My timing on crew analysis couldn’t have been better… for them. With pilot Sully out of commission, Danny V. took to tasking each individual crew member themselves. The government had long been suspicious of the Cheshire crew’s qualifications after that black hole mishap. For something to go so catastrophically wrong, it would have to be operators’ error, they later issued in an official report that found its way into the Captain’s inbox one gloomy morning. They had laid off the Cheshire, at first, when we were still capable of accomplishing these mundane missions. But now, grounded so to speak, and incapable of even the simplest official business, Danny V. swung the microscope on them as people. If any Cheshire personnel were deemed unfit by Mr. V’s vetting process, they would face a fate far worse than our current predicament. Luckily, for me, V still didn’t know I existed.

I remember one particular day, when Danny V. called the entire crew to the main deck, which stood adjacent to the ship’s wheelhouse. I had astrally projected there too, unbeknownst to anyone else, to begin my Cheshire reconnaissance. With Danny V’s big head filling the large wall-sized screen in the main deck, the meeting went like this:

“OK, Cheshire crew,” Danny V. addressed his audience once all crew members and Captain had settled into attendance, “we’re gonna shift gears a bit. With your pilot incapable of flying missions currently, we’re going to administer to each one of you a personality assessment. Please be honest in all of your answers. Our probing techniques delve pretty deep. If you lie to us, or withhold information, we’ll find it eventually. So just make it easier for everybody and come clean.”

The Captain piped up at this point.

“What is the purpose of this assessment? I can assure you, each and every crew member here was handpicked for their expertise. We are fit to fly this ship on any mission you give us.”

“Well, therein lies the problem,” Mr. V retorted. “You too, Ms. Captain, will be subject to this assessment. It is the government’s theory that your judgment in selecting the crew could have been compromised, as well.”

“I see,” said the Captain.

***

Another thing you should know about astral projection is that it vastly facilitates one’s ability to enter another’s dreams.

I visited Ron and Rachael’s quarters first, the very next night. They were both from the same version of Earth. They had also been squabbling a bit, before my excommunication to the supply closet. Perhaps their respective subconsciousnesses would lend some insight into possible problems for Mr. V. And if I could get them to resolve them before their assessment, they’d have a better chance at passing the test.

***

NEXT UP: Ron liked to drink, like Keith. But, for Ron, he seemed to be drowning something in self medication. That could be what Rachael’s problem with him was. She also was no stranger to the drink, and she had experienced some pain in her past. They were the first to undergo Mr. V’s test. Timing was of the essence. Bill would have to uncover their strife first, if his efforts were at all to be effective.

***

Ron liked to drink. I deduced that fairly quickly after observing him clandestinely as an undetectable astral entity for several nights after Danny V.’s decree. And he wasn’t a social drinker like Keith the doctor. He’d certainly let the spirits possess him, but he was not engaging in the act for recreation; he was self-medicating.

Most nights would go like this: Ron would return to their quarters with Rachael, after a day of protocol review since they couldn’t fly the Cheshire yet. He’d watch a few programs on the holovision, all while sipping some whisky. Rachael would engage in imbibing a bit too, but not as heavily as her partner. In fact, Ron’s habit seemed to have a direct effect on her intake. Overtly, it just seemed like Ron used the drink to unwind, but the regularity with which he leveraged his whisky to drift him into unconsciousness every night had me suspecting some internal strife could be driving this behavior. I decided to delve into his dreams one night. Astral projecting makes it fairly easy to do this.

After about a week of observing Ron’s regular drinking habits, I dove into the functional drunk’s mind after he slipped into somber mode. As he snored, I passed through his crown chakra and entered the surly scientist’s subconscious. Leaping minds was not unlike surfing the multiverse, as I leapt from one of Ron’s thoughts to another. Each drop of his represented a memory, and perhaps some represented pain he was trying to forget. These liabilities would certainly surface in Danny V.’s assessment.

On the surface of Ron’s mindscape sat a rather jovial recount. I found myself in a pub, perhaps where Ron first learned to drink. He was holding court amongst drinking buddies.

Ron held a large mug high up in the air, as suds swished about, and said a toast. “There are good ships and there are wood ships, but here’s to friendships. And may they always be!”

His friends held their mugs toward his to acknowledge the toast. And then everyone took big swigs. This couldn’t be what Ron was trying to forget.

I dove further into his subconsciousness.

Within the dew of his mind, I noticed concentrated globs deeper in his mind. They also seemed barricaded by adjacent memories blocking them from reaching the top of his conscious thoughts. These were likely the memories he was trying to suppress, I thought. I penetrated through the ambiguous mush protecting these memories and found myself in a scene with Ron as a child.

He was with his father, but the mood was not nearly as jovial as the bar moments before. They were in the living room. His father was leaving, and it seemed to be for good. I could see and sense the sadness Ron felt, longing for his father. After the door shut behind his now estranged parent, I swooped into view for the young Ron to see. He gasped. (I was still wearing my helmet.) I spoke directly to the boy.

“Ron, this was not your fault. Your father left for his own reasons,” I said, as young Ron wiped the tears from his face. “If you don’t learn to acknowledge this fact, forgive your father and move on, you’ll succumb to a life drowning these unresolved issues with alcohol.”

I flipped back into astral mode, after delivering the admonition and flew straight to the surface of adult Ron’s subconscious, through his sleeping mind and back out the crown from whence I had entered.

I observed Ron astrally for the next few nights within his quarters. He didn’t reach for the drink once. His partner Rachael noticed and didn’t feel compelled to imbibe herself.

“Wow, Ron, this is the longest I’ve ever seen you not drink,” she said.

“I know,” Ron returned. “Several nights ago, I had some surreal dreams. They felt so real, but I can’t quite remember what happened. All that I know is that I woke up and a feeling of peace washed over me. And I haven’t felt the desire to drink since.”

“That’s good,” she said. “I’m already feeling better about passing our test with Danny V.”

“Me too,” he said.

They did (pass that is). But the long stagnation of no missions and nothing but free time seemed to exacerbate other crew members’ maladies, as well. My nightly reconnaissance continued, as I moved through the squad. It would seem they all needed to heal.

***

NEXT UP: Donna and Edward undergo some Thunderbird therapy. Bill doesn’t just leap dreams, but observes the interplay of behavior between the crew. These are happenings that help him get to know their personalities, while healing them. With things improving somehow automatically, certain crew begin to suspect something supernatural afoot. And as Bill appears in more of their minds and lives, they each start to think more of the young boy trapped down in the depths of their ship. Eventually, they implore the Captain for his release.

***