WRONG PLACE, WRONG DIMENSION

by ardavenport


- - - Part 4

The open lift slowly lowered Captain Picard to a stiff, netted walkway. He had no idea what it was for though he was sure that it was never used by any humanoids. He stepped off the lift onto the netting. He was grateful for its wide width for it had no railings and a small sea of slimy water stretched to either side of it. The air was warm and thick and foul, strong enough to overwhelm his nostrils, numbed from the smell of the film of cream that covered his face.

This is a mistake, he thought to himself.

A sound like a roar reverberated in the room. He heard a splash and a fin cut the murky water and then slide beneath its gray surface. It emerged a few meters away from him. It topped the flat span of Avi's head.

"You wished something, Captain Picard." Her voice sounded low and distant, as if it came from some unseen orifice in the back of her head. It echoed beautifully in the large room.

"We haven't discussed why the Pasaid chose my ship to investigate," Picard answered in his own resonant tones; Doctor Crusher's treatment had considerably eased the facial pains that had curbed his speech earlier.

"It was there."

"That's not a good reason."

"That is the only one," Avi responded calmly, the top of her flat head bobbing a tiny bit with the gentle motion of the muck about her. "Our transit is confined to very limited, affected portions of your dimension. Your ship entered such a portion and became visible to the Pasaid. They came."

"We were investigating radiation anomalies in that sector of space."

"To you, spatial displacements of transit would appear as anomalies. You should avoid that place, avoid any further contact with Pasaid, or any others like them."

"We don't mean any harm. We come in peace."

"So do the Pasaid. Their motives are difficult to assess; they are not aggressive."

"I suppose so," he acknowledged before going on. "We've offered to assist you in any way we can with this 'transit' back to our own space."

"You have."

"That offer still stands. If any of the resources of my ship can be used to help, you have only to ask."

"Understood."

"We represent the United Federation of Planets and we would be pleased, after we have returned, to establish relations with you or your representatives."

"Understood."

Picard waited silently, but their was nothing else to be said or gained. He'd made his offer and it had been neutrally acknowledged and tacitly, but politely, rejected. When he, and Lieutenant Worf on the Enterprise had made their first offer earlier, it had met a similar response. Avi gave no explanation, but her Next and the other Zinhoodi did.

To be of any help at all they would have to learn, to personally comprehend, the multi-dimensional nature of the 'transit' technology. Apparently this was considered mentally difficult and physically dangerous to the uninitiated. The Zinhoodi, Avi, and all the other creatures he'd encountered seemed to have a mutual agreement placing restrictions upon passing the inter-dimensional transit ability to the uninformed.

Your 'Prime Directive' applies to us, he mused. It seemed odd to him to be on the receiving end of such an edict. The reasons seemed sensible to him; the social consequences of people being able to appear and disappear at will could possibly be devastating to Federation society. But even though he understood and agreed with it, he felt belittled by the restriction anyway. If he were to be declared 'un-ready' for the knowledge of another culture, he preferred not to know about it at all.

"Then, thank you for your time." He turned to leave.

"Captain Picard." The netting he stood on suddenly tilted backwards. He counter-balanced forward and went to his knees. He looked around his shoulder. Avi stood towering behind him and dripping with ooze.

"If this situation arises again, we would be pleased to assist. Again. But we will not always be positioned to come to aid."

He slowly, carefully, got to his feet, maintaining his balance away from the puddles of muck before him. After having experienced the touch of the appendages that lay concealed in her forward orifice, he had no wish to find out what Avi chose to swim in.

"No offense taken, Avi."

The great, flat head lowered toward him and then raised.

"None given."

She vanished. But whether she'd gone back to the murky pool or to another part of the ship, he didn't know and didn't stay to find out. He'd said what he wanted. And the stench of the place was getting to him. He left as quickly as he could.


o*o o*o o*o o*o o*o o*o


Beverly heard Captain Picard return to the living area. No other creature that she'd seen had footsteps even remotely like a humanoid. And she was familiar with the sound of his step. The door closed behind him.

