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Lt. JG David Flint & Ensign Ychol: The Disconnect (Part 1)

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An amazing sim from @Robin Hopper. This scene is rich with character and as always so well put together. A former Borg drone getting counselling from a Vulcan? You know I'm bound to love it!

Lt. JG David Flint & Ensign Ychol: The Disconnect (Part 1) (google.com)


Season 2 Picard GIF by Paramount+



((Shared Counseling Room B – Amity Outpost))


After taking some time to ensure the room was as comfortably arranged as possible, given the scarce notes he had to work with regarding his client for that afternoon, Ychol replicated himself a plain ceramic mug of herbal tea – placing it carefully atop a coaster on the wood table situated between his chair and the two-seater sofa where Mr. Flint would soon be sitting.


The case, referred to him by Counselor Toliver, was fascinating. Very few former Borg Drones had successfully reintegrated into their original societies – either due to psychological or medical complications resulting from their ‘severance’ from the Collective, or due to the lasting stigmas associated with “XBs” (as they were colloquially known), or due to political reservations regarding the ability of such people to conduct themselves safely. In all these ways, Mr. Flint presented a novel – if not entirely unique – case study, though many of the details remained ‘classified’ beyond the Counselor-In-Training’s purview. A complication, yet not an insurmountable one.


What he did know was that Flint was approximated to have been assimilated on Stardate 238805.17, along with much of the crew of the USS Nimitz when it was declared missing. He had been ‘rescued’ from the Collective in late-2397, nearly ten years later. Since then, he had undergone significant surgery to remove his borg implantations and restructure his body to look as “unaltered” as possible – though these details were merely assumed, given Ychol’s knowledge of the processes undergone by other recovered drones and Flint’s current condition; Aside from the lone ocular implant above his left eye, the man appeared as a typical human male.


Mr. Flint had also undergone extensive psychological assessment under the supervision of both the United Federation of Planets’ psychological certification authority as well as by Starfleet Counselors – though again, much of the details of these assessments remained classified. What was available to Ychol were their conclusions: That Flint represented an acceptably low-risk and cooperative former Borg Drone who stood a reasonable chance of reintegration into Federation Society and Starfleet service. Ychol found it curious, though not unexpected, that what was deemed “acceptable” was never clearly defined within any of the available file notes.


His considerations were interrupted by the chiming of the door.


Ychol: Enter.


As the helmsman entered the room, wearing casual clothing – black jeans, a matching t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket – rather than his typical red uniform, Ychol stood to greet him formally – extending a hand in the human custom.


David paused, momentarily surprised by the Vulcan’s gesture. It was not so common to meet a Vulcan who offered a handshake over a traditional salute…  oO Then again, it’s not exactly ‘common’ to meet a Vulcan counselor, is it? Oo 


The two shook hands stiffly.


Ychol: Lieutenant David Flint, greetings. I am Ensign Ychol, a ‘counselor-in-training’ aboard this station. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today.  ::Gesturing to the sofa::  Would you care to sit?


David looked at the sofa, then glanced around the room, finally resting his gaze on the blue-uniformed counselor. No – counselor in training. He did not sit.


Flint: “In Training?” You mean you’re not a certified counselor?


Ychol: ::Unemotionally::  A common misunderstanding. In order to conduct practice with clients, such as yourself, I have met all qualifications and certifications required to serve as a Counselor. However, there is a ‘practicum’ component, during which time I am still considered “in training”, as I receive continued guidance from more experienced members of my assigned team.


Flint: ::Unconvinced::  … Right.


David looked down at the sofa again and, with a small resolved sigh, took the offered seat. Ychol visually assessed his posture – often an indicator for a patient’s mood – and found it quite ridgid. 


Undoubtedly, Mr. Flint was well aware of the various stigmas surrounding his “unique heritage” and carried those burdens with him at all times, unable to shed them. While doing so might create a certain ‘bubble’ of self-defensive protection around the man, they would also prevent him from forming intimate trusting relationships with those around him. It was eminently clear why he was in need of significant psychological assistance.


The Vulcan counselor took his own seat, across the small room from Flint, and crossed his legs in a gesture that he had found subconsciously made most human patients feel more ‘at ease’.


Ychol: I would like to start off by reassuring you that, as a practitioner of Vulcan logic, I harbor no preconceived notions about who or what you are, Mr. Flint. I have cleared my mind of any such biases and am prepared to take you at face value during our sessions.


