Counseling Session (Backpost)

Posted on Sat Jun 29, 2019 @ 2:43pm by Lieutenant Cassandra Kennings
Edited on on Sun Jun 30, 2019 @ 12:34pm

2,134 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Plaga Navis
Location: Cassandra's Office

T'Mira zipped up her thermal Starfleet Jacket. She hated wearing it but today, today was one of those days where her tolerance for the cold was not very high.

She'd awoken feeling out of place. It might have had to do with the encounters she'd had, first with the CO, then the CMO, who'd ordered her to counseling, and then the science chief, and a few other things that were unnerving. She'd woken with a migraine the last few days taking a toll on her. Thankfully when she went the sickbay this morning the CMO was not there and the EMH helped. She wished it could be her doctor. It asked little and did the job quickly as if wanting to get rid of the patient as soon as possible. She liked that. No chit chat.

Today would prove to be trying. An early morning counseling session. She knew she had to go through the regular clearance but the CMO had ordered her to speak about her sleepless nights and she'd have told the counselor that by now. As per regulation T'Mira had made the appointment so the counselor had time to review her counseling record, which would say she was closed and disliked talking about feelings. She sighed, feeling the ache behind her eyes returning. She sighed again, checked herself in the mirror, put her hair in a high pony tail and then headed out the door.

It did not take her long to arrive at the office and she pressed the chime half hoping the woman was not in or had forgotten she had T'Mira on the roster....or maybe she'd get lucky and the computer would eat the counselor's schedule.

The doors opened and Cassandra was sitting in her usual high-backed armchair, legs crossed and a small table in front of her with a teapot and two cups. A second, cushioned armchair was across from her. She looked up as the doors opened and gave a courteous smile. "Enter, and make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the empty chair.

T'Mira's mind began calculating how long it would take for her to run away. It wasn't worth it. Where could she hide? Airlock? She suppressed a sigh and entered. She walked slowly and sat down at the edge of the chair. She mentally ran through the file that she'd read on Summers. The woman looked quite young, she was just a tiny bit taller then T'Mira herself. Quite beautiful, and a Human/Taurean hybrid, which was extremely rare. The violet eyes, rainbow hair and golden-pink skin all spoke of her Taurean heritage. She'd read up on the woman a little, so that helped, but she still felt like a fly in a spiders web. Something odd for her.

"Tea?" Cassandra offered as the other woman sat down. She poured two cups and held one out. "I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you, but I promise to have you through it as efficiently as possible."

She gave a nod and took the offered tea. "It smells too good to be replicated. Is this brewed?" She asked.

"Yes," Cassandra said, smiling gently. "I keep a stock of fresh tea growing in the Gardens. I find fresh Vulcan spice tea much more bracing when it's fresh."

"Excellent. I understand that counseling is a part of being on the ship, I just do not feel that as a Vulcan or an Intelligence officer I need it, no matter what the good, yet oddly frightening, Doctor thinks." She blew across her tea and sipped, surprised by the burst of flavour that hit her tongue.

"And I understand that Vulcans are immune to neither trauma, nor a lack of sleep," Cassandra said calmly, sipping her own tea. "But for now, why don't you tell me about the sleeping issue, since that's why you're here. How long ago did it start?"

She sized up the woman wondering how much she should volunteer. "To be clear...I am here because the CMO thought I would benefit from this. As for the sleeplessness, it began two months ago while I was visiting Vulcan for a meditation retreat of sorts."

"I see. Well, to be clear, I don't care why you are here, the point is, you are here. What did you do during the retreat? Was it with the kholinahr students at their monastery, or elsewhere?

"It was....at the Forge. It was a pilgrimage of sorts to the T’Klass Pillar. There was a stay in the monastery, fasting, meditating, and then the T'Klass Pillar where I .... gained clarity." She said somewhat evasively. She didn't know how much to tell the woman. She still wondered if the experience was real or not.

Cassandra's rainbow-colored eyebrows bobbed. "Vulcan's Forge is very old and rich with history and mystery," she said. "An interesting place to gain clarity." She paused and stared T'Mira down. "What did it show you?"

She thought a moment. "That fear is illogical. Clarity is gained by destroying fear or existing and thriving despite it." She studied the counselor. "Counselor...perhaps there is something that you could assist me with."

"Gladly," Cassandra said, smiling.

She cleared her throat. "Starfleet, thanks to Captains Sisko, has taken the Bajoran Prophets...or 'wormhole aliens' as a given. There is proof of their existence. Do you believe....that....it is possible that other planets may have something similar?"

"Oh absolutely," Cassandra said. "I've met some of them. There's far more than this small plane of existence that we live in. Do you want to share what it was you encountered?"

Crap! She now understood why people thought that. Fascinating. It had been the first word out of her mouth. The counselor had deduced...or was she fishing? Either way. She wanted a new start and this was it. "I believe I encountered the Vulcan God of Death on my meditation trip." She waited for odd and eerie trumpets like in the books she read. They did not come. "It was a fascinating encounter. He was ... not what I expected."

"Elder Gods rarely are," Cassandra observed. "So, you met Shariel. What was he like?"

