WEEK 8, DAY 7
Now was the winter of the Enterprises' discontent. Once again, the crew prepared themselves for Worf's impending meltdown and nuclear explosion. They were all ready for yet another day of mass hysteria and panic.
The previous day Worf was due to be first "in the red", so to speak. Ensign Walker, who had the cruel misfortune of running into Worf last time, was so panicky of the thought of Worf wandering the corridors like that again that he actually shot Worf. Luckily, the phaser was on stun so no major damage was done. Walker was arrested and put in the brig - where his appreciative crewmates came round and gave him everything he could possibly ask for as a reward for saving them, even if it was just for one day.
This time, however, Worf made sure the rest of the crew couldn't escape. There would be nobody cowering in their quarters today! Ohhhh no! Worf had placed a bar on the computer, not allowing anyone to return into their quarters whilst he was on duty. In essence, he was locking everyone out of their houses once they left.
He barred the Jeffries Tubes. He barred the air ducts from entry. He barred the service ducts. He barred the escape pods. He barred the holodecks. Every possible means of isolation.
There would be no way to avoid him.
Worf decided to make this a little more interesting. Just before he left the Security offices he made an announcement over the PA system: "Attention all personnel. This is Lieutenant Worf speaking, giving notice that I will be on duty in five minutes, repeat five minutes. That is all."
The result was exactly as he expected. Even before his finger had reached the SPEAKER button to turn it off, he heard massed footsteps running outside the door. He allowed himself a grin as he thought about what the crew would do when they realised that their quarters were locked.
The first wave of panic hit the Enterprise after the announcement was finished. Everyone did wonder, however, just why Worf had given notice that he was going on duty. But that thought was pushed aside quickly - there were more important things to do right now!
Lt. Junior Grade Denver had joined the mob, all seeking the safe sanctuary of their quarters. He had run and run and run like never before. His concern was so great that he paid no attention to anyone around him at all. In his mind there existed one thing: Home. Nothing else mattered. Finally, he found his quarters. He sprinted into the entrance, and neatly bounced off it.
The door didn't open.
Denver looked up quizzically. Bringing himself to his feet, he slowly approached his door, waiting for the sensor to see him and let him in.
It didn't.
Only now did he get a firm grip on himself and took control of the situation. He knew something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Looking around, he saw that he wasn't the only one having door trouble. In fact, everyone else in the corridor was trying, in some way, shape or form, to open their door. None of them were succeeding. He saw Robertson kicking at the door. Ur'uk was shrieking every command he could think of at the computer. Wessers was slowly moving around, trying to trigger off the sensor. Dray was trying to shoot the door down.
Denver, being a somewhat perceptive young recruit, saw a pattern here. Something was barring all entry to personal quarters. "Computer, undo lock on personal quarters."
"Quarters not locked."
"State reason for refusal of entry."
"Re-entry into quarters has been security barred by Lieutenant Worf."
"Initiate de-activation sequence!" Denver knew this wouldn't work, but he wanted to see how the bar was put on so he could find a way for it to be removed.
"Request denied. Bar on timer de-activation."
"Give time for de-activation."
"Bar will be de-activated in 10 hours and two minutes."
When Worf goes off duty, Denver thought. The full hopelessness of the situation started to hit him. Paranoia began to set in. "Computer, where is Lieutenant Worf?"
"That information is security classified. Request denied." came the answer.
Denver felt like he was in a labyrinth with the minotaur - only here he didn't have a ball of string or a sword to slay the dreaded monster. "What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO!?" he kept repeating to himself. Eventually, self-control surrendered itself to the inevitable, and madness took over. Denver sprinted down the corridor, shrieking out like some insane doomsday preacher "THERE'S NO ESCAPE! PANIC!!!!!"
One by one, the crew made the same discovery as poor Denver. Their quarters were inaccessible - find another hiding place! And sure enough, they tried everything that Worf had thought of. The air vents were sealed, the service ducts shut off, Jeffries tubes locked and unopenable. Only the corridors and all public areas were accessible, and Worf had ensured none of them could be locked. Every corridor of the ship had a terrified mob running through it, pleading with the computer for some kind of sanctuary. None came.
The seconds ticked by, and the moment arrived. As if Worf was playing Tag or Hide-And-Seek with the entire ship, he counted down the five minutes until he was on duty.
Once the five minutes were up, Worf turned on the PA again, and let out a great battle cry, freezing everyone in their tracks. And to finish the job, he added "I'M COMING!!!" Then, very calmly, he stepped out of his office to a deserted corridor. The crew knew where he had started from. With a wry smile on his face, Worf started down the western corridor to see who he could find.
What followed could scarcely be described (consequently I won't attempt to describe it). But for the entire day Worf was happily strolling along, even skipping occasionally, and watching everybody flee in horror on the sight of him. He felt great! In fact he had hardly felt better, except perhaps for when he first discovered that his part A actually could fit into slot B on Counselor Troi. He had set up various cameras, which were recording the anarchy for his own posterity. HE had caused this. He had created this fear, and a tremendous feeling of power raged through him. Every time he felt down, he could break out one of those tapes and laugh and laugh.
