Chapter Fourteen

“HE’S HERE,” SAID NURSE ALYSSA OGAWA, motioning to the door of the examination room.

A shadow blocked the entryway, and Beverly Crusher turned from her preparations to see Will Riker looking apprehensive as his gaze traveled from her to the sleeping figure of Deanna Troi. She was still restrained, but now intravenous tubes were attached to her arms. Not a pretty sight, but Crusher was determined to change that.

“Hello, Commander,” she said. “Shall we wait for the captain?”

“No, he’s going to be delayed for a while,” answered Riker, moving past her to look worriedly at Troi. “How is she?”

“She’s weak, and we had to feed her intravenously. But physically, she’s fine.” Crusher leaned over her patient and lifted an eyelid. The pupil underneath retracted in reaction to the light, and Troi flinched slightly. “She’ll be waking up soon, anyway, but we’re going to help her along. Last time we let her awaken on her own, but this time it will be more gradual.”

The commander didn’t take his eyes off Deanna, and Beverly went on, “You don’t have to stay, Will, but I thought I’d give you the option. There’s a good chance it will turn into a repeat of what we’ve seen before.”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” he answered, rising to his feet and stepping back. “I know you’ll do the best you can.”

“All right.” Crusher made sure that her emergency hypos were within reach, then she nodded to Ogawa. The veteran nurse reached up and adjusted the flow of the intravenous tubes.

“We’re giving her a mild stimulant through the IV,” explained Crusher. After two or three minutes, Troi looked unchanged, but Beverly could see that several of her vital signs had increased in activity.

“Now we’ll employ an ancient method of waking people up.” The doctor nodded to Ogawa, who broke open a small capsule and swiped its contents under the patient’s nose.

“A bit of ammonia, just enough to wake up her olfactory nodes,” Crusher whispered to Riker. “If we can get another part of her brain working first, maybe we’ll avoid a disturbance.”

When Troi began to wrinkle her nose and frown puzzledly, the doctor motioned to Ogawa to stop. With a few deft movements, the nurse removed the IVs from her arm, leaving on the restraints.

More tense moments passed, while Troi twisted and stretched in her sleep, slowly discovering that she was bound to the bed. Crusher quickly prepared a hypospray. Just as the patient was about to open her eyes, the doctor applied the hypospray to her neck. Deanna instantly relaxed and slumped onto the bed, but she didn’t go back to sleep. Instead she lifted her head and stared dreamily around the examination room.

“Hmmm . . . what’s going on?” she asked slowly, licking her dry lips. She tried to focus her eyes on Riker, and Crusher stepped back to give her a clear field of vision. “Will? Is that you?”

“It’s all right,” he answered with joy and relief, rushing toward her bed. “You’re going to be all right.”

“I am?” she asked doubtfully.

“You had an accident,” said Beverly. She pressed a button, and the restraints snapped back, drawing attention to themselves.

“Why . . . was I tied down?” asked Troi with a flash of anger.

“Because of the intravenous tubes,” answered the doctor evenly. “So you wouldn’t pull them loose. Let’s not talk much now, all right? You’ve been through a lot, but I think it’s permissable to give Will a hug.”

Riker didn’t hesitate to follow the doctor’s orders, engulfing Deanna’s slim body in his biggest bear hug. Immersed in his all-encompassing embrace, she gripped him fiercely for a moment, then she went limp with relief and exhaustion.

Everything seems okay for now, thought Crusher. But they had to confront the fact that Troi was suffering from some amount of memory loss. If she wanted answers about what happened to her, there wouldn’t be any.

Riker gently lowered her onto the bed and smiled fondly at her. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“I’m thirsty,” she said hoarsely.

“We’ll get you something to eat and drink,” answered Crusher. “Then you’ll have to sleep some more. After a little more observation, we’ll see about releasing you from sickbay.”

“What about the mission?” she asked worriedly. “Gemworld? And the ship?”

“They’re both still here,” Riker assured her. “Do what the doctor says, and I’ll give you a briefing as soon as you get out. Over dinner.” He gave her his most charming smile, and she gently touched his smooth-shaven cheek.

“I’ve got to get back to the bridge. See you later.” Riker rose to his feet and strode from the room, giving Beverly a grateful nod.

The doctor tried to figure out exactly what she was going to tell her best friend. When Deanna was fully recovered, they could show her the video logs, but it was hard to tell how much she should know at the moment. The last thing they wanted was a relapse, although Crusher was fully prepared for that to happen. She would keep Deanna sedated for a while.

“What happened to me?” asked the counselor, shaking her head and staring at the marks on her arm where the restraints had held her.

“The truth is, we don’t know,” answered Crusher. “Since you seem to have a memory loss about it, we may never know what happened to you. But that isn’t important now—all that’s important is your well-being.”

“Okay,” muttered Troi wearily, “so I’m not going to get anything out of you, and I don’t remember anything. I guess I just have to lie here and wonder why.”

