Blood and Fire
by Soledad
Author's note: Again, the whole pseudo-science is simply makebelief and not to be taken seriously. I'm not a doctor, or a medical scientist, so don't expect any scientific accuracy.
Chapter 06 – Against All Hope
It took two medical technicians – among them Ensign Simon Tarses, who was considerably stronger than the average human being, due to a Vulcan ancestor somewhere up his family tree – to restrain the screaming and kicking Eakins long enough for Dr. Marvin to give him a strong sedative. After that, the young man was out like a light, leaving the duty personnel of Auxiliary Sickbay in a somewhat dazed state. No-one had seen the quiet, reserved, infallibly polite Dan Eakins make such a spectacle of himself. Ever.
"I can't blame him, though," Nurse McClusker muttered; she was a hopeless romantic, especially where the lives of other people were considered. "They've just celebrated their fourth anniversary… that's a long time for such young people."
"Don't forget that poor Hodell was his friend, too," Dr. Martin reminded her. "That's two in a single day who were close to him, one way or another… and Lieutenant Eakins doesn't do close much. It will be hard on him, once he wakes up."
"We can't keep him under all the time, though," Simon Tarses pointed out reasonably. "Perhaps Counselor Troi can do something for him, once this plasmasite research is over."
"Perhaps," Dr. Martin allowed thoughtfully. Somehow, he couldn't imagine the extremely private Eakins pouring out his heart to Deanna Troi.
"In any case," Nurse Ogawa added, bringing the blood bags for Riker's transfusion from Haematology, "We'll all miss Colin Freeman. He was such a nice guy; I loved to have the duty shift with him. He always had a story to share, a joke to tell… and he was the gentlest soul I've ever seen in a man. It's a crying shame the best ones are always taken," she added, somewhat wistfully, thinking of her less than ideal partner.
"We should throw him a farewell party," Dr. Mahrwini suggested, on her way to the Isolation Lab. "Knowing him, he'd appreciate it."
"Yeah, but Lieutenant Eakins probably wouldn't," Tarses commented soberly. Dr. Mahrwini shrugged.
"It wouldn't be his party; it would be Freeman's," then she glanced at the control screen next to the lab door. "Oh. It seems IsoLab is ready to accept patients for exsanguinations. Put on a hazmat suit, Simon, and come with me. This will be fun… not!"
"How are Commander Riker and Lieutenant Eakins doing?" Picard asked several hours later. He was holding an impromptu meeting in his ready room, with Data, Troi, Selar and an uncomfortable-looking Dr. Blodgett attending. LaForge was having the bridge.
"They are recovering in Auxiliary Sickbay according to previous expectations," Selar answered with Vulcan precisity. "The blood transfusions went well, without putting any additional stress on their systems, and they are now both one hundred per cent free of plasmasites. I expect at least Commander Riker to be released in one more hour. All he needs is a little rest."
"What about Lieutenant Eakins?" Picard asked.
"His case is a bit more… complicated," the Vulcan admitted. "His physical condition is as good as one can expect after what he has been through. His mental condition, however…"
"Lieutenant Eakins has suffered a deep emotional shock," Troi took over. "Once he wakes up, we can expect either a volatile reaction to Ensign Freeman's death and towards the people who, in his opinion, have caused it," she gave a squirming Blodgett a meaningful look, "or he'll completely withdraw into himself, bottle everything in, until…"
"… until it becomes too much for him, and we'll be back at the volatile reaction," Picard nodded in understanding. "What do you suggest, Counselor? How are we supposed to deal with him?"
"I'd like to keep him in Sickbay a little longer, where he could be watched twenty-four/seven, but I'm afraid that isn't an option," Troi replied. "His physical condition doesn't justify it, and he's too intelligent to be fooled. But if he's released, I suggest monitoring his quarters."
"For suicidal tendencies?" Picard asked.
"For any sign of violence," Troi corrected. "Whether it's aimed against himself… or someone else."
Picard nodded. The idea of spying on one of his own people didn't appeal to him, but he understood that in this particular case it would be necessary – to save the young man from himself.
"Make it so, Counselor," he said; then he turned back to Selar. "Doctor, what about getting the plasmasite infestation under control? Have you made any progress?"
"Actually, we have," Selar answered, "but our problems are not yet over. The main question is: what should we do with the Copernicus? Clearly, we cannot afford to let it float away freely in space. Not while it is still full of bloodworms."
"No," Picard agreed. "But we could carry out the Code Nine directive and destroy her. There's nothing left aboard, except the bloodworms, and the ship's systems have been seriously damaged already."
