“There’s a lot of survivor’s guilt going around.” Senior counselors filled the conference room’s seats. Lieutenant Commander Blanchefleur Courtemanche sat at the head of the table, fulfilling her role as Director of Counseling Operations for Montana Station. One of the many Deputy Directors had finished their report. Most of the squadron ships received mandatory shore leave and had to meet with station counselors in small groups. The events of the last few months had left an indelible mark on most of the crew.

Blanche scrolled through the various reports. “Services will need to continue for the next several weeks. Small groups?”

The small group manager stood. “We’re seeing success in most groups.” She grimaced at the next point in her report. “There’s two groups that we’re having to work at balancing better. The grief at what happened over there is deeper in some of them.”

Courtemanche asked, “Do you think we need to refocus some of them into individual sessions?”

“We’re evaluating that this week. We’ve identified at least three that we will transfer tomorrow.”

Blanche replied with a nod, and the woman sat down. “It’s been just over a week,” she said, “and we’re just getting our patients to open up. You know it’s going to take time for them to tell us how they really feel so we can help find the right coping and healing systems for them. Keep the reports coming. We’ll meet again in two days. Dismissed.” The room cleared as she sat down to finish sorting through and approving the reports. She glanced up, feeling eyes on her. They belonged to the Director of Medical Operations, Commander Sergio Clemente. “Sergio. What can I do for you?” She’s made a habit of inviting someone from the medical team to her meetings to ensure the loops were open and not closed.

“I wanted to hand you an updated report.” He slid into the seat next to her, sliding a PADD over to her. “We’re seeing an uptick in anxiety and stress-related visits. Mostly with the squadron members, but an unusual number of station staff and crew are making the trip to sickbay.”

She opened the report, reading through the introduction. “40%? That’s not a small number. And half of them are station-based? Sergio, this isn’t good.” Blanche opened her own PADD, transferring the report. “Have you had any luck with your counseling-trained staff?”

Sergio shrugged, a sigh escaping his lips. “Mixed results. Some are open to talking, but others see what we’re up to and just ask for medical treatment. There’s a couple of cases my team felt deserved to be forwarded to you personally.” He sat back, eyes full of concern.

She tapped further into the report. “Captain Wren Walton is at the top.”

He replied, “We think there’s more to whatever happened with V’ger, Spock and her. Her blood pressure and heart rate monitors are hitting some critical measurements.”

“I’ll pull her in. She will not be happy.”

He stood. “Seems to be the norm between our two departments. Mind and body sometimes don’t like the work needed to heal.” He stood at attention and walked out the door.

Blanche sat back in her chair, tapping at her PADD. It was time to talk to Wren Walton.