Feelings of Foreboding "
By: Patia Zoei, Chief Counselor, [PC]
Jeff Westfall, Tactical Officer, [PST]

Stardate: 58205.26 1015

Jeff Westfall sat in the darkness of his personal quarters, with no illumination save the starlight coming in the porthole.

He felt devastated by the losses that were incurred during the prisoner uprising. Normally a very competent and focused officer, he wondered if he was a) "losing it" and b) what would be the best way to resolve it.

The issues were crystal clear in his mind.

First: The ship's Tactical Officer had primary responsibility to secure the ship from external threat caused by enemy attack, assess such threat when it is known to exist, propose and co-ordinate defensive strategies, and implement them as deemed most satisfactory at an appropriate opportunity to capture a) enemy troops, b) enemy ships, c) enemy supplies.

To protect the ship, also meant to be prepared to prevent giving up opportunity to allow the ship to be boarded by hostile invaders.

In the past ten days, (according to his perception), he had failed to adequately prepare the ship to contain federation prisoners securely while being transported to the penal colony on Rura Penthe, deep in Klingon space, aboard the USS Zion.

All he could think of were the "What Ifs" and the "I should haves" and the "I should not have allowed...".

He wanted them all to die immediately for what they'd done to his ship, his Captain, his First Officer. This was *his* fault. He should have known a) It wasn't safe to allow senior security officers and the Captain to escort even an ambassador on in a shuttle to anywhere, with hostile prisoners aboard--Federation prisoners and their sympathizers at that too. They should be facing Military Court Martial as enemy combatants, and be summarily executed. He'd have no problem at all putting their bodies into the replicators and pressing "recycle".

But it wasn't his world to control, that was the problem, and his first name was Jeff, his family name was Westfall--not "Almighty God".

Jeff Westfall was a man whose experience, training and demeanor were all centered on being a pseudo-machine like creature, evaluating every scrap of critical data that hit his cerebral cortex, being able to ascertain what was strategically important, what was peripheral, what was likely to happen not days in the future, but seconds...to anticipate the next action of the enemy forces arrayed against the U.S.S. Zion and her crew. He *knew* that it was against machines that he fought: ships of war, with nothing but compliments of ordinance, run by the enemy. IT was "The enemy" against whom he fought. He had trained diligently to know their thinking, their tactics, their countermeasures, and their counter-countermeasures. It was all much like a game of chess, a game that took place on a simulated "battlefield". He had learned to anticipate the order to fire a photon torpedo against the U.S.S. Bezar, and further, to hold fire until the order was given by the Commanding Officer of the watch, whether it was the Captain, the First Officer, or another officer, designated by circumstance. That 'engagement' was a victory, the ship was destroyed.

They had been ordered to surrender. They failed to surrender, they did *NOT* surrender, and they were destroyed. IT was a simple, logical matter of the universal law of cause and effect. If you don't do as you're told in war, you will be terminated. Thus, the U.S.S. Bezar was destroyed forthwith. The Lynx, the ship against which the Bezar was engaged, was saved. It was "A good day". The enemy was not defeated, but totally destroyed, and an enemy ship with all its crew, ordinance and material destroyed.

The thoughts from that "ramp-up" to the conversation with Captain Hunter, and the Klingon First Officer Max, when Ensign Jeff Westfall had deliberately and in calculated fashion, contrived to place himself at direct risk of General Courts Martial, were still fresh in his mind, as clear and strongly recurring, like there was a message hidden *somewhere* that he had to decode...yet, he was missing the key element. The Cipher. The key that would translate the feelings into something a tactical officer could ANALYZE. It was making him uneasy--no, it was worse than that, it was a sense of foreboding that he could NOT shake.

This was a problem that no-one else could get him through, the "monster" was inside his head. He had informed his Captain, in the absence of the First Officer, Commander Wright, to whom he felt responsible for the loss of his arm. HE hoped that the new cloned arm would serve him as well as the original appendage. That still left him with the awkward "next step". As the Tactical Officer of the USS Zion, he was responsible for too much, concerning the ship's well-being...to be "off his mark" by even a fraction. His job was to analyze all the variables, and then propose offensive and defensive action to the Captain and the First officer, or if need be, the Second Officer.