Q had seen what was going on, and was laughing like nothing he had seen before. He couldn't help but get himself involved. First of all he dropped in on Worf and asked if he could play too - Worf was that cheerful he couldn't see why not. So Q made six more identical copies of Worf to wander the decks of the ship to make the crew completely terrified.
It worked. Superlatively.
Many of the crewmembers were running down the corridor until they saw Worf at the other end, only to turn around and see Worf at the other end five seconds later. One unfortunate group of Ensigns were cornered by three Worfs. It wasn't long before they passed out from their pulse being too high.
For the poor crew, it was as if they had been trapped in the set of Alien. Pure paranoia and terror had ravaged the souls of the Enterprise, and suddenly a lot of retirement plans were made in people's minds. Others were making funeral or suicide plans.
Beverly, of course, suspected the carnage that would eventuate and as such made sure she would not be on duty that day. In fact, she never even left her quarters - which was the only way to be safe from Worf. Of course, not many people had foreseen what he would, and could, do.
Finally, the ten hours were up. Worf let out a breath in a contented sigh. It had been a good day. So slowly, he walked back to his quarters, unlocked everything, and announced over the PA "Attention please. I would like to announce that I am now going off duty." Then, in more happy tones, "See you again in four weeks!"
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WEEK 12, DAY 4
For the past four weeks life on the Enterprise was hectic to the point of danger. The curse of the Marked made the running of the ship change every day. On one very bad day half the security crew were Marked, and made a number of questionable arrests; including loitering with intent, offensive body language, willfully and with malice aforethought picking their nose, and creating a public disturbance by walking too loudly.
Picard had become a kind of animal on the border of frenzy. He'd lost 15lbs and his hair line had retreated a further quarter-inch. And through all this he was totally unpredictable. On his good days (one out of three) he tried to be his usual self, but his patience was no longer the seemingly limitless thing that it was. On the OTHER two days however, he acted as if he had had a massive caffeine overdose. His actions and speech were manic, his decisions unreliable, and his well-being shot to hell and back and forth again. Picard was not having a good time with himself.
Whilst watching the interplay between men who all of a sudden felt overly emotional and short-tempered did sometimes send Beverly into hysterics, it quite often did present enormous problems. A few fights had broken out all of a sudden, and the Captain was hardly ever in a state to make an objective judgement on anything. Last week Picard court-martialled the computer for not starching his uniform (when it actually did), and sentenced it to be hung by the neck until dead. When Troi pointed out that he couldn't execute the computer and that it didn't have a neck, Picard court-martialled her and sentenced her to be burned at the stake. In the end he had ordered the execution of thirty seven crewmembers, and was in such a frenzy he had to be tranquilized.
Beverly soon learnt that the worst was about to arrive. The moment was going to arrive eventually, but there was no way of knowing that the timing would be so excruciatingly bad. Yet another Inspector was coming on board to assess the Enterprise. And, although the entire crew let out a sigh of relief - since it would stop Worf's planned game of Hide-And-Seek - as far as Beverly was concerned, the Inspector came at just the wrong moment.
"Why are they giving us another inspection?" Beverly moaned as she cleaned up the Sick Bay. "Only been five months since the last one. She'll be here for four days, no hope of a rest with that old bag DeHirst."
"I suppose they want to make sure." called Troi, who was helping her out. She didn't mind the inspection at all, especially since DeHirst knew she was an empath and thus would avoid her at all costs. She was once quoted as saying 'They might as well be spies for their Captains', which is just what they were. "It's been a bit hectic lately, that's common knowledge. Speaking of which, do you think the boys will be okay? You know, with their little curses?"
"I don't know, I'll check their cycles." Bev put down the sterilizer, stepped over to a terminal, called up the calendar, and was immediately paralyzed.
Troi wasn't looking. After about thirty seconds she looked up. Beverly was trembling. "Beverly?"
No response. Troi got up and walked over. She tapped Bev's shoulder. "What is it?"
Beverly didn't move. "We are doomed, Deanna. All doomed."
Troi looked at the calendar. "Oh no...."
There it was. The inspector would come tomorrow. The next day Picard, Riker, Worf AND LaForge would all have PMT. Plus about 140 of the crew, most of whom were on the very common 4 week dose. And then the next day would all suffer the real thing. The next day, DeHirst would leave. She would NOT have a good impression.
"Better get that transfer request out, Deanna. We're all out of a job."
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WEEK 12, DAY 5
"Well, so far so good." Inspectorate-Commodore Sara DeHirst reluctantly admitted as she marched along the corridors.
"Glad to hear it, Commodore." replied Picard reverentially. 'Praise from DeHirst? It's unheard of!' he thought. He allowed himself a momentary smile while DeHirst wasn't looking at him.
