God Help Eddie

by Rob Morris

TRANS-TEMPORAL TESTIMONY, DOCTOR JULIAN BASHIR - SEALED UNDER AUTHORITY OF TEMPORAL AFFAIRS

As regards my recent excursion to the America of 1956, along with several of my colleagues from Deep Space Nine, I honestly cannot say what was and was not meant to be. Whatever one's opinion of those Bajor calls The Prophets, their view of time is many-sided, and likely to be more correct than ours as a result. Did we change anything? I honestly don't believe so. Before we left, a fractious quadrant faced all-out war with the implacable Dominion, and that is the world we all returned to, though that is little cause to celebrate.

The next question is, inevitably, did we gain perspective on the past, those formative events of the 20th Century that we visited, while keeping the company of the colorful staff of the 4077th M*A*S*H*, including Doctor Charles Winchester, brother to my ancestor Honoria Bashir?

We did indeed gain such perspective, but again, that is little cause to celebrate. Before all was done, I was made to mourn two lonely young boys who never knew why the world changed so much, they had to die, for they had no place in it. One was named Eddie. The other-was named Jules.

At Starfleet Medical, I met, and sometimes clashed with, guest instructor Katherine Pulaski. It was a vigorous, friendly clash of approaches and ideas, and I would say on balance each was happier to see the other on odd occasions than not. Yet it was decidedly neither of our pleasure when I was forced to confirm for her what she had always suspected. Her ancestor-well, remote Aunt-and chilling duplicate, save for some few decades, was none other than the war criminal Dorian Taylor. Or, as Khan Noonien Singh put it, My Mother, if I had such.

If those words chill the souls of most, I ask you to imagine what they do for me. It is nothing good. There, but for the relative skill of the doctor my parents found, go I, and very easily at that. But in that same breath, I see another way it could have gone, and in fact how it could have ended.

Our mission was simple : Denied use of Defiant, we used the Bajoran Orb Of Time to travel back to the Missouri of 1956 and fetch back Keiko Ishikawa O'Brien, time-displaced with and by her ancestor, the Korean-born Soon-Lee Han Klinger. In a side note, Max Klinger told me that it seemed possible that Soon-Lee was born of some mixed ancestry from the decades-long Japanese occupation of Korea, though her family kept this quiet, unlike the woman 'Rosie' who ran a tavern near the 4077th in their war theater, who had no choice, her ancestry being direct and known to villagers who scorned her. I only mention this because it seemed odd that a Korean woman should be so dead a ringer for a Japanese woman born centuries later. This is apparently just random chance, and not a result of the experiments Taylor performed upon the Klingers, seeking to duplicate the accidental god-like status of the Pierces.

To give perspective here, the Pierces and the Klingers are still alive to this day. The Pierces have gone by several identities and only recently emerged as themselves, reportedly at the urging of Margaret Houlihan Pierce, tired of centuries of lies. They look no older than they did when I met them in 1956. The Klingers are over 400 years old as well, but look in their mid-80's. This was all before the scientists who later crafted the genetic tyrants chose Sparta over Numenor as their model.

Upon meeting Doctor Taylor, I used two old methods of infiltration. One was to awaken a poorly-enhanced Human's competitive streak, making myself irresistible to a person of her ego. The other was to let my 'seduced' self be captured, and then shake off the primitive drugs they gave to render me unconscious. I found Keiko, who was unsurprisingly much happier to see me than when I come over for dinner some evenings.

Doctor Taylor, an utterly unapologetic apologist for barbarism in science, if not barbarism as science, had turned the Psychiatric Ward into her private domain, there at General Pershing Veterans General Hospital, or as it was known to staff and residents, General General. It was not a pleasant domain, and Keiko and myself were not the only residents under her control.

To again assure the good people at Temporal Affairs, some duplicates have nothing to do with anything but coincidence, yet I can understand why they might think so, as this escapade was riddled with duplicates, seemingly to the brimful. In this case, it was literally an instance of good and evil twins, with the good twin captive and locked up with us, and naturally, under sedation. True evil is not so much seductive as it is sadly predictable, for such things.

I shouldn't say it was entirely coincidence that caused Colonel Sherman Potter and General Bartford Hamilton Steele to be doubles; as with the Vulcan/Romulan diaspora, marriage arrangements made before a family split sometime around America's Civil War meant that for a time, family members on both sides still emerged from the same genetic stock and combinations of same. With that added, the resemblance was still startling, to the point that the staff of the 4077th at first feared that their new CO was the so-called 'Flipping General', at least for a time. Records show that Steele was certainly unstable enough to believe this.

