SHIP OF FOOLS

Chapter 08

Beverly Crusher's eyebrows shot upwards when she saw who was entering her sickbay. What a day, she thought wryly. Never a dull minute. Lieutenant Worf was not a frequent visitor. In fact she suspected that he came in far less often than he should have, given the nature of his recreational activities. Regulations would have required him to report any injury, however small, and she was reasonably certain that small injuries were the rule rather than the exception after an hour or two in one of his holodeck scenarios. She had ventured to give him a hint a couple of times, but Worf's usual response to unwanted good advice was to point out that this was not the Klingon way or, if that was not feasible, to pretend he didn't understand what it was all about. Of course the Klingon way was not supposed to stand in the way of Starfleet regulations, and so it had been the latter response on these occasions – and in Worf's case Beverly knew better than to press the issue.

This time, however, there was no doubt about his condition. His left sleeve was gashed, the amber of the fabric discolored to a murky brown, and although he was clutching his arm with his other hand there was blood dripping from between his fingers, leaving dark splotches on the carpet. Beverly groaned and grabbed her tricorder.

„Right here, Worf. Let me have a look at this."

The wound was deep, clean and bleeding profusely. „Bat'telh practice, I take it", she said without surprise, cutting away what was left of his sleeve.

Worf nodded. „Commander Riker's technique is improving."

„Yes, I have no doubt about that. He made a very good job of it. Alyssa!" She looked round in irritation The door leading to the main ward was being kept open today; there had been a number of minor bruises and ailments. „Would somebody come here, please? Alyssa, the corophizine – now, if you don't mind."

„Straight away, Doctor!" came the response from the direction of the main ward. A few seconds later the nurse appeared, hypospray in hand. Beverly frowned. „About time. What is everybody doing in there?"

„I'm sorry. We've been discussing – Oh, Mr. Worf!" gasped Ogawa, only now noticing the amount of blood that had by now dripped on every surface within reach. Beverly put her hand out again.

„Autosuture, please. Thank you. I'll want ten cc's of rythanine as well."

„Rythanine?" Worf inquired, suspiciously.

Beverly nodded briefly, running her tricorder over the wound again and frowning.

„More?" Worf asked with a trace of annoyance.

„Worf, I'm sorry, but I have to make sure there are no threads of fabric in the wound", she explained patiently. „And there's another thing. I'm going to patch this wound up. That gash is simply too large to mend completely on the spot. Yes, I know it can be done, but I like to be sure the tissue is knitting properly. I'll give you a healing agent now, and I want you to administer another dose of it tonight. You understand the importance of this, don't you."

She had to wait several seconds before he came up with a growled „Yes" that somehow sounded both reluctant and dismissive, but she deliberately forced the reply before continuing her work with a mental sigh. Worf was easily one of the worst patients she had ever had to deal with, ranking just a little below Barclay on her personal list – if that. I wonder what I'd prefer if I was given the choice – a hypochondriac or a warrior, she found herself thinking. Just occasionally she forgot just how irritating he could be until some chance encounter brought it forcibly back to her. The wound had stopped bleeding by now, and after a final pass with her tricorder she nodded to Alyssa to hand her the adhesive dressing the nurse was holding for her, and took some pains to apply it as firmly as possible. She had no confidence whatsoever in her patient doing the sensible thing, such as cooperating and taking care of himself. Worf watched her ministrations with detached interest. Oh, yes. Full warrior mode, she thought wryly. Well, to give him his due, some of his attitudes might be constantly irritating her, but any doctor would have found his stamina and total disinclination for self-indulgence refreshing. And just observing his reactions occasionally could put things into perspective. He was so utterly predictable, so confident in those att-

And there she stopped in mid-thought. To think I'd actually be grateful for predictability, she mused, and then Well, but with the way Jean-Luc is acting these days you can't help coming to value – now wait a moment, Bev. I wonder what Worf would have to say to –

„There", she said, abruptly coming back to the job at hand. „That should do it. You've damaged quite a bit of muscle tissue, so I would appreciate it if you kept away from your bat'telh for the next three days. At least", she added, resignedly.

Worf nodded, once up, once down. „I will use the singlestick."

Beverly sighed, then decided to try again. „You couldn't possibly do without any calisthenics for those three days?"

„There is a combat class tomorrow", rumbled Worf, a feeble attempt at sounding apologetic. Being diplomatic, Beverly thought, and: Why do I keep trying? Aloud she said: „Just as well I know. I may see you again soon, then."

