SHIP OF FOOLS
Chapter 07
"Approaching the Mount Nebula, sir", Ensign Westaway announced from Conn.
"Very well, Ensign. Notify the captain." Riker sat up in the command chair, realizing that he had been lounging and not wishing to be caught in that pose. He heard Westaway summon the captain from his ready room and added: "On screen."
The nebula leapt into view, a green-tinged glittering cloud. "Oh, how pretty", said Troi to his left, and then suddenly she gave a sharp sigh, raising one hand to her forehead. Riker could see the other hand clench for a moment on the armrest of her chair. He was on his feet in a second.
"What's wrong, Deanna? You're not feeling well."
"I'm all right. I just felt –" She emerged from behind her hand, giving him a rather forced smile. "Something very odd. As if..."
"What's the matter?" the captain's voice asked behind Riker's shoulder. The first officer turned. "Counselor Troi isn't well, sir."
"But I am!" protested Deanna. "Don't listen to him, Captain. It's only – oh!"
"What is it?" the two men asked in unison.
"Something... wrong." She frowned, then shook her head, suddenly realizing that everybody on the bridge was looking in her direction. She sat up in her chair, giving Ensigns Westaway and Lavelle a cold stare that caused both of these young men to turn back to their respective consoles rather hastily. The captain lowered himself into the center seat. "Something ahead of us, Counselor?"
She shook her head decisively. "No. Nothing I could sense from here. Only for a moment I felt as if something had torn inside my... there it is again. Oh, no!" Her hand went back to her head; this time there was an unmistakable note of pain in her voice. Ensign Lavelle's head snapped round again. Riker and Picard exchanged a startled look.
"You had better report to sickbay. This can't be right."
"This isn't right." She drew herself out of her chair, cautiously, as if half-expecting the floor to give way beneath her. Riker offered his arm, and she accepted it without demur, smiling shakily at the captain. "I'm sorry. I've never felt that way before. This is more like a headache than an empathic link."
"Come on, Deanna", urged Riker.
A sudden wave of misgiving prompted Picard to ask: "But it is an empathic link?"
"I really don't know right now." She was still holding on to Riker's arm, but her attention was clearly focused inwards now. A moment later she shook her head. "No. I couldn't tell." Another short pause; she frowned slightly and started again. "Captain, there's something you might..." And then she stopped, looking troubled.
"Yes?"
"Nothing. Just... too many minds. I'm sorry – I'm truly not myself."
"Get some rest", said Picard. "You'll escort her to sickbay, Number One?"
"On my way", Riker replied crisply. "Let's get going."
Picard didn't look as they left the bridge together. The Mount Nebula was growing apace on the main viewer. "Slow to impulse, Ensign."
"Slowing to impulse, sir", acknowledged Westaway.
"Full sensor sweep, Mr. Worf."
Worf, naturally, didn't betray any surprise although no doubt he remembered perfectly well that sensor activity should be kept to a minimum. After a couple of seconds the captain heard his voice responding from behind and above: "No signs of any other ship, sir. Nothing."
"Go to yellow alert."
He was aware of the seeming non sequitur, and of the surprised looks from various bridge stations. "Yes, sir", rumbled Worf, satisfied.
"Take us in on quarter-impulse, Mr. Westaway. Mr. Worf, please launch those probes as soon as we're far enough into that cloud. I want you to keep a lock on them at all times."
"Yes, sir", said Worf.
Picard rose, tugged his uniform into place, took one last look at the glittering cloud that by now filled the entire viewscreen, and headed for his ready room. He was acutely aware of the eyes of the entire bridge crew boring into his back.
- - - - - -
In Main Engineering, Geordi La Forge put his data padd down and sighed when the call came through. "Does that man never sleep? – Yes. La Forge here."
"Report to my ready room, please", the familiar voice said briskly. "Now."
"Certainly, Captain. Now." He switched the communicator off, gave a demonstrative shrug in answer to the knowing grins of his crewmates, and headed for the turbolift.