“I guess so,” answered Crusher with her best air of harried superiority. She moved toward the door. “Besides, the only person who can figure out what happened is you. Nobody else was there. But relax—don’t rack your brain. It’s more important that you get better. If you need anything, just call. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“What would you like to eat?” asked Nurse Ogawa pleasantly.

Troi slumped back in her bed, weary and confused, while Beverly kept walking away. Crusher tried not to glance over her shoulder at her troubled patient. If she reported this incident in any detail, it would likely get Deanna relieved of duty for an extended psychological evaluation. Of course, that was in the event that they survived this mission.

The doctor didn’t like things she didn’t understand, and she didn’t understand what had happened to Deanna. Stuck down in sickbay, Beverly hadn’t seen much of the vaunted beauty of Gemworld, but she didn’t care about its beauty. It was dangerous here. She had a bad feeling about Gemworld. She was ready to leave.

Following the directional markings on the curved walls of the shell, Melora Pazlar led Captain Picard and Reg Barclay to another circular door. The few Alpusta and Elaysians they passed gave them a wide berth, and there was no one around to tell them what to do next. Melora knocked on the door, and Barclay lifted his violet shard and waved it about. But nothing happened.

“What’s this?” asked Picard, pushing himself lower. Beneath the door, recessed into the wall itself, was a drawer similar to the ones in the programming room. Picard opened the drawer and searched for a receptacle.

“The crystal,” he said, holding up his hand.

“Yes, sir.” Barclay removed the lanyard from his neck and handed the crystal to Picard, who shoved it into the waiting slot.

A moment later, the doorway opened, revealing not a crowded office but a smooth facet of yellow crystal. Deep within the crystal, bubbles and glints of light danced in the slowly moving marrow. Melora and the two men peered into the topazlike depths, and she wondered whether the Lipul was even present.

The bubbles slowly increased in volume, shifting downward. Nobody moved or said a word. Finally a vague mushroom shape floated upward and drifted in front of them, opening and closing like a miniature bellows. Melora had never been so close to a Lipul, not even in her first encounter as a child, and she stared in wonder at the filmy creature. It looked fragile and helpless, although it might have lived for centuries, even millennia.

This Lipul was a dignitary, thought Melora. For all she knew, it could be the oldest living creature on Gemworld. Perhaps it had sailed on the dreamships that contacted the humans over two hundred years ago.

Still, the Lipul looked tired as it bobbed up and down in the yellow marrow, as if the effort to maintain this position was very taxing. Certainly, these were difficult days for everyone on Gemworld, perhaps more so for the oldest beings among them. They had seen so much, lived through so much, yet they faced a threat they had never seen before.

“Greetings!” said Reg cheerfully.

“Greetings,” answered an artificial voice. “You are the newest.”

“I guess so,” answered Reg with a nervous chuckle. “Do you know . . . how it happened?”

The Lipul fluttered with agitation for a moment, then it settled down in the slow stream of bubbles. “Zuka Juno is dead. An able colleague, I will miss him. But we have you.”

“Well, I don’t know if I make up for losing him,” said Reg sheepishly.

Melora was surprised at this vote of confidence on behalf of the Lipul, but perhaps it knew how instrumental Reg had been during the crisis. What else did the Lipul know?

Captain Picard pressed forward, looking impatient, and Barclay said, “May my captain speak with you?”

“Yes, if his questions are pertinent.”

“They’re pertinent,” replied Picard. “Our ship is also endangered by the rift. Are you aware that one of the senior engineers corrupted the fractal computer program? It’s in an endless loop, drawing dark matter from the rift to feed the mutant crystal. This disaster is the result of sabotage.”

“So you have said,” answered the Lipul, sounding doubtful. “Death and change are natural. To all events, there is a purpose.”

“The purpose of the sabotage is to destroy Gemworld!” blurted Pazlar.

“Or to make Gemworld stronger,” said the disembodied voice. “We do not recognize evil intentions.”

“Do you know that the program is encrypted?” said Melora. “There’s no way to stop it . . . no way to end the growth of the black crystal!”

“Untrue,” answered the Lipul. “The end is death.”

“The death of everyone!” snapped Melora, who was stunned at the Lipul’s cavalier attitude. She had heard that they sometimes acted as if they were above the fray, but this was ridiculous.

“Death is the end. Also the beginning,” replied the scratchy artificial voice. “The Sacred Protector is the key.”

“We know that,” said Melora, getting angry and frustrated. She felt someone grab her arm, and she thought it was Reg, until she saw Captain Picard shaking his head at her.

“He’s right.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the shell died, the crisis would be over,” said the captain with cool understatement.

“But we’d lose our air!” protested Pazlar. “We wouldn’t survive!”

“Uh . . . actually I think the Lipuls would survive,” said Reg. “They would probably adjust to increased gravity better than the rest of you, too.”