Worf gave a noncommittal grunt and began to inch towards the door. Beverly deftly interposed herself between him and his escape route. „Worf", she said, catching hold of his uninjured arm with both hands. He stopped, looking down on her from his towering height; she thought she could see the beginnings of a frown. It was difficult to tell with him, of course.

„There's something I'd like to put to you. It concerns the captain."

The frown deepened, but at least she had stopped him for the moment.

„Frankly, I am a little worried. He's been driving himself as hard as ever, Worf. You know what he is like. He's wearing himself out with all sorts of doubts and suspicions just when I wish he could save his strength and get his peace of mind back."

It had an effect, but not the one she had been expecting. Worf's shoulders jerked back.

„If the captain sees cause for suspicion I will – "

„No!" she said hastily and rather louder than intended. But fortunately her staff remained out of sight for the moment. „Not the sort you have in mind. Worf, this is difficult for me to say, but I'm concerned about him. He is terribly on edge. And after what they did to him on Celtris III – "

She saw Worf's eyes narrow to baleful black slits. It had clearly been the right thing to say. She had his attention now.

„Worf, to be honest, I'm not sure he can handle this mission. It's almost as if he'd do anything rather than even face it. Here we are, sitting in a nebula waiting for a Cardassian ship, and he keeps telling me how concerned he is about that little device Deanna is prescribing. It's so unlike him to take such a violent dislike to anything, and it's become almost an obsession with him. I've tried to remind him that the danger is out there, and he'll come straight back to that thing. He seems to believe his crew are somehow deceiving him about it – that there are things going on behind his back – "

Now Worf was shaking his head very slightly, very thoughtfully, and she paused a moment to let it sink in. At last he said in his deep growl: „It is not something I have noticed, Doctor."

„Well, that's just it. Neither did I, and... oh. You mean the captain's attitude, don't you. No, I don't suppose you did. It's been such a gradual thing. It's just..." She paused again, and he felt her hands tightening about his arm; he wished she would let go of him. Human emotion was too... touchy for his liking. „Worf, there is a point where nervous exhaustion begins to feed on itself and becomes a kind of spiral. When you reach it you're past the point of judging your own behavior impartially. You could go off in almost any direction. I can't help being a doctor, and right now he frightens me a bit. It may all go well. But if it doesn't we'll have a crippled ship and a thousand people with a badly shaken commanding officer facing whatever we're up against out there. You see?"

That one had been wasted. She could see his jaw tightening, and just then his wish to be elsewhere was coming across as clearly as if she had been the ship's Betazoid. He actually shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

„I do not anticipate such a situation."

„I didn't say I do. I am just trying to be prepared for the eventualities, Worf. And that, in this case, includes speaking with you. Your part will be crucial in this no matter how things go."

„You believe him to be breaking down, Doctor? You wish me to be prepared to execute someone else's commands?"

Instinct made Beverly draw back a little at that.

„I didn't say that either, Worf. It's just... I want you to be aware of the situation. We've been on Celtris III together, remember? Whatever happens, you'll keep your head. You'll remember where the danger lies." She gave him a smile which he thought looked more than a little forced. „I don't want him – or anybody on this ship – to come to any harm."

„Neither do I", replied Worf, and then, feeling that something more was expected of him, he added: „I understand, Doctor"– although he was far from sure he did. She smiled up at him again with a very soft „I'd hoped you would", letting go of his arm at last. He took this to be a sign that she would not again hold him back if he had a mind to leave now, so he left.

He was glad to be out of sickbay, gladder even than usual. There had been something alarming about the conversation, but for some reason the alarm had gone off the wrong moment. He had felt acutely uncomfortable. He didn't really want to be told these things, and as a rule Beverly Crusher knew better than to unburden herself to him. But then people had been somewhat lacking in restraint these days. He toyed with the explanation that humans were rather careless in deciding who to confide in, then dismissed it. Doctor Crusher's behavior had in fact been most uncharacteristic.

She must be seriously worried. He could have reassured her, of course, but it would have prolonged a conversation that was already jarring on his nerves. Whatever was happening, it was not what she thought it was. He had never, ever, seen the captain lose his composure. He was not willing to accept the possibility that Picard was losing it now, neglecting the danger over something Worf regarded as a stupid toy, unworthy even as a pastime. Concerned he might be, but that – no.

