Amending Fate: Chapter Seven
Picard cleared his throat. "When Dr. Crusher returned from Cardassia," he interrupted, "she said you had a difficult delivery."
Deidre glanced at him in surprise, her narrative interrupted. She shook herself out of the memory. "Difficult, yes," she repeated. "But that's not why we're telling you this." She stared at the table top, her gaze distant.
"Deidre," Mosel said, after a moment passed.
Gormlaith put a hand on her mother's shoulder. "Ma?" She shook her, gently.
"Yes," Deidre said, startled. "I'm sorry, I was distracted."
"It did not go well," Mosel prompted, glancing at his wife. He shared these memories with her; they alternated their perspectives as the narrative progressed.
She frowned, still gazing at some point in the past. "It was terrible, the room at the hospital," she said, remembering with a shudder. "It was an auditorium, there must have been two hundred people there."
She let the memory settle over her again, returning to the delivery room at Sharkam. Its high, grey walls surrounded her; the ceiling hovered, ominously, above. They laid her on a table, a metal slab, so cold, she remembered. Around her, lining three of the four walls, were stands—bleachers, almost—and they filled quickly with medical students. Their voices rose in a cacophony of noise, the room almost vibrating from the chorus. On the fourth wall was mounted a large monitor broadcasting the delivery for those students farther back in the auditorium.
Dr. Aruk, the Cardassian doctor who supervised the facility, hovered over Dr. Crusher's shoulder as she administered the requisite sedatives.
"This is an excellent turnout," Dr. Aruk said, as he glanced around the auditorium. "When the staff and faculty found out we were having a human birth here, the tickets couldn't be assigned fast enough."
Crusher glanced at Aruk, somewhat unnerved. "You mean you sold tickets to this?" It sounded as if she had a sudden urge to jam her hypospray into the spoon on Aruk's brow.
"Of course not!" he said, indignant. "We don't sell them, they're assigned based on merit." He looked up at the lowest rows, those nearest the delivery floor. "Naturally, our professionals in the field have seats reserved permanently."
Crusher adjusted Deidre's footrests. "That is atrocious," she snapped, completely forgetting, or else ignoring, Starfleet's broad acceptance of alien cultures.
Aruk looked momentarily aghast. "But it's a wonderful teaching opportunity," he insisted. "Surely you can appreciate that. Most of our students will never have the opportunity to observe your species in its birthing cycle—this is a fortuitous event!" He was positively agog.
Crusher sighed. From her previous experience with Dr. Sazon on the Saharon, it appeared that all Cardassian doctors were the same: opportunistic and slimy. She was glad, suddenly, that she was here to assist. Even though the equipment was inferior to Federation issue and she wanted to shove Dr. Aruk out of an airlock, Deidre's repeated thanks and confidence were reason enough to stay.
Approaching her patient at the head, she carefully tucked a few strands of Deidre's hair under her medical cap. "It's going to be all right," Beverly murmured, stroking her clammy forehead.
Deidre reached out from under the sheet and clutched her hand. "I don't want to be put to sleep," she said. "Please, Beverly." Deidre glanced up at the crowds hovering over the bed.
Her sedated eyes were frightened and Beverly leaned down over the bed. "I won't put you under," she assured, squeezing her hand. "This will be over in no time."
Except that it wasn't. What seemed like hours later, Deidre's head collapsed back on the bed, exhausted. Her skin had grayed, dark circles had formed under her eyes, and Dr. Crusher worriedly checked her vitals every ten minutes. She had been afraid of interspecies complications, and it seemed that the worst had happened. Dr. Aruk leaned anxiously over the bed, much to Crusher's disapproval.
"What's taking so long?" he hissed. Aruk was well aware that their conversation was being recorded for posterity, but his impatience got the best of him. Cardassian women were usually finished within a half hour; this was becoming a preposterous waste of time. The crowd above him obviously felt the same, as they stirred restlessly in their seats.
Crusher frowned at him, mustering her famous temper. "Human women can be in labor for days," she hissed back.
Aruk did not look amused. "You can't be serious," he said. Such a notion was impossible.
Crusher merely gritted her teeth and ignored him. She scanned Deidre with her tricorder. "Effacement of the cervix at ninety-three percent," she reported.
Aruk gestured to the hovering audience. "Doctor, could you please explain that for our records?" he said, in his stage voice.
Before Crusher could respond, Deidre sobbed aloud, gripping the sheet with her hands. A contraction passed, followed quickly by another, and with each she wailed.
"Ellil!" she gasped, as the spasm came, stronger than before. "Ellil!" Her cry resonated in the auditorium.
In the stands above, Mosel hurried from his seat. His mother, who had arrived with Pana and his father an hour earlier at Kiral's request, gripped his hand.
