Chapter Eighteen
Medical Log: Commander Beverly Crusher, CMO, USS Enterprise-E
Reporting from the runabout USS Blackstone, Nineveh IV
Preparations for patient Michael 'Mikey' Applewood's multi-organ transplant surgery are nearly complete. The work and expertise of my head nurse, Lt. Alyssa Ogawa, has been invaluable, as has the assistance provided by Howard: an Orion-built duotronic robot recovered from the same illegal trafficking ring that had been holding Mikey without treatment.
Pediatric surgery is, perhaps, the most challenging of all surgery; and, in this day and age, where practically every type of cancer is easily treatable with - at most - a course of injections, pediatric oncology tends to be viewed as a somewhat anachronistic specialty. Mikey's case is, without question, the most advanced I, my head nurse, and my colleagues at Starfleet Medical, Mars General, Luna Exo-Oncology Labs, and the Vulcan Science Academy have yet seen outside of historical records and texts. To reiterate my initial case log entry: In my medical opinion, Mikey's life-threatening condition would not have developed this far had his chronic ill health not been criminally neglected by his captors.
Children's bodies are amazingly resilient, but when they crash, they crash hard. I am certain I would be unable to ethically undertake today's endeavor if not for the adjustable stasis field developed here, on this world, by Lt. Commander Data. No matter the ultimate outcome of this one extreme case, I recommend that the immediate and wide-ranging value of Commander Data's invention be officially recognized by Starfleet and Starfleet Medical. Technical report to follow.
Additional: The abuse and neglect Mikey and countless trafficking victims like him have been forced to endure on our watch is a moral outrage that should neither be tolerated nor overlooked by Federation authorities and Starfleet Command. An official protest is currently in the works that will contain the details and results of today's operation, as well as supporting letters and signatures from my aforementioned medical colleagues; eyewitnesses Dr. Freja Anders, Lt. Alyssa Ogawa, Lt. Commander Data, Commander Deanna Troi, Commander William Riker, and Captain Jean Luc Picard; among others.
Dr. Crusher scrolled to the top of the page and ran her eyes over the report she'd just written. Her face and shoulders felt stiff and she realized how deeply she'd been frowning as she'd typed, her anger at the whole situation roiling like water rising up a geyser.
She sat back in her chair, drawing in a long, calming breath through her nose…
The 'submit' button sat at the bottom of the page, big and green with softly rounded corners. Once she hit it, all her accusations, promises, and recommendations would become part of the Enterprise's official records, of which all but personal logs were automatically sent to be reviewed and archived by Starfleet Command, and Captain Picard.
Crusher tapped 'submit,' stood, and strode out of the runabout sickbay's cramped little office with no second thoughts.
"Alyssa," she called, reaching for her lab coat. "How long until the organs are ready for transplant?"
"No more than three hours, Doctor," the nurse reported. "They're doing incredibly well."
"Excellent," Crusher praised. "Then, come join me. I'd like to run through one last simulation before Mikey's operation."
The strong stench of scorched metal and fused plastic hung thick and dense in Kurak's lab.
Data set the sliding doors to stay open, then picked his way across the charred and blackened wreckage to open the doors at the far side of the lab, near the dome's small office.
The Klingon glared at the ruin, her lip curled in dismay.
"This crossbreeze should soon freshen the air in here," Data said as he made his way back toward her. "Shall I check the primary console? If the core is intact, it may be safe to restore power."
"What is the point," Kurak growled, clutching her elbow in an attempt to reign in her frustration. "As I said before, it will take days to clear this mess - weeks to recover or reconstruct any lost data files—"
"That is not necessarily the case," Data said, scanning the extent of the wreckage with the critical eye of a space battle veteran. "Much of this damage seems largely cosmetic. The underlying circuitry may yet be intact. With your permission…?"
Kurak grunted.
Data hesitated, uncertain if that grunt was an affirmative or merely an expression of exasperation.
