From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: Cruel Mercy Part 2 (REPOST)
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 1993 03:17:24 GMT


Star Trek
The Next Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_II_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      "Lwaxana! -uh- Mrs. Troi, What are you doing here?"  Lwaxana Troi was
standing over the intoxicated Will Riker.  She sat down in the chair next to
Riker, wrinkled her nose, and pushed the empty glass away.
      She leaned as close to Riker as she could and still breathe oxygen
instead of alcohol vapor.  Her voice was soft and had her typical air of
authority.  "First of all, Commander, this is not an appropriate activity for
an officer of the Enterprise."
      "Wha...  How did you..."
      "Secondly, you have been throwing around the word 'Imzadi' so carelessly
that any full-Betazoid on this side of the planet would probably be blushing."
      "Oh, you heard that."
      "Dear boy, you can't have expected ME not to feel you thinking that
word.  Your poor alcohol-ridden cortex couldn't stand a chance of blocking
that.  Not that any human could stand a chance mentally against a member of
the Fifth House of Betazed anyway.  Commander, why are you here getting
drunk?"
      Will gave her a look that would freeze nitrogen.  "You should already
know why I am here.  Just use your 'Fifth House' mental prowess to traipse
around in my booze ridden cortex..."  He did not enjoy having his drinking
bout interrupted by any telepath, particularly this one.
      Lwaxana sighed impatiently.  "Will.  I am not inside your mind because
humans have a complex about that sort of thing, but I can guess that this is
about my daughter."
      "Brilliant deduction."
      "If you were to allow me into your mind this wouldn't take even an
instant to clear up.  I would like to help you, but I couldn't possibly use
this primitive verbal communication of yours to communicate the ideas I need
to."
      "I'd rather you didn't.  Now, if you will excuse me, I'll be going." 
Riker pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, and promptly collapsed
into a heap on the floor.
      "All right, Commander.  Have it your way - for now."  She stepped around
the chair, leaned down, and pressed his communication badge.  "Oh, transporter
man..."
      From the badge came the sound of a confused transporter operator.  "Yes,
who is this?"
      "Nevermind that.  Lock onto the Commander at this position and beam him
directly to his quarters."
      "Yes ma'am...I've got him now.  I am reading a tremendous amount of
alcohol in his blood.  Do you think I should set the transporter to filter it
out?"
      "No, I think the Commander needs something to remember this night by..." 
She stood smiling as the transporter beam took Riker.

* * * * *

      "Doctor, how's she doing this morning?"  Geordi sat in Dr. Pulaski's
office.  He was feeling remarkably good this morning due to the release of
emotion and the sleep last night.
      Dr. Pulaski, however, was looking older than usual.  Having taken
Geordi's mother under wing, she was driving herself beyond her normal working
schedule.  "Not well, Geordi.  We were unable to completely stabilize her
condition, so Dr. Crusher and I sat up monitoring her.  She is more stable
right now, but we have something we think you should see."  Geordi followed
her out of her office and into a turbolift which sped them to Geordi's mother.
      She lay motionless with even more equipment hovering over her than last
time the Lt. Commander saw her.  Over her, the pale blue field of a
restraining field shimmered.  Beverly Crusher sat at a computer console
monitoring the patient.  She waved at Pulaski and Geordi and motioned for them
to come closer so they could talk.
      "I'm sorry, Geordi, but we had to place her in a restraining field to
keep her from hurting herself any more.  She was spasming so violently that
she was knocking herself against the probes and the side of the bed."
      "I understand, Dr. Crusher.  Have you been able to come up with anything
yet?"  
      "Well, actually we have come up with something.  It's kind of risky, but
we may have to fall back on it.  Look at this."  She pulled up a three
dimensional scan of Mrs. LaForge's brain on a holographic projector.  portions
of it were indicated in red.  Labels floated in the air over various lobes of
the brain as it rotated above the table.
      "These red areas are the areas that are currently affected by the
disorder.  If we could temporarily knock out these areas using the neuroprobe,
the pain levels would drop drastically.  But as we said before, these areas
control breathing and heart rate, among other things."  She paused to catch
her breath and punch a few buttons on the computer.
      Dr. Pulaski picked up where Crusher left off.  "But, using the neurodrug
Alpha-Dextrin and the probe, we may be able to reroute these neurons here and
here."  The hologram of the brain zoomed in on the red portion and high-
lighted a set of points.  "These are the actual neural subprocessors that are
controlling cardiac and respiratory output.  If we can reroute the impulses to
these subprocessors that are not in the red area, we can knock out the pain
and spasming almost completely and let the new subprocessors take over
breathing and cardiac control."
      "And that," Crusher added, pointing to the hologram. "if successful,
will give us the time to try to find a cure for the real problem."  The
doctors examined the hologram another moment, looking hopeful.
      "But you said that there was a risk involved?"
      "Yes, Geordi."  Pulaski answered.  "This is pretty risky and I wouldn't
recommend attempting it unless her condition deteriorates.  Right now, she is
pretty stable, and we can start letting our assistants monitor the scanners
while we continue to try to find a safer procedure."
      "We just wanted to let you know what we have come up with so you won't
be surprised if we are forced to attempt it."
      "Thank's.  I know she's in the care of the best doctors around.  If you
need me for anything, I'll be out in the lobby where I won't get in your way." 
Crusher and Pulaski gave the Lt. Commander reassuring smiles as he left.

