Star-Struck 7
Jean-Luc Picard was reclining comfortably in his chair on the bridge, balancing a PADD on one knee, and a cup of tea, supported with one hand, on the other. Everything was running shipshape, and they were 5 hours away from Starbase 395, for routine upgrades to the ship.
He gazed around at the crew around him. Worf was reading a PADD describing the upgrades to Tactical that would be installed. Will was talking quietly with Deanna. Wes was daydreaming, his eyes staring at the viewscreen, slightly unfocussed. Melisandre had hooked Data up to a diagnostic machine she had put together with Geordi's help, and the two were inspecting readouts while Data waited patiently. What a great team, he mused. Suddenly, a voice came on over the comm.
"Sickbay to Bridge."
Uh-oh, he thought. "Picard here."
"Beverly here. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I am waiting on Messrs Picard and LaForge for their physicals. I know Geordi's been busy with the warp core lately, but I find no such excuse for you, Captain. So, please report here within the next hour. Also, 'Lise, we can see you with them, so you might as well come down too."
He frowned. Damn. "Oh, alright. We're on our way. Bridge out. Geordi, Melisandre, let's go." He got up, put the PADD down, handed the cup of tea to Will, and marched out stiffly. Everyone knew how much he hated physicals and hid grins.
"Sickbay!" he barked, when the three were in the turbolift. The others knew better than to say anything. When they arrived, Beverly took his arm and led him to a room aside, while Geordi waited. Dr. Selar took Melisandre to a biobed and started scans.
"Hmm... it seems better than before," she said. "Have you been exercising regularly?"
Melisandre sighed. "Yes, I've been doing everything Beverly told me to."
Selar inspected the readouts above the bed. She pointed to one. "But the tissue density is still lower than we expected." She took a hypospray out and injected it. "This should help with the pain, until we can isolate another batch of Fertutian Gallu essence." She then went to the back room to check on supplies for the isolation.
"Whoa, whoa," said Geordi suddenly. "Pain?"
"Nothing too bad, Geordi, there isn't any reason to worry," Melisandre said.
"Oh, yes there is. Let's have it." Geordi plopped himself down on the side of the biobed and looked at her. Despite the fact that his eyes were covered with the VISOR, his stare was still efficient.
"I have a condition called Farset Disorder, discovered by Jenice Farset in 2259. When someone has Farset Disorder, their muscles start developing gaps in the tissue, which eventually can completely disintegrate. I have to keep medicated, or otherwise things can deteriorate very quickly, and at some point it becomes irreversible," she said quietly. "I developed it six years ago when I was a Lieutenant aboard the Dostoevsky. The mix of gases I was in contact with in the faulty warp core area and the stress and the foreign substances in the air from exports sent from Ragun 7 all played a role. We'll never know exactly what happened."
Geordi sat in silence. He had heard her occasionally cry out when working in irregular positions when trying to reach somewhere deep inside the circuits, and had seen her every once in a while come in with a tight bandage wrapped around her lower arm or thigh, but never understood why. Now, he knew. There was a pause.
"Does anyone else know of this?" he asked solemnly.
"Beverly and the medical team, and it's written in my file, so I suppose the Captain does too," she replied in the same tone.
"And it won't bother your work?"
She grinned. "Has it before?" When he shook his head, she laughed. "I told you it wasn't bad!"
Just then, Selar returned. "We'll keep you in for the night and run the isolation, and tomorrow morning we can hook the injector up." She pulled a gown from a drawer next to the biobed, and gave it to Melisandre. "Here."
Geordi got up. "I'll give you your privacy. I'll bet Beverly's almost done with the Captain by now. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You bet!" she said, with a wide smile. "Good luck!"
"You too." He walked back to the other room.
Melisandre changed clothes, folded her uniform and put it on the table next to her, and patiently got into bed again, with only a few twinges of pain.
The evening shift was uneventful on the bridge. They were docked and the upgrades were going on, so everyone who was interested stayed on board, the others either went to the base or stayed in their quarters. Worf was watching the engineers install the new Tactical, Geordi and Data were in Engineering talking with a few people who had come up from the base to inspect the warp core, Wes was studying, Will was examining some maps of Sector 79, and Deanna was nowhere to be seen.
Picard stretched. "I'm going to Ten Forward. Worf, you have the bridge."
"Aye, Sir," said Worf in his deep voice. "Enjoy yourself, Captain."