"I think that concludes the guided tour. You know the usual procedure for my inspections." DeHirst remarked coldly.
"Yes sir. Please proceed, the ship is yours." Picard turned on his heel and smartly walked away.
"Patronizing twit." DeHirst mumbled as Picard walked away. She was growing tired of this kind of work. And with Father Time slowly battering down her door, she couldn't always gather the strength to do it. Well into her sixties, and with twenty-five years of field time behind her, she was certainly considered one of the veterans of the Alliance.
She was also known for her complete lack of lenience. Penetrating the glass ceiling of Starfleet requires determination - you have to be hard and uncompromising, or a fairly good assassin. Off duty she was polite, but when she was on the job she made King Kong look like Bonzo. There had been few ships that had met her every standard, and plenty of Captains suddenly becoming Commanders after her reports were filed.
Marching along, she stole a glance into Sick Bay, and saw Dr. Crusher looking positively suicidal. Stepping inside, Beverly immediately looked up, and jumped to attention. "Sir!" she announced.
"That's enough, doctor. Your inspection's over." DeHirst solicited. "And spare me the sir crap, okay? I've seen it enough times to know when I'm being bullshitted."
Beverly allowed herself a smile. "I can imagine." She sat down again and resumed her sullen look.
"What's the matter?" asked DeHirst.
"Oh trust me, you wouldn't believe it."
"Try me." DeHirst rebutted with a smirk. She'd seen plenty in her time. And she'd heard plenty of excuses in her time as well. Here comes another one. What are they trying to pull on me now? Another alien possession story? How many times have I heard that one...
"I don't know how to say this..." Bev started. How can I explain it?
"Just tell it like it is." DeHirst impatiently spat out.
That doesn't help. You won't believe THIS.
"Um," Bev began, without any confidence. "Have you read my report I submitted to Command about the... male menstruation on this ship?"
DeHirst looked utterly bewildered. "No. What about it?" she stumbled out, her patience rapidly returning. This is a new one...
"We encountered... some form of nebula cloud with an unknown type of radiation about twelve weeks ago. After we went through it, many male members of the crew began to have something identical to a menstrual cycle. We have no idea how this happened, all we know it that it will cease only when the cycle has been repeated thirty times."
If you'd asked Pamela Anderson to explain the theory of cognitive dissonance in terms of post-Renaissance Guatemalan society, she still wouldn't have looked as puzzled as DeHirst did now. "Huh?"
"I told you you wouldn't believe me."
"Do you... uh... have any proof?" DeHirst was still trying to give the impression that she was on top of the situation, whereas in reality she couldn't even catch up with the situation, let alone climb on top of it.
"I have the solution that caused it, and samples of blood from all of the affected crew. I can prove how it works, but I've yet to find a cure."
"But..." DeHirst felt like she was in Home Alone 2. "My god...."
"I know. It's been a real struggle on the ship for the last three months."
"...so... what are you leading to?"
"It's just... well... several of the senior officers will be... reaching the end of their cycles two days from now. You might run into some rather 'out-of-character' behavior during the rest of your inspection here sir."
Never in recorded history had a Starfleet inspector been thrown into such confusion. "Uhhhh, okay. I'll umm... keep that in mind." She stuttered out, slowly creeping away. Reaching the corridor she sprinted straight to 10 Forward, she obviously needed a drink or fourteen.
Beverly watched her leave. "Lord, please, please, be gentle."
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WEEK 12, DAY 6
DeHirst would never forget today. Beverly would try very hard to. Both she and Troi had tried everything to make the other officers to behave decently, but they would refuse to have any part of it. "Why can't you leave us alone Deanna? We're fine!" Riker shouted at her when she suggested it. Crusher had even considered drugging them all, but that wouldn't look very good to DeHirst. In the end Beverly was following DeHirst everywhere along with Picard, before he ordered her to go back to Sick Bay or he'd call security. She returned to Sick Bay, called Troi over, and had the computer keep a camera on Picard and DeHirst.
By the end of the day, Troi had to drink about a litre of whisky just to cope from watching, Beverly about 2 1/2. Picard was in fine bitchy form, tearing his ship apart ruthlessly, chastising crewmembers for anything from slouching as they walked to blinking too much. A lot of the crew ran away crying after their lecture, as they too were Marked that day and in the same emotional state. And poor DeHirst, for once in her life she looked positively terrified. Watching Picard doing all the fault-finding did make her job a bit easier, but she would have felt more comfortable in the middle of a Borg cube. But it was in Engineering that the tears started to flow for Beverly and Troi.
DeHirst could not remember any inspection like this. She had worked very hard to get the reputation of the toughest inspector in Starfleet. Now, because Picard was being so harsh with any problems he saw, she had to actually defend his crew. She'd never defended anyone before. It took some getting used to.
"This is not good enough Ensign!" Picard shouted. "How can you explain that?"
"Well, we've never done a level 5 diagnostic test." The poor crewmember explained.