"You must stay here for your family," she whispered firmly. "It isn't proper for you to go down there." Her gaze shifted around the audience anxiously.
Mosel studied her for a moment, taking in her cold eyes and perfectly arranged coiffure. She had obviously taken the time to dress and beautify herself before arriving, despite the urgency of the situation. He scowled.
"She is my wife, mother," he said. Before the eyes of the entire auditorium, he wrenched his hand from her grip and exited the stands. He barely registered the ramifications of his decision, nor did he note the displeasure on his father's face.
Upon arrival at the delivery floor, an assistant gave him a mask and gown. After quickly adorning himself, he went to Deidre's side. Kneeling beside the table, much as Deidre had when she played the fiddle for him upon the holodeck all those months ago, he put his hand gently on her forehead.
"How are you holding up?" He took a cloth and wiped her brow.
"Ellil," she murmured, barely turning her head toward him.
He smiled at her. Her skin was grey, her hair wrapped in an unflattering medical cap, but her eyes were the same hazy blue as the day they met. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. That they were being recorded and broadcasted for a crowd of two-hundred did not perturb him.
After he pulled away, she raised her hand limply to his cheek. She cupped his chin lightly with her finger. "Do something for me," she said.
"Anything." He smiled again, gently, and held her hand in his.
"Name the baby Gormlaith. I know you wanted to name her Yilar," she said, as he sighed. He was about to disagree, but she stopped him. "My da used to tell me stories of old Ireland," she continued hoarsely, "about the times of great kings, when Ireland was the last haven of civilization and the defender of history." She looked him in the eye, urging him to hear her out.
"I loved the story my da told of the last High King of Ireland, Brian Boruma. I would beg him to tell it, almost every night. The sad thing is," she murmured, not caring that the recording equipment carried her voice across the auditorium. The voices in the stands dwindled as she spoke. "I've forgotten most it. I remember that he said King Boru took the woman Gormlaith to be his wife. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in Ireland. Her first husbands cast her aside because she was too ambitious." Deidre sighed, considering. "Name her Gormlaith, give her something from me." She wheezed and her head rolled back against the pillow. "I want her to be strong."
He shook his head. "Deidre," he began, but she shushed him.
"Do this for me," she urged. "Please." She shivered and cried out again, suddenly. Mosel gripped her hand tighter as she wailed. "It hurts, Ellil," she sobbed. She put her other hand to her stomach and a scream wrenched from her. "I don't have a priest," she said suddenly, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I'm going to die without the sacrament." She sobbed all the harder for it, though Mosel was not sure exactly what she meant. "Dear God," she started to mumble, "forgive me for my sins," but her voice trailed off in a wail. She trembled.
Dr. Crusher, who had stepped back to allow them a moment, pushed forward with her tricorder. "You're not going to die," she said fiercely. "Effacement of the cervix at ninety-nine percent. It's now or never." She sat between Deidre's legs, adjusting her gloves.
Deidre screamed again and Mosel took a reflexive step back. He had certainly never heard of Cardassian women behaving this way. And if he had expected it to be as gentle as a Bajoran birth based on their similarities of appearance, he was sorely mistaken. The audience was apparently as intrigued, and he heard the clicks of data pads as the students rapidly took their notes.
From the family section of the seating, Mosel saw Pana rise from her chair. Pana leaned over the balcony, refusing Kiral's attempts to pull her back.
"Please don't die, Deidre!" the girl exclaimed, as her aunt screamed again. A murmur rose in the crowd. Ellil's mother leaned forward and yanked Pana away from the rail. She pulled the girl into her seat and whispered angrily into her ear. Pana looked rebellious, her chin jutting out.
Ignoring the display, Beverly ran the Cardassian version of an internal scanner over Deidre's stomach, frowning as the results came in.
"This isn't good," she said, to no one in particular. "The infant's dual umbilical cords have wrapped themselves around the neck in the birth canal." She reached her hands between Deidre's legs, out of Mosel's sight, and Deidre gasped.
Mosel was not exactly sure what a 'birth canal' was, but he knew that Cardassian women had evolved a series of widened ridges to prevent entanglement of the umbilical cords at the infant's brow and chest at birth. Indeed, this was not good. His heart beat faster in his chest and his head swam. Suddenly, the piercing pain returned in his frontal lobes and he nearly staggered as it stabbed at him. Raising his hands to his head, he fell weakly to his knees in front of Deidre. Not now, he wanted to scream, as he swooned.
