgar was in the process of unloading boxes of testing equipment, balancing a digital notepad in one hand and some test tubes in the other, when he stopped abruptly at Jessica's comment. A stylus, perched on top of his notepad slowly rolled off the edge and onto the floor.

"That's not at all funny," he said giving Jessica a dirty look as he put the equipment on a nearby lab bench and stooped to pick up the stylus.

"You know I dread the idea of giving anyone a psych consult. Just thinking about it gives me nightmares. Imagine how that will instill confidence in my patients!" Edgar spits out the word "patients" as if they were repugnant things.

"And you can get rid of that shit eating grin if you don't mind," he says, while giving her a snide grin of his own.

Jessica makes an exaggerated "serious" face in response. Since Edgar didn't take the diploma, she walks it over to a cabinet against the bulkhead with the window. The camera cuts to a view over her shoulder as she looks past the parts of Gaia Station to the large, vein-y energy phenomenon that we saw earlier through Commander Little's office window.

"I kind of envy you, Eddie." She laughs shortly. "Well, I envy that you'll get a chance to see Entanglement Psychosis in real time and from inside the Tangle." She turns, whether to face Edgar or to stop looking at the Tangle is unclear. "I don't envy you actually traveling into it. Spending days or weeks inside an entanglement field is my idea of taking field research a bit too far."

"And that my dear is why you aren't going." Edgar hotly replies, still agitated by her previous remarks. He had actually been enjoying himself setting up the new lab. He even allowed a bit of excitement to creep in.

"Look, you always knew how to press my buttons. You still do. You know I know the risks, but you also know how much I love my research and how important it is. So why dig?"

Edgar shakes his head and starts rummaging through another box, placing pieces of equipment in various locations around the lab. Then he takes the framed diploma, and while looking at Jessica, makes a show of placing it an empty box.

"Let's just leave this here for the moment, shall we?"

Jessica takes his attack open-mouthed, first in surprise and then in modest anger. When he makes a production out of putting the diploma out of sight, she puts up her hands in a sign of surrender, her lips pressed together as though in suppressed anger... or hurt.

She moves to a box on the other side of the lab. "Just tell me where to put the rest of this stuff. I wouldn't want to 'dig' at you with any more expressions of concern for your welfare."

The communicator at the door blips, and after a polite pause, First Officer Pleiades Hamilton steps in. She stands at parade rest, a datapad in her arm, looking about the lab with a cold expression. Some would mistake her for a mannequin, unmoving and pristine, save for the smudge of freckles on her cheek which inspired her name. She doesn’t wait for acknowledgement.

"Good to see you getting settled in before the captain arrives, Counselor, though I would have hoped you’d have been arranged by now. I came to discuss your request for fewer patients. While I appreciate your initiative, the request has been denied. Star Fleet assigned you to the Hodgkin to tend any psychological needs of her crew that may arise physically, politically, or otherwise. If the Fleet needed you exclusively for research, you would have been assigned to another ship. Thank you for your understanding."

With a nod that states this is not up for negotiation, she turns to leave.

Edgar's face wears the realization that he might have been a little harsh with Jessica. He heaves a big sigh and turns around to continue tinkering with his lab setup.

Then the door blips. "Oh now what", he says under his breath, and swings around to see First Officer Pleiades Hamilton.

"Oh!" Edgar takes a breath, clearly not expecting anyone at that moment. Before he can return the so called pleasantries, the First Officer launches into a rather bristly and condescending dressing-down. As she turns to leave, Edgar, clearly irritated, clears his throat, holds out his arms, and asks, "But why? Any counseling I do will seriously intrude on the time I can devote to my most urgent work. Surly this takes precedence over some prattling sessions?"

Hamilton stands straighter, if that's even possible, a look of indignation on her face.

"'Prattling?' I will have you know, Counselor, starting a mission on such a bold ground is dangerous, at best. The Admiral assigned you to this ship for a reason. It would be best not to disappoint him."

