Picard got through Daniels and La Forge before Sellassars surprised everyone by walking over to Deanna Troi. “You,” he said, in a voice that sounded like the twinkle of fingers plucking the high notes on a harp. “You are…telepath?”
Deanna blushed, “No, sir. I do have empathic abilities, though.”
He reached out, brushing a hand against Deanna’s cheek. “Can you tell me what I’m feeling, empath?”
To her credit, Deanna didn’t back away. “Fear,” she said. “But also curiosity.”
“You have nothing to be afraid of, Envoy,” Picard said diplomatically. “You are among friends here.”
“Am I?”
That simple question piqued Beverly’s curiosity. “What gives you cause for fear, Envoy?” she asked. “You come in friendship, as do we.”
Sellassars’s attention turned to her, and she immediately understood why Deanna had reddened. Within that iridescent, glittering human face rested the deepest, darkest eyes she had ever seen. “You are a friend?”
“Yes,” Beverly said.
“But you wish to take from my flesh, to catalogue me with the other species in the Federation’s collection, no?”
Beverly’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, Envoy. It isn’t like that at all. It’s really—”
“Envoy,” Jean-Luc said, saving her behind once again. “This is my chief medical officer, Beverly Crusher. If you should require any medical attention while on board the Enterprise, she is the one who will tend to you.”
“Yes, Envoy,” Beverly said, trying not to sound too relieved that Jean-Luc had stepped in to clear up yet another of her verbal messes. “I merely want to ensure that I’m able to attend to any medical need that might develop on our trip.”
“You say that as though you expect something to happen,” Sellassars said. Beverly could have sworn from the tone in his glittery voice that if he’d had eyebrows, they’d have been raised. How do you explain Murphy’s Law to an alien? “Kendarayans have no need for medicine, Captain. I believe Julian Bashir knew that well enough to pass the information to you.”
Jean-Luc tilted his head slightly to the left. “Yes, Envoy, but the two of you hardly had the time for a proper conversation, if I read the doctor’s report correctly. I would love it if we could rectify that on our way to the summit. I am willing to keep a member of the senior staff here at your disposal at all times. If you wish to be left in peace, they will allow it. If you wish to talk about your people, then I hope you’ll contact me, but we will ensure that someone is available for you at all times, Envoy.”
Sellassars’s eyes went back to Deanna. “At all times, Captain?”
“Within the boundary of our customs, yes, Envoy.”
“Then I will allow you your sample of flesh, Dr. Crusher. Only if I am also allowed to speak with the empath after.”
Deanna gave the man a prim bow. “Of course, Envoy. I would be honored.”
Will, however, didn’t seem quite so sanguine about the idea. “If I may,” he began, “I’d love to sit in on your discussions. There may be some aspects of Federation culture that I can explain.”
Troi glanced sideways at Riker. “Don’t worry, Will. I sense no harmful intent from him.” Turning back to Sellassars, she said, “We have prepared quarters for you, exactly as your diplomatic communiqué requested. I would be happy to escort you there, Envoy.”
The Kendarayan’s skin, for a brief moment, looked as though a light were passing over it. “Yes,” he said, “I am quite tired. That would be…how do you say…appreciated.”
“I’ll tag along, if that’s all right,” Riker said.
“Of course, Will,” Troi said, a smile Beverly recognized as being from her you and I will talk later collection appearing on her features. “Shall we go?”
Riker moved toward the transporter room door first, followed closely by Troi and Sellassars, who had draped an arm through Deanna’s as though they were old friends. “Tell me about your world,” Beverly could hear him say as the doors closed behind him.
“Keep an eye on them, Mr. Daniels,” Picard said. “It may be nothing, but the last thing I need right now is Deanna’s mother going on at length about something happening to her daughter.”
Daniels smiled the smile of those who’d never actually met Lwaxana Troi, though he, like everyone on board, had heard about Deanna’s recent trip to Betazed and the birth of Lwaxana’s son. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ve already got a guard stationed outside Envoy Sellassars’s quarters, and a site-to-site transport on permanent standby for the area.”