The pain was blinding; white flashed before his eyes and he swore that his breathing ceased. Digging his fingernails into his skull, he opened his eyes as Deidre turned to him. It was as if she spoke to him in that moment, in a voice deeper than sound. "Domhnall," she seemed to say. "Brían!" But Mosel saw that her lips did not move. Again, the words repeated, the names of her dead brothers forming a mantra in his mind.
"Please," he gasped, clutching her head. "I heard you. Your brothers aren't here," he said, urging her to cease.
Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. "Domhnall?" she panted, head rolling back again in a scream as Dr. Crusher urged her to push.
Again her voice resonated in his mind, but she was not speaking. Pain surged through his skull. In his mind, he heard that she was confused; her words were inarticulate. And she was frightened of him. He heard her wonder, even through her pain, how he knew that she called out wordlessly to her brothers, her last vestige of safety. Mosel had to wonder himself how her voice called out in his mind. Could he hear her thoughts?
He slid his hands from her head down to her shoulders. "I can hear you!" he said, simultaneously excited and terrified. The revelation that he could somehow perceive her private thoughts frightened him. Deidre stared wildly at him, not comprehending.
Dr. Crusher glanced up, her hands bloodied, sweat soaking her face mask. She saw Mosel almost lift Deidre shoulders from the table as he yelled at her.
"Dr. Aruk!" she commanded. "Get him out of here!"
Aruk approached Mosel and gripped the younger man by the shoulders. Mosel struggled against him, but Aruk managed to pull him a short distance away. Mosel flailed beneath his restraining arms, still shouting that he heard her.
Suddenly, Deidre sobbed in triumph. The baby slid into Dr. Crusher's waiting hands in a warm gush of blood. Crusher immediately unwrapped the cords from the baby's throat. Blood rushed out of Deidre, spilling between her legs in a puddle on the table.
The heart monitor attached to Deidre's chest, which had noted the drop in blood pressure, suddenly palpitated, and then sounded in a single, eerie hum. A roar arose in the crowd. As Pana screamed from her seat, Mosel cried out a resounding "No!" and pushed away from Aruk. Deidre's voice in his mind died suddenly, leaving a blank silence in its wake.
He fell to Deidre's side again. Her body lay limp and still on the table. He shook her shoulders, repeating her name.
Crusher blew into the baby's face and the girl gasped. Satisfied, she put the baby into the assistant's arms. "Put her in the infant incubator," she ordered. She motioned Aruk over. "Stop the patient's bleeding," she instructed, and the Cardassian doctor took her place as she stood.
Coming to Deidre's side, she pushed Mosel out of the way. Exchanging her soiled gloves for new ones, she said, "I need a cortical stimulator." Her voice had assumed its technical authority, her mind calmly plotting the necessary measures to take, though her heart pounded in her chest. The second assistant rushed to retrieve one. Upon being handed the stimulator, Crusher pressed it against Deidre's forehead and programmed the frequency. Next, she pressed a cardio stimulator against Deidre's chest, and her torso thumped loudly against the table as Beverly attempted to restart her heart.
"Increase frequency," Crusher ordered, and activated the cardio stimulator for a second time. Deidre's chest rose and fell again, and this time she gasped. Her eyes fluttered, but Beverly knew it was only half the battle.
Turning to Aruk, who still ran the internal regenerator over Deidre's injury, she said, "I need A-positive blood. I was told you stocked it here."
The doctor shook his head. "You were misinformed," he said, confused.
"But my supply was confiscated at the border 'for observation'." Beverly nearly stomped her foot in frustration. "She'll die without it!" She looked around the audience, as if seeking out a potential donor. Instead, she was met with nearly two hundred confused stares. The roar of the crowd rose as each minute passed.
Thinking quickly, she whipped up the sleeve on her arm. Aruk watched her with interest.
"What are you doing, doctor?" He gave a final sweep of the regenerator to the affected area and removed his hand. The bleeding had ceased, but his trousers were soaked with the drippings from the table. He looked mildly disgusted.
"I'm an O-type," she explained, cuffing her sleeve. "It's the universal transfusion blood." She heard the click-clacking of data pads as the students took their notes, and she frowned. Quickly, she rambled off a list of instruments necessary for a field transfusion.
An assistant brought them a short time later, having replicated what he could and scrounging the rest from the supply room. Aruk watched, fascinated, as Crusher assembled what looked like an antiquated scale. He raised his eyebrow as she pierced her arm with a hollow needle.
Beverly attached the receiver needle into Deidre's arm, just below the inner elbow. Pulling a chair over to the head of the table, Beverly collapsed in it.
"I don't think this had been done since the twenty-second century," she said grimly, as her blood dripped out of her arm. It ran through the transparent tubing into a small bag. As the bag filled, it slowly seeped down the connecting tube into Deidre's arm.