Her hands twitch slightly as she reverts to her stone cold state. There's a look of self-doubt in her eyes when she mentions the Admiral, but she stands her ground.

Edgar knows when he's beaten and that's evident in his now contrite expression. He hunches his shoulders and shoots a quick glance at Jessica, then back to Pleiades, feeling very sorry for himself.

"Very well then sir."

The first officer smiles, as though "reaffirm strengths" is the last step of discipline in the handbook. It’s not a pleasant sight.

"Well. The Captain will be on the bridge in twenty minutes. I will see you there. Thank you, Counselor."

The camera follows her as she steps out the door, pausing briefly as the doors "shhhk" closed behind her. Her face falls through a variety of expressions - the smile, a disappointed sigh, a huff of frustration - before settling back into her usual mannequin state. She walks down the hall, and the camera goes back inside the lab.

Edgar takes a deep, audible breath, and turns to face Jessica.

"Look Jessica, I am sorry if I was a little harsh and overreactive. I feel bad. But you know how much I hate counseling. In fact, I am not a big fan of people in general. I like my scientific work. The people are just ....uh...there, to validate my theories and calculations. And you have to admit ... you deliberately pushed my buttons. Right?"

As a piece offering, Edgar retrieves the diploma, carrying it almost as if it had a communicable disease, and starts looking for a spot on the wall to hang it.

Smiling slightly at Edgar's clumsy apology and noting his obvious attempt at conciliation with the diploma, Jessica continues to empty the box she's working on.

"You don't have to explain your feelings about treating patients to me. I've known you since before you transferred from med school to psych, remember?"

Having emptied the box, she turns to face him. "And, no, I wasn't pushing your buttons. The fact that you're taking it that way suggests that maybe you know you're not being very realistic about the expectations of this assignment."

She crosses the room to him and puts a hand on his arm. "This isn't just an extension of the pure research we've been doing on Gaia, Eddie. You're the ship's counselor. That means giving psychologically-based advice to the captain and ensuring the mental health of the crew."

As Edgar starts to interject, she gives his arm a firm squeeze to let him know she's not yet finished. "And in this case, that's a lot more than just 'listening to them prattle.' Your regular sessions are going the best way to detect the early symptoms of entanglement psychosis. That alien propulsion drive they've installed - we don't know yet how long it will delay the onset of the psychosis, or under what conditions it might become less effective. So you've got to make peace with this counseling phobia, Eddie. Every life on this ship might depend on it."

"Ok, since you put it that way, I guess I'll just suck it up and be a good little counselor boy."

Despite the snark, Edgar gives Jessica a genuine smile.

Meanwhile, in another lab.

Fog swirls around a dark lab. Dozens of screen displays, some clearly added to the regular walls haphazardly, show mathematical equations and 3D field visualizations. A long headed alien scribbles on a PADD while consulting a data listing. Clearly in a hurry, or perhaps just obsessed, he frantically swaps the data display to another readout. "No! This is wrong."

The door chimes. He ignores it, flipping displays, highlighting data.

The door chimes again. He squeezes his fist into a claw, turns to the door, and calmness washes over him.

"Enter," he says pleasantly, almost serenely.

A security guard enters from an air lock, a gas mask pressed to his face. A fog burst works around the airlock.

The alien considers him, bows his head politely. "Officer, how may I help you?"

The security officer, a short Asian man, remains near the door. "Just the hourly check, sir."

He looks around the lab to demonstrate his vigilance. It actually serves more to underscore his discomfort with not knowing exactly what he should be looking for.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can find you a chair. Hmm, I don't have an extra one, but, oh, I could replicate one in pieces and assemble it. It would be my pleasure. Please, look around while I see to that. See this here, this is the Tangle at high resolution subspace band." He points at a large 3D visualization, and tries awkwardly to scan the lieutenants posterior holding a Federation issue tricorder, his face tendrils jiggling nervously.