Beverly couldn’t help but notice the wariness that had crept into Jean-Luc’s voice. “Good work. I feel like a father who’s watching his daughter go on her first date.”
Beverly put a hand on his shoulder. “Jean-Luc, Deanna’s a capable person. She’ll be fine.”
“And if anything goes wrong,” La Forge threw in, finding his voice for the first time since they’d arrived in the transporter room, “I’m sure Commander Riker will be far more of a problem to him than Lieutenant Daniels’s team ever could manage.”
CHAPTER
3
Beverly leaned back in the chaise in her quarters, getting a few more pages of her book in before she turned in for the night. It was a novel that Jean-Luc had loaned to her, one that was a biography of the founder of the first Mars Colony, Shazzerd. Jean-Luc had said that it had been in his family for generations, ever since his relatives were among the first to settle in the colony. Beverly was beginning to consider turning the story into her next production, but she wasn’t sure Requiem for a Martian wasn’t exactly a marquis title. Perhaps One Man’s Dream instead?
“Dr. Crusher to sickbay immediately. Medical emergency.”
Beverly quickly threw on her robe, running out of her quarters toward the turbolift. It wasn’t until she was halfway to sickbay that she realized she had forgotten her combadge. Damn it. “Computer, open a channel to sickbay, please.”
“Dr. Crusher, is that you?”
It was Alyssa Ogawa, and she had never sounded so nervous in all of the years she’d known the woman. She’d even seen Alyssa through her engagement and wedding to Andrew Powell. Alyssa had been one of the calmest brides she’d ever seen. “Alyssa, I’m coming, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Counselor Troi. She…I can’t explain it.”
“I’ll be there in a few seconds,” she said. That was when something tingled in the back of her mind. “Is Will there?”
“I brought her in, Beverly,” Riker said. “She contacted me after she said she was having trouble falling asleep and wanted to talk. When I got to her quarters, she was unconscious and completely nonresponsive. Nothing would wake her up. I think she’s in a coma.”
The turbolift doors opened, and Beverly sprinted the distance to sickbay. If Deanna really had fallen into a coma, what brought it on? Of course, Sellassars was the obvious choice, but he didn’t seem at all interested in anything beyond her empathy. When Beverly finally reached sickbay, she entered to Deanna’s unconscious form on the central surgical biobed. Deanna had at least managed to change from her uniform into a nightgown before whatever happened had happened. Alyssa worked over her like a bumblebee, and Riker stood just out of arm’s reach—hovering, but not really hovering.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Crusher said, grabbing a tricorder as she strode toward her patient. “No sign of trauma or a brain hemorrhage. Will, she was like this when you found her?”
“Yes,” Riker said. “She told me she didn’t feel quite well, and asked if I could come over and keep an eye on her. When I got there, she was on the floor, out cold.”
Beverly spared a glance up at him between scans. “And she didn’t respond to you at all?”
“Not even when I tried picking her up to put her in bed.”
When she glanced back down at the scans, they were frustratingly perfect—for someone in a coma. “Damn it. Everything indicates she’s in a coma, but I can’t find the
cause. Her neural functions are so low.” She quickly pried both of Deanna’s eyes open, checking the pupils. “Nonresponsive. What’s going on here?”
“Beverly,” Riker began, his voice ominous. “Look at her arm.”
Alyssa lifted a hand to her lips, “Oh, my God.”
Beverly lowered the tricorder to Deanna’s arm. She was trying to ignore the discomfort that the sight of the Betazoid’s skin turning gray was causing, but her success rate was rather low. Deanna’s fingernails were normal, as were her lips. Beverly closed the surgical clamshell over Deanna, hoping its more in-depth sensors might be able to see what she was missing. “But her lips are fine. Her blood oxygen is within normal range; everything compares with her last physical perfectly. What’s causing this?”
