SHIP OF FOOLS
Chapter 13
The captain had reached Deanna Troi's quarters without encountering any obstruction, although he did notice a rather suspicious look from two crewmen who happened to be passing along the corridor when he pressed the door alarm.
"Come in," she called.
He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it was not what he saw. The lighting was dimmed, and there was a sweet scent in the air, some exotic flowery fragrance that would probably make his head swim if he remained here for any length of time. An array of candles on the table created a pool of warm light. Deanna was sitting on the sofa in a loosely flowing lavender robe, elbows on her knees, staring dreamily into the flames.
He had only a moment to take in the surroundings, for she looked up when the door swished shut behind him, and as soon as she recognized him she started up with a cry of alarm, groping for something in the shadows; a moment later he found himself looking at a phaser she was pointing steadily in his direction.
"Don't come any closer, sir. I can see you well enough from here."
He was too startled to feel seriously worried, even though he was in no doubt that she meant it.
"You'll not use that thing on me."
"Not unless you force me to, Captain."
"I force you – !" He collected himself. "Deanna, I mean you no harm. Certainly you must be able to sense that? I haven't come to threaten you. I need your help. I won't come any closer. Just listen to me."
"Very well," she said after a moment. "I believe you. What is it you want my help for?"
Just as well I didn't bring that sidearm, he thought. By now, I'd be unconscious on the floor – at least I hope hers is set to stun...
"I have to find out more about the device. This crew is breaking up, you know that. I'm powerless to keep people from using it, but perhaps I can still find a handle – some way to reach them..."
It was less than the truth, but it wasn't entirely untrue either. Considering that she evidently hadn't known it was he outside her door, he might just get away with it. She was looking at him thoughtfully now, thoughtfully and quite composedly, the hand with the phaser hanging at her side.
"You're keeping a lot to yourself," she said finally.
"Can you blame me for that? You haven't been honest with me either. You must have known there would be difficulties if this thing spread – that it would prove incompatible with the discipline on this ship."
"I didn't! At least... Captain, you don't understand. I've tried to explain - this isn't about discipline and control. It's about something far beyond that. You were opposed to it from the beginning. You wouldn't even consider finding out about it yourself."
"But I'm here now," he said, very gently.
"Because you have no options left. And you still don't believe a word of it."
"Deanna, please!" He was pleading now. "You want to convince me. Well, you know there is only one way to do this. You must allow me to verify what you've been telling me before I commit myself. You have known me long enough. Before this – have I ever dismissed anything you said?"
"No," she said, smiling a little. "You haven't until now. You always listen – although you sometimes take some convincing."
"Granted." He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and her smile widened.
"I'm sorry. Please, sit down, Captain. I shouldn't have doubted you. Some things in this universe remain stable." She set the example by disposing herself on the sofa again and looking up at him expectantly. He lowered himself into a chair. "Well," she said, "what is it you want to know?"
"I am somewhat worried about the timing of this. This is a very delicate mission, possibly a trap or a set-up. We have been told in so many words that there are several parties involved, and that at least one of them has an interest in seeing it fail - whatever the reason. The device certainly doesn't help to ensure our success. Now I'm wondering – "
"If the device could have been introduced to this ship with that purpose in mind? You mean by the Cardassians?"
"Not necessarily by the Cardassians. We know so little about the background of it all. We don't know who else may be involved. Then again, it may have nothing to do with this mission and still be an act of sabotage."
She appeared to be considering this – quite seriously, by all appearances. Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief at having come this far. In fact, he found himself thinking with wry appreciation, this is one of the more rational discussions I've had lately...
"I don't think so," she said at last. "Maruk is a scientist, an authority in his field. There is no way anybody could have impersonated this man to me, Captain. He was what he said he was. And I sensed no deception or malice from him."
"He could have been acting with the best of intentions."
"But even then he would have had to be instructed to introduce the device to this ship. And there are very few who even know about it."
"I find that hard to believe. This thing has been spreading like wildfire among the crew. It would do the same in any other group of people. I'd like to know why this man hasn't been leaving a trail of chaos before he ever set foot on my ship. And – "
"Captain, all he's done was try and help!" she protested, shocked and on the verge of anger.
"Deanna, listen," he said, carefully, for the words didn't come easily. "You said my... recent experiences... have been influencing me more than they should. Now consider this. Whatever the thing might have done for me, do you think giving up my control, such as it is, in favor of a closer rapport with my subconscious would have helped this particular mission along?"
She frowned. "No," she said after a moment. "I don't."
"Add to this a crew that is by now very definitely out of control, and for the most part thoroughly hostile towards the Cardassians..."
She was silent for a moment or two. "Very well. I still don't believe this to be an act of sabotage, Captain, but I see your point. And since this mission is so important to you – "
She reached out for the terminal that was sitting on a small table to one side, swiveling it towards herself.