Through Keiko, I confirmed long-held rumors that the staff of the 4077th was a nexus of what was once called paranormal activity, including hemovores of many types, natural-born energy wielders called witches by some, the antibody-like girls who rose to contain the more openly destructive hemovores, the longevity-stasis beings of some mystery to us even now. While alternate realities are dicey things to try and nail down, it seems that the staff may have predated ourselves, Kirk, and even the first Defiant in entering the morally inverted 'Mirror' world-and then getting out. Then add on the entire staff being in Tokyo as the daikaiju plague began in 1954, I felt I could ask for and obtain Colonel Potter's silence on matters of the future. His character proved the equal in this of his descendant, our own Captain Sisko.

For his part, Potter, a doctor and surgeon, already felt very foolish for the trust he'd placed in Taylor, who turned out to be part of the conspiracy that had killed his predecessor at the camp, Henry Blake. Yet as we turned our attention to matters of escape and stopping Steele and Taylor, a cry of pain alerted us to something that truly bespoke their evil, and yes, I will call it evil.

"GOD HELP EDDIE! OH, GOD HELP EDDIE!"

A befuddled Potter arose from his bed, and checked the patient, whom Bashir observed that he seemed to know.

"Edward? Son, what are you doing back here? You were doing just fine when you left-a few months back."

The restrained man looked at Potter, a look of pleading in his eyes.

"Colonel, sir? You've got to help poor Eddie-he's in so much pain, and I can't help him."

Potter shook his head.

"We'll help you, son. Just like before-or maybe not like that. My God."

The man closed his eyes.

"I'm fine, sir. Growing stronger, faster, better every day in every way-just like Doc Taylor promised. But Eddie is hurting way too much-it's like the old me is still there, but so am I. Doc Taylor didn't tell me anything about this."

Potter wiped the man's sweaty brow, and adjusted his pillow for what comfort he could give.

"Doctor Taylor is big on not telling people things. Even me."

TESTIMONY

I already suspected what was happening, but inquired to it directly of Doctor Potter, to be certain.

Eddie had been a young man inducted into the United States Army during the Korean conflict, despite borderline mental deficiencies that arguably should have kept him out of service. Thankfully, his superiors and comrades became highly protective of him and did their best to keep him alive, well, and away from the easy scorn of others. When one of those comrades was wounded and taken to the 4077th MASH, Eddie followed him, in his mind obeying the orders he was given to stay close to this man, no matter what.

While there, the staff of the 4077th also adopted a protective stance towards him, to the point Colonel Sherman Potter asked some old military friends as a courtesy to inform him when Eddie was shipped back to the States. When Doctor Taylor performed a seeming miracle with Max Klinger's intelligence and drive, Potter contacted the man's family. Hearing that there was a process such as the one Potter mentioned, they used their custodial powers to send him off without a second thought.

I allowed my own history to muddy the waters at that point, and lost my impartiality. Not to mention my temper.

"And they just signed him away, didn't they? You and they, deciding together to be rid of an embarrassment and raise the species as a whole, am I right?"

Keiko, having found some non-ward clothes to wear, interrupted.

"Julian, there's no need to be strident. Until I was locked away here, no one, not the Colonel, not Max Klinger, even me-knew what Taylor was doing here."

Bashir, whatever his flaws, respected his best friend's wife. But he was having none of this.

"Keiko, they signed a grown man away to be experimented on. Tell me how that does not define atrocity!"

Potter, who was also still adjusting to the thought that the woman he saw was not Soon-Lee Klinger, looked at Bashir with sad eyes.

"We were only trying to help the lad!"

Bashir pointed at Edward's bed, where he was still shaking like a leaf.

"Any more such help, and I have to wonder if even God can help Eddie."

TESTIMONY

Once more, Doctor Taylor's enhanced arrogance aided me, and my equipment was found nearby. It's actually not all that surprising, in retrospect. People given genetic enhancements who are already impatient lose a sense of detail as they pursue their grandiose plans. Actually, so do many people lacking such gene therapy.

Turning my back on Potter-quite literally and intentionally, I sat down beside Edward, as he now called himself, trying to explain what had happened to him.

It was both easier and harder than I thought, and it gave me some needed perspective.

"My name is Doctor Bashir. I can help you to understand what you're going through."

Edward regarded him with suspicion.

"You work with Doc Taylor?"

Bashir fought off a glare.

"Actually, I'm seeking to thwart her in the worst way. Her, and all like her."

Bashir undid Edward's restraints.

"Can you keep from crying out?"

Edward nodded.

"I can handle it, mostly. Mainly, I was letting myself cry out, hoping one of those mountainous orderlies would come over and check on me. Guess they're clever enough not to fall for that old gag."