He could not afford to take his best guess. That was what got people killed. Ever since the prisoner revolt and the near compromise of the Ship's assigned mission, to transport the prisoners to the penal colony on Rura Penthe, he could not resolve the thought that his fellow crewmen had died, not in vain, but, Jeff thought, because of his lack of preparedness. Jeff saw people with their new work partners, re-assigned, some seconded from other roles. He saw people working with new relationships.

He felt strange, and at the same time, mildly sick at heart. He saw the engineering crews leaving the mess hall to report to their shifts in the morning. Ensign Baker working with Lt. J.G. Poncherello. In his mind's eye, he saw the specter of deceased crewmen and women who *should* have been with them... There was no other word for it, he didn't believe in ghosts but he could not put out of his mind that he was being haunted, by shadows from his past. This was not the way it was supposed to be. He knew he could not, by logic, nor by analysis achieve the result he needed: what the Counselor called "closure".

Jeff knew he had a HUGE problem. He wished it was somehow different He could send everyone else to see the Counselor, that was his role. Westfall didn't have a problem running his department. He was used to troubleshooting other relationships among his fellows, both superior officers and subordinates, without feeling like he was interfering, it was something *tactical* that he had to do--and it was all right. In fact, it was his job, and his sworn DUTY.

He had to contact the counselor. "Counselor Zoei, this is Ensign Jeff Westfall, Tactical Officer."

"Zoei here"

Her response was brisk. At your earliest convenience, I need to speak to you about a matter in my department, I'll make arrangements to be relieved if I'm on duty at the time, I'll make the Captain aware of it. There's a problem with a member of my staff that I can't reconcile, neither can I second another officer to fill the role while it's straightened out.

Are you available now? I am available for the remainder of the morning.

Yes, Counselor, I'll just inform the Captain, and I can meet you in about ten minutes

"Captain Hunter, this is Westfall. Would you mind if I take some time to see Counselor Zoei about the situation we discussed with Max and the other matters pertaining to the crew fitness? I've just contacted her now, and she has time available.

Hunter gave it a moment of thought and replied, "that would be fine Westfall. Hunter out."

Jeff Westfall walked directly to the turbolift, and went straight to the Counselor's Office. He wasn't looking forward to this at all. As Tactical Officer, it was his duty to commend where commendation and exemplary performance merited commendation, and to ferret out problems in need of remedial action, to prevent disaster. He felt like a walking accident, just looking for a scene to happen. Yet he couldn't put it off any longer.

He squared his shoulders, and set his jaw, took a deep breath, and rang the door chime outside the Counselor's office. "Enter," Zoei called.

"Hello Counselor. thank you for seeing me so promptly. It's not often (thankfully) that I have to encounter you in your professional capacity, but as I said, I cannot second another officer to deal with this problem".

Jeff stood rigid, hoping that the edge in his voice wouldn't betray himself to the Counselor and her Betazoid telepathic abilities. He felt mentally naked, without a plan to cope with the most difficult person on his staff, because he was trapped...in his own mind, and in his own skin.

"No matter where you go, there you are..." Where had he heard that? He couldn't remember, and it didn't matter, it sounded true. He was the one person he could *NOT* hide from. He supposed he would have to rely on the Counselor to guide him to find "His truth," and reconcile the conflicting feelings of bitterness, resentment, anger, grief and loss.

He hated himself at that moment. He could not allow it to consume him, he would try to use it to honor fallen comrades. "Good morning, Ensign. Please, have a seat," She gestured toward the sitting area. "Would you like something to drink while we visit?"

"Thank you, Counselor, what would you recommend an on-duty officer have to drink, since this is a duty-related visit, and thus must be a matter of official record"?

"Tea, coffee, soda or water are the top choices most people make when they are here, but occasionally someone likes a juice, as well," Zoei smiled.

Hmmm, Westfall thought. "Could I have a tall glass of apple juice please, Counselor, very

cold? I think it's time to start making some lifestyle changes".

Counselor I require your assistance with a matter that's been eating me for a while, going back to the prisoner revolt on the way to Rura Penthe. I'd love to know how Birkhoff had managed to compromise *EVERY* critical system I'd relish the opportunity to torture it out of him, and then kill him for it, personally to settle the vendetta. I'm sure I would if I ever had the chance, of that I am was *QUITE* certain. I know well that the kind of distress I feel is often indicative of post-traumatic stress disorder. I need to be thinking clearly all the time.

