SHIP OF FOOLS

Chapter 22

"Engineering to bridge." The sound of his own voice made him feel as if his head was about to split. Oh, wow, Geordi La Forge thought feebly, his fingers groping round the contact points of his visor to rub his temples, and finding the device still attached to his right ear. That thing. Hell, what a mess. What a headache. He let go of the console he had been slumped against, and braced his shoulders against the bulkhead instead so he could use both hands. He tried to pry the thing loose, and found himself groaning with the effort, and then it occurred to him that the intercom might not be working. That headache was killing him, and he couldn't recall what made him think such a thing, but for a moment there –

"Bridge," said a familiar voice, and then fell silent, as if waiting for him to state his business. He frowned, trying to remember what it was he had been about to ask.

"Um, La Forge here. Commander, that you? I'm sorry, but what's going on? We've... I have a feeling that everybody here just blacked out for a minute. Um, are you all right up there? What... I mean, is the captain there as well?"

"Yes, Mr. La Forge, he is," a second voice answered. "What is your status?"

Geordi swallowed. "Well, Captain, we're managing, sort of. Did you do that – whatever it was?"

"Data did most of it – including the restoring of communications."

"Oh," said Geordi, swallowing again. "I... well, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I mean, I'm terribly sorry for the mess. I'm not sure – if it's the way I think it is I – "

"Mr. La Forge," the captain interrupted, none too graciously, "I suggest you save your analyses for later. We have a number of problems, and we'll be getting company soon."

"Yes, sir. Of course. Um, you'll want the engines up and running."

"I want my ship up and running, Mr. La Forge. We're at yellow alert, and we may find ourselves in a very difficult situation in a few hours. I'd appreciate a status report as soon as possible."

"Will do, sir." Damn that headache. Oddly enough, there was something bracing about that clipped tone. Geordi swallowed all the things he might have asked and added – there would be time for that afterwards. "La Forge out."

On the bridge, Picard turned his head to meet Worf's eyes. "Restore yellow alert, Lieutenant. I want all decks to report, and I want to know how far I can rely on my crew. In fact I'll call – "

"Captain," Riker said quietly. "Let me take care of this for a change."

Picard blinked, thrown off course for a moment. Then his mouth twitched a little. "Quite right, Number One. I seem to be doing your job here."

Riker gave Worf a nod; then he tapped his communicator. "Bridge to sickbay."

"Sickbay here." Beverly Crusher's voice was sounding harrassed, worried, and very tired, and her words appeared to tumble over one another. "Thank God the intercom... Will, are you in charge up there? Do you have any idea how the captain is doing? I haven't seen him in ages, and I don't – "

"He's doing well enough from what I can see," Riker replied with a quick grin. "Doctor, we've got to get this ship functional. Get some staff together and try to make sure people can do their jobs. We'll need our wits about us quite soon. I trust you're capable of doing that?"

"I think so, Wi... Commander. Hill's just analyzed this stuff you people released... " Her voice trailed off for a moment; then she apparently pulled herself together. "We're doing the best we can. But... we are having a few serious problems here, Will, you realize that?"

"I'm well aware of it, Doctor," replied Riker quickly. "Just carry on. Get yourself relieved if you have to. – And get Doctor Selar here on the double," he added. "Bridge out."

"Serious problems?" inquired the captain, looking alarmed.

"They were having them when I was down there. Several nervous breakdowns and the physical side effects of a lot of lost tempers." Not to mention a CMO struggling with the aftereffects of medium phaser stun on top of everything else, but he wouldn't mention that specifically. And probably another death, he thought, feeling a wave of cold dismay rising within as the memory came back. Oh, damn, damn, damn. I'll have to ask about Storgat. And then I just have to tell him I suppose.

"Will," Picard said suddenly, "how is Deanna? She wasn't too well when I last saw her."

"She's getting some rest I hope. I told her to, anyway. Where in blazes is that doctor?" said Riker, accepting the postponement of that horrible business with a mixture of guilt and relief. Just as well. He'll know soon enough.

