Foundation: Fledgling

Father Tim was given a pretty generous office. While nowhere near as large as that of Dr. Gerald's, the room had enough space to store his vestments, books, and sacramental items, as well as a small desk and workstation. A tabernacle sat on a prominent pedestal in the corner of his office, and the door was open.

It was a quiet day for Father Tim, very unlike when he arrived yesterday. He was settled, his homilies were written for the week, he had a chance to visit sickbay (which, oddly enough, sat empty for today), and he had even had a chance to get acquainted with the rest of the site. He hadn't had the luxury of silence ever since he graduated from the seminary, and he smiled. "Wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord," he muttered to himself. He opened his Bible to a random page and began to meditate on a passage that caught his eye. 1 Corinthians 13:4. A good passage indeed.

His meditation was interrupted at a knock at the door, and he looked up. "May I help you?" he asked.

Geier was no religious person. She found science and thought to be her release, but…it was hard to someone, especially her, to deny that there was something out there. And besides, she reasoned with herself, even if she was no longer a catholic as her mother had been…talking was good for the soul. In any shape or form.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned. That is what you say, right? It's been a while." She rubbed her head absently, before crossing her arms, decidedly a little uncomfortable while seemingly in the presence of a higher power. "I have sinned, and I am fairly certain that if I were to explain my crimes I would…well…probably wind up in one of those incinerators the Foundation is so fond of using."

Father Tim looked up at the young woman (or… man? The voice was feminine, but one can never be too sure these days) as he snapped out of his meditation. "Ah. Have a seat. Would you close the door behind you as you enter?" Father Tim set his Bible aside as he flipped a switch and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"So long as you are sorry for what you've done, nothing is beyond the Lord's mercy," he said. He smiled a gentle smile as he made the sign of the cross and folded his hands. "And yes, that's typically how a good confession begins. The next step is confessing." He closed his eyes for a moment to say a short prayer in his head, then he opened them. "You may begin whenever you're ready."

She closed the door and took a seat, clearing her throat, her voice a touch on the raspy side, only adding to her apparent androgyny. "I…am not sure how to put this, but…I have stolen things." Geier paused, thinking it over in her mind and taking a deep breath. How did one admit to the crimes she had done, after all?

"I have stolen things. Precious things, from my patients, the ones who are dying with no escape. I know that terminal patients aren't going to need them, but…it is still wrong, to take from the dead, excuse or none." She blinked. "…And…in that vein…I have let those I could have saved die for the sake of their own lives. I know it sounds very…Kevorkian, but some of these agents- they have seen things, encountered things, that have destroyed them both body and soul. And I do not find laying in a bed, crippled, mentally anguished with no escape to be much of a life at all."

Geier leaned her bald head into her hands, elbows propped on her knees.

"And I have stolen from them, too. Lives and then some. I worry what will happen when I give in to the temptation to let one who could recover die, just for the sake of taking what they have. I am sorry to be so vague, Father, but there's no other way."