"Is this something you have experienced before, Ensign?" Zoei asked.

"I wouldn't say it's *never* happened before, when I've wanted to kill someone "vigilante style," but I can't seem to put this episode to rest and move on, for some reason. It seems like it has become a mental fixation...an anchor point, if you like, that's keeping me in the past, (at that moment in time) with all the anger I feel. It's a very dangerous distraction, and I can't afford to have it taking up residence in my subconscious thought space".

"I would agree with you. It isn't in your best interest to have those feelings either." Zoei nodded.

"A Man With a Mission", and the focused confidence and commitment to execute it to its successful conclusion was a necessary thing...the murderous rage Jeff Westfall felt at the mere thought of Birkhoff was dangerous, because it was blind undisciplined negative emotion, and it poisoned reason. Jeff Westfall was *far* more dangerous in this way than Birkhoff, an error could kill everyone aboard the U.S.S. Zion without "a plot".

Perhaps the Counselor could help him slay the monsters in the closet that comprised his mental and emotional container (or at least put them on a very short chain).

"Ma'am I feel like I'm being watched by the specters of those who've lost their lives in the prisoner uprising. I cannot put it down to anything in particular, but I feel like I'm being haunted by a premonition of failure. In my position, I cannot afford to be "The Death of the U.S.S. Zion"? At times like this, I am absolutely convinced of it. If I cannot get rid of this feeling, I'm going to have to submit a recommendation to the Captain that I am unfit for duty". That's my only possible response. I require your assistance because that is my last (and least favorable option). I would definitely be cashiered out of the Maquis Alliance, and I didn't sign on to quit".

"I understand," Zoei nodded sagely.

"I would venture to say it's not the first time you've heard something similar, Ma'am". My problem is that while I *know* what it is, I can't get *out of myself* to deal with it in objectively, given that the first and second parties in this conflict are within the same biological and intellectual space. I need to find a viable coping mechanism that doesn't include the use of psycho pharmaceuticals, that's not an option because I'd have to relieve myself of active duty".

"We should be able to work though this situation so that wouldn't be a concern, Ensign."

I can't make it go away, and I also can't allow myself to get trapped into living in the past, or I'm going to kill everyone on this ship. That would be by my failure to deal with the predictive model of forecasting tactical responses from the enemy we're fighting.

Right now however, I think I feel like one of "The enemy", and that makes it a two-fronted battle. There's one of them involving this ship and its crew, vs. the enemy, known collectively as "The Federation," and there's the other enemy (after a fashion, inside my own head, which causes me to play the endless game of speculation called "What if..." and "If I had only...". There's only one HUGE problem: I cannot allow myself to be distracted by the past, nor locked into the endless idle speculation of what I did wrong, by commission or omission".

"Go on," Zoei shifted slightly and drew her knee close to her chest as she listened.

That was something the Counselor would hopefully be able to help him deal with...but it was far and away outside the "Tactical Methodology" he was used to formulating. There was nothing he could do but consult someone else who had specific expertise, and he felt no shame in that. I had a VERY long conversation with Captain Hunter, and Max, the Klingon First Officer while he was here for the exchange. His techniques and training methods have beyond measure sharpened the skills and responses of the entire tactical and security department.

The remaining problem is one Ensign Jeff Westfall. Tactical Officer, USS Zion.

I need your help to re-frame my cognitive analysis and neuro-linguisitc programming. {I think you call it "I need a new self-talk]".

"That is a tall order, Ensign.

"I know that, Ma'am," and that's why I need probably need a new analytical system to re-frame the experience, and model a workable resolution. The unfortunate part of this is, while in the abstract, I know what's required, I'm having trouble de-constructing the elements of the event on the psychological level for Jeff Westfall to find a non-destructive pattern of behavior to work past the negative pure hatred.

"Let's start with what happened and why you feel the way you do." She settled into the chair adjacent to his seat as she talked.

Well, Counselor, that's part of the problem, I haven't been able to pinpoint the genesis to the pattern. I do "Ship's Logs, Department Reports, Interdepartmental Memos, Reports to Alliance Headquarters, briefings to the intelligence Dept, analysis of their replies, and on and on it goes. I don't do "Dear Diary," and now I could kick myself for it; because if I had, I could have used it to follow the evidentiary process, to isolate the exact time frame, at the very least.