"And why not!?"
"Oh, come along Picard." DeHirst protested. "You know level 5 diagnostics are only used to test brand new parts. Nothing used for longer than an hour could ever pass."
Picard ignored her. "You were given a direct order to run ALL possible tests for the Inspector. Explain why you saw it fit that a level 5 was not necessary."
"Uhhh... " the Ensign was wondering how Picard would take the truth. It seemed to be the quickest way to get court-martialled lately. "You told us it wasn't necessary sir."
"Is that right? Haven't you heard of initiative?"
"Yes sir, but..."
"Ah, thank you Ensign, that will be all." DeHirst butted in, seeking to let this poor innocent creature go. The ensign saluted as he started running away, and he'd gone 100 meters before his hand came down.
"Again I apologise, Commodore. This crew used to work so much harder. Lately I don't know what's come over them."
I think I've got a vague idea, DeHirst thought. "No, no. On the contrary, your crew is most efficient."
Picard just snorted his disagreement. "Now, here we are at the OH FOR GOD'S SAKE GEORDI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!?"
Geordi was sitting on top of the warp core chamber, frantically cleaning the plasma transfer valves. Again. He looked up in annoyance. "I'm cleaning the valves, aren't I? What are YOU doing? Still sucking up to the inspector to get a promotion? Yeah, that's constructive, isn't it?"
"Don't you start that!" Picard sneered in reply. "Someone's got to escort her round the ship. And it's better I do it than any of you lot! You'd just get lost. And Riker, well as soon as he knew the visitor was a woman he'd be drooling over her AND his erection!" DeHirst jumped at the shock of Picard referring to her like that.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!!?" shrieked Riker, who was standing on the other side of the warp core.
Picard looked surprised, but his resolve returned just as quickly. "You heard me!" he retorted. "Oh, you always act the gentleman, but everybody knows what you really want! You think we don't know what you're up to when you lock the door to your quarters after you get off duty, when shortly afterwards you GET OFF!!"
Riker was bright red with rage and embarrassment. "You... you BITCH!!! I'll show... you... Ohhh!" he wailed back as he ran out of the room bawling.
"YA MAMMY'S BOY!!!!" Picard called after him. "That's right! Run away and cry to Deanna again! CALL YOURSELF A MAN!! God, I don't know. When's he going to take his hand off hi-OOOOF!"
Geordi had hit him with one of the valves. "DON'T YOU SHOUT AT WILL LIKE THAT!!" he wailed as he stood over Picard, tears streaming down his cheeks. "DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN! You're such a horrible old man! Just because he's young and athletic, and you're old and balding, it doesn't mean he's any less of a man than you!! Oh, what's the use?!"
LaForge sprinted out of the room choking on his tears. Picard was still sprawled out on the floor, blood flowing from his nose. "Geordi! I'm sorry!"
But he didn't listen. He just kept running away. "Oh, what have I done now?" Picard moaned into his palms. "I just wanted them to make the ship look good! Now, oh god..."
And Picard began to weep. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Beverly, who was still watching this, was tempted to laugh. Then she looked at DeHirst - who looked positively lost. She was staring at Picard, a mixed look of horror and bewilderment on her face.
Picard, in the meantime, was still bawling his eyes out. DeHirst had lost complete track of time. She got a shock when she saw someone else approaching Picard.
"Come on Captain, it's all right. Let it all out."
Beverly and Troi sat frozen, jaws hanging loose. Worf? Comforting someone?
Picard eventually got himself vaguely together again. He looked up, straight into Worf's eyes.
"It's okay, you were just saying what a lot of us were thinking. He'll understand. Just wait a while, and he'll forgive you." Worf somehow had a look of compassion on his face (at least as close as he could get).
Picard's mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to disagree. But he changed his mind quickly. "We all know what you're going through." Worf continued. "All of us. We can't imagine what it must be like. But we understand. We do now. We'll forgive you for anything you do, we know that you're feeling more than a bit up & down lately."
Picard seemed to be going through a great battle in his mind, clenching his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. "Oh Worf!"
In a flash they were in each other's arms, Picard sobbing away. Worf was rubbing the back of his head, a benign smile on his face. "It's all right Jean-Luc, it's all right now. Come on, you just need a rest. Let's get you back to your quarters." Worf slowly let go of Picard but held him up as they walked out of Engineering. DeHirst stood frozen, THE picture of disbelief on her face.
Picard could barely speak, he was almost choking on his tears. He managed to blurt out "I love you Worf. You've always been so good to me."
Beverly sprinted to a nearby sink and promptly threw up in it. DeHirst fainted on the spot.
That night Crusher and Troi went into mourning for their beloved Enterprise. DeHirst saw THAT!! "She'll split us up in an instant!" Troi mused. "And she's still going to be here tomorrow! What will she think when she sees them in THAT state?"
"Remind me tomorrow to make sure my phaser's always on stun." Beverly intoned.
"Why?"