"I am afraid it is not that simply," Selar said. "As we know, we cannot kill the plasmasites by the way of standard weapons; they merely become Wavicles and spread. Now, if the Copernicus is destroyed, there is a chance that they would be unleashing an incalculable number of wavicles into deep space. They would eventually locate a world with warm-blooded beings, and the horror would start all over again."
Picard looked at Data in concern. "Is that possible, Data. Can the wavicles survive in empty space?"
"Unknown," the android replied promptly. "Insufficient data input. There are no records about it having been witnessed."
"Give me a scientific estimate, based on what we already know about the bloodworms," Picard ordered.
Data processed the available information for roughly two point nine seven seconds. "The possibility is unlikely," he finally decided, "but it does indeed exist."
"I believe the genetic manipulation of the original bloodworms is the key," Selar said. "These plasmasites are… stuck in their lifecycle in some way. Their inability to properly metamorphosize is the thing that makes them so violent."
"Doctor Selar and I have been comparing the genetic sequences of common bloodworms and the plasmasite brought back from the Copernicus," Blodgett added. "I think we have found the aberration that makes the plasmasites so different. If my theory is right, there is a way to alter that genetic instruction which makes the plasmasites permanently hungry, which could then, theoretically, allow them to move to the next step of their evolution."
Picard glanced at Troi who gave him a barely visible nod, signalling that Blodgett was telling the truth… or, at least, what he believed to be the truth. Whether he was right or not about it was another question entirely, of course.
"Sounds promising," Picard said. "So, where's the catch?"
Blodgett sighed. "The main problem is that the only way to test this cure is to use a human volunteer," he admitted.
"No," Picard said determinedly. "Absolutely not. Out of question. Forget it. I won't feed another member of my crew to those monsters, volunteer or not. We'll find another way to deal with them."
"We might not have the time, Captain," Data intervened. "I have been calculating the Copernicus' heading."
'And?" Picard pressed.
"Sir… she is heading for the heart of Ferengi space," the android ratted down the coordinates.
"That's impossible," Picard whispered.
"On the contrary, Captain, that is the fact," Data countered. "Admittedly, the ship has been drifting since our arrival, but if you drew an imaginary line between Regulus VI and her current position, the other end of the line would point directly at the supposed location of Ferenginar."
"Their home planet," Picard murmured. "The very centre of the Ferengi Alliance."
"Fifteen billion inhabitants on Ferenginar alone," Troi added grimly. "Not counted the habitable moons and the orbital stations."
Selar looked at her with a blank face only a very surprised Vulcan could display. "I was not aware that such detailed knowledge would be available about the Ferengi homeworld," she said,
"It isn't public knowledge," Troi admitted, "butt here are wealthy renegades living even on Federation Starbases, and if someone can give Oo-mox as well as my mother can…"she shrugged, not finishing the sentence.
Not that there would have been any need. Ambassador Lwaxana Troi was a well-known (and dreaded) quality aboard the Enterprise. But aside from her personality quirks, her intel was usually spot on.
"Which means that we'll be causing full-scale genocide, unless we do something," Picard said, and gave Blodgett a sharp, inquisitive look. "What do you know about this?"
"Nothing," the man answered honestly. "I was only responsible for the research. Everything else was Commander Yarell's business, and she didn't let us look into her cards."
"I see," Picard paused for a moment to bring his fury under control. "I think it's time to have another chat with Commander Yarell."
They returned to the bridge to re-check the Copernicus' heading, although there was little chance that Data would have miscalculated. He didn't make those kinds of mistakes. Soon, a somewhat tired yet otherwise completely healthy arrived, too, asking permission to resume his duties. Picard granted his request. Riker's solid presence was more than welcome in the upcoming confrontation with the Intelligence officer.
A few minutes later Jerôme Baila emerged from the turbolift, escorting a coldly smiling Commander Yarell to the bridge.
"Commander Yarell, sir," he reported, a bit unnecessarily, but true to the regs.
Picard nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Baila. Mr. Worf, give me shipwide," he ordered the Klingon. "I want everybody on board to hear this. We might need witnesses. So, Commander Yarell, care to tell me why the Copernicus was heading for the heart of Ferengi space?"
"They had their orders," Yarell replied dismissively.
"Orders given by whom?" Picard demanded.
"By me, of course," Yarell admitted, not showing the slightest sign of repentance. "You must understand Captain; I've been studying the Ferengi menace for fifteen years. You believe you know them? Let me assure you: you have no idea what they are capable of. Even I have barely scratched the surface.