He stood in one place for a moment. She lay on her side, on the floor mat, her back to the door and covered with a blanket.

He walked towards her. She felt his weight on the opposite side of the mat, heard him take his boots off. He made loud blanket-flapping noises and then lay down.

Beverly smiled to herself. If he wasn't going to say anything, she didn't feel impelled to. Jean-Luc was clearly embarrassed about the incident and would probably wish to 'consider the matter closed', as he liked to put it. She didn't think that the fact that she wasn't embarrassed, or even concerned, would improve his view of the matter either; mentioning it would probalby only rub salt into his wounded pride. But, in fact, Beverly could not remember how many times in the past that this sort of thing had come up with a male patient she was treating.

Of course, it never helped that male patient's pride if he was possibly attracted to her, she thought fondly. Or, if I might possibly be attracted to him.

She yawned, tired. Her hair tickled her forehead and she brushed her bangs aside.

"Doctor."

"Hmmmmm," Now what?

"Beverly?"

She rolled over. He'd just had to wait until she was nice and comfortable before disturbing her, she supposed. He was lying on the opposite edge of the mat, well out of arm's reach.

"I wanted to apologize for my . . . . . . reaction, earlier."

He was lying on his back, his hands grasping the edge of the blanket at his chest, as if her were hiding his modesty. The blanket lay perfectly smooth over him, a tidy contrast to the wrinkled pile of cloth covering her.

She rolled her eyes upward, but they were lying in shadow and he didn't see the pained look on her face.

"Jean-Luc, believe me, I've seen it before."

"Oh, I'm sure as a medical doctor you've seen all sorts of . . . . ."

"On you."

He shut up. "What?" he finally ventured.

"You've been in sickbay a few times, Jean-Luc." Beverly Doctor Selar's face as she called the chief medical officer's attention to a new development on their patient who was heavily sedated in ICU after five hours of surgery removing Borg implants from him. Beverly had peeked under the sheet. "Well, at least we know that works," she'd commented, passing Selar a hypo to quell the reaction to the post-surgery tissue regeneration procedures.

He almost asked her 'when', but stopped himself. He didn't want to know. Damn doctors, anyway, he thought. They often knew things that he, himself, would rather not know.

"Well then, that's fine I suppose," he said noncommitally, turning back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Fine," she answered casually. Too casually, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shadowy outline on her side of the mat. She was facing him now, looking at him, and he didn't like it. He rolled over, turning his back to her.

The edge of the mat pressed on his hip and side and the rest of him toppled off onto the springy floor, dragging the blanket with him.

In his attempt to maintain as discreet a distance as possible from the Doctor, he hadn't allowed himself enough room on one side. In the shadows, Beverly smiled, but didn't laugh; she'd gotten most of that over with after the initial incident. She waited and watched while he picked himself up, tugging the blanket out from underneath himself, and sat down on the mat.

"I don't suppose I have any dignity left," he stated with a long sigh.

"Well," she sat up halfway, propped up on one elbow. "There might still be a few shreds lying around here, somewhere."

She saw his mouth twitch in what might have been a suppressed smile. He sat above the shadows, his profile illuminated by the floor lights. His skin was a less vivid shade of pink and the blisters seemed to have drained markedly. He didn't look towards her while he spoke.

"I don't like being ill. I don't like being injured. And I don't like exposing myself to all the indignities that go with it," he announced.

"Most people don't."

"Most people can get used to it. I never have."

She sat up now. "Most people never get used to it. They just handle it a little better." His shoulders stiffened, then relaxed.

"I suppose I must be the worst patient on the Enterprise."

"Second worst."

"Oh?" He seemed surprised. "And who has the honor?"

"Me." He looked at her. "Remember when we fell down that hole on Minos and I broke my arm and leg. Well, Doctor Hill told me later that if I ever ended up in sickbay again he was going to ask for a transfer."

He smiled a little.