Bashir pushed his luck, but without knowing how much time they had before Steele and Taylor's staff came back, he felt he had no choice.

"And how is Eddie?"

Edward turned away.

"Eddie-he's who I used to be. The funny little guy-the town dummy. Except now I'm stronger, faster and smarter than any of them. Back home, I let some girls see me in action, just so I could be the one who snickers politely at their requests. But not all of them, if you know what I mean."

Bashir was about to snap at this false bravado, until Edward looked back at him, suddenly much less certain of himself.

"So why am I not happy? I mean, I can help my folks, instead of always being a drain on them. I straightened out my little brother, instead of being cowed by him. Doc Taylor even said I would be a new kind of Human being. So do new Humans get to enjoy all this good stuff? The Doc, she keeps talking about growing pains-she's half right in that."

Bashir breathed in.

"So how is Eddie?"

Edward shook his head.

"How-how can he still be here? I'm Eddie, right? Just - just enhanced. But here I am, and here he still is, and it's making me a little bit nuts. Maybe a lot nuts."

Bashir searched for words that didn't risk the time-space continuum and all he knew.

"You are not the only one this was done to. Do you recall your visit to the 4077th MASH?"

Edward nodded.

"Good people. About the only ones outside my unit who treated me like a human being, back when some had their doubts-and let me know those doubts really loudly."

Bashir moved forward.

"A Doctor Pierce who served there was a test subject for this same process, without even being told. He and a Major Margaret Houlihan had to endure what Pierce called 'having the retinas on my personality detached'."

Edward seemed relieved for a moment.

"That's just what this feels like! But they got through it all, right? I mean, I remember Doctor Pierce being an okay fella."

Bashir nodded.

"But therein lies the problem, Edward. Doctor Pierce and Major Houlihan were mature, developed adults with highly distinctive personalities when they were given what some call the 'genetic cocktail'. Two to twenty thousand others also so experimented on were just as mature, yet also not so lucky. My point is, when Doctor Taylor performed her version of this procedure upon you, she did not know-and likely did not care-of and about some of the side effects."

Edward's face showed he did not reject these words.

"Well, she is a cold fish. Looker like that, go figure. Doctor Bashir - is one of those side effects my memories of being Eddie feeling like another person's life?"

This was, as some would doubtless say, the hard part, and Bashir's face showed it.

"Edward, in our brains are things called engrams. They contain who we are, from start to finish. Because your procedure was not done properly, Eddie is not merely another part of your life. He literally is another person, still inside of you. But where you have the intellect to take in all that has happened to you, Eddie still does not. He is alone, and afraid. He is dying, but I can't say how long it will take him to go away entirely."

Edward's eyes shifted rapidly, his 'new' brain indeed capable of taking all this in, and not liking a word of it.

"So what am I? Doctor Jekyll or Mister Hyde?"

Bashir seemed to take offense at this.

"Neither! What a poor analogy. Neither of you is a repressed side of the other. But if you want your story-book answer, then you are Hyde. You are growing stronger and dominant. One day, you will be the only one there. Until then, it is likely neither one of you will know peace."

Edward's mind suddenly made the kind of leap that Bashir had only seen in his poorly-enhanced friends of some months (his future time-frame) back.

"Doctor, you're speaking with way too much authority and experience for this to have been a recently invented procedure. You're also speaking as forcefully as Doc Taylor, but with a mellowing sense of personal experience added."

Edward shook his head.

"Sorry. Sometimes it goes like that now. You should have seen my Pop's face when I up and fixed the furnace-just like that. This huffing puffing thing that had scared me since I could think was now this simple gadget-my God, even a child could do it. I now was able to separate all the processes that made it work easy as putting on a pair of boots."

Bashir nodded and went back on topic.

"You are correct. I was once a boy named Jules, who could never keep up with other children my age. Like you, my parents found this intolerable, and like yours, acted at least partly out of love to try and rectify this. So Jules went away, and Julian was born."

Edward's mind seemed in a flurry again, but he fought to keep his calm.

"You mean you changed your name to Julian, right? You still are Jules."

Bashir had no desire to get lost in his explanation. But there was just so much to explain.

"Remember the engrams I mentioned? Well, they can be isolated and erased like a recording. That is what my Doctor did for and to the part of me that was still Jules. Hearing his pain as he went away was a large part of the reason I hated my parents for decades after that."

Edward lurched and cried out again.

"GOD HELP EDDIE!"

Bashir handed him some water as the man regained control of himself.