* * * * *

      "Can you believe this?  Have you heard who is heading up this team? 
Boy, LaForge's mom must have really gotten to him."  Lieutenants Gomez,
Pierson, Baker, and Fredricks were standing in the main shuttlebay, waiting
for the skiff to arrive with the team of Earth-One technicians and part of the
new deflector array.  Gomez was standing with her arms folded in front of her
chest, taping one foot angrily.  Pierson and Baker were leaning against a
parked shuttle, and Fredricks was fiddling with a data pad.
      Gomez pointed a finger at Pierson and the look in her eye suggested that
fire would shoot forth from that fingertip.  "You've never given him a fair
chance.  Reg Barclay is a damned good engineer, and if you rabble don't give
him too hard a time, I'm sure he'll make a decent team leader.  Lt. Commander
LaForge knows EXACTLY what he is doing, so who are you to second guess him?"
      "Yuh-Yes Ma'am." Pierson snickered behind his hand.  Baker laughed
along.  This prompted Gomez to punch Pierson in the arm and move to stand by
herself a short distance away.  "guh-guh-gawsh, ma'am...I-I-I'm -gulp- sorry"  
Pierson mumbled.
      "Look, you guys," Called Fredricks to the others.  "Here comes the
skiff."
      They all turned around and watched the shuttlebay environment
containment field flash as the long, flattened shuttle passed through it.  The
skiff slowed, then sank to the deck.  There was a hiss as the hatch seal was
broken and the door swung open.  Pierson and Baker moved to help the Earth-One
technicians unload some of their equipment.  One of the techs walked over to
them with a tricorder and smiled.  "Where is the man in charge here?  I need
him to verify the transfer of these materials."
      Pierson spoke up.  "Oh, he's in main engineering right now, running a
check on the power field before we shut 'er down.  He'll be down directly, but
you can scan my badge for the materials."
      "Alrightey."  The tech pointed the tricorder at Pierson, it beeped, and
he checked the display.  "Pierson huh?  Glad to meet ya.  My name is
Michaels."  The two shook hands and began unloading materials.  "So what is
the name of the team leader, so I can introduce myself when he gets here?
      Pierson smiled a wicked smile, but Michaels didn't seem to notice.

* * * * *

      Riker began regaining consciousness, and wished he hadn't.  He was lying
in a heap on the floor of his quarters and did not remember just how he got
there.  He could remember being in Memphis, talking to someone.  As he lay
there his memory returned and he moaned.  The vibrations of the moan hurt his
head.
      He crawled into his bathroom and ran water on his head until he felt a
little better.  He then stripped, took a shower, and ordered the computer to
synthesize him a new uniform.  
      "Damn, that was dumb."  He leaned against the wall of his dressing room
as the replicator generated a clean uniform for him.  He got dressed and
tossed his dirty uniform onto the replicator pad.  "Computer, get rid of that
uniform."  The uniform disintegrated and it's components made their way back
to the ship's stores.
      Still feeling the effects of his first hangover in years, he made his
way to sickbay, where he was greeted by the terse Assistant Chief Medical
Officer; the Vulcan Selar.  Before he could even speak she pointed him to a
table and pulled a medicorder from her smock.  Waving the medicorder at the
Commander, she arched an eyebrow.
      "Alcohol, Commander?"
      "Oh, just get on with it, please doctor!"

* * * * *

      Lt. Barclay finished his tests and ordered the computer to begin the
shutdown of the navigational deflector arrays.  With this done, he smiled and
started down to main shuttlebay, humming.  This wouldn't be too bad, he
thought.
      Arriving at the shuttlebay, he saw that his team was already there. 
Pierson, Baker, and several of the techies had the major hardware for the
arrays laid out on the deck, and were cataloging it.  Gomez and another tech
were looking at a terminal.  Fredricks was at another terminal checking the
new deflector programs while a tech huddled over him.  They seemed to be
disagreeing.  The remaining eight techs were going to be removing the existing
deflector arrays from the outer hull today and they were currently crawling
into their vacuum suits.
      Barclay moved over to the terminal where Gomez was working.  Gomez
looked up, obviously excited.
      "Reg, this is great!  The lab figures and the preliminary tests here
show that these new deflectors will increase navigational protection by 120 to
128 percent AND reduce the stress on the defensive shielding power system by
about 13 percent" 
      "G-Great.  Have you simulated the effect on the harmonics of the -uh-
main power busses during full phaser yield or warp drive?"  He looked at the
pretty Lt. Gomez.
      "No, but I'll get right on it, I'm glad you reminded me."  She smiled at
him and he quickly averted his eyes as if that would keep him from blushing. 
He stood there for another moment feeling awkward, then cleared his throat and
walked away.
      "Freddie, how is ..."  His words caught in his still constricted throat
and he just waved his arms indicating the console that Fredricks was working
on.
      Fredricks looked up from the terminal.  "Pretty good, Reg.  I was just
checking over the data models that we received from Earth-One.  They look
pretty good, but I think we can do better."  The tech that was watching
Fredricks frowned.  Lt. Barclay swallowed, finally clearing the obstruction in
his throat, and told Fredricks to carry on.
      As Barclay picked up a spare datapad and walked off leaving Fredricks
and the Tech arguing about the efficiency of data models, one of the techies
that was cataloging materials stood up, smiled, and introduced himself.
      "Hi, I'm Lieutenant Michaels from Earth-One.  You must be the team
leader here.  Lieutenant Broccoli, I've heard a lot about you."  Barclay
groaned, Pierson and Baker snickered, and Michaels just looked confused.