The captain was not sitting behind his desk this time. He was standing with his back to the door, looking out of his window at the faint greenish glitter of the ship's lights reflected by the tiny particles drifting past outside and turning only when the door was sliding shut in Geordi's wake.
"Well, Mr. La Forge", he said a little abruptly. "What do you think of it?"
The chief engineer shrugged. "Oh, it's about as bad as we've been told, sir. Hell of a place to meet with a Cardassian ship."
Picard nodded briefly. After a pause he added: "You have implemented those adaptations to our shields Worf has worked out?"
"Sure, sir. Frankly, I don't think it will make much of a difference, but it can't do any harm either."
Another pause. "And you are monitoring those stationary probes from Engineering, of course."
"Yes, we are. Readings are coming in just fine. We should have about seven hours' advance warning of approaching ships – for the next forty hours at least. After that the things will start to break down." He felt himself beginning to wish the captain would sit down. Instead, Picard was wandering up and down the ready room, pausing for a moment behind his chair with his hands on its back and taking off again. Geordi found it distracting to the point of irritation. They're right, he thought. He's acting as if he's dreadfully on edge. Jumpy. Wonder what's next.
He didn't have to wait much longer. "Mr. La Forge, I don't know how long we'll have to wait for our negotiator. In the meantime I would like you to resume your search for Data. Or rather, to start all over again. This is an intolerable state of affairs. Obviously something has been overlooked. I want it found."
The incredulous stare Geordi gave him couldn't have been more obvious if the chief engineer had had eyes like everyone else.
"Start all over, Captain?" he repeated.
"Certainly. Start all over. Where's the problem, Mr. La Forge?"
"But Captain... Data's not on the ship."
"Says the computer, yes, I know. You've reminded me of that before. But we also know that Data never left the ship, and I have been informed that there have been other computer glitches. So I would like you to get to work."
Geordi gave an undisguised groan. "Captain, with all due respect, I can't believe this! I know that Worf has this thing about the sensors, but we've checked them twice running, and they're working just fine. I... I just don't know what we could do that we haven't done before."
"Have you sent somebody down every crawlway on this ship?" asked Picard, pausing with his back to the window.
After a moment of confusion Geordi broke into a relieved grin. "No, sir. You've actually hit on something I haven't done."
And then he felt the grin fading from his face when Picard replied: "Well, do it now."
"Sir", he said, almost stammering, "I thought that was supposed to be a joke."
"But I am not joking. I am quite worried. I want my second officer back, or at the very least I want to know what happened to him. And I would appreciate some input from you, Mr. La Forge."
Geordi wouldn't have needed his visor readings at that moment to realize that he was not only worried but growing annoyed as well. That clipped tone creeping into the captain's voice was familiar to every officer on the ship. No point arguing with that.
"I'll do it, sir. Send someone down every crawlway and Jeffries tube. Scan for tripolymers, for Heaven's sake, and follow it up. There are probably some ten thousand tripolymer locations on this ship, but it's another thing we haven't done. It's just so damn frustrating."
"I know, Geordi", the captain said with unexpected gentleness. "If I had a better idea I would let you know. Unfortunately, I haven't. And neither have you."
"Well, you're right there, sir. I'll get on to it."
"Another thing, Mr. La Forge. For the moment I must ask you to refrain from wearing that device on duty. I am aware of what this implies for you, but frankly I have my doubts about its not interfering with your work. And right now I need my officers at their sharpest." There was a brief smile going with the words, obviously intended to take the edge off the captain's request. Geordi gritted his teeth.
"Is that an order, sir?"
"For now, yes, it is", said Picard. "I'll review it as soon as we've got this over, but at the moment I am not taking any risks."
"I understand, sir. This applies to everybody wearing it?"
The captain stopped his pacing once again. "It most certainly does. I wasn't aware that I had granted anybody except yourself permission to wear it on duty."
"Well, no", said Geordi. "It's just that it looks as if we're going to work overtime, and what would normally be off hours, and I just thought..."