"I was very glad you were there when that happened." He turned away, back towards the lights.

"Well, I am not glad that you are here, Doctor. One of us in this situation is more than enough." His hand went to his neck.

"Don't scratch," she ordered. He jerked his hand away. "I'm touched by your sympathy," she continued.

"Sympathy is not going to get us out here," he told her. "And I can think of better times and places for it." Annoyed, he looked about the room.

"We never seem to get around to it when we have the chance," she murmured softly, lowering her eyes.

"Hmmmm?"

She slid forward and pulled his hand away from his face. "I said, don't scratch."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but it's starting to itch."

"Well, then . . .," she retrieved a cloth at the foot of the mat, " . . . cover it up." She unfolded it and draped his head with it. He glared at her from underneath the veil. She grasped the edge between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it down over his face.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said, utterly unamused. Then, without moving the covering, he lay back down on his side, still facing her. She watched him for a moment, then took the blanket crumpled at his feet, spread it out, and covered him with it. Gently, she pulled the cloth away from his face. In the gloom, she could just see his eyes looking back at her. It seemed to her that she was seeing in them exactly what he was feeling at that moment, if only she could figure out what it was.

Her fingers rested on his temple. His skin was warm. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but she didn't say anything. He closed his eyes.

She took her hand away and, pulling up another blanket, lay down facing him.

He opened his eyes. Hers were closed. Said all the wrong things, he thought. Or none of the right ones. We never do say anything when we have the chance, do we?

He slowly reached up and placed his hand over her upturned one lying between them. Her fingers moved a little under his; her thumb briefly caressed his fingers before lying still. He closed his eyes again.


o*o o*o o*o o*o o*o o*o


"Relinquishing command to you, Sir." Worf addressed the newly repaired Data formally on the bridge.

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant." Data nodded and took the command chair. Worf returned to his comm station, behind and above the command section. "Status report."

"Ship's repairs are proceeding on or ahead of schedule. Warp drive will be restored in another five hours. The Zinhoodi have returned to their ship. They report that the craft containing the Captain and Doctor Crusher is proceeding, with necessary modifications to their trans-dimensional drive, and should arrive in 4.3 hours. The Captain and Doctor are reported to be well and resting before the trip."

"Very good, Lieutenant." Data shifted his attention to the status display in the arm rest of the chair.

Lieutenant Commander LaForge, new VISOR in place, approached Worf from behind. He'd come to the bridge with Data under the pretext of checking the engineering station there.

"Worf?"

Worf looked up from his station. "Commander?"

"Worf, I, uh, I wanted to apologize for blowing up at you earlier. You were just doing your job and I shouldn't have tried to stop you."

Worf let his exasperation show. "I have never understood why humans consider anger to be something that needs to be apologized for."

Geordi shook his head slowly. "It's just something we do, Worf."

"I know," the Klingon responded. "I accept your apology, Commander." He turned back to his duties.

"And Worf . . . ." The Klingon looked up again. "If you ever do that again . . . . ."

"Lieutenant," Data had silently come around to Worf's station and was standing behind him.

"Sir," Worf addressed him. LaForge stepped back.

"I am told by others that you have been on duty for at least the past ten hours."

"Yes, Sir."

"And that you, yourself, sustained some minor injuries in the last incident that you have, as yet, not tended to."

"Nothing of any consequence, Sir."

LaForge started to smile, but Data's features remained impassive.

"Then, I believe it would be appropriate for you to tend to your own physical needs now, so that you will be rested for when the Captain and Doctor Crusher are returned."

"Sir, I am . . . . ."

"You are relieved, Lieutenant," Data told him politely. Geordi's smile grew. "You will report to sickbay and then to your quarters until you are needed."

Worf straightened to attention. "Sir." He turned. Geordi's smile vanished as Worf's eyes fell upon him, but returned after he'd passed and entered the turbolift. Humans, and androids who wished to be human, Worf thought, had a very devious and perverted sense of revenge. It made living among them quite bearable.


- - - End Part 4