"I think I might shoot myself."
Now was the winter of the Enterprises' discontent. Once again, the crew prepared themselves for Worf's impending meltdown and nuclear explosion. They were all ready for yet another day of mass hysteria and panic.
The previous day Worf was due to be first "in the red", so to speak. Ensign Walker, who had the cruel misfortune of running into Worf last time, was so panicky of the thought of Worf wandering the corridors like that again that he actually shot Worf. Luckily, the phaser was on stun so no major damage was done. Walker was arrested and put in the brig - where his appreciative crewmates came round and gave him everything he could possibly ask for as a reward for saving them, even if it was just for one day.
This time, however, Worf made sure the rest of the crew couldn't escape. There would be nobody cowering in their quarters today! Ohhhh no! Worf had placed a bar on the computer, not allowing anyone to return into their quarters whilst he was on duty. In essence, he was locking everyone out of their houses once they left.
He barred the Jeffries Tubes. He barred the air ducts from entry. He barred the service ducts. He barred the escape pods. He barred the holodecks. Every possible means of isolation.
There would be no way to avoid him.
Worf decided to make this a little more interesting. Just before he left the Security offices he made an announcement over the PA system: "Attention all personnel. This is Lieutenant Worf speaking, giving notice that I will be on duty in five minutes, repeat five minutes. That is all."
The result was exactly as he expected. Even before his finger had reached the SPEAKER button to turn it off, he heard massed footsteps running outside the door. He allowed himself a grin as he thought about what the crew would do when they realised that their quarters were locked.
The first wave of panic hit the Enterprise after the announcement was finished. Everyone did wonder, however, just why Worf had given notice that he was going on duty. But that thought was pushed aside quickly - there were more important things to do right now!
Lt. Junior Grade Denver had joined the mob, all seeking the safe sanctuary of their quarters. He had run and run and run like never before. His concern was so great that he paid no attention to anyone around him at all. In his mind there existed one thing: Home. Nothing else mattered. Finally, he found his quarters. He sprinted into the entrance, and neatly bounced off it.
The door didn't open.
Denver looked up quizzically. Bringing himself to his feet, he slowly approached his door, waiting for the sensor to see him and let him in.
It didn't.
Only now did he get a firm grip on himself and took control of the situation. He knew something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Looking around, he saw that he wasn't the only one having door trouble. In fact, everyone else in the corridor was trying, in some way, shape or form, to open their door. None of them were succeeding. He saw Robertson kicking at the door. Ur'uk was shrieking every command he could think of at the computer. Wessers was slowly moving around, trying to trigger off the sensor. Dray was trying to shoot the door down.
Denver, being a somewhat perceptive young recruit, saw a pattern here. Something was barring all entry to personal quarters. "Computer, undo lock on personal quarters."
"Quarters not locked."
"State reason for refusal of entry."
"Re-entry into quarters has been security barred by Lieutenant Worf."
"Initiate de-activation sequence!" Denver knew this wouldn't work, but he wanted to see how the bar was put on so he could find a way for it to be removed.
"Request denied. Bar on timer de-activation."
"Give time for de-activation."
"Bar will be de-activated in 10 hours and two minutes."
When Worf goes off duty, Denver thought. The full hopelessness of the situation started to hit him. Paranoia began to set in. "Computer, where is Lieutenant Worf?"
"That information is security classified. Request denied." came the answer.
Denver felt like he was in a labyrinth with the minotaur - only here he didn't have a ball of string or a sword to slay the dreaded monster. "What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO!?" he kept repeating to himself. Eventually, self-control surrendered itself to the inevitable, and madness took over. Denver sprinted down the corridor, shrieking out like some insane doomsday preacher "THERE'S NO ESCAPE! PANIC!!!!!"
One by one, the crew made the same discovery as poor Denver. Their quarters were inaccessible - find another hiding place! And sure enough, they tried everything that Worf had thought of. The air vents were sealed, the service ducts shut off, Jeffries tubes locked and unopenable. Only the corridors and all public areas were accessible, and Worf had ensured none of them could be locked. Every corridor of the ship had a terrified mob running through it, pleading with the computer for some kind of sanctuary. None came.
The seconds ticked by, and the moment arrived. As if Worf was playing Tag or Hide-And-Seek with the entire ship, he counted down the five minutes until he was on duty.
Once the five minutes were up, Worf turned on the PA again, and let out a great battle cry, freezing everyone in their tracks. And to finish the job, he added "I'M COMING!!!" Then, very calmly, he stepped out of his office to a deserted corridor. The crew knew where he had started from. With a wry smile on his face, Worf started down the western corridor to see who he could find.
What followed could scarcely be described (consequently I won't attempt to describe it). But for the entire day Worf was happily strolling along, even skipping occasionally, and watching everybody flee in horror on the sight of him. He felt great! In fact he had hardly felt better, except perhaps for when he first discovered that his part A actually could fit into slot B on Counselor Troi. He had set up various cameras, which were recording the anarchy for his own posterity. HE had caused this. He had created this fear, and a tremendous feeling of power raged through him. Every time he felt down, he could break out one of those tapes and laugh and laugh.