"Computer, display ID file of Doctor Maruk."
There was a brief chirp. From where he was sitting Picard could not see the screen, but he could see Troi frowning.
"It's very little beyond what I know already. Computer, what was Doctor Maruk's last assignment?"
"Doctor Maruk has been holding a lectureship at the Vulcan Science Academy for the past four years, starting Stardate..."
"Stop! Is there any information about recent results in psychosomatics... or stress-relief techniques... or even concerning the Flow phenomen?"
"There is no information regarding any of these issues," the computer replied crisply.
"That's odd," she murmured. "There should be. He was so excited about it... But we could ask for information about the Fragan VI summit," she said suddenly. "He may have talked about the device there – perhaps given it to somebody..."
Picard shook his head. "We aren't allowed to use subspace communication right now, Deanna. And while we're sitting in this nebula we couldn't do it anyway."
"Of course. I forgot." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Captain. With everything that's been happening... I really don't feel quite myself. You can testify to that", she added, sounding concerned all of a sudden. "In fact some of the things I said must have been... quite unforgivable. Sir, if – "
"It is all right," he interposed quickly. "Don't worry about it. You must be very tired."
"I am," she admitted. "All those minds – floating free. I can feel the restrictions breaking down. Not in you, of course", she added, almost merrily. "To be honest, Captain, your company is quite restful. It will get better when they find their feet, but right now it's sheer chaos. Bewilderment, clashing desires – " She broke off rather abruptly, looking at him wide-eyed. "You are frightened, sir."
"Of course I am," he whispered.
"Frightened for your ship and your crew. Captain, you are still the same. I hope..." She hesitated, and for a few moments seemed to waver on the brink of something. "I never wanted to hurt you," she said finally. "Or to... to take anything from you. You have felt sometimes that this ship should serve a better purpose than ferrying diplomats to conferences or transporting samples, haven't you? In fact I know you have. And there is something worthier of the Enterprise. Something... appropriate. You'll see."
"Will you tell me what?"
"I can't. I wish I could. But you might... You would not understand, sir. You wouldn't like it – not at this time. Geordi will – I'll explain it to him. We'll take good care of your ship, sir, I promise you that."
"Are you quite sure Geordi will go along with your idea?"
"I'll have to talk to him," she replied with a smile. "But yes, Captain, I'm quite sure he will."
Yes, thought Picard. Communication is very definitely down on this ship. Aloud he said: "Deanna, do you realize that Geordi may well have eliminated Data in order to get this far?"
She gave him a startled look. "No," she said then, decidedly. "He wouldn't harm his best friend. Try to understand, Captain – the device doesn't make you act against your nature. It just helps you recognize your goals."
"Which you then pursue – with considerable ruthlessness," he said softly, and saw her bite her lip for a moment. "Do you know if there is anybody on this ship who might be immune to its effects, apart from Data?"
"I don't think so. Captain, I... I truly can't imagine Geordi would do such a thing. And I would never sanction it, you must believe me there."
"I do believe you. You convinced Will of the merits of the thing too, didn't you?"
"I convinced him to give it a try, Captain," she corrected gently. "He came to me last night over something... something he wanted to discuss. He asked for an explanation. That's all."
"Yes, I think I understand." He got to his feet. "Deanna, I must be going. Just – when you talk to Geordi, try to... try not to alienate him. He may be taken up with some scheme of his own for all I know. He might take it the wrong way."
"You do care, don't you? I wish I could make you understand. But you will, sir, in time. For now – "
She rose, came round the table and walked up to him, and he realized with a slight unpleasant start that the material of that lavender robe was hardly more than a rippling, silky gauze, opaque enough at first glance but startlingly transparent against the light when she passed in front of the candles. Picard stood his ground, but when she stopped right in front of him to look up into his face, putting both hands against his chest, it was all he could do not to flinch. He wondered, fleetingly, if she was aware of his unease – she certainly gave no sign of it.
"Take care of yourself, Captain. Energies like these, released after a long time, can be very strong, sometimes even violent. I wouldn't want you to come to any harm."
"I'll try," he promised, gently removing her hands. "I think I'll better go now. Thank you for your help."
"You're quite welcome," she said softly. There was a throbbing behind his temples now. He wanted very much to be out of that flickering candlelight and her presence, but he managed still to be gentle as he released her fingers and turned away. In the dim light he noticed something on a small table by the door. He paused, remembering something through the slight daze that seemed to have descended on him.
"May I take this?"
She gave him an amused look. "Are you still trying to disabuse me? I have more, you know. And you have no intention of even trying it out."
"No," he admitted. "But I would like to take a look at it."
"You are very welcome to that too, sir."
"Thank you", he said and left.