T'Mira studied the woman. She wondered if the counselor was just going along with things and would rubber stamp her insane but logic sometimes worked best when you dissected a situation or problem with someone. She held back a sigh. "Not very Vulcan." She leaned back a little and paused. It was difficult talking about this but.... "He was direct, which I cannot say was not a ... relief. He was charming...if a Vulcan can be that." She thought back. "He was smiling...which is not logical...he seemed to embrace emotion, again not logical." She thought back. "He was not ugly." She was willing to admit that much. "In fact...he looked...like our current diplomat." Which explained why she'd reacted the way she did when she first saw him.

T'Mira began to tell her what happened. She weaved the story of falling asleep at the pillar, the hand that grabbed her, the walk through Sha Ka Ree and the words that were spoken. She spoke in detail but left out the part about Bajor. "So basically I was able to see...observe that is, past events in my life at a distance. A fascinating experience." She looked again at the counselor. "Perhaps it's best for me to point out...at this point, that I am not insane."

Cassandra smiled. "No one said you were," she said reassuringly. "Why would you expect him to be logical and emotionless? Death is hardly an emotionless event, and he's from a long time before the Reformation. I've often thought the Vulcan mastery of emotion is sometimes taken to an illogical degree. Perhaps he's simply more in tune with how he feels without succumbing to it. Power and control and awareness together."

"Perhaps." She studied the woman again. "You do realize if you were Vulcan you would say I was insane." She shrugged. "It was a fascinating experience." She realized she'd said that. "I must admit I do not have experience talking with a counselor. Intel officers are discouraged from doing so." So were Vulcans for that matter. They were supposed to be the calm level headed ones. "Perhaps that is why I cannot sleep. I am digesting what has happened. Trying to find the logic within the illogical."

"Insanity is a simplistic answer, not necessarily a logical one," Cassandra said. "If I were Vulcan I would be attempting to find a rational explanation, such as heat exhaustion, telepathic interference, or perhaps some medical condition that would affect your perception of events. That does not necessarily render you insane, simply affected." She folded her hands in her lap. "However, since I am not Vulcan, my advice would be to stop attempting to find logical explanations for it, and accept it as it is."

The medical condition comment had her hearing bells. Words spoken by the doctor before she left for her new ship. The words at the end moved through her. Stop attempting to find a logical explanation. "Counselor, I believe I must disclose something at this point."

"I'm all ears," she quipped.

"I am not good at accepting things."

"Par for the course with many Vulcans," Cassandra said. "One of the drawbacks of a logical mind is the need to quantify, to categorize, to understand everything. But, as you may have learned, the universe is not always quantifiable." She stood up and walked over to her cabinet. She placed her palm against the front and the two halves parted. She took a small earthenware jar and resealed the doors, coming back to her seat and placing it on the small table next to her.

"A long, long time ago," she said, solemnly, "an unassuming man in a fourth-floor apartment in Vulcan's capital city was sitting at his desk when an idea came to him. He hypothesized that if his people went against everything in their being and controlled their emotions completely, they could break free from the cycles of war and destruction they'd lived through millennia after millennia. He was laughed at, scoffed at, generally ridiculed and overall ignored. However, a few people took his ideas to heart. He wrote his thoughts in a series of Analects that his people still quote to this day."

She picked the jar back up. "When Surak's influence gained traction, Vulcan was split into three factions. One followed Surak's teachings, the other two rejected them. One of the factions left to pursue their own paths and embrace their emotions, putting them towards the pleasures of life. The other stayed and fought, arguing that their aggression was their strength. They too eventually left, acknowledging that Surak's followers could not be stopped. Throughout their wars, they collected...shall we say an 'essence of illogic.' Their goal was to stop Surak's followers using the very antithesis of their supposed strength."

She reached over and put the jar next to T'Mira. "If you wish to 'find the logic in the illogical' then drink and take the essence in you and face it head on. Or, accept that there is nothing logical about meeting the God of Death, and accept that it's happened. The choice is, always, yours."

She stared at the jar and then the counselor. She reached behind her and pulled out a tricorder scanning the jar. The clear liquid inside didn't register as anything that would be harmful. Still .... "What is that liquid meant to do?"

"Help you understand those things that logic cannot quantify," Cassandra said. "Assuming you want to. You could always choose to accept that there is illogic in the world and move on from that basis."

She studied the cup. "I'd rather have that analyzed....then I can decide." There was a vulnerability coming out of her now. "Counselor...I do not believe that I require counseling at this time. I would just like to get cleared for duty."

Cassandra eyed her. "We don't always get to examine our choices," she said. "Sometimes we simply have to make them, and accept the consequences." She put the lid back on the jar, stood up and returned it to her cabinet. She sat back down and crossed her legs, looking 'professional.' "Lieutenant, you are officially cleared for duty," she said.

She gave a nod. Something told her it could not be that easy. "Thank you counselor."

"However I would like to see you again in a few days," Cassandra added.

And there it was. "I see." She sat still for a moment. When no way of escaping it came she held back a sigh of resignation. "Alright." She stood took her clearance and walked out.

 

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