Q had seen what was going on, and was laughing like nothing he had seen before. He couldn't help but get himself involved. First of all he dropped in on Worf and asked if he could play too - Worf was that cheerful he couldn't see why not. So Q made six more identical copies of Worf to wander the decks of the ship to make the crew completely terrified.
It worked. Superlatively.
Many of the crewmembers were running down the corridor until they saw Worf at the other end, only to turn around and see Worf at the other end five seconds later. One unfortunate group of Ensigns were cornered by three Worfs. It wasn't long before they passed out from their pulse being too high.
For the poor crew, it was as if they had been trapped in the set of Alien. Pure paranoia and terror had ravaged the souls of the Enterprise, and suddenly a lot of retirement plans were made in people's minds. Others were making funeral or suicide plans.
Beverly, of course, suspected the carnage that would eventuate and as such made sure she would not be on duty that day. In fact, she never even left her quarters - which was the only way to be safe from Worf. Of course, not many people had foreseen what he would, and could, do.
Finally, the ten hours were up. Worf let out a breath in a contented sigh. It had been a good day. So slowly, he walked back to his quarters, unlocked everything, and announced over the PA "Attention please. I would like to announce that I am now going off duty." Then, in more happy tones, "See you again in four weeks!"
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WEEK 12, DAY 4
For the past four weeks life on the Enterprise was hectic to the point of danger. The curse of the Marked made the running of the ship change every day. On one very bad day half the security crew were Marked, and made a number of questionable arrests; including loitering with intent, offensive body language, willfully and with malice aforethought picking their nose, and creating a public disturbance by walking too loudly.
Picard had become a kind of animal on the border of frenzy. He'd lost 15lbs and his hair line had retreated a further quarter-inch. And through all this he was totally unpredictable. On his good days (one out of three) he tried to be his usual self, but his patience was no longer the seemingly limitless thing that it was. On the OTHER two days however, he acted as if he had had a massive caffeine overdose. His actions and speech were manic, his decisions unreliable, and his well-being shot to hell and back and forth again. Picard was not having a good time with himself.
Whilst watching the interplay between men who all of a sudden felt overly emotional and short-tempered did sometimes send Beverly into hysterics, it quite often did present enormous problems. A few fights had broken out all of a sudden, and the Captain was hardly ever in a state to make an objective judgement on anything. Last week Picard court-martialled the computer for not starching his uniform (when it actually did), and sentenced it to be hung by the neck until dead. When Troi pointed out that he couldn't execute the computer and that it didn't have a neck, Picard court-martialled her and sentenced her to be burned at the stake. In the end he had ordered the execution of thirty seven crewmembers, and was in such a frenzy he had to be tranquilized.
Beverly soon learnt that the worst was about to arrive. The moment was going to arrive eventually, but there was no way of knowing that the timing would be so excruciatingly bad. Yet another Inspector was coming on board to assess the Enterprise. And, although the entire crew let out a sigh of relief - since it would stop Worf's planned game of Hide-And-Seek - as far as Beverly was concerned, the Inspector came at just the wrong moment.
"Why are they giving us another inspection?" Beverly moaned as she cleaned up the Sick Bay. "Only been five months since the last one. She'll be here for four days, no hope of a rest with that old bag DeHirst."
"I suppose they want to make sure." called Troi, who was helping her out. She didn't mind the inspection at all, especially since DeHirst knew she was an empath and thus would avoid her at all costs. She was once quoted as saying 'They might as well be spies for their Captains', which is just what they were. "It's been a bit hectic lately, that's common knowledge. Speaking of which, do you think the boys will be okay? You know, with their little curses?"
"I don't know, I'll check their cycles." Bev put down the sterilizer, stepped over to a terminal, called up the calendar, and was immediately paralyzed.
Troi wasn't looking. After about thirty seconds she looked up. Beverly was trembling. "Beverly?"
No response. Troi got up and walked over. She tapped Bev's shoulder. "What is it?"
Beverly didn't move. "We are doomed, Deanna. All doomed."
Troi looked at the calendar. "Oh no...."
There it was. The inspector would come tomorrow. The next day Picard, Riker, Worf AND LaForge would all have PMT. Plus about 140 of the crew, most of whom were on the very common 4 week dose. And then the next day would all suffer the real thing. The next day, DeHirst would leave. She would NOT have a good impression.
"Better get that transfer request out, Deanna. We're all out of a job."
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WEEK 12, DAY 5
"Well, so far so good." Inspectorate-Commodore Sara DeHirst reluctantly admitted as she marched along the corridors.
"Glad to hear it, Commodore." replied Picard reverentially. 'Praise from DeHirst? It's unheard of!' he thought. He allowed himself a momentary smile while DeHirst wasn't looking at him.