"What does this have to do with the bloodworm threat?" Riker asked. "Are we in a competition in xenobiology or what?"
"In a matter… yes, we are," Yarell answered. "Even you must admit, Commander, that this would be the perfect way to obliterate the Ferengi threat: by infiltrating their territory with the modified plasmasites."
"You are talking about genocide," Picard said, shocked that she would admit it so freely.
"No, Captain," she retorted. "I'm talking about defending Federation space by the way of a pre-emptive strike. Or isn't the Enterprise supposed to defend Federation space?"
"I don't think this would do anything with defending Federation space," Picard said, disgust clearly written in his face. "I believe this is nothing more than blind hatred on your part, Commander, using defence as a cover. I wanted to give you a chance to undo some of the harm you've caused, but I see now that you're a lost case."
He looked at Baila. "Mr. Baila, escort Commander Yarell to the brig. She'll be safely tucked away there until we have time to deal with her."
Baila moved towards Yarell, but she topped him with a gesture, pulling something out of the pocket of her black uniform jacket. It was a small containment jar, filled with purple and gold sparkles.
"You still don't understand it, Captain, do you?" she smiled coldly. "You're not the one who gives the orders here… I am. And unless you take us into Ferengi space, with the Copernicus on a tractor beam, I'll open this repulsor jar and unleash the plasmasites on the whole ship. Your choice."
The bridge crew stared at her in open-mouthed shock. The plasmasites, clearly in wavicle form by the sight of them, wouldn't be contained by bulkheads or forcefields. They'd find their way into the smallest, furthers corners of the ship, killing everyone on board.
Picard seemed to come to the same conclusion because he nodded firmly. "Very well. But I warn you, Commander: this will have consequences. You aren't the only one with contacts in high places. I'll make you pay for this action."
"Captain!" Riker protested. "You can't…"
"I see no alternative, Number One," Picard replied calmly. "Mr. Haskell, lay in a direct course to Ferenginar. Lieutenant LaForge, engage aft tractor beam and give me the best speed you can. I want this to be dealt with as soon as possible."
"Captain, Number Two engine is still down for dilithium recalibration," La Forge reminded him. "We can't run it with hot warp."
Haskell opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but snapped it closed at once, seeing Riker's quelling look. Picard shook his head in disgust, murmured something about incompetence and turned to Yarell.
"Well, Commander, it seems that there will be a short delay."
"It doesn't matter," she replied confidently, and actually had the cheek to sit down in the command chair. "If nothing else, I'm extremely patient. I've waited fifteen years; I can wait another couple of hours."
Waiting for the engineering team to finish dilithium recalibration wasn't a pleasant affair. Least of all for Picard and his senior staff, who were well aware of the fact that nothing of that sort was being done down in Engineering. Dilithium recalibration could only be done in the safety labs of a Starbase or a well-equipped drydock, not aboard a starship in deep space. Fortunately, Yarell didn't have the necessary engineering knowledge to call their bluff.
Still, the whole situation was parsecs away from being under control. Sure, LaForge's bluff had bought them a little time. The true problem was, however, that not one of them had the faintest idea what to do with that time. It was a deadlock of the worst sort, and after half an hour Picard, usually the calmness in personification, was fit to climb the walls.
He'd never felt this helpless in his whole life.
Consequently, he was almost happy when the turbolift doors opened, releasing onto the bridge a pale and somewhat shaky Dan Eakins. The lieutenant was wearing his duty uniform, including his phaser holster, and seemed amazingly collected, considering his recent losses.
"Captain," he said in a low, even voice, "permission to resume my duties."
"Are you really up to it, Lieutenant?" Picard asked in concern. "Has Doctor Selar released you from Sickbay?"
"I've released myself, sir," Eakins answered. "I was going mad down there, and the doctors could find no sound reason to keep me there. Besides, Sickbay isn't the best place for me to be. Everything there reminds me of Colin," he added, his voice suddenly broken and hopeless.
Picard nodded. "All right, Lieutenant. Permission granted. Take your duty station."
"Thank you, sir," but instead of walking up to the security station and relieving Worf, Eakins suddenly spun around and aimed his phaser at Yarell, who was still sitting in the command chair, displaying an expression of affected boredom.
"I've heard everything," he said in a voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "You've murdered them… all of them. The people on board the Copernicus, and Colin, too. He was my life, and now he's dead, because of you!"