Doctor Selar, arriving barely three minutes later, made short work of the captain. She sat him down on his sofa, ran her tricorder over him and came as close to turning up her eyes as he had ever seen a Vulcan come. He fully expected a scathing remark on Worf's talents as a medic. But instead she merely selected a vial and slammed it into her hypospray. "Allow me, sir."

He felt his mind clearing almost immediately. "Aerosal," she explained. "The injury is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances, but I have added another dose of a painkiller just to be on the safe side."

"I appreciate it. In fact I'm feeling much better already."

"There is no on-the-run cure for exhaustion, sir," she said matter-of-factly. "I can give you a tonic, but my medical advice to you would be to rest. I am, of course, aware of the possibility that you may not take it."

"I won't be able to. Anything you can do that will keep me on my feet, Doctor."

"Very well." Another vial clicked into place. "This should get rid of the nausea as well. You probably don't feel like eating, but your blood sugar levels are..." She looked at her tricorder again, her eyebrows rising still further. "Low," she concluded. "You'll have to eat, sir. For the moment I'll give you a glucose solution and some mineral salts..." She looked her kit over critically. "Another thing, sir. You're badly dehydrated. I can give you all sorts of things" – and in fact she was already inserting another ampule into the hypospray – "but there's no such substance as dehydrated water. Therefore, drink – as much as you can."

"Yes, Doctor," he said meekly. "What's that?"

"An electrolyte solution. You may not realize it, but you shouldn't be able to sit up in your present condition, much less do anything."

"But I'll stay the course?"

"You have a few hours now. If you manage to get some sleep in between, a little more. After that you'll simply pass out. Your system can't take much more." Almost as an afterthought she picked yet another vial. "There. This will calm you – your nerves are badly jangled too." Replacing the hypospray, she closed her field kit with a sharp clack. The captain stood, cautiously, testing the waters. The floor felt solid enough.

"Doctor."

"Sir?"

"How is my crew?"

For a bare moment her eyes dropped. Then she looked up again and met his gaze. "Too early to tell. But from what I've seen so far," replied Selar crisply, "most of your crew are doing fine – apart from some disorientation, a number of headaches and minor injuries and a general sense of having made fools of themselves in a big way. Present company included." And with that, and a brief nod to him, she left. He followed a moment later, in time to see her administer some kind of medication to Riker, who nodded his thanks and sent her on to Worf with a silent jerk of his head. Worf scowled but for once submitted without comment. Picard dropped into the center seat.

"Better, sir?"

"Much better. Data, I'm glad to see you back at Ops."

Data swiveled his chair to face him. "I am pleased too, sir. However, I assume that your remark was intended not only to convey a sentiment but also to imply your belief that I have finished work on the main computer for the moment. That is the case."

Picard smiled. "What about the probes?"

"The approaching vessel will enter the nebula in approximately three hours forty-five minutes. Communication will be possible about an hour later."

Riker nodded at that. "With your permission, Captain, I'd like to pay a brief visit to a few departments. Collect Geordi's status report in person and have a look at Engineering while I'm at it. Just to make sure."

"Permission granted," Picard said. "In fact I was going to suggest just that in another minute or so."

"I had a feeling that you might," said Riker, deadpan. Then he turned his head, catching Worf's glance.

"Go get some rest, Worf."

"Commander, with all due respect – "

"Because," Riker went on, "I want you up there when our negotiator gets here, and I want you functional. You have three hours at least. Use them. That's an order, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," said Worf grudgingly, tapping his comm badge. "Worf to N'Guyn."

There was no reply. Both Picard and Riker looked up, waiting. Worf hit his communicator again. "Worf to N'Guyn. Respond."

"N'Guyn here. Sorry for the delay, sir, I've been, well, off duty. Lieutenant Singh's orders."

"Report to the bridge now," said Worf. "I will require a report. Then you will relieve me at Tactical."

A pause. "On my way, sir. Just getting ready. I take it things are back to normal." There was a hint of excitement in N'Guyn's voice. Riker was trying hard not to grin.

"They will be," replied Worf ominously. "Worf out."

Riker stood. "Get going, Worf. I'll take Tactical until that guy turns up, and his report too. That is – " He stopped himself. "Captain? Have I missed something?"

