From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: Cruel Mercy Part 1 (REPOST)
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 1993 03:16:02 GMT


Star Trek
The Next Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_I_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

Captain's Log, Stardate 48923.53.  The Enterprise is
en route to Earth, where the crew will receive a much-
needed layover of one week.  During this time, a team
of Enterprise engineers and Earth-One technicians will
install the Enterprise's newly improved navigational
deflector arrays.

* * * * *

      As the Galaxy class starship silently slid past Saturn, the captain
viewed the rings in wonder.  No matter how many wondrous things he saw in his
travels, he was always impressed with the beauty of Sol's light reflecting off
the bands of dust and ice crystals that orbited the planet.  It was always
good to return to this system.
      It had been said that all human derived races felt a pull toward the
green and blue home world.  Whether this was true, or it was just contagious
excitement, most of the crew was looking out the port viewers and windows in
barely contained anticipation.  Of course bridge duty often had it's
advantages, and that day the bridge crew watched on the main viewer as the
massive, but graceful starship sailed past the ringed planet.
      As they approached Mars, the Captain glanced up at the Klingon security
officer manning the comm station behind him.  "Communications channel open to
Earth-One, please."  As the Klingon was complying, the Captain straightened
the front of his jacket and sat up straight in his command chair.  He then
looked up at the 3D communication sensor array and smiled.
      "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise, requesting docking
clearance."  This was, of course a formality.  Earth-One knew to expect him
and had tracked the Enterprise since long before it dropped out of warp speed
near Pluto.
      "Earth-One docking control to Enterprise, you are cleared to dock. 
Please come around to port Alpha-four-three and initiate standard docking
sequence."
      As they rounded the monolithic station and initiated standard docking
sequence, Worf announced the arrival of a priority message from planetside for
Lt. Commander Geordi LaForge and Dr. Beverly Crusher.  The Captain tapped his
comm badge.  "Dr. Crusher, Mr. LaForge, report to the bridge, please."  In a
couple of minutes, the Chief Engineer and the Doctor stepped off the main
turbolift.
      Picard nodded and Worf placed the message on the main viewer.  It was
Dr. Kate Pulaski at Starfleet Medical.  Everybody on the bridge was pleasantly
surprised to see her except Data, who raised his eyebrows and contemplated the
possible justifications for Dr. Pulaski contacting the Enterprise on a
priority channel.
      "Captain."  She nodded, acknowledging Picard, then turned to Geordi. 
"Geordi, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.  Your mother is here at
Starfleet Medical Headquarters in a coma.  She was brought here after
collapsing at her home outside San Francisco.  We have diagnosed her as having
developed Boliara's Disorder."  She looked like she was going to continue, but
fell silent.  Beverly Crusher frowned.
      Geordi stepped forward, his forehead creased with concern.  "Boliara's
Disorder, what's that?  Will she be OK?"  Kate Pulaski looked for an instant
like she was looking for the right words.  Before she could find them, Data
turned around halfway in his chair at the operations station.  The android
looked at Geordi and his voice took on the tone of a lecture.
      "Boliara's disease, first diagnosed 124 years ago by Dr. Lorien
Boliara..."  He tilted his head to the right slightly and continued.  "It is a
rare neuromuscular disfunction.  Since it's discovery, there have only been
four known cases, now five.  It is a condition that attacks human
neuromuscular pathways causing intermittent coma, pain, and loss of motor
control.  None of the first four cases survived the onset of the disease for
more than..."  Data stopped, his mouth still open.  Suddenly realizing how
this related to his friend, he stopped his monologue and stared contritely at
Geordi.
      Geordi felt his chest constricting.  He looked at Dr. Pulaski and opened
his mouth to speak, paused and swallowed.  Counselor Troi frowned and stood up
from her chair.  Dr. Crusher grabbed Geordi's elbow to steady him.
      Dr. Pulaski quickly continued.  "We are trying a couple of treatments,
but Dr. Crusher was part of the medical team that treated the last confirmed
case of Boliara's disease and we need her help down here."
      "We'll be right there."  Said Dr. Crusher as she and Geordi started for
the turbolift doors.
      "Mr. LaForge."  Geordi turned around to the Captain. "Good luck, Mr.
LaForge."

