Millie leaned back against the rough wood of the holographic barn, extending her legs in front of her. Her fingertips picked at the bale of hay she sat on. As if like clockwork, Henry stepped out of the barn, a metal pail in each hand. Seeing the furrow in his brow, Millie gave a quiet sigh, pulling a blade of grass from the bale. “Statzia talked to me a few minutes ago. They…killed the gentleman that I interrogated…in a public execution last night.”

He nodded as he set the pails down on a bench. “I heard. He wasn’t going to walk with everything going on down there.”

“And with me coercing him into telling the truth about what he did.” Millie’s voice was quiet. 

“He was a dead man either way. His confession didn’t damn him. His girlfriend and her cause did that. They weren’t going to show any mercy. He was more useful to them as a cautionary tale.” Henry looked at her. “Not saying it’s anything close to being fair but you’re accepting blame that’s not yours.”

“Statzia said the same thing.” Millie leaned her head back, looking up at the wisps of holographic clouds in the early light. “Said that, given the interrogation he was going through before my arrival, his confession to me ended what would have been prolonged torture.” Millie was quiet for a moment. “That’s…the first I’ve done this on purpose–pushed someone against their will.”

“You didn’t force him to tell a lie. You asked him a question and he told the truth. I know there’s a lot of people on the ship who aren’t real happy with the Prime Minister and his people but the guy did blow up a transport.” He started grabbing handfuls of feed and tossing it to the chickens. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did your job. Trust me, I’m someone who did wrong things while doing their job. I know the difference.”

Millie was quiet for a moment. “Statzia is monitoring the area he talked about during his interrogation. She has been all night.” The counselor gave a half-hearted laugh. “I think she’s more upset than I am, and she’s scary when she’s like this. It’s like talking to a block of ice.”

“I don’t have much hope in us finding a good solution. This goes back centuries and we have religion entangled with economics. Now we have two outsiders feeding the fire. Made some calls to Starfleet. The ship that delivered explosive materials to the Vexarions comes from Tilo in this system. The other shipment, which Lieutenant Moro identified as computer chips, seems to be used in the Rugas defense grid and their targeting systems for their weapons. Those chips came from Wearnu, also in this system. I’m glad you’re sitting down so you won’t be too shocked when I tell you apparently Tilo and Wearnu have been locked in a cold war of sorts for the last millenium. Patricia thinks this is just a proxy war with the winner getting access to those crystals and meanwhile we have centuries of people dying for no reason because bigger players want to be puppeteers.”

Millie gave a quiet sigh. “How long do we have before Starfleet pulls us out?”

“The last ditch effort is this summit on the holodeck coming up soon. Unless they’re going to commit to progress we’re spinning our wheels and there’s other fires in this quadrant that need put out.”

Millie nodded. “Emma and the Chief have done well on the simulation. It looks more like an art gallery than it does a holodeck.” She rubs at her face with both hands. 

“From now on, I want you to refrain from using your touchy-feely skills on duty. I don’t want you spending your days and nights questioning yourself. You’re a good enough shrink to get answers with the gloves on.”

“I…I don’t. Not without consent–the crew doesn’t know how it works, just…” Millie looks down at her hands, absent of the gloves. She clenches them together. “When I was in the Academy, and made the switch from Linguistics to the Counseling track, my classmates used to joke about how I could just hold someone’s hand, and it made them want to tell me everything.”

“And now you think it’s your genes and not your couch-side manner.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“How many times have you held my hand?”

“Held a hand, touched your arm–” Millie’s sigh is quiet. “I don’t think I could count high enough.”

“And since you became aware of the ability and have been wearing gloves, have you noticed a decline in your ability to do your job?”

“I take them off, sometimes.” Millie looked back down at her hands. “If someone is particularly upset, I’ll ask if I can hold their hands for a while. But they– they don’t know why it’s calming.”

“The only way to put your doubts at ease is not to do that. You’re too young to live with that kind of internal struggle about your competence. See how you do without the touch. And if it turns out you need it then it gives you a leg up.”

“Would you still keep me here if it turns out that I’m actually bad at my job?” 

“First off you’re good at your job. Second, yes, I’m not shipping you out. You think I’m gonna break in another counselor after all this?”

Millie chuckled softly. “I’d make sure they send someone bigger. Someone you couldn’t pick up and move out of your way.”

He turned the second pail upside down to drop the last of the feed. “What does your wife think about your gift?”

“Who do you think has been helping me practice?” 

“That’s what spouses are for.”

Millie let out a long breath. “There’s a part of me that is still surprised that she didn’t outright leave me when she found out…or when she found out who passed along that genetic gift.” She paused. “Don’t be angry at me…but there’s a part of me that wishes I could have gotten to know my father under…healthier circumstances.”

Henry’s expression could easily be read as a personal dislike of the man. “I know where you’re coming from.”

Millie nodded. “I suppose you understand that feeling, too.” She reached into her back pocket, pulling out her gloves. She turned them over in her hand for a moment before slipping them on. “But it’s hard not to wonder if, in some other universe, I might have grown up knowing him.”

“You’re a better person in this universe for not having done that. The things he’s done are not father of the year material.”

“Perhaps.” Millie stood, brushing the hay from her uniform. “It doesn’t make him any less my father, nor my mother any less my mother for all of her faults.”

He couldn’t argue that and when thoughts of his impending getaway surfaced he shoved them back down. “Sometimes a work family can be better than the real one.”

Millie’s smile seemed half-hearted. “I’m half-tempted to ask Statzia and K’Naut to adopt me into their branch of the clan. If only it were that easy to fill that gap, right?” She gave one last brush of her uniform. “I’ll be up on the bridge after my morning sessions.” With a nod, she made her way through the gate and through the holodeck doors.