“What about our new friend?” Riker asked. “He seemed to have quite an interest in her. Could he somehow be involved in this?”
Beverly shook her head. “Nothing in the records showed any sign of an agent that could cause something like this.”
“What if it’s something they didn’t get a chance to look for?”
“We need to make sure she’s stable first. Alyssa, Will, get out of the area. I’m going to put her in a stasis field while I run an in-depth scan. That way nothing biological will advance, and nothing artificial should function.”
“Surely you don’t think she’s been infested with nanites?” Alyssa asked.
“Never rule anything out, no matter how insane it sounds,” Beverly said. “Come on. Will, you need some sleep. This is going to take a while. Alyssa, you, too. I want you both to go back to your quarters and get a full eight hours.”
Riker didn’t budge from his position against the nearby wall.
“Will, do I have to make it an order?”
“That only relates to the captain of the ship, and you know it.”
“Fine,” she said, “I can call Jean-Luc and have him order you to your quarters.”
In what Beverly could only call a pout, Riker trudged toward the nearest biobed and lay down. “Happy now?”
Beverly recovered a hypospray from one of the drawers near the bed. Checking that it was filled with ambizine as she thought, she gave Riker a good dose in the neck. As his eyes fluttered shut, she pulled the blanket up over him. “Now, I’m happy.”
Alyssa, however, still had her medical tricorder trained on Deanna Troi.
“Alyssa,” Beverly began, “there’s nothing that you can find with a tricorder that the surgical scanners won’t see just as easily. You get to go to bed, too. You have a baby that needs you. Deanna isn’t going to benefit from a nurse who’s exhausted, and neither will I. Scoot. Now.”
Alyssa closed the tricorder, placing it on the tray beside the surgical bed, and walked away. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” she said.
“Of course you will,” Beverly replied as the doors closed behind the nurse.
With Riker asleep, and Deanna under constant scan, it was time to hook up the stasis component of the biobed. She pressed on one of the operating room panels, and it opened to allow her access to the storage room behind it. Yes, there was the headpiece and the footpiece. Both would hook into the surgical support, and then she’d be set. It took her a few minutes to wrestle both of the rather heavy pieces into place, but when she finally did, and was sure the seals were locked, she said, “Computer, put the patient in low-level stasis and send all current scans to my office.”
“Stasis field in place, and all scans are in your office.”
That was when it occurred to her that she’d forgotten one vital thing. Deanna would need monitoring for the evening. Groaning, she realized that the only real solution to the problem was to see if Louis Zimmerman’s great experiment worked. “Computer,” she said, trying not to sound too defeated, “activate Emergency Medical Hologram.”
A balding man, one who bore a depressing resemblance to Dr. Zimmerman, materialized in her sickbay. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”
A part of Beverly briefly wondered why she hadn’t activated the thing when she was putting the stasis pod together. Then she realized that not only had Zimmerman programmed the thing to look like him, it apparently shared some of his presumptive arrogance as well. It walked toward Deanna, grabbing a medical tricorder along the way. “The patient is comatose?”
Beverly took a deep breath. “Yes. We have one patient, half-Betazoid, half-human. She’s comatose, and her skin appears to be losing oxygenation, but there’s no sign of cyanosis anywhere. I’ve put her into a low-level stasis field to keep whatever this is from advancing much further, but I need you to monitor her while I look at the results. Can you do that?”
If the EMH had been wearing glasses, she could have sworn he would have been looking at her over them. “That’s all?”
“Yes,” she said, “that’s all. Now can you do that?”
“The ship’s computer could do that. What do you need someone with my skills for?”
With a very long sigh, Beverly said, “It’s very late. I need you in case I fall asleep and something happens. The patient needs constant monitoring. Preferably by someone with as much medical knowledge as you have. And you don’t require sleep.”