The bearded human man scoffed in continued disbelief… but he did lean back in his seat. The Vulcan’s eyebrow crept up a near-imperceptible degree.


Flint: Alright then, fine… 


There was a protracted lull – a valley of quietness – between the two men for a time, as each tried to determine how best to approach the looming battle of minds. Eventually, Flint broke the silence.


Flint: Counselor Toliver told me…  ::rubbing his beard uncomfortably::  She told me that you might be able to help me with the ‘dreams’ I’ve been having.


Ychol: Indeed. She mentioned this concern to me. I take it you have been having vivid nightmares?


His patient merely nodded, and Ychol sensed him receding back into his “shell” somewhat – not that he had come particularly far out of it yet. He decided to press the issue further, presenting the additional information he had at his disposal, as well as the gaps in his knowledge which he felt needed to be filled.


Ychol: Moreover, she indicated that you frequently experience these ‘episodes’ during your waking hours, including while you are on duty – is that correct?


Flint:  ::Slow pained sigh::  Aye…


Ychol: When was the last time you experienced such a phenomenon?


David shook his head. Such things were difficult to think about. He avoided it, on the chance that dredging up his own memories might once again trigger the dreams… or visions… whatever they would be called when all this mental poking and prodding had been deemed unsuccessful. Despite his best efforts, though, his mind came to a clear answer


((Flashback – Weeks Earlier, Science & Research Center – Level 1))


As he stepped out of the SRC’s turbolift into the dark ‘foyer’ of Level 1, from whence the lift down to the Ancillary Support Section was accessible, Flint immediately felt a deep and disconcerting cold grip him. He eyed the doors beyond – sealed tight – with suspicious paranoia. Housed within were the last relics of Amity’s origins… Copernicus, a research facility dedicated to dissecting and understanding the Borg…


He rushed quickly across the foyer to the other lift and pressed the button as quickly as he could, slapping at it frantically.  oO Bloody hell, open… Oo  A bead of sweat rolled down his brow. His chest tightened. He could practically feel the lingering presence on the other side of the door… waiting to be unleashed. Waiting to consume them all.


The lift door opened and he practically leapt inside, pressing himself against the far wall, as the door whooshed gently shut once more. He slouched, catching his breath for a moment, before he spoke the command.


Flint:  ::Short of breath::  Shuttlebay… 4… 


((End Flashback))


Flint: Aherm… I suppose it was when Lieutenant Richards requested my assistance with having his custom shuttle – erm, The Targhee – certified. I had to pass by the…  ::faltering:: the…


Even through his nasal numbing agent, Ychol could sense that Flint had begun to perspire at the memory. It was clear that he was distressed. While the counselor intended to continue pushing him to speak, it appeared he may require some assistance to maintain the conversation on this sensitive subject.


Ychol: I believe that project was housed in the Outpost’s Ancillary Support Section, which requires passing by the Science and Research Center’s Legacy Borg Research facilities, is that right, Lieutenant?


The counselor’s use of the man’s rank was deliberate – an attempt to refocus him away from his personal life and back to his present responsibilities. It appeared to function as intended.


Flint: ::Slow nod::  Yes… Mm. Yes, that’s right. And when I passed through there, even though I know in my head it was quick, I…  ::Shaking his head::  It sounds crazy.


Ychol: I’ll remind you, Mr. Flint, that I am the counselor here and you are a helmsman. I will determine what does and does not sound “crazy”.


David nodded, momentarily distracted from his discomfort by trying to ascertain whether or not his Vulcan counselor was joking with him. He decided that it would be better to just blurt it out, get it off his chest, and then – hopefully – move on to the part where Ychol would… mind-meld with him, help him control his feelings, or whatever it was that was going to happen so he could back on with his duties.


Flint: I felt like I could sense… Her.


Ychol: Her?


Flint: The Borg Queen. But not just her. Them. All of them. It was like… The entire Collective was just waiting behind that door, calling me back.  ::Shaking his head::  Being stationed on Amity, knowing that all that… all that stuff is down there. It’s almost torturous.  ::Visibly disturbed::  I don’t know if it’s all in my mind, or if it’s  ::pointing at his implant::  this bloody thing, or what – but something won’t let me forget…  ::breathing heavily::  I just want to forget.


Ychol’s eyebrows raised visibly this time.


Ychol: I see.






Lt. JG David Flint (he/him)

Helm Officer, Amity Outpost




Ensign Ychol (he/him)

Counselor-In-Training, Amity Outpost


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