Sage Counsel

Posted on Fri Oct 5th, 2018 @ 11:18am by Ensign Avendar Jurot & Commander Rita Paris

Mission: Hera v Hera
Location: USS Hera, Deck 12, Chief Counselor's Office
Timeline: 2395, en route to Meroset 347

The appointment was set, and at the appointed hour the gold-clad commander in the mod minidress strode into the Chief Counselor's office, PaDD tucked behind her back.

"So I created a temporal loop paradox by sending the communicator. The question is, was Sonak really in the timestream behind me when I arrived, or upon receipt of my message did he alter time when he came after me and we now live in that divergent reality?"

What was the point of having a Ship's Counselor who had worked for the Department of Temporal Investigations if you couldn't have discussions like this, reasoned Rita Paris.

Avender smiled and stood in the presence of the First Officer. "That's an interesting question. What more can you tell me? And has DTI been informed?"

"See, that's a problem I have with you, Counselor," the gold-clad commander walked into the room, wagging her finger as she did. "I asked you a question. One in which I presented two possible answers. Yet you didn't answer my question. Instead, you threw two more at me. Y'see, doing that discounts my question. When you discount my question, you discount me. And this is a habit of yours, Counselor." The first officer chose a comfortable looking seat and lowered herself down into it, smoothing her skirt as she did so in a practiced motion. "I'd like to discuss that. Why are you so evasive of questions, Counselor?"

The Betazoid's black irised eyes became a little colder, but her smile never wavered. She sat down in the chair next to the couch, and crossed her long legs.

"Let's address the second part of your inquiry first. Why do I ask probing questions? Well, Commander, it's because that is my training. I am a Chief Counselor for the Starfleet of the United Federation of Planets. My job is to help others find their answers by asking probing questions. As a telepath, I could just pop into your mind and find the answers, but one, that wouldn't help you, and two, the Captain has asked me not to do it. On your planet, it's called Socratic method. On Betazoid, it is called Pacyan's Layer Approach. In any case, it's how I do my job.

Avender stood. "Computer." *chirp* "Disengage Counselor office recording until I say otherwise. Authorization Jurot 6345789."

"Disengaged" the computer's voice responded.

Avender locked her eyes on the Gold clad officer in front of her, her smile gone. "Commander, I get the distinct feeling that you do not like me. I don't need to be an empath to feel that. Perhaps you feel threatened by me, I don't know. You have come here, asking very difficult technical questions about quantum time mechanics, and then, when I ask for clarification, you question my methods."

Avender paced a bit, eyes downcast. "Is it because I worked at DTI, and therefore you think I know EVERYTHING about its operations? I mean, doesn't everyone know every job at their billet? The answer is I haven't the foggiest idea." She turned to face Paris, tears forming in her eyes.

"Do you know what I did for DTI? Interrogations and erasures! Occasionally I'd handle PTSD and adaptation to a new time or place, but my primary function was to determine if the subject in question was telling the whole truth, to learn any possible intelligence, and erase their memory of being in this time and place before we sent them back. No matter how long they'd been here. It's like the Federation sees Betazoids at walking lie detectors, and that's all."

The tears flowed freely. "Do you know what it means to erase a subject's memories? It's like cutting fine silk threads connecting experience to experience, being careful not to erase everything. I see the memories I erase. Every single one."

The Counselor's face reddened. "Then they wanted me to interrogate prisoners of war. Would you like to know about Cardassian ground battle tactics? I erased them from one of their best generals. Commander, I know more about your time than YOU do, because it seems there is some kind of ionic conduit between the centuries. I've erased the memories of more than a dozen people from your time." She took a tissue from the box on the table, and wiped away her tears.

"I drew the line when they wanted me to erase a mother's memory of her infant daughter, because of the child's unique quantum signature. DTI wanted to keep the child for 'research.' I refused. After that, my duties were reduced to clerical. That's when I requested the transfer."

"We HAVE to be better than that, Commander. We HAVE to stand for something higher, or we're no better than the Borg."