* * * * *

      <Deanna, dear, Don't you think it was time you were beaming down.  I am
waiting for you.>
      Counselor Troi was in her room getting ready to disembark.  She looked
around, surprised.  Then realized the voice was in her head.
      <Mother.  I'm not scheduled to beam down for another hour yet.  What are
you doing on Earth, anyway?>
      <Oh, I'm here at a diplomatic meeting.  These diplomats, however, are
possibly the most shallow minded creatures in the entire Federation.  It
speaks poorly of their collective races that they were chosen as ambassadors.>
      Deanna smiled at her mother's candid thoughts.  The Betazoids,
particularly the females, were perhaps the most open humanoids in the
Federation.  Deanna still thought it odd that an individual as brutally honest
as Lwaxana Troi be selected as ambassador for Betazed.
      <Really, dear!  How can you think that way about your loving mother.  Oh
well, are you beaming down yet?  Mr. Homm is preparing you a meal.  Your
favorite Earth dish; almondine trout, English peas and wine.>
      <Mother, I told you that I cannot beam down for another hour.  Besides,
almondine trout is hardly my favorite Earth dish!>
      <Another hour!  Your trout will be cold by then.>
      <Goodbye, mother.  I'll see you in an hour or so.>
      <Goodbye, that is such a final sounding word.  Remember, dear I am
always with you...Hmmm English peas, perhaps I should invite Jean-Luc to
dinner.>
      Troi started to reply that Captain Picard was French, not English, but
she felt her mother's presence leave her mind before she could finish the
thought.  She continued packing for another fifteen minutes.  She wanted to go
down to Ten-Forward and get one of Guinan's famous fudge sundaes, but that
would ruin her dinner.  Cold trout, indeed!  Perhaps she should go get that
sundae.
      As she started to go to the door, her communicator beeped.  It was Data.
      "Counselor, I have just been informed that your mother is expecting you
for dinner tonight.  Had I been aware of this, I would have modified the
computer-generated beam-down schedule to place you at an earlier time slot."
      "Well, actually, Data, I ..."
      "Do not fear, Counselor.  I just rescheduled your transporter time.  You
are now scheduled for beam-down in eight minutes."
      "Data, you should not have gone to the trouble."
      "Counselor.  I have not 'gone to any trouble.'  I am sure you realize it
only took a small fraction of my attention.  I only hope that you are able to
make it to your dinner engagement on time"
      Deanna sighed and rubbed her temples.  "Thank you, Data.  I appreciate
your thoughtfulness."
      On the bridge, Data turned back to his console, pleased that he had been
able to salvage Counselor Troi's dinner plans.  