"I think that concludes the guided tour. You know the usual procedure for my inspections." DeHirst remarked coldly.
"Yes sir. Please proceed, the ship is yours." Picard turned on his heel and smartly walked away.
"Patronizing twit." DeHirst mumbled as Picard walked away. She was growing tired of this kind of work. And with Father Time slowly battering down her door, she couldn't always gather the strength to do it. Well into her sixties, and with twenty-five years of field time behind her, she was certainly considered one of the veterans of the Alliance.
She was also known for her complete lack of lenience. Penetrating the glass ceiling of Starfleet requires determination - you have to be hard and uncompromising, or a fairly good assassin. Off duty she was polite, but when she was on the job she made King Kong look like Bonzo. There had been few ships that had met her every standard, and plenty of Captains suddenly becoming Commanders after her reports were filed.
Marching along, she stole a glance into Sick Bay, and saw Dr. Crusher looking positively suicidal. Stepping inside, Beverly immediately looked up, and jumped to attention. "Sir!" she announced.
"That's enough, doctor. Your inspection's over." DeHirst solicited. "And spare me the sir crap, okay? I've seen it enough times to know when I'm being bullshitted."
Beverly allowed herself a smile. "I can imagine." She sat down again and resumed her sullen look.
"What's the matter?" asked DeHirst.
"Oh trust me, you wouldn't believe it."
"Try me." DeHirst rebutted with a smirk. She'd seen plenty in her time. And she'd heard plenty of excuses in her time as well. Here comes another one. What are they trying to pull on me now? Another alien possession story? How many times have I heard that one...
"I don't know how to say this..." Bev started. How can I explain it?
"Just tell it like it is." DeHirst impatiently spat out.
That doesn't help. You won't believe THIS.
"Um," Bev began, without any confidence. "Have you read my report I submitted to Command about the... male menstruation on this ship?"
DeHirst looked utterly bewildered. "No. What about it?" she stumbled out, her patience rapidly returning. This is a new one...
"We encountered... some form of nebula cloud with an unknown type of radiation about twelve weeks ago. After we went through it, many male members of the crew began to have something identical to a menstrual cycle. We have no idea how this happened, all we know it that it will cease only when the cycle has been repeated thirty times."
If you'd asked Pamela Anderson to explain the theory of cognitive dissonance in terms of post-Renaissance Guatemalan society, she still wouldn't have looked as puzzled as DeHirst did now. "Huh?"
"I told you you wouldn't believe me."
"Do you... uh... have any proof?" DeHirst was still trying to give the impression that she was on top of the situation, whereas in reality she couldn't even catch up with the situation, let alone climb on top of it.
"I have the solution that caused it, and samples of blood from all of the affected crew. I can prove how it works, but I've yet to find a cure."
"But..." DeHirst felt like she was in Home Alone 2. "My god...."
"I know. It's been a real struggle on the ship for the last three months."
"...so... what are you leading to?"
"It's just... well... several of the senior officers will be... reaching the end of their cycles two days from now. You might run into some rather 'out-of-character' behavior during the rest of your inspection here sir."
Never in recorded history had a Starfleet inspector been thrown into such confusion. "Uhhhh, okay. I'll umm... keep that in mind." She stuttered out, slowly creeping away. Reaching the corridor she sprinted straight to 10 Forward, she obviously needed a drink or fourteen.
Beverly watched her leave. "Lord, please, please, be gentle."
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WEEK 12, DAY 6
DeHirst would never forget today. Beverly would try very hard to. Both she and Troi had tried everything to make the other officers to behave decently, but they would refuse to have any part of it. "Why can't you leave us alone Deanna? We're fine!" Riker shouted at her when she suggested it. Crusher had even considered drugging them all, but that wouldn't look very good to DeHirst. In the end Beverly was following DeHirst everywhere along with Picard, before he ordered her to go back to Sick Bay or he'd call security. She returned to Sick Bay, called Troi over, and had the computer keep a camera on Picard and DeHirst.
By the end of the day, Troi had to drink about a litre of whisky just to cope from watching, Beverly about 2 1/2. Picard was in fine bitchy form, tearing his ship apart ruthlessly, chastising crewmembers for anything from slouching as they walked to blinking too much. A lot of the crew ran away crying after their lecture, as they too were Marked that day and in the same emotional state. And poor DeHirst, for once in her life she looked positively terrified. Watching Picard doing all the fault-finding did make her job a bit easier, but she would have felt more comfortable in the middle of a Borg cube. But it was in Engineering that the tears started to flow for Beverly and Troi.
DeHirst could not remember any inspection like this. She had worked very hard to get the reputation of the toughest inspector in Starfleet. Now, because Picard was being so harsh with any problems he saw, she had to actually defend his crew. She'd never defended anyone before. It took some getting used to.
"This is not good enough Ensign!" Picard shouted. "How can you explain that?"
"Well, we've never done a level 5 diagnostic test." The poor crewmember explained.
