Old fandom, new fan. I hope there are still some readers out there. Paramount's toys, I'm just borrowing them.
"Picard to Doctor Crusher, come in."
Picard waited for a response. There was none. He stood up from his chair, tapped his communicator once more.
"Doctor Crusher?"
The captain glanced around the bridge. Both Riker and Troi were now looking at him.
"Bridge to Sickbay."
"Yes Captain?"
It was not Beverly's voice. "Lietenant Ogawa. Where is Doctor Crusher?"
"In the quarantine room, Sir. We are not permitted to enter."
"She is not responding to my summons on her communicator. I was hoping for a report from her soon." After a moment's hesitation he added, "Do you think she is alright?"
Ogawa paused for longer than Picard found comfortable.
"You had better send Commander Data. He is the only one Doctor Crusher would permit to enter while she is handling samples."
"Very well. Picard out. Commander Data, I shall accompany you to sick bay. Number One, you have the bridge."
Captain's Log, Stardate 418394.1:
It has been three days since the Enterprise intercepted a freighter in response to a distress call. While deliveri+ng supplies to a colony in the midst of a civil dispute, the freighter's crew had contracted a rare and yet uncured infection caused by a plant species that native to the planet. The locals knew to avoid it; the crew did not. It is a neural infection that works slowly, carried in the infected blood and bodily fluids. When the first members of the crew began exhibiting symptoms, they were still unaware of what they were dealing with. The preliminary symptoms are mild and similar to that of sleep deprivation and lethargy. The crew did not sufficiently protect themselves from transmission, and all eight members were infected by the end of the week.
By the time the Enterprise had reached them, only one member of the crew was still conscious. The other eight had fallen into a deep coma. All were beamed directly into quarantine and put on life support. Within 36 hours of boarding the Enterprise, the last member of the freighter's crew lost consciousness. We have set course for the nearest Starbase to have them transferred to its medical facility for treatment.
This infection has been studied for decades. A cure is imminent. CMO Doctor Crusher is determined to put the last pieces together before we reach the Starbase. Having studied the nature of this infection in depth prior to contact, she believes that with active samples, she has the ability to develop an antidote. The disease works very slowly, leaving a victim unconscious for several months before finally taking his life. This gives Doctor Crusher ample time to work on the cure. However, I worry about her handling such samples. Even with the utmost care, the infection is too contagious to be completely avoided, and it only takes 48 hours to induce a coma.
Picard paced back and forth in front of the quarantine room, occasionally stopping to glance at the doorway. It was coated in an iridescent shimmer; the force field Doctor Crusher had activated to assure nobody could accidentally enter while she was working. It had been momentarily deactivated to allow Data to enter, and then promptly reactivated until Data or Doctor Crusher determined the room to be safe for entry. This was taking entirely too long for the captain's liking.
Finally, the force field deactivated. Hearing its hum die down, Picard positioned himself at the entrance. Data emerged moments later, his face the same as usual, giving no indication of the nature of what he was about to convey.
"Unfortunately, it is as you had feared, Captain. Doctor Crusher herself has been infected. I discovered her unconscious at her work desk. You may enter now, if you wish."
"Please, Data." There was an edge to Picard's voice that he was trying very carefully to conceal. It was a tone that Data had long become familiar with, and identified whenever any member of the crew was in serious danger. Data placed it as concern, edging on fear. Fear was something he could not understand. Concern, however, he saw as something experienced while calculating the chances of an unfavorable outcome.
Doctor Crusher lay in bed, still in uniform, her hands laid at her sides. A small chip had been placed on her head to monitor her life signs, which appeared on a screen directly behind her. The other eight patients were lined up on beds beside her, all the way to the end of the room. They were all hooked up to their respective screens, but unlike Doctor Crusher, they were encased in glass reinforced by a force field, to ensure maximum quarantine.
"She appears to be stable, Sir." Data informed Picard, who was squinting at the screen, attempting to decipher all of the blinking charts, graphs, and numbers. "I apologize for the delay; I had to seal away all samples Doctor Crusher was working with, and then sanitize the entire room, myself included, before it was safe for entry. Since the disease is not airborne, I calculated that a force field was unnecessary. Doctor Crusher appears to have been taking extra precautions. However, I would not advise you to engage in more than necessary physical contact with her."
"Thank you Data, you have been very thorough."
"Doctor Crusher kept me updated, as I am the only one who was able to assist her when necessary."
Picard sighed, pulled up a stool next to the doctor's bed. "You always have to be so stubborn."
"I do not think she can hear you, Sir."
"I know, Data."
Data busied himself at the doctor's desk while Picard sat silently on the stool, staring at Beverly's face and letting the reality of what had happened sink in. Although he had worried about it, he wasn't sure if he fully accepted the possibility that Beverly herself might get infected. Despite the high likelihood of it, Picard found himself facing a bit of a shock. Was she really going to die this time?
"Data, her notes... do they have anything we can pass on to the doctors at the Starbase? Something to bring them closer to a cure?"
"I believe they do, Captain. Last we spoke this morning, Doctor Crusher had indicated that she was close. It is a delicate formula, but I do believe she had discovered it."
"Of course she had." Picard smiled. "Bring me the Padd. I'd like to take a glance at it myself before passing it on to Lieutenant Ogawa."
"There is a slight problem with that. For her most important notes, Doctor Crusher prefers to write freehand. I saw her doing this once, and found it peculiar. She explained her fear of losing her work while we are between Starbases. She keeps a journal for extra insurance, in case something were to happen to the Enterprise's data banks. I checked all of her computer records, and no files on this infection have been updated in the last 36 hours. I hypothesize that these are the only record of her progress at this time."
Picard looked up to see Data holding a leather bound journal. His face fell. He took and flipped through the pages. It was full of illegible scrawls, unintelligible diagrams, and sketches of molecular compounds labelled with some made-up shorthand. "Can you decipher this, Data?"
"Perhaps, but it may take longer than our remaining journey to the Starbase. I have nothing to compare it to."
The sharp lurches between hope and despair were making the Captain weary. "I must consult Commander Riker and Counselor Troi before taking matters further. Let us assemble in my ready room."
Picard knew of only one person who could assist them, but he was very unsure of whether Wesley Crusher could be contacted easily. It may be days, weeks, months, years before he responded to any transmission. But regardless, Wesley needed to be here. As Data left the quarantine room ahead of him, Picard paused before getting up. He brushed some hair off of Beverly's face so that it was unobscured. Her expression was completely blank. The sight of it frightened him.
He tried to remember what it looked like during breakfast this morning. It had been a short breakfast; she was too immersed in her work to stay long. She sipped coffee and talked about her research. Her voice was fast and excited. She had looked tired. He thought it was because she was up late working, but he should have paid more attention. He had turned to start reading a report as she was leaving. He could hear the clink of her cup being placed on the table. She had squeezed his shoulder and the smell of fresh linen and antiseptic drifted above him as she said "I'll see you later, Jean-Luc." But he hadn't looked up at her face before she walked out.
Picard touched her hand to make sure it was still warm, and then left her to sleep.