* * * * *

      Doctors Pulaski and Crusher stood at the foot of the bed examining the
flashing charts.  Dr. Pulaski was filling Dr. Crusher in on the treatments
that had been tried.  Geordi was standing at the side of his mother's bed
looking helplessly at her.  A neuroscanner hovered over her head, constantly
feeding vast amounts of data to the medical computers,  and a pair of
neuroprobes were attached to her temples.  A pressure I.V. was strapped to her
upper arm and it would hiss periodically, injecting various fluids into her
body.  Despite being unconscious, her hand or cheek would occasionally twitch. 
Geordi had never seen his mother so helpless as this, and it frightened him.
      Dr. Crusher took him by the elbow and led him away from the bed.  "In
cases like this, the neuroprobe can only take the edge off the pain.  To block
the pain completely could shut down the neural subprocessors in her brain that
control cardiac and respiratory function."
      "Let me get this straight, doctor: you could block the, but then she'd
die?"  He tilted his head back and blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing out.
      "It's quite possible.  We are trying to reduce the pain levels as much
as possible and still maintain normal bodily functions; a pretty tricky task."
      Dr. Pulaski continued.  "Right now she is pretty stable, so we are going
to begin running some more analyses on the data we have collected.  With
Boliara's Disorder, each new case we get adds a great deal to what we know
about how the disease works.  I think we can beat this thing this time."  She
smiled at Geordi.
      One of the computers beeped and the Doctors turned back to their
patient.  "Geordi, she is coming around."  Geordi stepped over to the bed and
leaned over, watching her eyelids flutter.
      "Mom." Geordi reached out and took her hand in his.  Slowly his mother
opened her eyes and focussed on her son.
      Her lips quivered.  "Am I dead and gone to heaven?"
      Geordi smiled and squeezed her hand.  "No, mom, you're not dead.  You're
OK.  We've got you at Starfleet Medical.  You fainted, but you're gonna be
OK."  Geordi couldn't tell if she had just squeezed his hand back or if it was
a muscular twitch.  He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
      "Oh, Geordi, It is so good to see you again.  It has been too long." 
Geordi leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.  She tried to hug him, but
began trembling.
      "Geordi, I'm shaking.  What is the matter with me?"
      Before he could say anything her muscles clinched up and she screamed. 
The pressure hypo on her arm discharged and her body began jerking.  Dr.
Crusher rushed over and began pushing buttons on the neuroprobe while Dr.
Pulaski ran a medicorder over her patient's chest.  A Vulcan intern came and
led the worried engineer away to allow the doctors room to work.  As he was
leaving he strained to see and hear the doctors at work.
      "We need eight units of Trioxin...neural degeneration in the
medulla...Alpha-Dextrin, 20 units...NURSE!..."

* * * * *

      Will Riker sat in his quarters fidgeting.  He looked at his chronometer
for the hundredth time.  He and Deanna Troi had planned to beam down to
Memphis tonight.  He had heard about this fabulous jazz club on the river and
he had asked his long-time friend to accompany him.  She had agreed, but said
that she had to eat dinner with her mother first.
      The Commander was experiencing what Deanna would call 'cognitive
dissonance.'  He was torn between desperately needing his own command and
desperately wanting Deanna Troi.  He could not let it interfere with his
duties, and few people even knew that it bothered him.  Imzadi knew, though. 
They had an 'agreement' because it was impossible for them to be any closer
right now, but it still gnawed at him.  The fact that their situation was of
indefinite duration made it even worse.
      He called down to Starfleet Medical again to check on the condition of
Geordi's mom.  The intern that answered told him that there was 'STILL no
indication, and that they were STILL DAMNED busy...'"  The communication
channel went dead.  Riker wondered if every doctor in the Federation was as
single minded and cranky as the ones he knew.
      He checked the time and decided he had to do something or he would go
stir-crazy waiting for Deanna.  He looked around his room; Trombone, no, duty
rosters, no.  Then his eyes fell upon his Anbo-Jitsu rod neatly stored beside
his bed.
      "Definitely time for a short match before she gets back."  He quickly
got dressed and, grabbing his sensor-rod, made for the holodeck.