Of course the captain had been deeply shaken. But that didn't mean he could not handle this situation. He had handled worse things. No need for Doctor Crusher to worry herself or others – unless, of course, the captain really was aware of something untoward going on aboard his ship. That sort of thing would be very much his, Worf's, business. I will ask him, thought Worf, relieved.

The relief lasted about half a second. She had said that Picard was concerned about that thing – to the point of losing his perspective. In fact, thought Worf, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, it had an unpleasantly familiar ring to it. The wretched little device did attract a foolish amount of interest. The captain himself had asked him about it. It had been an odd question, quite uncharacteristic. But Beverly Crusher had spoken of an obsession with the thing, had all but said that she could not reach him.

Well, he had noticed nothing of the sort. He didn't believe it anyway. Of course she knew the captain from quite a different angle, but still – if it hadn't been for that unprecedented appeal to his own levelheadedness just now he would have dismissed the whole business without further ado.

Worf frowned, slowing down a little as he neared the turbolift; he wanted to sort this out before returning to the bridge – he had a few simulations to run. Then he remembered his ruined uniform. I must change first. Just as well. He didn't need any distractions now.

That he was rational, far more rational in many ways than could in fairness be expected of any Klingon, he knew perfectly well. He would not have been where he was but for that odd ability to review whatever his instincts told him through a grid of reason. But for Beverly Crusher to appeal to that ability – that was something else entirely. She had never done it before. In fact he had been under the impression, occasionally at least, that rationality was not something Beverly Crusher expected from him at all. She had never spoken to him the way she had just now – confiding in him, as it were. Enlisting his aid, seeking his reassurance, in effect contrasting his own attitude with the captain's, which was very strange. The captain was the most rational man Worf could think of, and...

She was relying on his rationality, then. How worried would she have to be to alert him – and what could he provide that others could not? We've been on Celtris III together. Yes, that was one thing they shared. And a responsibility –

He almost stopped in his tracks. Yes. A responsibility. Was that what she meant? That they had to look after the captain, even in spite of himself? That they had to take care of the situation if he could not? She was the only person on the ship who could ultimately decide such a thing, of course. It was a heavy responsibility. And he – Chief of Security – he would have to –

Nonsense. This was utter foolishness. He was considering things as if the captain needed them to look after him, and he, Worf, happened to know better. He couldn't remember a single instance that implied the captain was growing irrational. Perhaps he should have told Beverly Crusher so, after all. Her concern was honorable, though, and she had been so serious, so desperate to convince him...

He stopped again, physically this time, right at the intersection of two corridors. Yes, she had been, hadn't she?

Worf didn't usually second-guess himself. That sort of thing was for chess-players and diplomats, like the captain. But the longer he reviewed what Beverly Crusher had told him, the more disturbing he found it. If she believed she was right about this, shouldn't she be talking to Commander Riker first? Wouldn't she be talking to Commander Riker first? So why him? Didn't she trust Riker either? What was he supposed to make of it? If the captain should indeed be losing his perspective, obsessed with some idea of his own –- which he was not, Worf was sure of that –

Wasn't he? Or had she managed to make him doubt it, after all? Why was he reminding himself of something that was so utterly self-evident? Had she managed to make him doubt the captain – to enlist his aid in what?

The thought tore through him like a stab. No. As if anything could. Absurd, preposterous, dishonorable. He, Worf, was not being any of these things. Had she wanted him to think along those lines? And succeeded? How dared she? Appeal to his rationality in order to do – this? She was dishonoring them both. To be sowing doubts on your commanding officer's judgment, suggesting disloyalty, even, behind that commanding officer's back, to his Chief of Security –

Why?

He was angry now. Something had been threatened – something that should have been far above and beyond threat. But still – she had called him rational, hadn't she? – he had to go over this. I will not ask him, he decided reluctantly. There was something very strange going on here. What was it she wanted? What was the real danger – for there was a danger, he was sure of that now, else why would Beverly Crusher do such a thing? And – what did she expect him to think and do next? Having put things to him the way she had, how was he – Lieutenant Worf, Klingon Head of Security, well known for his zeal and thoroughness – supposed to be reacting now?

He would be rational with a vengeance, he decided as he strode into his quarters.

- - - - - - -

„I just hope this is the last piece of trouble from that quarter", said the captain, pushing the last padd to one side and reaching for his tea mug instead – only to put it down again when he realized that the contents had grown lukewarm.

„You don't sound very convinced, Captain", Riker commented from his own side of the desk.