"Don't be so overdramatic, Lieutenant," Yarell replied, waving at him with the repulsor jar. "Put away your little toy and scurry off as long as you still can. Do you really want me to unleash my little darlings all over this ship?"
"I won't be so overconfident, Commander," Eakins riposted through gritted teeth, his voice barely human. "I've held the Academy records for years; I'm still faster than anyone else on this ship, and this phaser is set to kill. Are you sure I won't be able to evaporate your sorry head before you could open that jar? Besides, I think you're bluffing. You're too much of a spineless coward to die with us."
"Lieutenant," Picard stepped in the way of the weapon, "I'm ordering you to lower your weapon."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that," Eakins answered. "This woman is a liar and a mass murdered, and I can't let her get away with it."
"She won't," Riker promised, approaching the desperate man from the other side. "But simply killing her won't do, no matter how much she's deserved it. Let Starfleet take care of her, in the way it should be done."
Eakins shook his head frantically. "Oh, no. That won't do. I've seen before how Intelligence officers got away with just about everything because of their connections. I won't allow that to happen. She's murdered Colin, as surely as if she'd pulled the trigger with her own hand. She doesn't deserve to live."
"No, she doesn't," Riker agreed bluntly, "But we can't be jury, judge and executioner all in one. Then we wouldn't be a tad better than she is. Now, give me that phaser, Lieutenant. I won't ask you again!"
He held out his hand, waiting with forced patience, by no way certain what would happen. A few tense moments passed, then Eakins hands his phaser to Riker, breaking down in tears. Riker threw the phaser to Worf, took Eakins in his arms and let him give in to his grief.
The others looked away, not wanting to invade the privacy of Eakins' pain…
…until they heard Yarell's scream of anger – or fear? Whirling around, they saw that in an unobserved moment Blodgett had snatched the jar from her, opened it and was now actually swallowing the plasmasites.
"What are you doing, Doctor?" Picard shouted, as the gold and purple sparks were absorbed by the man's body.
"Trying to clean up this sorry mess," Blodgett replied calmly. "I think you should have me beamed over to the Copernicus, Captain, together with a sample of the new cure Doctor Selar and I have come up between us."
"You ought to go to Sickbay," Picard said. "Perhaps it isn't too late yet for…"
"No, Captain," Blodgett interrupted. "I've made a grave mistake by believing the Commander, and now this is my opportunity to make up for that mistake. To test the cure, we need a human volunteer; well, I am volunteering. I helped to create this… this problem, so it's my responsibility to help solving it. Please, let this be my redemption. I couldn't live with the memory of those dead people haunting me each night otherwise."
Picard looked at the man for an endless moment, saw the honest regret on his face… and nodded.
"Very well. Let's give it a try. Go directly to the transporter room and beam over to the Copernicus immediately. "We can't risk you to infect any other people by accident. Doctor Selar will send the cure after you."
"Yes, Captain," with a grateful look, Blodgett stepped into the turbolift cabin.
Picard turned to Worf's right-hand-man. "Mr. Baila, kindly remove Commander Yarell from my bridge. I believe she will enjoy the privacy of the high security cell."
"Gladly, Captain," to everyone's surprise, Baila pulled his phaser, set it at heavy stun and shot Yarell. "Just in case she'd be planning to escape on our way down to the brig," he explained, threw the unconscious woman over his shoulder and left, slightly staggering under her weight.
Riker looked at Worf. "Mr. Worf, remind me of this moment when crew evaluation is due again. I think Ensign Baila has more than deserved a promotion."
Within minutes, Blodgett was beamed over to the Copernicus, and the small vial with a sample of the experimental cure sent after him in a secured box.
"I have established visual feed with the Copernicus' sickbay, Captain," Data reported. "You can follow Doctor Blodgett's progress on the main viewer."
The entire senior staff was collected on the bridge and watched Blodgett on the screen, injecting himself the cure. Barely had he finished, the wavicles from all over the ship began to swarm over his body and were absorbed by it.
Strangely enough, he didn't seem to be in pain… on the contrary. There was something almost ecstatic in his expression, even as his whole body was being transformed into a beautiful glowing cloud of colour and light and flickering sparkles, his physical form breaking down on the molecular level and turning into pure energy, right before the shocked eyes of the Enterprise crew.
"Well, I'll be damned," Riker murmured, watching the light show in awe. "What the hell was that?"
"There is an ancient Vulcan legend, from the times way before the Reformation," Selar said quietly, "about a species of pure light, called the sparkle-dancers. Creatures said to roam empty space between stars and planets, until they find a suitable host, in which the next generation can he gestated. The host then gets transformed into one of the dancers himself, and flies off with them to continue their eternal wandering. Look!"