"I will." He walked to the turbolift, and got off on Deck 10. He strolled into Ten Forward, sat at the bar, and waited. Within a few seconds a head, covered with a flamboyant round hat, popped up. "Hello, Picard, what can I get you?" Guinan asked with a smile.
"How about... A Saurian Brandy. Small, though." He relaxed, listened to the light jazz playing and the quiet chatter of the full room, and sighed. As Guinan prepared the brandy, he spied Deanna sitting alone out of the corner of his eye. He took the drink and approached her.
"May I join you?"
Deanna gasped and spun around. She had obviously been preoccupied. "Oh, of course! Sit down!" She smiled. "How are you, Captain?"
"Well, enough. You?"
"I'm doing well. Sorry, I had zoned out a bit before and didn't notice you coming."
"Is there something wrong?" he asked intently.
"No... well, at least, not anymore. She's doing much better now that Dr. Selar is caring for her."
"Who's she? And what's wrong?" Picard sometimes felt very uneasy about Deanna's empathic abilities. She thought of the damnedest things at the damnedest times.
"Oh! It's nothing really, 'Lise's in Sickbay, but she'll be out tomorrow."
"What?!" The hell? "What do you mean, she's in Sickbay?"
"She's getting treated for her Farset disorder," Deanna reminded him.
Oh. Right. I remember. He paused. "'Lise!" he said softly. "Deanna, I need to talk to you."
"Any time you like, Captain," Deanna said. She suppressed her excitement. She was possibly on the edge of finding out what all that was about the night of the concert.
"It's about...Melisandre." He took a deep breath and collected himself. He looked at her. She looked at him. This went on for about 5 minutes. Then, he slammed his hands on the table. "It's been sitting on me for months!" he finally exclaimed, staring at his glass.
"Months," she echoed softly.
"I don't understand how I pass the day by. I look at her, and I lose myself. I! I, Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Federation Galaxy-Class Starship Enterprise, En, Cee, Cee, Seventeen-Oh-One! And I lose myself, in ...in...in...her!" he whispered to her breathlessly.
"Napoleon had his Josephine, Caesar his Cleopatra..." Deanna said quietly. And when he looked up, she finished, "And Hamlet his Ophelia. You're not the first to have fallen in love, Captain. Many have before you."
"Love," he groaned, rubbing his face. "I think that may be the last thing I need at the moment."
Deanna reflected over his psychological file. He was, at forty years of age, about 8 years over the average male marrying age. He had always been secluded, alone, never wanted companionship except from very close friends, which were few. She could understand how falling in love with a girl, transferred just 2 years ago to his ship, despite being a senior officer and an integral part of the ship's crew, would be traumatic to him.
"Here's my advice," she said slowly, thinking. He gazed at her attentively. "Relax. This is very important. Don't be constantly worrying about your feelings, or hers, or your relationship at all. If your unconscious mind wants to pursue this, it will, when it feels right. Don't push anything."
He chuckled. "Relax, eh? Easier said than done."
"I know," she said, squeezing his arm, "but it's the only way. Believe me. You're not the first who's come to me for counselling in this specific area."
He nodded. "I'll try."
She smiled. "Good."
The next morning, an injector was implanted in Melisandre's arm, slowly releasing her medication. She was released from Sickbay about noonish, and was told to take it easy for a couple days. She decided to stop by Ten Forward and look outside a bit.
As she stood there, the door opened. Data came in, carrying a case of PADDs and some odds and ends from Engineering.
"Hello," he said.
She turned around, a wide smile on her face. "Data! Oh, it is good to see you!" She rushed up impulsively and kissed his cheek.
He blinked and cocked his head to the side. "Fascinating. This is a manifestation of a human gesture of affection?"
She laughed. "Yes."
He thought for a second, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek back. She laughed again, pleased. She had a real soft spot for him.
He laid out his things on a table. "I brought you something interesting to do while you are resting."
"Oh?" she asked, interestedly.
"These are records of a 20th century operating system called Linux – one which my programming is descended from. It is very advanced for its time, and one which continued to develop and grow over the length of 250 years. Its creator, a human from the country Finland, wished the programming of the ancient computers of then to be freely used by all, and not have to be paid for." Data drew up an image on the PADD. "Its symbol was a penguin."
"A penguin." Melisandre repeated doubtingly.
"Affirmative. I figured you would be interested in the history of the programming. It is very clever." Data offered the PADD. She took it.
"Thanks."
"How do you humans say it? 'Do not mention it'?"
"I won't," she laughed.