"What are you waiting for?" she snapped. "Instructions?"
"No," he said, getting right to work removing the console's outer panel. "The equipment here is standard issue. I am quite familiar with...ah...!"
He crouched lower and angled his head, pushing his way into the computer's dark, lifeless insides.
Kurak heard a low click, then a rising hum and the scarred computer console lit up.
Data rose back to his feet with a satisfied look, then noticed all the soot-stains on his hands and clothes. Batting at the stains only smudged them further.
"Well, so much for this outfit," he joked, wiping his hands on his trousers before quickly fixing his hair. "But, as you can see, the central console is operational, if in need of some repair. I will require tools and access to the cafeteria replicator. Do you have a diagnostic kit I might use?"
Kurak seemed to expand and, for a moment, Data feared he may have offended her again, although he wasn't sure how. Then she sighed through her nose and nodded.
"I will find you your tools, android," she said. "How long do you think these repairs will take?"
"No more than an hour for this console. Possibly less," Data said, tapping experimentally at the glowing touch pad. "It may require another day to get your entire lab back to its full operational status. That is better than weeks, is it not?"
He offered her a smile.
Kurak just glared at him.
Data sighed and turned his eyes back to the console.
"The important thing is the core does seem to be intact," he said. "Once I've made the repairs, you can run a thorough diagnostic. It may be that your files and programs have not been lost at all."
"My concern was not for my work, but for Dr. Baker's," Kurak said grimly. "I learned long ago, it is best to keep personal back-ups of all my files in a separate location. Melinda preferred to keep her work 'at work,' as she put it. She trusted the computer system and uploaded her back-ups to our subspace network only twice a week, weather permitting."
Data regarded her, noting her stiff, guarded posture, the way the tilt of her ridged head kept her eyes in shadow…
"I am sorry you lost your friend," he said. "I've been meaning to tell you how much I admired your performance at her memorial service last night. It was…quite beautiful."
"Klingons do not mourn the dead," Kurak said.
"That song seemed to suggest otherwise," Data pointed out. "The lyrics and plaintive tone of the piece strongly implied—"
"What does a Federation android know of Klingon music?" she snarled.
"Perhaps not as much as I should," he admitted. "My studies have concentrated mostly on human society and culture. However, I—"
"'Studies?'" She barked a scoffing laugh. "How like a machine to interpret a biological civilization in terms of cold, analytical facts. Life is not a schoolroom, android. Do not presume to speak of things you cannot understand!"
Data straightened, his amber eyes burning with deep and powerful anger.
"Do you think I cannot understand grief?" he demanded, advancing a few slow steps. "The anger and guilt that comes of knowing you survived when she…she did not…"
He swallowed hard and looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The Klingon stared into his face for a long moment, then bared her teeth in a snarl.
"We are wasting time," she said. "Go. Replicate what you need. I will find you that tool kit."
She marched toward the office and Data stared after her, suddenly wondering if he should follow, if he should apologize for losing his temper…
But, the moment passed quickly, and so did his doubt. He had no wish to apologize to her. His anger toward her still burned hot...mingled now with a more familiar sadness…
Data took a last look around, mentally listing all the re-surfacing and replacement parts he'd need to start the repairs, then he turned and strode out of the dome.
Silarra watched the soot-smudged android leave the Klingon's lab, noting his expression, his posture...
She had witnessed his reaction to Kurak's performance the previous evening, seen the android's skin flush, his breath catch, his eyes follow the Klingon woman as she danced... She had observed him preparing for their morning meeting, the time and care he'd put into choosing his wardrobe, brushing his hair 'just so'...
Now, she smiled, her confidence rising as she slid down from her perch over the open door to Kurak's lab.
Starfleet's brilliant mechanical man had confirmed his weakness - an Achilles heel as old as civilization itself.