Outside, with the door softly hissing shut behind him, he drew a few deep breaths. The air smelled bracingly fresh and cool after the scent-laden warmth of her quarters. The throbbing seemed to be subsiding a little.
I should be grateful for small favors. If I had been given some of those answers yesterday, or even a few hours ago, I don't know what I would have done...
Abruptly, he became aware of a presence. Turning, he saw Ensign Sam Lavelle who had appeared round a corner and stopped, looking at him with an odd mixture of resentment, embarrassment and fear in his face. When their eyes met he hesitated for a moment, his hand involuntarily going to his right temple; then he dropped it and took a step forward.
"Sir. I was just on my way to Counselor Troi. To... to ask if there was anything I could do for her."
"I see," said Picard. "Is that all the explanation you'll give for leaving your post of duty?"
"I... I..." began Lavelle, clearly taken aback. "Sir, at this time I didn't think... I mean, there are things you have to do, no matter..." He frowned, and then he raised his chin in a gesture that for a fleeting moment reminded Picard of Riker. The next step forward placed him squarely in the captain's path. "Things a man must do, Captain, even if it means getting in the way of a senior officer."
"Your point, Mr. Lavelle."
"Sir, Counselor Troi's safety and comfort are very important to me. I cannot allow her to be upset."
"Indeed," said Picard.
"With all due respect, sir, I must ask you to stop harassing her. She's not to blame if you don't like what's going on. And – " he swallowed visibly – "I'm quite prepared to make sure she's left alone if I have to."
I can't believe this, Picard found himself thinking. Do I tell that young fool that he's said quite enough to end his career if I choose to take that... that codswallop seriously?
"I'll thank you for getting out of my way, Ensign," he replied icily. Lavelle's mouth hardened. For a second or two he stood his ground, making a valiant effort to meet the captain's eyes; Picard even saw his hands clenching at his sides. Then he bit his lip and looked away.
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you," said Picard, pointedly, as he walked past him towards the turbolift. A little to his own surprise, he found that he was breathing rather quickly. Was that just absurd, or could it have turned truly ugly?
He could feel Lavelle staring after him, quite possibly thinking the same thing.
- - - - - -
"Bridge!" Lieutenant Worf told the turbolift before he was even inside.
"Access to the bridge has been restricted to Captain Picard and acting first officer Lieutenant Worf," replied the computer.
For a moment, Worf was struck speechless. The first response that came to mind was Your point?; the second was to get out and head for the nearest maintenance shaft at a run. Damn all that malfunctioning equipment. He had a job to do – now. But there were thirty-five decks between him and the bridge.
"Computer," he said with forced calm, "recognize Worf, Lieutenant, acting first officer, USS Enterprise."
There was a chirrup, then a brief chitter that made him set his teeth. But after an unnerving second, the computer said: "Acknowledged." The lift began to move, much too slowly to his mind – or was he imagining it?
At ease, Lieutenant. It had worked before, but it wasn't working very well now. He should not have let him out of his sight. Whatever happened, whatever ideas other people might have, the captain's safety was his first responsibility. He could be in danger now – why would they try to cut communication between them? He gave his communicator an angry tap. "Worf to captain."
Still nothing.
"Computer, locate Captain Picard."
Klingon curses came unbidden to his mindat the inevitable delay. Then the computer said: "Captain Picard is on Deck nine."
"Sector?"
"Sector nine."
Counselor's quarters. Worf nodded to himself, somewhat relieved. "Correction. Deck seven," he instructed the turbolift. "Forward section."
When the door opened upon deck seven, forward section, Worf almost bumped into Lieutenant Enrico Benedetto who had been waiting for the lift in the corridor. Benedetto started back on recognizing him but recovered immediately, squaring his shoulders and giving way with a defiant glare as the Klingon strode past him. Worf contented himself with one long look, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on the man. Possibly a fool, but he is no coward. A few steps down the corridor he realized that Benedetto's alarm on seeing him had been no exception. A woman in a science uniform stared at him, wide-eyed, others avoided meeting his eyes; one ensign quickly covered the device he wore with one hand and gave him a wide berth. He ignored them, going straight to his own quarters and entering. Alexander was nowhere to be seen, although an empty glass and plate, and a few padds scattered on the table, indicated that he had been in after school. Worf picked up a padd, checked its contents routinely (a home assignment on some Vulcan myth, done with spirit if somewhat erratically spelled), and added a note at the bottom, telling Alexander that he would be very busy for the next day or two. You may therefore extend your stay with Pjotr's family if you behave yourself. I shall check on you later. He then stacked the padds into a neat pile, with the message on top and the glass and plate conspicuously nearby, took another look round the room, frowned, hesitated for a moment, and left.
It was just possible that Dimitri Chelnikov had had the sense to keep his family, and Alexander, away from the damn thing.
"Deck nine", Worf said to the turbolift.
- - - - - -