[center][color=orange][h2]Enginnering Officer Keith Sullivan[/h2][/color]
1400: VITAE Medical wing[/center]

Things have been, better lately.  And that's odd considering the general malaise of hopelessness that had befallen the VITAE of late.  It was the anniversary.  Five years... Five years since the launch.  Year one was a celebration, a celebration about survival, things still going strong.  Year two, the crew tried again but one could feel the mediocrity of it, the substance of what it represented.  Year three was a worthy attempt, people pulled out all the stops to prepare a great show, a great bonding experience for everyone but a recent tragedy made the celebration taste foul on everyone's lips.  It became a day of rememberance, for those lost since the trip started.  Year Four... it was more a funeral than a celebration, Sullivan fondly remembering his Engineering Officer died in the line of duty.  A hell of a woman.  He poured out a bit for her, and then drank himself into Oblivion with the rest of the bottle.  This year, Year 5, no one had anything planned.  It was no celebration or even morning, but a time of tension.  A time of decisions.  Hope was starting to slip, people were starting to wonder if the VITAE was going to be the only home they knew.  This was okay for those of the Rare Fleeter backgrounds, but for others, growing up with open skies and solid ground, this was a very drastic dramatic shift.  It was likened to homesickness, and every death particularly suicide among the thousands of crew sent out a ripple to the rest of the population.  They could very well be the last peoples in existence.  That was a scary thought.

The policies in place didn't help either.  Security was cracking down on the fights, breaking up the riots in the Hub, and giving disciplinary measures to those who didn't follow the rules.  The mandatory pregnancy ban was one that particularly stung a thorn in peoples side.  There were lovers all of the ship now, looking to eachother for entertainment, for hope, for comfort.  One of Sullie's crew had to get the treatment four times already and impact was weighing down her spirit pretty hard.  I guess that's why he was arrested the first time, actually speaking out against the policies and maybe causing a disturbance in the process.

Than it was just the hardships of when survival becomes routine.  People forget they are fighting for their lives and things just become the norm.  Normal means boredom, boredom means you get creative or you start getting bad habits.  Sullie had helped organize morale events in the past, but not so much since his boss died.  He didn't realize how important those movie nights or bar mixers were for the crews until he found himself in the middle of half a dozen workplace scuffles on the engineering deck alone.  One of him, he actually started when someone just mouthed off at the wrong time.  The guy went to the med bay, he went to the brig for the day.

It was probably that last bit that got him to attend weekly counsiling sessions with one of the psychologists.  Dr. Melanie Larson.  Their first session was all smiles and getting on eachothers nerves when it came to how they both operated.  He used art to express himself, and she was efficient about finding the trauma in his life, at which point both came to moments of confrontation.  This was actually par for the course for over a month.  

And then Sullivan asked his Doctor to attend an impromptu party to celebrate some entire system overhaul of one the frigates.  He tried to make it into a whole ship wide thing and invited her personally.  Then he invited her to the next event, and the next.  

Over time, their talks actually became quite pleasant.  They had different backgrounds but they could easily find comparisons and it turned out they liked alot of the same things.  Sullivan found his weekly trips to his councilor incredibly therapeutic.  Like he could just let himself go and let his mouth and mind wander.  It was debatable if that was the intention but mind games or not, he liked it.  It put a little pep to his step as he approached her office door.

"Hey Doc, what's the good-"

A man was there, still professional, still very well kept, and still probably very good at his job.  "Keith Sullivan correct?  I'm Doctor-"

"Where's Mel?"  Sullivan asked, a bit of irritation and confusion pressing on his mind.  

"She's requested your transfer.  I'll be your doc-"  he was interrupted as the door to the office was closed abruptly.

"Oh what the hell!?"  He shouted, his beard positively bristling. He hands were fists and his face was almost flush with red.  "She can't do this to me!  I swear it's the only friggin relief I get on this stupid ship!"  He knew walking away from his meeting would get him some kind of talking to, but to be honest he wasn't really worried about that.  He was more in touch of giving that woman a piece of his mind.

[@Xandrya]

He touched the interface of the implant between his ear and eye.  "Contact Dr. Melanie Larson."  There was a couple of beeps, some chirps, and then the line was put through, and it went directly to voicemail.  Sullivan paced back and forth, his free hand on his hip.  "Hey Doc what gives?"  he asked with some annoyance behind his voice.  "I thought things were going great!  Why dump me like this?"  He thought he deserved atleast an explanation.  He made a hurmph sound before he finished up the message.  "Please call me back when you can.  If its about the last session, I'm sorry I talked about cartoons for thirty minutes.  I thought you liked them to.  Ugh- I mean, just give me a call when you can."  He hung up and leaned on the wall, banging his head.  "Dammit..."  He felt like he lost something, again.