"We're at yellow alert, Mr. La Forge. I don't want that thing worn during duty hours, whatever they happen to be. In their off time – true off-duty time..." The captain sighed. "I can't in fairness interfere with that. That will be all."
Geordi left the ready room, quite relieved that Counselor Troi was nowhere to be seen. He certainly wouldn't have wanted anybody to take a closer look at his emotional state right now.
- - - - - -
"All stop", said Commander Riker, frowning at the swirls of green that had long since replaced the stars on the main viewer.
"Answering all stop", echoed Westaway.
Riker sighed, stretching his legs. "Very well. Let's prepare for a wait. At least – "
The aft turbolift door swished open. "Captain Picard!" The voice was breathless with excitement. Riker turned in the center chair. "What's the matter, Mr... ?"
"Qualura, Commander. Exobiology. We can't proceed any further with this. I must speak the captain right away – there's something he must know immediately."
Riker rose, exchanging a disbelieving look with Worf. "And what might that be, Mr. Qualura? I'm quite sure it can wait until you've found the time to produce a proper report."
"But that's just it, Commander. It can't. You see – " And darting past Worf to one of the aft stations, the scientist waved a stunned ensign aside and commandeered a chair. "Just a moment", he announced, eagerly.
Riker and Worf exchanged another look; Worf noticed that the first officer's expression was beginning to harden underneath the amusement. "Er... Mr. Qualura, I'm sure your findings are very interesting, but you'll realize the bridge isn't the place for this. For the moment I suggest you go back to your department and prepare a report. We'll be in a position to appreciate – "
"I can't." Qualura jumped to his feet again, abandoning the console with an impatient gesture, and came hurrying down the starboard ramp, only to find Riker blocking his path to the ready room. "You don't understand. This is phenomenal – we mustn't proceed any further until we know more. This nebula is not what it seems to be. The captain must listen to me."
"I don't think so." Riker crossed his arms. "Look, this isn't how we go about things here. I won't have the captain bothered without good reason. You'll either explain yourself, or you'll depart. Now."
"There's only one explanation. There is a lifeform in this nebula, Commander – perhaps many. The nebula itself may be a lifeform if the scans can be trusted. The electromagnetic readings are quite unmistakable. If we were to proceed further we might do inconceivable damage. Certainly the captain wouldn't want to risk that?"
Riker frowned at that, then he turned to give Lavelle at Ops a questioning look. Lavelle quickly checked his console, then he shook his head, his lips mutely forming the words No way. Riker turned back, deftly interposing himself between Qualura and the ready room door again. "I'm afraid there's no indication of that – and anyway the Mount Nebula is hardly uncharted space, Mr. Qualura. Is there anything to back up your claim? Any clue whatsoever?"
"Not right now. I have a theory, though – I've been working on it for years. This may be my scientific breakthrough – we can't afford to take any risks. Commander, I'm sure Captain Picard would wish to hear about this. I must and will speak to him."
"He's not available. Anyway, the ship's not going anywhere right now. You are, though. You're either leaving the bridge this moment, or I'll ask Mr. Worf to assist your departure."
Qualura hesitated, looked longingly at the ready room door, then, nervously, at Worf, who was halfway down the ramp by now. "Commander, I implore you – "
"That way", Riker said firmly.
"Have it your way, Commander. You're making a horrible mistake." Worf took another step, and Qualura hurriedly made for the turbolift, giving the Klingon a wide berth as he went. Worf turned to look after him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and indignation.
"Any ideas what that was all about?" asked Riker, rather taken aback.
"No", Worf replied briefly. "But it was not worth disturbing the captain about."
"I agree. I won't have him bothered with that sort of thing on top of everything else", said Riker, grimly, and slumped back into the center chair.
- - - - - -
"Well, Céline", said Beverly Crusher. "This isn't the final analysis, but from what I've seen so far the DNA should be compatible. You'd have to be very conscientious with checkups, of course. But I really can't imagine why it shouldn't be possible. Anyway, you know who to see about it."