* * * * *

      Deanna Troi sat in her mother's suite fidgeting.  She had pushed the
fish around on her plate until there at least appeared to be less than when
she had been served.  Mr. Homm, Lwaxana's tall, grey skinned valet noticed
that Deanna appeared to be finished burying the fish under the English peas,
and silently removed her plate from the table.  Deanna covertly smiled a
thankful smile at Mr. Homm, who smiled back and disappeared into the other
room.
      "So, mother, what is your diplomatic meeting about?"
      <Darling, I fear your abilities are going to waste on the Enterprise. 
Why do you insist on using this backward verbal communication?>
      "Mother, I speak verbally because I work around humans.  You know as
well as I that human communication is far more complex than the verbal
component."
      <Oh, do I?>  Lwaxana frowned.
      <...and besides, my mental powers are not going to waste on board the
Enterprise.  In fact, I am becoming mentally stronger.>  Deanna and her mother
shared a smile at that.  <You have, however, avoided my question, mother. 
What is the meeting about?>
      <Oh, nothing really...The Cardassians are wasting our time with peace
talks again. They don't intend to sign a pact with the Federation any more
than I intend to marry that Klingon security officer of yours.>
      <Then why did they send the ambassador here?  Surely you ought to be
able to determine that just by being near him.>
      <Oh, I don't know and neither does he.  They have only told him what is
necessary for him to come here and distract us with talk.>
      <Have you told the President yet?>
      <Yes, but you know how he is...>  The older Troi shrugged.  
      At this point, Mr. Homm came out of the other room bearing a covered
silver dish, which he placed in front of Deanna.  He lifted the lid and
revealed an elaborate chocolate fudge sundae.  She smiled a 'Thank-You-God'
smile at Mr. Homm, who quietly smiled and presented Deanna with a spoon.

* * * * *

      "C-C-Commander..."
      "Huh?  Oh, hey Reg,"  said Geordi, raising his head.  He had fallen
asleep at a table in the Medical Commissary and he was not completely awake. 
"What're you doing here Reg?"
      "Just -uh- checking.  You know, sir."  Reginald Barclay looked up at the
ceiling as if he would find a cue card with the right words to say floating
over LaForge's head.  "The -uh- guys in Engineering were wondering how -uh-
your mother is doing.  The shy engineer had been standing with his arms by his
side, but he became more uncomfortable and folded them in front of his chest
to have something for them to do.
      "She is in a coma but the doctors are doing what they can."
      "Well ... Are -uh- you ..." Barclay looked down and swallowed.  " Are
you -uh- OK?  You ought to c-come back to the Enterprise and get some sleep. 
You know?"
      "No, I'll be OK here, but there's something I'd like you to do for me. 
I'll probably be here with mom for the remainder of the layover and I need you
to head up the project for replacing the navigational deflector arrays."
      Barclay was positively ecstatic.  "Great!, -uh-  Who's on the team?"
      "Whoever you think would be best, Reg.  You are the most qualified man
to lead this project.  This is your baby."
      "Thanks, I think I should have Gomez and Baker do the harmonic analysis,
and -uh- Fredricks can install the data m-models into the ..."
      "Whoever you think best, Reg.  Now go get some rest so you can get
started on that tomorrow."

* * * * *

      Troi was feeling wonderful now.  She'd had a nice conversation with her
mother, and Mr. Homm's sundae certainly didn't hurt.  Now she was looking
forward to the evening with Will.  She was almost skipping on her way back
from the transporter.  Thinking about what to wear, she almost ran over Reg
Barclay when she exited the transporter room.
      "Good evening, Reginald.  You seem to be in a good mood."  She smiled a
charming smile.
      "Yeah, -uh- Yes ma'am.  I was sent by the fellas in engineering to see
if Lt. Commander LaForge was doing OK."  Counselor frowned at the thought of
the engineers placing this uncomfortable task on Reginald.  "But when I got
there he put me in charge of the navigational deflector p-project."
      Deanna could physically feel the excitement and pride coming from the
engineer.  "That's great, Reginald!  He couldn't have picked a more capable
man.  Did you find out how he and his mother are doing?"
      "W-well...Geor, -uh- Lt. Commander LaForge looked tired, but he said he
would be OK."  Now Reginald realized that Geordi had distracted him away from
his mission with talk of the project.
      "Thank you.  I'm sure the Lt. Commander appreciated your thoughtful
visit.  I'll see you later, Reginald."  She waved and started back down the
corridor.
      "Bye, Counselor."  Barclay started back toward his quarters.
      The more she thought about Geordi's situation, the more weighted down by
it she was.  As she walked back to her quarters, she thought about the death
of her father.  She had cried for a long time, but living on Betazed had
helped her to come to terms with her grief.  There it was impossible to hide a
feeling from others.  It was much more difficult for some humans to get a grip
on their feelings because they tried to hide their emotions.
      By the time she got to her quarters she was thoroughly worked-up over
Geordi.  She decided she had better go see him.  She paused outside her
quarters, then headed down the hall to the Commander's room.  Will would
understand, he always did.

