A direct continuation to FFM 2026 19: An Invitation. More lightly edited than most because I needed this out of the worklist ASAP.
Steirdrar felt awful upon waking up. Dehydration. Hunger. Bad signs. But he was lying on his side on something incredibly soft?
“Good, keep waking up. Follow my voice,” someone spoke. Loud, firm but gentle. Like a medic. Good sign?
It took some fighting against his heavy eyelids but Steirdrar managed to get his eyes open. He did not recognize his surroundings. There was an armored Gheiah in front of him.
“Very good. Stay awake now,” the Gheiah spoke. “Take it easy, but stay awake. You have been asleep long enough to get dehydrated.”
Asleep? Steirdrar started to push himself to sit up. A more defensible position. Once he was upright, the Gheiah took a water bottle from the bedside table and handed it to him.
His mouth and throat were too dry for talking, so he just nodded. He checked the label. Regular water. Unopened seal, no signs of tampering. He opened the bottle and drank a little. It tasted heavenly, but best not to risk upsetting his stomach. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Do you know where you are?”
Steirdrar looked around. It looked like someone’s home. He tried to focus, to remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. “A guest room… on-base.” He took a better look at the Gheiah. “Your and your partner’s mobile home.”
The Gheiah — Hergon, that was their name — nodded. “That’s right. You’re safe.”
“Right…” Steirdrar rubbed his eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”
“First of all, you’re currently on medical leave until further notice,” Hergon began, which was certainly a bad sign. “You have been asleep for about 7 Standard Hours, so over a biological day. I had to get you awake now so you would eat and drink.”
“I see…” Steirdrar temporized by drinking a bit more. “Medical leave, though?”
“For severe exhaustion. I put in the request soon after you went to sleep and Doctor Frr approved it based on my description. You’re off-duty until an involved medical professional — either me or Frr — concludes that you have recovered enough.” Hergon grabbed a nearby chair and moved it so they could sit near his eye level. “The treatment plan is simple: you’re allowed to stay here at our place and rest as much as you need to. Judging from how deeply you’ve sleeped here, this is a good place for you for that. It’s no trouble for us at all and no one will come here to trouble you — or if someone tries to, they will be dealt with very swiftly, even if Zafme and I are out.”
That piqued Steirdrar’s interest. “How so?”
“Did Zafme tell you which clan he’s from?”
Steirdrar needed a bit to recall his interactions with Iazyer. “Yes. Clan Foot.”
Hergon nodded, their eyes turning sad. “There is a group of other Clan Foot survivors here. Zemakanita — Watchers. They always have people on vigil and patrols here and get brutal when someone tries to harm other Foot survivors or those around them. It’s their way of coping with Thyrif.”
“I see…” Even though he did not participate in the Massacre on Thyrif, Steirdrar could not help feeling guilty. He had been so blind back then, so deep in the war machine that did that.
There was a little pause before Hergon spoke up again, “Zafme said you were having a bad panic attack when he found you. Are you okay, overall?”
Steirdrar weighed his words. “It’s just stress. Intelligence work is what it is, especially when you’re up against a behemoth like the IRS.”
Hergon contemplated. “Are you seeing a counselor? Or at least someone you can talk to about that?”
“I’m mandated to see a therapist as part of my probation.”
“Are they a good fit for you?”
Steirdrar did not know how he was supposed to answer that.
“Sounds like a no,” Hergon deduced from his lack of an immediate answer. “Let me guess, a pitying type?”
Steirdrar startled. “How did you…?”
“In my experience, warrior and survivor types rarely appreciate being pitied for what they have endured. ‘Scars are to be respected’ type of attitude. Based on what I know about your background, I figured you’re that kind of type.” Hergon tilted their head. “Have you requested to transfer to someone else?”
“It’s not worth the trouble.”
Hergon frowned. “Judging from what I know, I disagree. You need a therapist who you can comfortably talk to. Seeing someone who’s a bad fit just wastes your time and effort.” They hummed. “I don’t have the authorization to request transfers on the mental health side, but I know who my fellow survivors and warriors have praised and complained about. I could ask around to see if anyone suitable has an opening and ask Frr to send the request.”
“I-there’s no need for that,” Steirdrar stammered.
Hergon contemplated again. “Think about it this way: you have received insufficient medical care. I have a strong hunch that that has contributed considerably to you ending up on your current medical leave. If nothing changes, this medical leave is only a temporary fix and you will repeat it somewhere down the line. Is that worth not going through the effort of the transfer?”
Steirdrar could not answer that.
“I’m going to ask the therapists I know to be a better fit for you anyway, for my own peace of mind as a medical professional,” Hergon told firmly. “We can revisit this conversation when you’re more rested and I know who’s available.”
There was no room to argue with that, so Steirdrar nodded. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Finish your water and that ration bar before you go back to resting. Zafme pointed out where the toilet is?”
Steirdrar nodded.
“Good. I wrote down our contact details just in case there’s an emergency or you can’t find something you need here.” Hergon gestured at the paper on the bedside table.
“Okay. Thank you. I truly appreciate the hospitality.”
Hergon smiled softly. “Just doing what’s right.”
WindySilver 