Fears and feelings she could mold, manipulate. With enough skill and subtlety, Silarra felt certain she could guide her android nemesis into becoming his own worst liability. An emotional time bomb to deploy when she chose, turning her mission's most dangerous stumbling block into her most powerful weapon.
As long as she wore the right face...
Data felt a slender hand on his shoulder and he turned, startled enough to stumble back when Kurak pushed him, hard, against the dome's outer wall.
"What—" he started, but his question was muffled when the Klingon woman pressed her lips to his.
Data's eyes widened and he tried to pull away, anxious to clarify her thoughts, her intent...
But the woman's kisses were fierce, insistent, and Data felt his program responding to the physical input she provided, his pulse rising to drown out his louder doubts. Slowly, he closed his eyes, allowing her to press in closer, breathing her scent as he sank his fingers into her long, thick hair...
"I thought..." he managed to mumble as her sharp teeth nipped at his sensitive ear, "I thought you did not like me..."
"You are a fool," the woman said, staring straight into his amber eyes.
"Then..." Data blinked and tilted his head. "I do not understand. Why...?"
She kissed him again, then pulled swiftly away, leaving the android bleary and bewildered.
"Klingons do not court favor," she said. "They conquer that which they desire."
Data stared at her and swallowed hard; a warm, joyous shiver sparking deep inside him.
"Kurak...? Does this mean you—?"
"Leave now," she snapped, her eyes and expression as cold as ever. "Replicate what equipment you need. Unless this energy source decides to miraculously reveal itself, we have a great deal of work to do."
"Agreed..." Data said, staring wonderingly after her as she strode into the dome.
His legs felt weak, as if his power cells had again been drained. A quick diagnostic revealed that was not the case, but he still felt strangely off balance as he made his way across the warming sand, his swirling thoughts taking him back to his escape with the children through the desert...the question Ishta had so randomly put to him...
"I beg your pardon?" he'd said.
"It's no big deal," Ishta said, her blue eyes fixed on the darkly blushing Kahlestra. "I was just going to ask you if—"
"Ishta, don't!"
"If you've ever been in love," Ishta finished, speaking right over the Klingon's protest.
"Do you want the truth?" he'd asked them.
"Yes," Ishta said quickly. Kahlestra just nodded.
"Then, no," he admitted. "I have never been in love. At least...not yet."
"Then you can fall in love," Ishta pressed. "That is, you can actually—"
"Data!"
Commander Riker grinned and waved him over.
Data froze in place.
Had Riker seen...did he know...?
Slowly Data walked closer, his eyes wide and uncertain...
"You look like you've had an interesting morning," the commander said, noting the soot stains on his clothing. "Care to join us for some breakfast?"
"I... Um, actually, Will, I—"
Riker regarded him.
"Are you all right, Data? Has something happened that I should know about?"
"No...! Not as such..." the android hedged, then shook his head. "Perhaps I could use some refreshment. Thank you, Will."
Riker looked at him for a moment longer, then gave him a kind smile.
"I heard you spent all night working on that adjustable stasis field of yours. You're probably just a little tired."
"Yes...that must be it..."
Data cast a quick glance back at Kurak's lab, uncertain why he felt such a strong impulse to avoid the truth rather than tell the commander what he and Kurak had done, what she'd said...
Riker clapped a brotherly hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, Data," he said. "I know you've tried my sourdough pancakes. How about an owon and sausage omelette this morning?"
"It sounds...intriguing..." Data said, and Riker laughed, leading the way to the cafeteria dome.
As he followed the commander inside, a cool wave of relief washed through Data, and he began to smile—
Until his eyes fell on Counselor Troi, and his emotions tightened up all over again...
To Be Continued...
References Include - TNG: Time Squared; In Theory; Hide and Q; The Battle; Night Terrors; Suspicions; Redemption II; and Part I of this story.
Hi Everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next Time: The situation gets even more complicated for Data as Mikey's surgery begins. Stay Tuned, and thanks so much for your comments and reviews! :D :D