Even Stars Go Cold

Prologue

2173

"Tell me how you're feeling."

The psychologist crossed her legs and made herself comfortable, expectantly. She was very business-like and confident, though not really looking like she had served a single day in the Army; a pale cream jacket and dark blue pants clad her tall, slim, elegant frame.

The woman sitting opposite her was quite different.

Dressed in Systems Alliance Army utilities, with urban camouflage design, Samantha Tarot was a nervous figure. Petite of build, she was topped off with a short shock of dark hair, long enough to be considered "low regulation", but short enough to pass. Her pale, angular features reddened slightly as she toyed with her cap in her hands and shrugged.

"I'm fine, Dr Cottrell," she replied.

"Really?" the psychologist raised an eyebrow. "I would like to know how this move affects you. I gather it was somewhat unexpected."

The girl looked young. Of course, the uniform added to the appearance of maturity, but her face portrayed the vulnerability of a girl who should still be in high school.

"Samantha... may I call you that?"

"I'd rather you didn't. It's 'Sam' if we're talking first names... Dr Cottrell."

"Sam, then. Sorry." Cottrell adjusted in her seat and brushed imaginary fluff from her pants leg. She gathered her thoughts. "Are you okay with this? Would you prefer someone else conduct your evaluation?"

Sam blinked, slightly surprised. "You're just as good as anyone else, Doctor, I guess."

Cottrell smiled. "So, how does this transfer to the Marines make you feel?"

Sam looked away through the window. Outside, the sun was a hazy golden glow through the thin grey cloud. "I guess I'm beginning to wonder if I'll settle anywhere. I thought I was doing well: just made Corporal, things are finally looking up, and then I get pushed out - again."

"Again?" Cottrell echoed. "You have had to move before?"

Sam's gaze returned to focus on the doctor. "I had to leave home: I had - have - issues."

"Hmmm," the psychologist mused. "You had family trouble?"

"With Dad? No!" the girl shook her head, vehemently. "Dad would go through hell for me. He did go through hell. With what happened to Mom... and me... he should get at least a Purple Heart for what he's been through."

"Your mother... she died of cancer, right?" Cottrell asked, cautiously.

"Eezo poisoning, technically." Sam paused to gather herself, clearly distressed by the line of questioning. "Dad didn't get it directly, but he suffered the fallout in different ways. We both had to live with Mom falling apart physically, but he had to watch..."

Cottrell encouraged her, gently: "Go on."

"He had to watch me falling apart, mentally. I went through therapy, we even went through it together." Sam closed her eyes and the unwanted recollections flooded in. "The psychiatrists were no good. Mom died in '66, after three long years of her body giving up. My Mom was a fighter and she just held on as long as she could."

"How did you cope?" Cottrell asked.

"I didn't!" Sam retorted. "I was eight years old! Mom was falling apart and things were happening to me that Dad couldn't understand, couldn't help me with. At one point I thought I was sucking the life out of my own mother, I had all this energy growing inside me and she was wasting away!"