"And why not!?"
"Oh, come along Picard." DeHirst protested. "You know level 5 diagnostics are only used to test brand new parts. Nothing used for longer than an hour could ever pass."
Picard ignored her. "You were given a direct order to run ALL possible tests for the Inspector. Explain why you saw it fit that a level 5 was not necessary."
"Uhhh... " the Ensign was wondering how Picard would take the truth. It seemed to be the quickest way to get court-martialled lately. "You told us it wasn't necessary sir."
"Is that right? Haven't you heard of initiative?"
"Yes sir, but..."
"Ah, thank you Ensign, that will be all." DeHirst butted in, seeking to let this poor innocent creature go. The ensign saluted as he started running away, and he'd gone 100 meters before his hand came down.
"Again I apologise, Commodore. This crew used to work so much harder. Lately I don't know what's come over them."
I think I've got a vague idea, DeHirst thought. "No, no. On the contrary, your crew is most efficient."
Picard just snorted his disagreement. "Now, here we are at the OH FOR GOD'S SAKE GEORDI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!?"
Geordi was sitting on top of the warp core chamber, frantically cleaning the plasma transfer valves. Again. He looked up in annoyance. "I'm cleaning the valves, aren't I? What are YOU doing? Still sucking up to the inspector to get a promotion? Yeah, that's constructive, isn't it?"
"Don't you start that!" Picard sneered in reply. "Someone's got to escort her round the ship. And it's better I do it than any of you lot! You'd just get lost. And Riker, well as soon as he knew the visitor was a woman he'd be drooling over her AND his erection!" DeHirst jumped at the shock of Picard referring to her like that.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!!?" shrieked Riker, who was standing on the other side of the warp core.
Picard looked surprised, but his resolve returned just as quickly. "You heard me!" he retorted. "Oh, you always act the gentleman, but everybody knows what you really want! You think we don't know what you're up to when you lock the door to your quarters after you get off duty, when shortly afterwards you GET OFF!!"
Riker was bright red with rage and embarrassment. "You... you BITCH!!! I'll show... you... Ohhh!" he wailed back as he ran out of the room bawling.
"YA MAMMY'S BOY!!!!" Picard called after him. "That's right! Run away and cry to Deanna again! CALL YOURSELF A MAN!! God, I don't know. When's he going to take his hand off hi-OOOOF!"
Geordi had hit him with one of the valves. "DON'T YOU SHOUT AT WILL LIKE THAT!!" he wailed as he stood over Picard, tears streaming down his cheeks. "DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN! You're such a horrible old man! Just because he's young and athletic, and you're old and balding, it doesn't mean he's any less of a man than you!! Oh, what's the use?!"
LaForge sprinted out of the room choking on his tears. Picard was still sprawled out on the floor, blood flowing from his nose. "Geordi! I'm sorry!"
But he didn't listen. He just kept running away. "Oh, what have I done now?" Picard moaned into his palms. "I just wanted them to make the ship look good! Now, oh god..."
And Picard began to weep. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Beverly, who was still watching this, was tempted to laugh. Then she looked at DeHirst - who looked positively lost. She was staring at Picard, a mixed look of horror and bewilderment on her face.
Picard, in the meantime, was still bawling his eyes out. DeHirst had lost complete track of time. She got a shock when she saw someone else approaching Picard.
"Come on Captain, it's all right. Let it all out."
Beverly and Troi sat frozen, jaws hanging loose. Worf? Comforting someone?
Picard eventually got himself vaguely together again. He looked up, straight into Worf's eyes.
"It's okay, you were just saying what a lot of us were thinking. He'll understand. Just wait a while, and he'll forgive you." Worf somehow had a look of compassion on his face (at least as close as he could get).
Picard's mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to disagree. But he changed his mind quickly. "We all know what you're going through." Worf continued. "All of us. We can't imagine what it must be like. But we understand. We do now. We'll forgive you for anything you do, we know that you're feeling more than a bit up & down lately."
Picard seemed to be going through a great battle in his mind, clenching his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. "Oh Worf!"
In a flash they were in each other's arms, Picard sobbing away. Worf was rubbing the back of his head, a benign smile on his face. "It's all right Jean-Luc, it's all right now. Come on, you just need a rest. Let's get you back to your quarters." Worf slowly let go of Picard but held him up as they walked out of Engineering. DeHirst stood frozen, THE picture of disbelief on her face.
Picard could barely speak, he was almost choking on his tears. He managed to blurt out "I love you Worf. You've always been so good to me."
Beverly sprinted to a nearby sink and promptly threw up in it. DeHirst fainted on the spot.
That night Crusher and Troi went into mourning for their beloved Enterprise. DeHirst saw THAT!! "She'll split us up in an instant!" Troi mused. "And she's still going to be here tomorrow! What will she think when she sees them in THAT state?"
"Remind me tomorrow to make sure my phaser's always on stun." Beverly intoned.
"Why?"
"I think I might shoot myself."