They all watched with open-mouthed astonishment as the light, now filling the entire Sickbay of the Copernicus, exploded outward, rejoined in space and set off like a colony of dancing butterflies of light and energy.
"But how did these wondrous creatures become the vicious plasmasites?" Troi was the first to phrase the question of all.
"I fear that we cannot answer that question just yet," Selar admitted. "I shall propose to the Vulcan Academy of Sciences to research the history of the Regulan Wars. Perhaps one day we may find out how the now extinct inhabitants of Regulus VI managed to trap the sparkle dancers and use them to drastically change the physiology of the bloodworms, destroying their own species in the process. Perhaps we shall never learn the truth. But even if we do not, we might get the chance to free the sparkle dancers still trapped on Regulus VI."
"Should we really do that?" Picard asked very seriously. "At least the plasmasites are safely quarantined on Regulus VI – unless some irresponsible fool like Commander Yarell interferes, that is. They can't leave the planet on their own. After the metamorphosis, however, there will be no way to stop the sparkle dancers."
"There will be certainly a great deal of consideration before any actual steps could be made," Selar replied. "There is a chance that the sparkle dancers, in their ultimate form, possess some sort of intelligence, in which case we can negotiate with them and come to an understanding, eventually. In any case, this is not our decision to make."
"A fact for which I am eternally grateful," Picard said. "What we ought to discuss, though, is what we should do with the Copernicus. Doctor Selar, should we destroy the ship, would it mean that the wavicles set free from the plasmasites could spread the infection any further?"
Selar shook her head. "Not if we can beam a sample of the cure aboard before blowing the ship up. That way, the sparkle dancers can join the colony that has already left. According to the legend, these creatures always travel in swarms."
"Yes, but can we base our actions on ancient legends, the scientific accuracy of which we can my no means confirm?" Data asked.
"I believe what we have just witnessed should be confirmation enough for at least the basics of those legends," Selar said. "Everything else will be the subject of further research- We shall have to send a detailed report to Starfleet Sciences as well."
"Undoubtedly," Picard agreed. "I'll feel better if we had clear orders from Starfleet Command concerning both the bloodworm situation and Commander Yarell's role in this tragedy," he rose from the command chair. "Number One, you have the bridge. Lieutenant Eakins, I want to see you in my ready room. Counselor Troi, Doctor Selar, if you would join us… we still have a disciplinary matter to deal with."
"I hope you understand it, Lieutenant, that we all sympathize with your motivation," Picard began, choosing his words carefully. "But the facts remain facts. "You have threatened a superior officer with a deadly weapon, and that on the bridge, of all places. I can't ignore those facts."
"I understand that, Captain," Eakins was pale but collected. "And I'll make it easier for you," he handed his commanding officer a PADD with an opened document on screen. "Hereby I'm resigning my commission as a Starfleet officer."
Picard read the document and nodded slowly. "Perhaps that would be the best solution indeed. But what are you going to do with your life?"
Eakins shrugged. "Does it matter? I have no life. Not anymore. Not without Colin. Eventually, I'm gonna find a place."
"You need help, Lieutenant," Troi said gently. "You should consider therapy. After the shock you've experienced…"
Eakins shook his head. "Forget it. I won't allow any of you shrinks poke around in my head. This is my loss and my grief; it's nobody else's business."
"You're making a mistake," Troi warned him, disapproval clear in her voice.
"It's my mistake to make," Eakins replied stubbornly.
Selar cleared her throat. "Perhaps," she suggested, "Lieutenant Eakins would profit from spending time in a Vulcan monastery. There he would have time – and the necessary peace – to deal with his loss and contemplate a different direction for his future. Also, should he feel the need to talk to someone, he can turn to one of the Masters for guidance. They are known for their absolute discretion."
"It could work," Picard agreed. "It's in any case better than medical leave for an undefined time," he looked at Eakins. "What do you think, Lieutenant? Ready to give it a try?"
Eakins considered the suggestion for a while; then he shrugged.
"As good a place as any other," he said. "At least it would be quiet there."
"Very well," Picard said. "I'll see into your discharge documents and see that you get a transfer to Vulcan as soon as possible."
"Thank you, sir," Eakins replied simply. There really wasn't anything else to say. The sooner he got away from the enterprise and the memories connected to it the better it would be for him.
Picard nodded. "You are welcome. Oh, and Lieutenant… my sincerest condolences."
~The End~