„I've come to feel less than optimistic about getting through to Commander La Forge", Picard replied a little grimly. „Still, perhaps you've been more successful. What exactly did you tell him?"

„Well, I've been telling him that somebody in his department is handing out classified information and that I expect him to find the leak and stop it. I've told him the names of the two people I want him to check particularly, and I've added a few choice personal comments. He wasn't happy, but of course he said he'd sort it out immediately. What's wrong with that?"

„Will, if Geordi has made anything clear these days it is that his priorities may not be the same as ours. And it is an unfortunate fact that he is the only person in Engineering who has official access to these reports."

„Oh, Christ." Riker got up rather abruptly and took an impatient turn about the room. „So you're suggesting – "

„No, I'm not", Picard replied wearily. „I am not suggesting that Geordi has been deliberately leaking classified material, which is what this would come to. What I know is that anybody other than Geordi would have to have done some very sophisticated decoding and rerouting to get at the files. Either that, or we have a massive computer glitch that didn't show up in the diagnostic."

Riker sighed, made for his chair again, then decided to remain on his feet behind it, arms crossed on its back. „Which isn't likely, but somehow I can't see Geordi all of a sudden regaling everybody with the Celtris III affair either. He could have done that earlier if he'd wanted to. It's more than two months now. Why would he suddenly lose all sense of – " He interrupted himself. „Oh, no. Captain, you can't possibly think..."

„I don't know what to think, Will. I do feel that his performance hasn't been up to standard lately, and it's getting worse. He just doesn't seem to care. Not about Data, not about the problems with the equipment we do know about – it makes me wonder if he'll take this security breach very seriously."

„Is that why you revoked your permission to him to wear his device on duty?"

„It was what pushed the balance over. In actual fact I want everybody's mind on our mission, and I suspect the thing is interfering with that. I believe that constant euphoria about it to be a little distracting, to put it mildly."

„It probably is." Riker regarded his captain with an odd look for a moment or two, then continued slowly, almost reluctantly: „But to be honest, as far as I am concerned this whole business has been allowed to grow a little out of proportion lately. I wish we could get it over with. It's not as if we didn't have enough problems without adding this."

„Agreed." Picard shrugged, smiling slightly. It didn't come easily. „Dr. Crusher just told me to my face that I am being paranoid about it."

„To be honest, sir, you are, a bit", said Riker. A moment later he added: „With all due respect."

It did not dull the impact in the least. After a few seconds of absolute silence, Picard almost whispered: „Will, what was that just now?"

„I'm sorry, Captain. That wasn't how I wanted to put it at all. Only... well, you've been rather, shall we say, preoccupied with this lately. Rather more than it warranted in fact. It's just a harmless toy. Quite pleasant, even quite beneficial for some people. I agree that it might become somewhat overrated, and that we should have an eye on it. But the effects you're ascribing to it – " He trailed off.

A little too matter-of-factly, Picard asked: „So you don't even see a possible connection with the problems we're having right now?"

„Captain, I've been racking my brains for a possible connection, mainly because you suspected one. If there is a point to this I don't get it. And what's more important, the people down there in Engineering don't get it. They're being worked off their feet right now, I'm not sure how many more breakdowns we'd be having without that device. Don't get me wrong, sir, it's not the fact that you don't like it. It's just that it seems to have become the answer to everything. That's what's bothering me. It's... well, it just doesn't sound like your kind of solution, somehow."

„I see", said Picard dryly. „So in actual fact I am the one who is obsessed with the thing, rather than anybody else."

Incredibly, Riker seemed to fall for the lighter tone of that. He came up with a slighty crooked and very relieved grin. „Well, not exactly. I suppose Geordi has been asking for it. He keeps going on about it – it's been getting on my nerves as well. Not to mention Worf's." He pushed himself back from the chair. „I'd better go and have a look at Shuttlebay II. It shouldn't be anything too serious. And I'll call at the Hydroponics lab while I'm at it – just to make sure there aren't any more complaints about cutting power to their equipment. I'll keep you informed about things in Engineering..." He found himself lingering by the door. „That is, unless there's something else you'd like me to attend to? Sir?"

The captain kept him waiting for an answer for a few seconds; in fact Riker wondered for an instant if Picard had heard him at all, and there was something he didn't like about the way the pause made him feel. He pushed the thought out of the way, determined not to think it. Nonsense. That business about Shuttlebay II, now –

At last, very softly, the answer came: „That will be all, Will." And Riker fled the ready room.

- - - - - -