The health of his mind, taken for granted in his youth and now taken seriously in his old age, was a state that to which Aloran would devote as much resources as were available to him. He had almost lost his sanity to grief – and without recognising that fact – and so considered it only logical to share the burden of corroborating that his cognition was functioning appropriately. He had found, late, that counsellors in Starfleet were a pragmatic balance between caring for their patient and having a responsibility to their unit that the patient was performing to the expected standard. How they negotiated between those positions appealed to his curiosity.

Newly arrived on Starbase Bravo, one of the first requests he had submitted was for an appointment with Luna Black, one of the counsellors, in order to establish his need and to acknowledge to his own superiors that he was aware of his unusual background and took appropriate conditions to monitor his mental performance.

He walked along deck 371, nodding to the officers that he encountered – most in the distinct uniform of medical or science personnel – and considered the question as to whether there would be any unusual dynamics when a Vulcan of over a hundred seeks the support of a Human in her twenties. He did not automatically assume that age and wisdom were corroborated, nor that youth could not teach something to old age: it would be illogical to think along such lines. He appreciated that his mind was an open one, even if it had proven to be an unreliable asset on rare occasions.

Arriving at the counselling suite adjacent to the medical centre, he tapped the panel on the door and awaited a confirmation for him to enter Luna’s office.

Inside, Luna had been brushing up on Commander Aloran’s past and previous counselling records. Vulcans were always a little tricky, having much more self-awareness and active input into their own mental state than a lot of other species. They could, sometimes, also be dismissive of assistance from non-Vulcans and from those significantly younger and less experienced. Luna was all of these things by comparison with her patient. But she was well-proven in her abilities and generally liked. With a flutter of nervous wings in her chest she stood from her desk. Soon she would discover just how open Aloran would be to her help, and how capable she was of even offering anything useful.

“Come in,” she called.

Aloran entered Luna’s office, “Counsellor. Thank you for seeing me”, he inclined his head, hoping to communicate greeting and an acknowledgement of this professional moment. Each of the Starfleet counsellors he had met had different and distinct styles. It was a curiosity to him how consistent and standardised training in psychology or psychiatry could result in wildly non-standardised approaches. He would ask her about this, but, acknowledging the purpose of his visit to himself, this was not a moment for intellectual adventures. He paused, taking in the atmosphere and decoration of her office. There was an astute aesthetic to the choices – unintrusive but clearly well-considered, with a relaxed warmth that he associated with more residential choices on Earth than the occasionally abrasive simplicity of Starfleet.

Luna nodded. “Of course, sir,” she said. “P… please sit, wherever you find most comfortable. Can I get you a drink of anything?”

“No, thank you, counsellor,” Aloran spoke as he moved to sit on one end of a sofa, “where shall we start? My records are as complete as my own recollection but I have learned that some personal colour is valued by officers in your profession,” he looked around the office and then focused back onto Luna, “do you have much knowledge of grief?”

Straight into it. Normally Luna would have mentioned her stammer to a new patient and would have asked them to ignore it. But Aloran had dove straight in and she adapted to his wishes. The young woman quickly replicated a glass of water for herself and placed it on the coffee table, sitting not directly opposite Aloran but not too near either. Sitting, she considered his question.

“Honestly, um, well, some first hand. But not a lot. Of course we’re all trained on… on it… at Starfleet Medical, the Academy, um. Well. Is that what p… prompted you to make an appointment?”

“Yes,” he paused, “I have found that Starfleet likes its protocol and processes. That is my purpose here, with you, to create an acknowledgement between us. That I have chosen to outline a concern on my formal record that, now many years ago, the grief I experienced because of the murder of my family almost caused me the loss of my cognitive function. It is in my interest, and in Starfleet’s interest, that we avoid any such repeat. I would appreciate your efforts as a fellow guardian of my sanity”.

Aloran gestured, opening his hands in a soft movement to imitate an idea of openness.

Luna nodded, slightly dumfounded inside but she hid it well.

“Yes sir, um, whatever I can do to help. Um, from your records you’ve done a lot of work to regain equilibrium and have a strong command of your own requirements to stay in that equilibrium. Do… you have a specific area you’d like to cover? Any… particular challenges you’re dealing with at the moment?”

“No,”, the Vulcan returned his hands to his lap and smiled slightly, “my endeavour today is,” he smiled softly, enjoying the sensation more than he should, “to alleviate as much as possible any awkwardness between us should I ask for, or your duty compel you, to intervene professionally on my behalf”.

“Oh!” Luna couldn’t hide looking a little relieved. The truth was that Vulcans scared her, from a professional standpoint. While she hadn’t managed to do any damage or even come off as being incompetent in front of one yet, it was an ongoing worry of hers. Relaxing inside, she considered where to take things next.