Chief Counselor Jurot sat again, and adjusted her tunic. "THAT is why I ask questions, Commander. Not to discount you or your questions, but to help you find the answers. If you think I'm not doing my job up to Starfleet standards, you are free to refer the matter to the Captain. My answer to your first question is 'Chicken or the egg.' DTI would take weeks to research and answer that question. I would suggest you refer the matter to them. But you may not like the result. I heard the counselor who replaced me is rather ruthless in erasures."

Avender's face was expressionless. "Next question?"

"Seeing as how that wasn't an answer to my question, I'll stop asking them," As Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris leaned in, there was no mirth, nor the customary smile on the face of the ancient astronaut. Instead, her expression was grave. "Instead, let's address those points of yours, Counselor, since we're now off the record."

"The day I met you, I kept asking questions you didn't answer while you went on about your extensive experience. You asked about my transporter anxiety, but after a very honest explanation, you took that opportunity to brag about how you had seen plenty like me at the Department of Temporal Investigations. You expressed not a shred of empathy nor compassion for my experience, but took it as an opportunity for you to brag and dismiss my experience. I mentioned the crew had PTSD, you made that about yourself as well," The commander was on a roll, and was not giving pause for any interruption. "You mentioned your loss, I offered my condolences. I handed you a map, you asked where we were going. I explained onboarding and you wanted everyone to come to you so the meeting could be more convenient for you rather than doing it in the manner everyone else is required to do it."

"Now all of that might have just been warp lag. Maybe you were just having an incredibly off day. But when you pulled your little stunt in 10-Forward, I did my best to keep you from compounding it, and at least you took that cue." Those blonde brows came down in an expression of anger the counselor had not previously seen on the face of the first officer. "The part where you so casually mentioned that you could implant thoughts, change emotions, and even erase memories and can slip into and out of an untrained mind undetected? I think you intended for that to come off as more self-aggrandizement."

"Which, given the emotional display you just put out here which was apparently meant to inspire guilt and sympathy, one would imagine that you would never mention that to anyone, given how upset and ashamed you seem to be about it." Those blue eyes of the human explorer narrowed. "But what it really came across as was a threat, pure and simple. You had no regret in that moment- you were puffing yourself up and grandstanding. Talking tough to attempt to intimidate us."

"That was in response to me asking how you approach treating your patients. Hell of an answer, Counselor." Paris sat back and crossed her legs carefully with a practiced ease. "Even in that diatribe you just laid on me, you bragged that you know more about the time I grew up in than I do, because you've met dozens of travelers from my era? You honestly don't hear how condescending and arrogant that sounds, do you? How alienating it is to the other person who is ostensibly your patient? How it diminishes their experience to claim yours is so much greater than literally their entire life experience?"

"So if I do feel threatened by you, perhaps that's because thus far in my experience you have shown yourself to be an empath with no empathy, which I find to be a dangerous thing. You are a prideful telepath, which I find to be a dangerous thing. You are a counselor who doesn't listen to directly addressed questions, but takes the opportunity to talk, to bluster and boast about herself. Who, when confronted, tries to manipulate with tears and guilt." Paris took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"My next question is, you are aware that taking this off the record without the patient's express consent is a violation of Starfleet regulation, Starfleet Medical regulation in addition to a violation of my privacy and my safety as a patient? All of which is adding to that overall negative impression of you which I have now in part explained?"

Having made her point, Rita Paris rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her head against her fingers to see if the Counselor was listening this time, and had the capacity to see how her actions had been perceived externally.

Avender sat quietly for what seemed like an eternity, her face blank. "Computer," she said.

*chirp*

"Resume recording. Authorization Jurot 6345789"

She sat for a few seconds more. "You've given me a lot to consider, Commander. Thank you."

“So I have,” the driven career officer replied before pressing her point. “Now I am curious to hear your thoughts on what I’ve just given you to consider. This isn’t going to be brushed aside, Ensign. We’re having this discussion. You are a mental health professional who is responsible for helping the crew deal with a great many pressures, both internal and external.”