Picard looked up at him with a somewhat rueful twinkle. "No, Number One, you haven't. I was going to call a meeting, but I seem to have changed my mind just now. Counselor Troi needs to rest, and you're quite right about Worf too. And Geordi and Dr. Crusher will have their hands full as it is. In fact I think – " The captain broke off in mid-sentence and frowned, rubbing the back of his hand against his cheek with a slightly pained expression. Then he got to his feet as well. "I'll be in my quarters if you need me."

"You're going to get some rest too, sir?" asked Riker.

"No. I'm going to shave."

He did more than that once he reached his quarters; he stayed for a hot shower and a change of uniform, part of his mind surprised at his own calm, another part half-waiting for the other shoe to drop, a third uncomfortably aware of the fact that half a dozen drugs were keeping him from falling apart. Well, it can't be helped now. The sight of the monitor sitting on his desk with a couple of neatly stacked padds nearby reminded him that it was days since he had read through the details of his assignment. He called them up; then, mindful of his instructions, he went over to the replicator and ordered some soup. The unit chirped dutifully and produced a bowl, napkin, roll and spoon, neatly arranged on a small tray. The innocent smell of the stuff almost made his stomach revolt, but he set his teeth and carried it to his desk. She's quite right. I don't feel like eating. He got through his soup without another surge of nausea by keeping his mind firmly on the meager facts provided by Admiral Juarez. Then, deciding that enough was enough, he cleared the screen. Time to return to the bridge.

The ship felt different already. Somehow, the air smelt fresher – as if the ventilation system had been deteriorating imperceptibly over a period of time, and been restored only lately. Or perhaps, he thought with a very slight smile, it's me imagining things...

But there was no denying the feeling that things were falling back into place. He kept an eye out for devices, but the decks were fairly quiet, and the crewmen he met went about their business with an air of quiet professionalism – even though he caught a few embarrassed sideways glances. Two maintenance teams could be heard exchanging reports over the intercom. An ensign rounding the corner from the turbolift stopped rather abruptly on seeing him, and then made way for him with a muttered "Captain", eyes averted – but even he, he noted with relief, was not wearing the thing. And when he stepped out onto the bridge it immediately struck him how very alive it had come in such a short time, with a full complement manning the stations. He paused for a moment with his hands on the wooden railing, involuntarily drawing a deep breath; he even closed his eyes for a few heartbeats, imagining, during one brief irrational moment, that he could feel the last of his strength draining away into the fabric of his ship. He hadn't known how desperately he had been holding on, until now.

Riker rose out of the center seat, greeting him with an affectionate but somewhat wry grin – the expression of a man who didn't even pretend that he hadn't expected to see him back on the bridge within the hour. "Almost back to normal, sir. All systems functional, excepting the sensors, of course. I've instructed department heads to send all non-essential staff off to get some rest while they can. Sickbay reports that so far things have been manageable, to quote Doctor Crusher."

The captain nodded. "That is the impression I was getting just now as well. Still, I strongly suggest keeping our eyes peeled."

"I agree, sir," said Riker, cast a quick look round the bridge, and on noticing that he had everybody's attention went on without lowering his voice: "In fact Data has informed me that he may soon be able to trace the signature of an activated device back to its source. I hope we won't have to use that option, but better safe than sorry."

"Just so, Number One," said Picard, very dryly. And then, all of a sudden, something seemed to give way.

"I'll be in my ready room, Will."

"Yes, Captain," said Riker.

"I want to be notified before that ship is within communications range. Well before."

"Yes, sir."

"That's an order."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Riker shook his head a little once the ready room door had closed. Then he addressed himself to the intercom.

"Riker to sickbay."

"Yes," a voice answered. She sounded dead tired. "Crusher here."

"Doctor, how is Counselor Troi? I'm sure you have your hands full, and I don't want to rush anybody, but she'll be needed to assess our friends out there in a few hours. Urgently needed."

There was a pause. "Will," said Crusher finally, "I see your point, but I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that. And there... in fact I'd like you to come down here for a minute if you can be spared."

Damn, thought Riker, seeing things catching up with him. Well, let's get this over with. He got out of his seat.

"I'll be in sickbay. You have the bridge, Data."

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