"Medical school plus college is eight years-maybe ten-and then an internship-I know all that now. So adding all that to your being a kid when this happened-just doesn't add up. They weren't doing this in the 20's or 30's. My folks sought every kind of help there was for me. Also, why wouldn't Doc Taylor erase these engrams of mine, so she could have a better result-unless she didn't have access to the kind of procedures needed-"

Edward's eyes grew very wide. His enhanced brain was indeed a marvel, even considering the high price it exacted.

"-because they haven't been invented yet. Doc-can you take me to your future time and make this right?"

Bashir prepared for a possible assault as he answered.

"I've already given away too much by underestimating your new mind. But I believe I can give you the only peace either of you can know."

He pulled out his recovered commbadge.

"It's also a medical instrument. Engrams can be drawn forward, to manipulate pain centers in cases where anesthesia can't be used. By focusing yours, you can concentrate solely on who you've become, to the point that who you once were will complete his passage."

"His passage? You mean Eddie's gotta die? But that's not fair! I'm the new one-this was his life before it was mine."

Edward closed his eyes, and breathed in.

"Suppose Eddie concentrates better than me? Will he be back in charge?"

Bashir readied the device.

"That's not possible. He is dying. Though it sickens me to even say this, you must turn your back on him, or both of you may be lost as I do this."

Edward seemed to be whispering to himself, before he laid back, and seemed to smile.

"Then I'm ready, Doctor."

TESTIMONY

A great and horrid presumption to make is that every person will view a horrid but needed thing as being needed at all.

I had lambasted Potter's choice, and Taylor's coldness. But it was the arrogance of Bashir that saw the day to ruin.

Keiko waited with Colonel Potter as Bashir walked back to their side of the ward.

"Julian? Is he all right?"

Potter seemed beside himself.

"Well? He's stopped screaming. Is that good or bad?"

Bashir shook his head.

"He's gone. The part of him that had become the enhanced Edward in the end refused to let the part of him that had been Eddie die alone. Why didn't I foresee this possibility?"

Potter exploded, but not at Bashir.

"Why didn't you? WHY IN SAM-BLAZING-HILL DIDN'T I? I'm a Doctor! But now I have to live with the knowledge that I signed a good young man's death warrant. WW One saw lots of blood on my hands-and now I have Eddie's there, too."

Bashir had only tangentially heard of the CO's grim past as one of 'The Boys From Golgotha'. So he judged the man before him instead.

"Colonel, you are being too hard on yourself."

Keiko, who had grown to like her 20th Century hosts, tried to comfort whom she saw as a great man.

"Julian's right, Colonel. There is no way you could have known what Taylor's agenda was."

But Potter heard neither of them.

"When I was young, some cousins of mine were declared unfit to live - because the relatives on their side had darker skin. People like Dorrie Taylor are the same sort-only in lab coats instead of hoods and sheets-and wouldn't my Grandma be proud of the little monster she cared for. You know-we had to call her Auntie. Everyone knew, but you couldn't say. I'm not God. I am not fit to stand in judgment over another living being, but that's just what I've done, right? Placed the noose around the tree, then around his neck. Snap-all done."

Bashir forced the Colonel to look at him.

"Before he passed, I spoke to Edward. He told me what I've always known - yours is an era in which a good young man like Eddie would be nearly helpless, disregarded, mistreated, unlikely to find a mate-if the laws even allowed it. You did not do what you did out of contempt, Colonel. You tried to free him from a prison that even a simple man sometimes realizes is there. You trusted wrongly, but my medical histories tell me Taylor was charismatic and engaging. She killed that boy. Not you."

Potter seemed calmer, but not remotely at peace.

"Well, we've seen where my good intentions lead. Now, let's find my FORMER Chief Of Psychiatric Care and lead her and Steele down that same path."

Keiko held up a heavy wrench.

"And maybe offer up some free dental work, to boot."

TESTIMONY

The battle that followed between the Prophets and the Pagh Wraiths is best left to Major Kira to decipher-I just suggest that no one in Starfleet use the term 'Wormhole Aliens' when speaking to her. It simply won't go well.

The only other matter to bring up was when I asked Father Francis Mulcahy if Edward's choice could be ruled a suicide. The worldly priest said he simply didn't have the answer to that. Faith, he described to me, was just that. It was a belief, not a certainty. I have heard, recently, that he is to debate Kai Winn. I rather look forward to that.

I'm not really what you'd ever call a religious man-in fact far from it. But in a moral and religious vein, let me finish by saying I admire Edward for not letting Eddie die alone. It was a choice I was never given, and a choice I can't say I would have made the same as he did.

So if he is there, then : God Help Eddie, and God Help Jules. And when we fall-Heaven Help Us All.