“That’s um, that’s a good idea. I um, well. I’m a bit of an awkward p… person,” she explained with a slight smile. “So um, don’t think it’s anything to do with you. And p… please ignore my stammer… if you can. It’ll go as I get used to you. Hopefully. Well, um, how have you been finding Starbase Bravo?” She asked. It was a fairly open question that would allow Aloran to pick up on just about anything.

Aloran raised his eyebrow, an expression which, paired with the smile just about leaving his face, gave his manner a momentarily comical flavour. He had assumed that counsellors were the most comfortable in their offices, the place where the hierarchy and control are clearly in their favour. He was curious about the counsellor, and why someone who experiences awkwardness would choose a role that necessitates frequent and intense contact with others – perhaps one emotion was overwhelmed by another, an interest in the mind? A sense of duty? He had concluded that the mind is full of multitudes and inconsistencies, including the minds of many Vulcans.

“The starbase is the perfect place within which to gather information, to talk with many travellers, and to observe the small messages of meaning that so many sentient species communicate without their conscious awareness,” Aloran paused, recognising that the question implied more of taste than of how he found his duties, “and the arboretum is a fine location to meditate. As, I imagine, are these offices. Given that we do not have a pressing need to bolster my sanity, would you indulge me in a curiosity, counsellor? I have wondered how a person in your position balances the responsibility to Starfleet with the responsibility to the individual?”

“Oh, um…” Luna gave this unexpected question a little thought, her large blue eyes resting on the coffee table as she did, as if recalling something past. “Well, we have guidelines but um, I suppose things only need balancing if they’re on opposite sides of an axis,” she said after a few moments. “I don’t think those two are um, opposites? The former usually facilitates the latter and vice versa. In rare cases not, in that case… usually the fleet wins. Um, maybe it sounds harsh, but I’m a Starfleet counsellor. If someone is bad enough mentally to be unfit for duty, either the fleet wishes their stability restored through concern for their wellbeing and we help them back into service, if that’s right for them, or if they pose a risk and are untreatable they’re dismissed. I um, I suppose it could be p… possible that someone of great value to the fleet was being made miserable by staying. In that case losing them would be injurious to the fleet but it would also be injurious to the patient to stay. In that case I’d help them to find what was best for them. We can’t advise on big decisions but we can make suggestions and help patients see the most healthy option. I guess it’s on a case by case basis, but those situations don’t come up often.”

After a brief pause she continued.

“Sorry, that um th… that was quite a long answer,” she said with a self conscious smile, looking back at the coffee table as if with a little shame.

“Curious. Starfleet medical regulations are explicit and yet you outline a process of interpretation and judgement. Perhaps the judgement you exercise – dealing with consciousness – is closer to those of command decisions than a physical health practitioner? And yet,” Aloran paused, hoping that the counsellor would look up from the coffee table, “you exhibit behaviours of anxiety while simultaneously performing duties that are interpersonally demanding. Why is that?”

“I er…”

Luna felt extremely on the spot. She should have expected it. She did expect it. But it didn’t make things easier. The only way was to power forward and explain, rather than letting her anxiety get the best of her.

“Um, well.” Luna frowned a bit gathering herself. When she did look up it was at Aloran’s chin, not right in the face.

“There are a lot of reasons. But mostly, I’m very interested in psychology and sociology. What makes people think how they do. Nobody does anything without a reason. But to others sometimes the reason is totally uh,  unfathomable? Unreasonable? It’s like um, it’s a big mystery I guess and I just find it fascinating to unpack it. What makes us all different. Hear all the stories of people’s experiences, see how being from somewhere, being one species or another, upbringing, family values, influences, how it affects the course of our lives…”

Luna took a deep breath, considering how far to go down the Rabbit hole. Her journey to counselling was highly personal and the appointment wasn’t about her. But it was nice to be asked about herself for once, even if that wasn’t what she was there for.

“I… don’t see my nervousness as a problem. I mean, it has b… been a p… p… a-problem, getting distress calls off when things get crazy and I’m stammering, clearly I’m not cut out for security…” Luna joked. “Um, b… but the causes of my stammer from when I was young make me see… what things can be like for patients. I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist or a Doctor. I’m not intimidating… at all. I’m just a counsellor. Who’s been where a lot of my patients are. Besides, being in a room with a patient is a lot less scary than being on the Bridge of a ship, or negotiating with an alien species or being on an away team on some dangerous planet. And if shy stammering Luna from Setlik two can become a Lieutenant in Starfleet then my patients can achieve just about anything, can’t they?”

Finally Luna looked Aloran properly in the face. In the cosy lighting of her office she saw the softness in his eyes. There was a unique kind of pain she had read about in his file that made him not only a professional curiosity but someone less intimidating than a lot of his species. Being entirely unintimidating was one of Luna’s fortes as a counsellor. There was a similarity between them and somehow that made her happy. Finally, she smiled.