Aruk raised his brow. "It's ingenious," he said, mildly appreciative, "if a bit primitive." Crusher glared at him. Ignoring the look and affecting his stage voice, Aruk said, "If you'd provide us with a detailed description, graph and history of this procedure, we would like to enter it into our databases."
Beverly sighed. She glanced at Deidre, whose color was slowly, oh so slowly, returning. Her blood pressure remained low, though her heartbeat was steady. To her right, the baby rested comfortably and healthily in an incubator. The assistant had done a stellar job, she had to note.
Looking to Aruk again, who still awaited an answer, she smirked suddenly. "I'm sorry doctor, but that information is confidential." She was tired of playing the Cardassians' games. Settling back into her chair, the immediate danger having passed, she promptly ignored the remainder of his requests. Diplomatic relations be damned.
Ignored by both doctors and almost forgotten by the audience, who clapped their approval of Dr. Crusher's medical expertise and good performance, Mosel waited to the side of the delivery table. He looked down on his wife. Dr. Crusher had programmed the stimulator to keep her in a medically induced coma until her body received the necessary transfusion. Her face, though ashen and lifeless, nevertheless rested in a painless sleep.
Try as he might, Mosel could not explain the strange occurrence of earlier. The pain had dulled in his mind; now, in the relative calm of the delivery room, he could step back and examine the experience. Strange as it was, he found that he was not afraid of it. As soon as he had allowed her voice into his mind, the dreadful searing in his skull dulled. Deidre's voice had simply appeared in his mind. He wanted to conclude that his concern for her had led him to assume she desired her brothers' company. It seemed like a logical leap, and yet, he questioned it. It had not been his own thought, he was sure of it. However distorted it had sounded in his mind, it was his wife's voice.
Sighing deeply, he gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. He listened, first with his ears, and then, concentrating to the point of discomfort, he sought out her psyche. At first, there was silence, but slowly, the slow tickle of her thoughts crept into his mind. They were not words, not exactly. He could only describe them as observations, feelings, perhaps. Sensations. It was as if he slept with her, a calm descending on his mind. Faintly, he heard the sound of song, a mourning hymn. And light, he knew he was surrounded by radiant light.
And suddenly, it was gone. Dr. Aruk shook him out of his meditation.
"Are you all right?" Aruk asked, his hand on Mosel's shoulder.
Panting slightly, Mosel straightened. He glanced at Deidre and found her still asleep. How long had he been listening to her?
Turning to Aruk, he nodded curtly. "Yes," he said, "I am. Thank you." He looked toward the audience. The students had begun to trickle out, the excitement of the delivery having obviously passed. Mosel found his family still sitting in their row. Father met his eye with a frown, and Mosel returned it with one of his own. Father motioned to him to join them in the stands, but Mosel shook his head.
He knew Father would not dare violate protocol by coming to the delivery floor, despite the operation being complete. With a weary satisfaction, he knew that as long as he stayed with Deidre, he would be left alone.
Turning his gaze to Dr. Crusher, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," he said.
She nodded wearily. "You're welcome." They shared a look.
How his relationship had changed with the good doctor in the past nine months, he reflected. He glanced toward the incubator. Inside, his young daughter slept peacefully, unaware of the havoc her arrival had brought. He smiled slightly. With a nod from Crusher, he approached the incubator and lifted the baby from its swaddles.
Yes, he noted, it certainly was a girl. And she had the most beautiful dew drop on her forehead, still raw from the umbilical connection. Jolted by the sudden movement, she opened her eyes dreamily. Mosel was pleased to note that they were a hazy blue. Or were they grey? He smiled broadly. His baby. He held her gently to his chest and went back to the table.
Beverly watched him as he rocked the baby slightly in his arms. It was a trifle disconcerting, but Mosel was not nearly as intimidating with an infant in his arms. It was a start, at least.
"What are you going to name her?" Beverly asked.
Ellil touched her small lips with his finger. "Gormlaith," he said finally. "A big name for such a tiny girl."
Pleased, she said, "I like it." They exchanged tired smiles.
Ellil settled onto his stool, marveling at his new family. Considering for a moment, he glanced down at his daughter. He listened, carefully, stretching his thought around hers. Fatigued though he was, and still unsure of his new abilities, he extended his mind in concentration. It was too soon for words, of course, but he was curious. He felt a warm flush in his mind and was pleasantly surprised. Though he had expected to find nothing, he discovered instead the first murmurings of comfort in her tiny mind.
As he rocked her slightly against his broad chest, he heard the first stirrings of love, intimate and infinite.
Whatever this new ability was, and however it manifested itself, he would not wish to revoke a second of it. To hell with everything else, this was his baby. And into his mind she whispered her love.