The hologram’s huffiness seemed to abate at the ego-preening. Zimmerman really did make this thing in his own image. “Well, perhaps I can be of some use. If you require a diagnostician of my exquisite programming, I’ll be here…minding the baby.” Not even someone on another level of the ship could have missed that sarcasm. Sarcasm as part of its bedside manner. Oh, yes, Zimmerman and I are definitely going to have a chat over this.
Beverly slowly and deliberately walked into her office, composing the message to Zimmerman in her head as she walked. A doctor couldn’t have that dreadful a bedside manner for long.
Grabbing a raktajino from the replicator, Beverly sat down with all of Deanna’s scans and began trying to think of something, anything that might explain the Betazoid’s condition.
CHAPTER
4
When Beverly awoke, she could have sworn she heard that infernal Louis Zimmerman’s voice. “Zimmerman,” she blearily said, not having enough energy to even lift her head, “you’ve got your funding, get out.”
A pause followed. “What funding?” Zimmerman said, his voice questioning her sanity.
That got Beverly’s attention. She slowly cracked one eye open, and discovered that she wasn’t in her bed. From what little detail she could make out, it looked like her office. Padds and printouts littered her view, and an empty mug sat just at the corner of her vision.
That was when she remembered. Sitting bolt upright, she said, “Deanna.”
“Yes,” the EMH said, “that is what I was coming to tell you. She’s awake. I have no information on how she awoke while in stasis, but she has awakened.”
Beverly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What?” she asked as she pushed past the EMH into the examination room.
“A simple ‘excuse me’ would have sufficed,” the hologram replied.
“I apologize,” Beverly pointedly told the hologram. “Were you maintaining a record on her all night?”
“Of course,” it said, as though its integrity had been impugned.
“Computer, download the records that the Emergency Medical Hologram recorded last night and feed them into my office. Then close down the stasis field.” Riker was still out like the proverbial light on the biobed. That sedative worked better than I thought. Pointing at the EMH, she said, “You. Come over here and help me get the stasis attachments off.”
“I do have a name,” the EMH said, indignant.
“You do?” Beverly asked. She certainly hadn’t been informed of anything of the sort.
“Yes,” it said, valiantly trying to pull its dignity back together. “I do.”
“Care to share it with me?”
The EMH seemed to think for a moment, then appeared shocked. “I don’t have a name.”
Beverly lifted the footpiece of the stasis chamber off without much trouble. Leaning it against the operating theater’s wall, she walked to the front of the biobed. The EMH hadn’t bothered to move. “Well, are you going to help, or not?”
The hologram huffed, then walked over and helped her move the piece, placing it on the floor beside the footpiece.
Beverly immediately added Occasionally Helpful Jerk to the short list of names for the EMH before turning her attention to her patient.
Deanna lay under the surgical clamshell, her nightgown none the worse for wear, and looking quite puzzled by her surroundings. “Why am I in sickbay?” Her eyes darted around the room, until she found Will Riker, still sleeping. “Will? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, Deanna. Just needed a little help sleeping. What do you remember about last night?”
Troi looked lost for a moment, then it seemed to come back to her. “Envoy Sellassars wanted to know more about Betazed and the Federation. We walked through the arboretum, and he told me he was interested in how we deal with the natural realm. He was especially intrigued by the intermingling of nature with medicine in the Federation. He seemed most interested in the olive trees. I told him that humans had been using the olive and its oil for medicine for centuries, and that seemed to particularly fascinate him. He also asked about the Bajoran takeo herb and its use to fight swelling.”
Beverly managed not to say what was on the tip of her tongue. What she did say, however, was, “How many times did he touch your skin, Deanna?”
“Beverly, I don’t think—”
“I’m not talking about that, Deanna. I need to get a sample of that protective sebum of his. If it’s causing this, we need to start on an antidote as soon as possible.”
“Yes, we should,” the EMH said, standing at the control panel for the operating theater.
Beverly tried not to groan. “Computer, deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram.”
Star Trek: The Next Generation™: Slings and Arrows Book 4: That Sleep of Death Page 2