“Of course, everyone on the Enterprise would survive, too,” grumbled Pazlar. “Just you and the Lipuls.”

Picard narrowed his eyes at her, but his tone stayed friendly. “I think the senior engineer is saying that shutting down the shell would more than likely shut down the rift as well. This is a hypothetical, worstcase scenario, but it would end the crisis.”

In shock over this devastating idea, Melora turned to see the Lipul bobbing serenely in its yellow gel. The Lipuls thought in vast increments of time, where generations of Elaysians were but seconds on a lengthy timeline. They cared about their neighbors, but they were also inclined to take a long-range view of things.

More than anyone, they could probably envision a great die-off of life on Gemworld because they had spent so much time trying to delay that inevitable scenario. But not now, thought Melora, not during my lifetime.

It would be worse for her, because she would have to witness the extinction of her people from aboard the Enterprise.Then she and her crewmates would fly off, unscathed. Maybe they could save a few hundred Elaysians, but which ones? Who would choose?

Trying to control her emotions, Melora turned to consider Captain Picard. He wasn’t here to save them, she realized, but to protect the interests of the entire Federation. Those interests lay in shutting down the rift in the most expedient manner possible. The needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few, and all that.

She could agree with him on one matter, however. The real target of this attack might not be Gemworld; it could be the Sacred Protector and the oxygen breathers. The planet, the Enterprise, the Federation, and the Lipuls would go on after the shell had been shut down.

If anyone is going to save the day, it will have to be me. Melora’s heart raced unpleasantly at the thought of doing something that would get her thrown out of Starfleet, maybe even arrested and charged. But she couldn’t let them destroy billions of Elaysians, Alpusta, Frills, Yiltern, and Gendlii.

She took a deep breath and blurted out, “Father, do you know who corrupted the program?”

“As you have said, one of the senior engineers,” answered the Lipul. “This knowledge would not serve any purpose, even if you possessed it. Do what you must to kill the Sacred Protecter, and be swift.”

The Lipul drifted upward, as if too weak to fight the slow, sparkling current. The artificial voice continued softly, “To the new one, have marrow in your bones. The crystal responds to you.”

“Uh, sir? Mr. Engineer!” Barclay peered upward at the departed Lipul and motioned him back, but the amorphous creature was gone. Captain Picard removed the shard from the receptacle and hung it back around Reg’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” said Pazlar, gnawing her lip, “I don’t know what came over me. I was out of line correcting you and the senior engineer. But I couldn’t stand to hear that we had to shut down the shell! That might save Gemworld in some fashion—as a museum piece—but it would kill most of the life here.”

“Which is why I view it as the very last resort, Lieutenant. Let’s see if we have any other options.” The captain scowled and gazed down the tubular corridor, as if dreading having to navigate another weightless corridor. He tapped his combadge. “Picard to Data.”

“Data here,” answered an efficient voice.

“What’s your status?”

“As expected, we have failed to break the encryption. However, the Jeptah engineers have suggested a promising method of fooling the dark-matter collectors into collecting hydrogen, or some other harmless material. By invading the subsystems that control the collectors, we can pass a variable to the program that will effect this change. The invasion will have to take place on the space-side exterior of the shell, but the Jeptah assure me that there are Alpusta trained for this work.”

“Won’t the rift affect them?”

“No, they feel they can extend the forcefield enough to afford the workers protection for a short time,” answered Data. “I have no firsthand experience with these systems, but the plan appears feasible.”

“What a relief,” said Melora with a huge grin. She gripped Reg’s arm and shook him. “Isn’t that great?”

“Yes,” he answered with a shaky voice.

Picard gave Data a brief account of their activities, but no specifics about what the Lipul had said. With any luck, thought Melora, the idea of turning off the shell will never be mentioned again.

“It will take several hours to finalize these plans,” said Data. “I will stay on duty.”

“So there haven’t been any conflicts with the Jeptah?” asked Picard.

“None so far. They have utilized my talents well.”

“Well done, Data. Picard out.”

Pazlar floated closer to Picard and gave him a conciliatory bow. “Captain, please . . . why don’t I show you the one thing nobody has shown you since you’ve been here. Hospitality.”

“Hospitality,” said Picard with a wan smile. “It’s true, we haven’t seen much of that. But all of us have been so distracted.”

“The commune of my parents is reachable in about an hour by shuttlecraft,” said Melora. “I’ve sent them messages through the people here because our communications are down. But I wasn’t sure I would have a chance to actually visit them. It’s really important to me, and I would like you to meet our people outside of this place where tensions are running so high.”

“I would love to go!” exclaimed Barclay. He glanced sheepishly at Picard. “If that’s okay with you, sir.”

The captain nodded warmly. “It sounds like an excellent idea. Thank you for the invitation.”

Anything it takes, thought Melora, to keep you from shutting down the shell.