* * * * *

      Geordi sat at the same table where Lt. Barclay had left him.  He was
resting his head on his hands and waiting for the doctors to come out and tell
him how everything was going.  His mind was running in circles.  He was
thinking about having been sick and how his mother had cared for him, thinking
about having been born blind and how his mother had done everything possible
to help him.  It had been her efforts that allowed the experimental VISOR
technology to be tested on him.  She had encouraged him when the going got
rough in the Academy.  Now he sat helpless while the woman who gave him
everything was in dire need of help.
      "Geordi?"
      The engineer looked up, adjusted his VISOR.  "Counselor.  How's
everything going with you?"  He tried to put on a smile.
      "I might ask you that question."  She pulled a chair up and sat opposite
Geordi.
      "Well, the jury's still out.  The doctors are working on her now, trying
to stabilize her, but beyond that I haven't heard."  He scratched the back of
his head, then leaned on the table with his elbows.
      "You feel helpless.  I feel as if you are about to burst."
      Geordi felt his chest tighten up again, and swallowed.  He took a deep
breath trying to get his chest to relax.  Deanna reached out and took his
hands in hers.  At the same time she reached inward, lowering her defenses
that she found necessary for her to function around large groups of humans. 
      As Geordi felt the surge of emotion leave him like an exploding dam, she
felt the tide of emotion roll over her.  The counselor and the counseled sat
and cried until there were no more tears.  She then convinced Geordi to go to
bed and get some rest so he could be strong for his mother the next day.

* * * * *

      The bearded starfleet officer sat alone in the corner of the dimly lit
room.  Around the room sat scattered groups of twos and threes.  On the stage
a woman in a red dress sang a song that made the officer's gut churn.   As the
woman's song wound to a close there was scattered applause and a waitress came
over to the officer's table.  
      "Y'all want another drink?"  The waitress glanced at the empty chair
opposite the dark haired man, then back at the man himself.
      "Yeah."
      She picked up the two empty glasses and placed them on her tray, then
slid away.  The officer cradled his head in his hands and stared at the table. 
The room was already beginning to list to the side.  He thought about calling
for the android to check the inertial dampeners, then remembered he wasn't in
space.  He was in Memphis. He was in a jazz/blues bar. And he was talking to
himself now. 
      "Imzadi, why?  Why can't we..."  He didn't know how to finish the
sentence.  He had been through this a dozen times with his ex-lover, and now a
billion times in his mind.  They had good reasons that they couldn't be any
closer right now.  He had to have his own starship.  She defined herself by
the number of people that she could help.  But these and numerous other
reasons couldn't stop them from wanting it.
      The waitress brought two drinks.  She set one in front of the drunken
Commander, and set the other in front of the chair next to him.  Then she
moved off to other tables.  The Commander reached over and picked up the drink
that was not sitting across from him, downed it, then put it down.
      "Goodness, Imzadi!  You sure are guzzling the rotgut tonight."
      He had already turned down two chances to have his own command,
partially because of Deanna Troi - Imzadi to him.  Deanna had turned down
numerous opportunities, both inside and outside Starfleet.  Her motivations
were also partially motivated by her Imzadi.  Despite both of them sacrificing
choice opportunities, neither could turn away from their individual dreams to
be with the other.  Will Riker rocked his head in his hands.
      "Oh, Imzadi..."  His voice trailed off.
      "Am I interrupting something, Commander?"
      Commander Riker looked up to see the woman he least expected to see.


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative