The mornings had become the best time for their sessions.  Juliet preferred breaking bread with her patients. There were elements of vulnerability and community swirled together.  She sat across the table from her commanding officer, sipping on her coffee.  They were returning to the Markonian Outpost later that morning, and Cardamon’s condition was weighing on many hearts.  Juliet and her team had seen an uptick in requests for meetings.

She broke the silence by observing, “You got back in the chair.”  

He looked up from his waffles and nodded quietly, “I did.  Didn’t take long for another problem to come up.”  He sighed, “If we do this…hiding Cardamon and getting him through the wormhole…we’re all going to be complicit in a murder.”

The Chief Counselor set her cup down, “Was it murder?  Or self-defense?  Or…just a Voth bein’ pushed to make the hard choice to live in freedom or live in chains?”

Ambrose grumbled, “Or all three.”  He swirled his fork around the plate, “The more distance I get from the decision, the more I worry.  Between all the Federation ships in the Delta Quadrant…we’ve created a storm of unintended and intended consequences.  Every alien we’ve run into has said more or less the same – our presence here has changed things dramatically and not for the better.  The Delta Quadrant will never be the same.”

Woodward chewed on her pancakes as she listened.  A moment later, she contemplated, “Isn’t that part of what the Federation does?  We seek out new worlds an’ new civilizations.  Even with the Prime Directive, the galaxy changes with each interaction.”  She took a pull from her mug, “And who decides on ‘for the better’?  The Delta Quadrant?  You can’t get any of them to agree on anythin’ except war, destruction, blood, and how much the Federation sucks.  Given that, I have a hard time havin’ any kind of sympathy for this place, an’ it’s whinin’ about how much we be changin’ things ‘round here.”  She scoffed, “Risk is our business.  We take the good an’ the bad that results.”

Harris stared at her, remembering why he’d hired her.  She spoke plainly, simply, and directly.  Nobody could accuse Juliet Woodward of holding back.  If they did, she might punch them. Twice. “And the consequences?”

She considered his question, “We might be headed into 2401…but we still live in a broken and messed up universe. No matter how hard we fight, no matter how long we talk, an’ no matter how much we negotiate…there’s always going to be the good, the bad, an’ the ugly.”

Ambrose’s voice was quiet now, “And death?”

She sighed, “That’s ‘the ugly’.  Risk is our business.  An’ so is loss.”

He grumbled, “What step am I on? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, or acceptance?”

Juliet finished off her plate and sat forward at the table, “Sometimes it’s linear.  Other times it’s a game of hop, skip, jump, an’ back again.”  She opined, “It’s also not a sprint.  It’s a marathon…an’ you’re not alone as you run, walk or take a rest on the side of the road.”

It was his turn to sigh, “So that’s why it’s so exhausting.”

Woodward affirmed, “Your mind is expending social, emotional, an’ physical energy to work through this…on top of your daily command duties.  It’s not easy.”

He grunted, “If it were easy, everybody would do it.”

Juliet smiled quietly, “Everybody eventually does…an’ we’re here to walk alongside you, Captain.”

He regarded his plate, “That helps.  I don’t want to imagine trying to do this on my own.”  He looked up, “Let’s keep walking for now…I’ll know when I’m ready to run.”