“It very much appears to me that you don’t have your own house in order, so to speak.” The first officer worked hard to put forth a friendly and welcoming persona, particularly to the new crew who were unfamiliar with the Hera. But clearly this was another side of the woman, as the warmth and welcoming tones were conspicuously absent. This was less friendly first officer and more the stern executive officer who was expecting answers. “That inclines me to review more of your performance than my personal experience with you thus far, in order to determine your actual fitness for duty. So with all of that said, I would very much like to discuss those points I have raised instead of being dismissed. Last time I checked I’ve still got about 50 minutes left of my appointment, so we have the luxury of time and privacy.”

After another protracted silence, the first officer leaned in. "Look. Avendar. I'm reaching across the aisle here. The Captain isn't here, there hasn't been an incident as yet, and I haven't shoved you into a torpedo casing to drop you in on Hera's court just so you can get turned to whatever it is she'd find entertaining to do to you and we can study the readings. Although the thought has certainly crossed my mind." Paris shrugged a bit sheepishly at that.

"Drop the bullshit defenses and talk to me. Give me some help understanding your choices and behavior. You're this amazing empath, so as I understand it, this close to me you can't really help but know what I'm feeling. So feel," Paris cocked her head, and the desire to help was strong, along with a touch caution, a little healthy fear, a minor anxiety and a bit of hope. "I want to help you, but I can't unless you come clean with me. As my dear departed daddy would say, 'what the hell is wrong with you?', Miss Jurot?"

"Yes, I am an empath," Avender said evenly. "In my experience and training, one lets someone who is angry vent their feelings before responding, and you are clearly angry- angry enough to threaten me."

The Chief Counselor stood. "You will pardon me if I take issue with some of your interpretations of events. What you call bragging was simply me explaining my abilities to superior officers so they know of my abilities. What you call a 'stunt' I saw as efficiently completing onboarding in a group setting. Yes, using my telepathy was ill-advised, and I won't make that mistake again."

The Betazoid put her hands behind her back in a casual pose. "Then, I opened up to you, and you say it was only for sympathy. It wasn't, Commander. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again either. As for your quoting regulations, regulations state that a counselor may turn off the recorder when discussing classified information, which I did. And as for quoting regulations, I'll just say I'm the only one in this room wearing a regulation uniform from this century."

"So," Avender sighed, "you ask me what's wrong with me? I'm not sure, but I will meditate on it to find the answers. I'd disclose more on that process, but I wouldn't want to be accused of 'bragging.'" She then sat down again. "You've painted me into a corner, Commander. To use your planet's slang, whatever I say to you, you'll call 'bullshit.' Do I have 'an issue'? Yes. What is it? I'll find out and get back to you. So, in the time we have remaining, I'll ask you the same thing you asked me: 'what the hell is wrong with you?', Commander Paris?"

The counselor's face never changed expression.

The face of her tirade's audience, that of the anachronistic astronaut, changed as the counselor spoke. Any compassion the woman had for the counselor drained away, as her words and actions were so clearly misinterpreted by such the supposed expert. Rising, she straightened her uniform, picked up her PaDD and offered a perfunctory humorless smile as she began to tap at it. "Have it your way, Counselor. You'll get exactly what you've asked for- you'll be our first delegate to Hera. You ship out in 18 hours. I very much look forward to seeing your magnificent negotiation skills in action. I'm sure you'll do far better than anyone else whom she murdered, petrified or transformed into a very clever animal."

"Either way, this isn't a threat, it's a direct order. You're not to see any patients for the remainder of your stay on this vessel, and should you return from this mission, you're off this boat. You are free to interpret my words and actions however you like, and when we are no longer on radio silence you may file whatever reports you wish with whatever authorities you wish in complaint. But your days on the Hera are numbered. Well, hours," the commander corrected herself.

"As for all of the myriad things that are wrong with me, Ensign," the old-school officer observed, "you wouldn't have the slightest clue. Because the first rule of any sort of therapy is to listen. If you aren't listening, it's all pointless. Pretty much like you, Ensign Jurot. Now that I've taken my shot at reaching you and failing, given your condescension and bullshit? NOW I'm angry. Try reading your patients, if you are still allowed to counsel anyone in the future."

Striding to the door of the counselor's office, the first officer turned to take a good look, as if to remember the Betazoid woman. Shaking her head, she sighed. "Goodbye, Ensign."

Avender looked at the door, closed her eyes, and cried.

 

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