I'm so used to logging everything on duty, that by the time it comes to my own life, I eat, sleep, and read military History...famous battles, history, tactics, gambits, techniques, feints, weapons systems, things like that".

Zoei nodded.

"If I wasn't trapped in my own body and my own mind, I'd be chewing my own ass out for not "Getting a life," and (no surprise,) sending me to see you about some remedial counseling. I'm gonna take a risk and be honest with you. I put off coming here because the way I feel, I was beginning to feel a little bit "freaked" (Sorry, it's not a technical term)".

"We don't need to be technical here, it is about feelings and thoughts."

"Yes Ma'am. That might be the start of the problem. I don't have time to "do" feelings, on duty, it's all a matter of cognition, anticipation, reaction and result. The Tactical Officer must by definition live no more than three seconds into the future, to find every advantage, weakness and opportunity to exploit in the enemy's actions and reactions.

Actually, looking at it that way, there's another possible approach to my personal problem. I suppose I probably suppress thoughts of having personal friends too, it winds up being "collateral damage" when someone goes out on a mission and doesn't come back.

I usually end up eating either out of the replicator in my quarters, or alone in the Mess Hall.

I suppose part of the problem is that Tactical Officer Jeff Westfall is an Ensign who has a problem with being a "Control Freak," coupled with a lack of diversity in his personal life/off-duty time, and little interaction with other fellow crewmen. Probably I see statistics, "Tactical Assets" rather than people. That's what makes me so distant. I know there are people I could be sending to their deaths, if I make the wrong call on an away mission.

"So you deliberately distance yourself to protect yourself?" Zoei asked.

"Yes Ma'am you've definitely acquired my profile". My personal life is more off-limits than the entire tactical assets assessment record of the Maquis Intelligence Branch. Hell, I don't even let myself visit my personal life, I don't have one anymore". I wouldn't actually say I distance myself for my protection. It's more like a matter of complete denial. For all intents and purposes, Ensign Jeff Westfall is almost "persona non grata".

This time we took on "refugees" and a few people I should have locked up with the Marines standing guard, and treated them as enemy combatants. I didn't do that, and I got suckered. Now good crewmen are dead. You don't win wars sacrificing troops and assets from your ranks, you deplete the opposing side. Too bad if they get killed, that's war. Dead traitors can't cause your death".

I think what annoys me is that we let them come aboard as "refugees" and "quarantined guests" rather than emptying one of the hangar decks and containing them there as "The enemy".

"Ensign, I think the very first thing we need to talk about first is personal responsibility. You have covered a great deal of territory this morning".

"Thank you, Ma'am. I just hope it makes more sense to you than it does to me, otherwise I'm in very deep trouble". Westfall felt a sense of relief. Finally he found someone who could help him unravel the problem, without having to possibly throw away his career.

Some of the areas you are concerned about are directly related to your position. Others, you appear to feel responsible for, but in reality, were decisions made by department heads and were strictly out of your control. Up until now, have you considered this possibility?" Zoei asked.

"My perception of the problem, Counselor is that it's probably a matter of "You are correct, decisions were made by other department heads, and while that is true, that the overall command of this vessel is vested in the Captain, Commander Wright, and the senior officers, I still failed to anticipate the possibility of "Sleepers" among the ranks of the prisoners, who could seize control of the ship. That is still ultimately my failure".

It ties back to the old legend of the Trojan Horse, I'm sure you're familiar with the legend. I should have known better.

Anyway, I hope we can map out a strategy to amend and re-construct Ensign Westfall's perception of events in a less damning and damaging fashion.

"It might tie back to that, but you cannot, nor should you, carry the entire ship on your back. It isn't realistic and it will force you into a breakdown situation. We need to avoid that.

"I could very happily live without a psychotic split, Counselor".

Jeff Westfall sighed, realizing for the first time in a long time, that this was the beginning of the reformation of his career, not the end of it. Jeff made a mental note to move Counselor Patia Zoei's name from the "Assets" column to "Allies". Maybe this was the first step to acquiring new friends. For Jeff Westfall, it felt like the beginning of the end of his wandering alone in the wilderness.

"So, starting from the beginning, let's focus on the events that transpired that were under your control." Zoei shifted slightly and leaned forward.