Less Survivor, More Guilt

Posted on Sat 5th May, 2018 @ 4:21pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD

1,909 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Brushfires
Location: The Office of Dr. Graves, Deck 83
Timeline: MD 7, 1330

It was becoming a habit ... sleeping late, fighting to stay asleep and not face another day. Although she'd moved into one of the many spare rooms in the base commander's spacious quarters, Riko hadn't integrated into their life. She didn't want to affect Athena, for one thing, not until she felt more human. She'd made a promise to swim with her, and she'd have to keep that promise soon, but for now ....

Crawling out of the comfortable bed, she made the mistake of looking in the mirror, before quickly turning away. This had to stop. She threw her night clothes into the recycler and went for a shower, a real water shower this time. Apparently, SB 109 had a water system almost as efficient at recycling naturally as a planet would. She stood in the warm water for at least five minutes, feeling wasteful, but cherishing every second. Finally, she washed her hair and stepped out into the dryer.

When she was dressed, at last, in jeans and a blue long-sleeved pullover, with plain black pumps on her feet, she realized almost an hour had passed. An hour? Where did I lose a whole hour? Instantly, she made a decision to seek out the counseling office Hikari had mentioned.

She'd considered finding a civilian counselor, maybe someone with the CDA, or someone practicing privately, but she was still an officer in Starfleet, for the time being, so here she was. Standing in front of Counseling, near Main Sickbay, McCord worked to make herself walk inside.

It's enough to get this far today, part of her thought. Another part of her argued the point. Standing outside isn't going to solve anything. You might as well not have come if you're going to stay on this side of the door. Finally, she entered.

---

The interior door of the waiting room opened, and a dark-haired young woman stood in the doorway. "Commander McCord?"

Standing quickly, Riko said, "Yes. Dr. Graves?" Outwardly, she was calm and professional, looking like the strong woman she should be. Inside, a little girl was quivering.

The young woman grinned. "Oh, no, I'm his assistant, PO Matav. Come on back with me, Ma'am, and I'll escort you to his office."

In his office, Paul glanced up from the replicator, where he'd been getting a glass of water, as his office door opened. His assistant, Deosha, stood in the doorway with a new patient. "Dr. Graves? This is Commander Riko McCord."

"Thank you, Deosha," Paul said, and she withdrew. "Please come in and have a seat, Commander," he said to the woman as he tried to get a read on her. Depression hit him like a brick wall, and Paul hastily shielded his thoughts from his patient's emotions. "May I get you coffee or something else to drink while you're here? Maybe something to nibble on?"

McCord shook her head and took a seat.

"All right. Feel free to speak up, if you want something later on. Welcome to my office. I'm Paul Graves, the chief counselor here. What brings you in today?"

Riko thought about where to begin. "Death," she answered. "Death brings me to your door." And how do you follow up on that? "I am, rather I was, Chief Science Officer on Samurai. I'm sure you've heard what happened. I was on the bridge, and ... I was the one who didn't think fast enough. We lost 1/3 of our crew." That doesn't tell you who ... you don't know them. Riko felt hopeless.

"I've met some of your people," Paul said with a nod. "Shortly after they arrived, I spent an entire day with members of Samurai's crew, and they've been a major part of my patient load ever since. You all lived through a horrific and tragic experience."

"One that shouldn't have happened, at all," McCord said, "Wouldn't have if I'd been paying closer attention. I don't know how to live with their ghosts. They were my friends, some of them ... like my sisters and brothers! I can't get on another ship and go blithely off into the galaxy to be responsible for another crew dying." Her voice rose in intensity, just shy of hysteria.

"I can't go home. My parents would have all of it out of me in ten minutes, and Starfleet is keeping secrets on this. I can't even call them without breaking down. Hikari suggested counseling, so here I am, but I know you can't do anything to help."

Looking away, the newly minted commander fought back tears. Her voice was filled with despair when she asked the counselor, "What do I do? I can't go back, I can't go forward, I don't know how to stand still."

"The only way you can go is forward," Paul said. "What was the mistake you made, if you're able to talk about it?"

Riko took a shaky breath, staring at a spot on the doctor's desk, forcing herself back onto the bridge of Samurai in the height of the fighting. "It was so fast," she said softly. "I was concentrating on the Whitewind attacking us. Its engineer had to be insane or incompetent. I told the captain it would blow up at any moment, because it was leaking Gamma radiation at more than twice normal. One minute, there was one ship, and then there were three. They'd been cloaked and I hadn't picked it up, so worried about the one."

She closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing, trying to remain calm. "While I was watching one ship, the others ... the others were firing on us. They took out the port nacelle, and then they hit the bridge. Things were falling ... something fell on Captain Suzuki. I gave an order to communications, but no one answered. When I looked," she opened her eyes, "communications was gone. Everything, including crew, was gone on that side of the bridge. One of my favorite ..." she gulped and looked away trying not to cry again.

Helpless to control her tears, they fell and she couldn't look at the counselor. She shook her head and wouldn't go back to that moment any more. "If I'd just paid more attention ...."

"Was it the subspace variance you missed?" Paul asked. "What could have been the result of a ship leaking gamma radiation as badly as that one was?" He already knew; she'd said it only moments before. But he needed for her to hear herself say it again.

"Exactly what did happen in the end. Explosion. Only it fell back on itself and caused a small black hole, as well, and that I didn't predict. We ... we had a scientist and Marine crew which boarded the ship and was working to ..." she gulped again, having a hard time getting her breathing to even out, "... to stabilize its engines. We lost all of them, including two more sisters of our Besm group."

Looking down at her hands, she realized they were clutched into tight fists. She relaxed them and spread her fingers apart ... and then the shaking started.

Paul nodded to himself and fought to strengthen his mental shields. "To put it in politer language than is usually used, you and your crew endured a series of disasters happening all at once, all around you, and you couldn't finish resolving one crisis before another one or two struck," he said. "You're only human, Commander. You and your crew were dealing with some very determined opposition."

He grimaced. "Determined opponents cause some of the worst guilt and self-doubt ever borne, because we ask ourselves, 'Why didn't I see? How could I not have known? I'm a competent, trained individual. I should have known. it is my fault I did not know.' But when an opponent is determined, they will do everything they can to conceal the true danger of a situation from you. Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes, despite all attempts at concealment, we get a glimpse of the true state of things and can avert disaster. But usually, we can't. Usually, we are left feeling dead inside and having to live with the grief and learn to forgive ourselves when it seems absolutely impossible to." Paul looked at her. "If it is of any reassurance at all, you are not alone in these feelings. Many of your crew feel the same pain that you do. Many of them feel that they should have known trouble was coming or should have reacted sooner than they did."

Giving Graves a tremulous smile, Riko asked, "Are you, by any chance, telling me that time heals all wounds, and that it'll be all right down the road somewhere?"

"No," Paul said. "It never feels all right, and the grief and pain never completely go away. But you do get to a point where the pain becomes less raw, and you realize that you can either get on with your life in spite of it, or you can wallow in the pain and let it consume you. Most Starfleet personnel I know feel too strong a sense of purpose to let themselves be waylaid by this kind of pain for long, but while they're in the midst of it, it's acute, and it's deep. Starfleet personnel are accomplished people, and we do feel a powerful sense of responsibility toward those under our care. To feel that we've let them down--or worse, caused their deaths--is unacceptable to us, and it takes time to recover from having your sense of self, your faith in your own competence, profoundly shaken."

"How long?" Riko asked, her pain very evident. "How long before I can function like a human being again, before I can choose what flavor of ice cream without taking 30 minutes? Before I can face my friends and comfort their grief? How long before I'm in control again?"

"If I knew the answer to that, I'd write a best-selling grief recovery book and retire to Betazed," Paul told her with a faint smile. "It will take you as long as it takes you. For now, make things as simple as possible for yourself. Don't try to choose from among ten flavors; limit yourself to three or even two. Start by seeking out just one friend or two, at first, so you can concentrate on your own healing before you try to heal others.

"You've had a ... concussion to your emotions. You've suffered a blow to your mind every bit as severe as a physical blow to your brain. People tend not to heal from that overnight, and the healing process takes different amounts of time for different people."

It was an unpalatable idea to Riko, but she knew the doctor was correct. It felt like a physical blow, and she knew about healing from that, though with all the modern tech for medicine, most healing didn't take all that much time anymore. She smiled shallowly. "I guess there's no emotion regenerator."

Paul chuckled. "Unfortunately not. i wish there were." He paused. "Would you be agreeable to seeing me on a regular basis for a while, Commander, pending your next assignment? This tragedy has hit you hard, and while I think your caring could be a great benefit to your crew in helping them recover from this, you need to be more recovered from it yourself, before you can really help them."

 

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