Nurse Cavour smiled at her with a mixture of embarrassment, relief and elation. "So you believe -"
"If that aspect is the only thing you're worried about I'm tempted to ask what you're waiting for." She looked up from her monitor to give Cavour a mischievous smile. "I like him, Céline."
They both noticed a very slight movement from the door at that point. Céline Cavour looked round, turned scarlet, and fled. Beverly felt the corners of her mouth curving upwards as she sat looking down on her monitor again. "Do come in, Jean-Luc. I'll be at your disposal in... another second. There." She tapped a key to clear the screen and looked up.
"I didn't realize my presence was quite that obvious", the captain commented, coming forward into the office. "You looked occupied enough."
"You've been hovering in that doorway. It's very difficult to ignore you when you're hovering." She switched the monitor off. "I hope we haven't been boring you, but that was rather delightful. With what's going on here these days I should be an expert on interspecies mating by now. You wouldn't believe who's been in and out here lately."
"I might not. Beverly, could I have a word with you?"
Her amusement faded abruptly. "Well, of course. What is it?"
"For one thing I'm a little worried about Deanna. I have never seen her quite like today. How is she?"
"She should be much better by now. I got rid of that headache and sent her off to her quarters to get some rest, and I absolutely forbade her to make any new appointments for today or tomorrow."
"What was it?"
"Stress. She's been blaming herself for Galinski's breakdown, and of course the mood on this ship is getting to her. And this morning Worf waylaid her and told her all about that stupid row in the gymnasium. She said she should have sensed the tension building up before it happened, if you'll believe that! And you can imagine what happens when someone like Deanna fancies she must try harder."
"Yes", said the captain. "It must be overwhelming."
"It was", Beverly said flatly. "She couldn't tell the difference between the minds pressing on to her from outside and the reactions of her own system any longer. And now", she added, "for the real reason of your visit."
Picard didn't smile. "Something rather peculiar occurred to me just now. Beverly, just how many people have come to see you over that device Deanna has introduced?"
"You're still concerned about that? About eight or ten I suppose. Why?"
"Because she told me she would send everybody interested in that thing to you for regular checking. And from what I can make out the total number is nothing like eight or ten."
"It may have been a few more. Really, is it that important?"
"Would you just look them up in the computer for me, please?"
Beverly shrugged and tapped a few commands into her keyboard. "There", she said after a moment. "Thirteen, actually."
Picard swiveled the screen round and studied it, frowning. "Damn", he said softly after a moment or two.
"What is it?"
"La Forge. Oakey. Singh. Szegi. Macaulay. Benedetto. Half of Engineering, and all people who've been in some... Dear God", he added suddenly, interrupting himself. "I wonder – Galinski? Beverly, has he by any chance been experimenting with that damn gadget as well?"
"I think I'm getting your drift", Doctor Crusher said with dry amusement. "Don't tell me you are developing that habit of looking up symptoms in the medical library and doing the diagnosing yourself. Barclay does it all the time. It's something that drives doctors to distraction."
"I am not diagnosing myself or anybody else", he replied, unreasonably annoyed by her tone. "I'd like some answers, though. Beverly, exactly how long has this thing been running rampant on my ship?"
Her eyebrows arched in mock dismay. "Why, Jean-Luc, now you are referring to a disease!"
"I may well be", he replied somewhat grimly. "I knew I was overlooking something. How come that most of these people have been in trouble lately? How come – "
"Stop", Beverly said sharply. "That's making assumptions about my patients, you know. I won't have it."
"It's making assumptions about something that is undermining the discipline on my ship, Doctor. We've had nervous breakdowns of every description. Yesterday it was that brawl, involving Worf's security, of all things, and some trouble in Ten Forward. Today it was Deanna herself breaking down in a way I have never seen before. I told Geordi that I won't have any more of that thing until we're safely out of this nebula again, and from his reactions I can only assume that this will be a blow to everybody in Engineering. Now I'm getting this list. Doesn't it strike you as rather suggestive?"
