Private The Lifting of Burdens

[Tannor Grene]

The room was quiet in a way that felt intentional. Soft lighting replaced harsh overhead panels. The hum of distant generators and station traffic was muted behind layered sound-dampening walls. Every surface, every detail, had been chosen with care; not for luxury, but for calm. Neutral colors. Subtle textures. Gentle, indirect illumination. Nothing to distract. Nothing to overwhelm. A low table sat between two comfortable chairs, flanked by a small couch along the far wall. A simple tray held warm caf, chilled water, and a selection of mild teas. No datapads were visible. No recording equipment. No obvious security systems. The space felt private, both deliberately and meticulously so.

Behind it all stood the barely perceptible thrum of a Faraday enclosure, shielding the room from outside surveillance, slicing the space cleanly away from the endless observation that dominated much of the galaxy.

Tannor waited inside. He stood near the window panel, which was a simulated skyline slowly cycling through a peaceful day-night pattern. His posture was relaxed, his presence calm and grounded. His clothing was practical, muted, unassuming. Nothing about him demanded attention. And yet, there was a steadiness to him that quietly anchored the room.

This space was not a clinic. It was a sanctuary. When the door chimed, Tannor turned smoothly, offering a gentle nod of greeting. “Come in. You’re safe here.” His voice carried warmth, measured and steady, without pretense. “There’s no formal procedure. No required introductions. No obligation to share anything you aren’t ready to.” He gestured toward the seating. “We go at your pace. Everything spoken here remains here. I keep no digital records, and nothing leaves this room unless you decide it should.” A pause. Not heavy. Just space. “My role isn’t to judge, fix, or direct. I’m here to listen, to help untangle what feels knotted, and to walk beside you while you sort through it.” His gaze remained gentle, steady. “Whenever you’re ready… you can begin.”

Tag: Grand Shepherd Burtch

 

[Grand Shepherd Burtch]

No uniform.

No rank.

No faction.

No family.

But most thankfully, no more terminal illness.

Here, Burtch was in recovery. The chip removed from his head, and the treatments from Liin Terallo were a success. His body was healing, but his mind was a mess.

He looked at Tannor Grene with anxious confusion, with his arms crossed and his back to the corner of the room. It had taken him a lot to come here. Liin had prescribed the therapy to him. Burtch was unsure what to think of everything. His head seemed to buzz all the time, unable to grasp at any kind of foothold when faced with simple thoughts or puzzles. Anxiety came easily to him now, and Miss Terallo believed that the condition was no longer within her realm to treat.

Now, Tannor Grene seemed to be the new master of his fate.

Burtch’s eyes wandered the room as he stood there shivering, avoiding looking at the man at all costs. The anxiety of just being here threatened to shatter Burtch’s composure and send him into a panick attack.

“Come in. You’re safe here.” His voice carried warmth, measured and steady, without pretense. “There’s no formal procedure. No required introductions. No obligation to share anything you aren’t ready to.” He gestured toward the seating. “We go at your pace. Everything spoken here remains here. I keep no digital records, and nothing leaves this room unless you decide it should.” A pause. Not heavy. Just space. “My role isn’t to judge, fix, or direct. I’m here to listen, to help untangle what feels knotted, and to walk beside you while you sort through it.” His gaze remained gentle, steady. “Whenever you’re ready… you can begin.”

The man’s words seem to imply safety. But what does that even mean to a man that has been mentally shattered? Why need safety? Was there a threat implied? Was “judgement” even something Burtch should be worried about?

There was silence for a long time as Burtch was given time to find his words. His eyes repelled away from Tannor Grene at all costs and Burtch struggled to even open his mouth.

Finally, Burtch managed to shakily force his jaw to move, “wh-what should I do?”

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor did not answer immediately. Not because he didn’t have one; but because the reflex to give instruction was exactly what had shaped men like Burtch for decades.

His tone, when it came, remained calm. Unhurried. “You’re already doing it.” He moved to take his seat, careful, slow; no sudden movements that might press against the Admiral’s fraying edges. “You came here. You’re standing in the room. You spoke.” A small pause. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.” There was no defiance in it. No challenge. Just quiet certainty. “I suspect you’ve spent much of your life receiving orders. Giving them. Measuring yourself by rank, by outcome, by clarity of objective.” His gaze softened, though Burtch wasn’t looking at him. “This space isn’t command structure. There’s no correct maneuver. No optimal strategy.” Another beat giving him space enough to breathe, if Burtch chose to. “If your mind feels loud… we can begin there. If it feels empty… we can begin there. If all you can manage is standing in that corner and breathing unevenly, that’s enough for now.”

Tannor leaned back slightly, grounding the room rather than crowding it. “You don’t have to perform here. And you don’t have to solve anything today.” A quiet, steady exhale. “For this moment, your only task is to notice that nothing bad is happening.”

He did not press further.

Tag: Grand Shepherd Burtch

 

[Grand Shepherd Burtch]

For a few shaky moments, Burtch managed to prevent himself from hyperventilating. Then, duck footed, he shuffled gingerly to the chair and sat down. He picked a spot on the floor and stared into it, as if not moving his eyes from that spot would protect him somehow.

He pondered Tannor Grene ’s words for a minute, and tried to decipher what they meant to him. Finally, the subject of whether his mind felt loud or empty seemed to stir confusion within him. He decided to address that, “Both. Empty. And Loud. She isn’t… there anymore. To make it quiet… I need her. I… miss her…”

Burtch fidgeted briefly as a small pang of anxiety struck. He had more to tell the man. It was important to help the man understand what Burtch meant. But the thought slipped out of his grasp, as a fish was to hold in one’s bare hands. Burtch searched his thoughts frantically to try and remember the details he needed to give Grene. He began to stress and fidget moreso as he worried that his words would only confuse the therapist…

 

[Tannor Grene]

There it was. Not strategy. Not resistance. Not pride. Disorientation.

Tannor did not rise from his seat. Did not approach. The distance mattered. “Right now,” he said quietly, “I want you to do one very small thing.” His tone remained steady; not sharp, not authoritative but clearer. More defined. “Place your feet flat on the floor.” A pause, allowing the instruction to land. “Notice the pressure beneath them. The solidity. The fact that the ground isn’t moving.” His voice slowed slightly, paced for regulation rather than conversation. “Take one breath. Not a deep one. Just the next one that comes naturally. Let it leave your lungs without forcing it.”

He watched carefully for signs of being overwhelming; ready to soften if needed. “You don’t need to understand anything yet. You don’t need to decide anything. Your nervous system is trying to find threat where there isn’t one.” A gentle beat. “So we show it something simple. The floor. The air. The fact that the door is closed and no one is coming through it.”

He shifted one hand slightly, palm resting open against his own knee, modeling steadiness rather than demanding it. “I am not your commander. I am not your superior. I am not here to evaluate you.” His voice lowered just a fraction. “I am here with you.” Silence then followed; both intentional and spacious. “After your next breath,” he added softly, “tell me what you notice.”

Tag: Grand Shepherd Burtch