Beverly rose, coming out from behind her desk.
"Jean-Luc", she said, putting a tentative hand on his arm, "have you ever considered – really considered – the possibility that you might be overreacting? There's one thing about Deanna I haven't told you so far. She is worried about you, she said. Seriously worried."
"I'm sorry to hear it. No, I don't think I am overreacting at all. There is something very strange going on, and you'll admit I have a responsibility in the matter. Beverly, you seem singularly disinclined to answer my questions. Now I'm asking you as my chief medical officer if Myers was wearing that device when he died."
"No, Captain, he was not", Beverly answered angrily.
"That other man – Galinski? He was taken to sickbay as well, wasn't he? What about him?"
"Do you seriously believe I wouldn't have looked into it if he had been carried in here wearing the device?"
"I don't know. I frankly don't know what to believe any longer. Deanna was so sure about the beneficial effects of the damn thing that I never took the trouble of taking a closer look. But I'm beginning to suspect there is another aspect to that freeing of the mind, and if it's doing what I think it is doing to my crew it must be stopped. This has gone far enough."
"I agree. It has." She crossed her arms, looking at him thoughtfully. "By the way", she added abruptly after a brief pause, "I seem to remember that I gave you an order to get eight hours' sleep last night. You didn't."
"God knows I tried", he answered, angry in his turn. "I'll rest all you like once we have sorted this out, but until then I have other things on my mind."
"Yes, I can see that. I'll tell you one thing, Jean-Luc. If you refuse to look after yourself you're forcing others to do it for you. And if you keep neglecting your own well-being you're endangering your ship, your crew, and your mission – and never mind the device. You know what that means, don't you. It means that I may have to relieve you of your command until you have regained your equilibrium."
"You wouldn't."
"I would." Her expression was strangely detached. "You keep telling me wonderful things about strange coincidences and your responsibility to your ship. Well, I have a responsibility too. And when a starship captain starts behaving irrationally it's down to his chief medical officer to do something about it. You know that as well as I do. I can relieve you if I decide you are unfit for command, and if I find I have no choice in the matter I will so decide. Don't get me wrong, Jean-Luc. I don't think I'll have to, actually. But you must wind down, and you must get some rest. You are losing your grip on things. And yes, I do mean that."
"I don't believe you do", he said, his voice chilly with anger now. "I have not the least idea what kind of service you think you're doing this ship. What I do know is that I don't like what seems to be going on here, that people appear to be uncommonly wary around me, and that I am not getting any acceptable answers at all."
"The next thing you'll be telling me is that there is a conspiracy going on aboard the Enterprise", she said, very calmly.
That stopped him. The captain stared at her, open-mouthed for a couple of seconds and quite suddenly very pale. Beverly bit her lip.
"I'm sorry. I know how this must sound to you. But you've simply refused to listen when I tried to explain that you're chasing shadows because you're too tired to see things in their proper perspective any longer. Instead you keep telling me that everybody is acting strangely – everybody, apparently, with the sole exception of yourself. Well, what if you're the one who is acting strangely? It would make much more sense from a medical point of view, believe me. And that your behavior has been just a little at odds with what we're used to from you... well, that's something other people could confirm. You'll just have to take my word for it – your reactions to what I've just told you are part of your condition. And your condition is overwrought to say the least."
"So what you're telling me is that I'm paranoid about all this?" said Picard softly. There was a stunned, frozen calm in his face – as if I'd slapped him, she thought with a lurching feeling in her stomach. But it was too late to be turning back now.
"You're certainly acting it. If I could prove what I think it comes down to I'd be doing something about it here and now. I'd have a hard time justifying it, though – to myself as well as to Starfleet. It's not a thing I like to consider, and you've never given me reason to consider it so far. I do want you to review your attitude, though."
"I will. I'll be reviewing a great many things", said the captain, still with the same calm, and turned to leave the office.
- - - - - -