* * * * *

      Geordi walked up to the slanted ward window and leaned on it, looking in
at his mother lying there.  All the technology connected to her and floating
around her brought back painful memories of Reannon Bonnaventure.
      The Enterprise had captured a Borg trooper after the destruction of a
Federation planet by a Borg scout ship.  They had identified the body that the
Borg had incorporated as a free spirited smuggler named Reannon.  Dr. Crusher
had managed to remove the technology implants, but her blank expression had
shown great emotional damage.  Geordi had taken her under his wing to try to
help dig her soul out from the depths to which the Borg consciousness had
pushed it.
      He had walked with her around the ship talking to her, had protected her
from aliens that wanted revenge on the Borg, had even become quite attached to
her.  Upon coming to her senses and seeing the lives that she had helped to
destroy, she took her own life with one of Dr. Crusher's scalpels.
      Geordi tried to shake the comparison between his mother and Reannon from
his head by thinking only about his mother.  Earlier, she had come around for
a brief time before she returned screaming and spasming to unconsciousness. 
She had not even recognized Geordi.  Remembering that blank look took him
right back to his memories of Reannon lying on the deck in a pool of blood. 
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window.  Soon tears
streaked his face, his jacket, and the window.
      He saw a reflection in the window and tried to stifle the tears. 
Failing to do that, he screwed up his courage and turned around to find Wes
Crusher standing behind him looking like he didn't know what to do or say.
      Geordi sniffed  "Hey, Wes-man!  What're you doing here?  Is the Academy
not keeping you busy enough?"  The Lt. Commander forced a smile.
      "Actually yes, I have a pile of...Well no, I mean I'm never too busy..." 
He looked at his feet and shuffled them.  "When I tried to contact my mom on
the Enterprise, Data told me what had happened.  I suppose I know how you
feel.  When my dad died..."
      "Hey!  She's not going to die!"  Geordi interrupted him, then tried to
hide that Wes had touched a nerve.  "I mean, your mom and Dr. Pulaski have
this miracle cure that they are about to try."
      "Sorry, Geordi."  Wes had always hated visiting people who were
suffering because he felt totally useless in these kinds of situations. 
Nonetheless, he felt that others expected him to be able to help.  "Let's go
sit down and you can tell me about this miracle cure."

* * * * *
      
      Troi felt like she was being run ragged.  This was supposed to be a Rest
& Relaxation layover, but it was turning out to be far from relaxing for her. 
Geordi's situation was mentally draining for her, and now she was getting bad
vibes from Will after having to delay last night's date.  Will would have to
wait for the moment.  She did not want to be cruel to him, but she felt that
he was stronger than Geordi right now.  She was about to go talk to Geordi,
and desperately needed to center herself.  Sitting in her office, mental
barriers at full-strength, she meditated.  Just as she was beginning to feel
calmness descend on her, her door beeped to indicate a visitor.  She opened
her eyes and sighed.  "Come in, please."  She smiled as Reginald Barclay
entered.
      "Hello, Reginald.  What can I do for you today."
      Barclay wrung his hands and started in on his spiel at warp nine. 
"Counselor, w-wwhat do I do.  Lt. Commander LaForge put me in charge of the
deflector replacement and I can't do it.  I -uh-..."
      "Reginald, calm down.  Last night when I spoke to you, you were pleased
that you had received the assignment.  Sit down and let's talk about what has
changed since then."
      The lieutenant sat down, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and finally
gave up on trying to feel comfortable.  "T-They won't -uh- listen to me. 
I..."  He swallowed and wrung his hands again.  "I -uh- don't think I will be
able to get the job done."  He threw his hands in the air, noticed the awkward
motion, and sat on his hands to keep it from happening again.
      "Reginald, do you not trust Commander LaForge?"  The Counselor asked
disarmingly.  This put Barclay back in warp mode.
      "Oh I like him, he's the best.  I -uh- wish he could h-head up this team
and just tell me -uh- what to do."
      "The Lt. Commander can't be up here right now, so he chose you because
he felt like you can get the job done.  He knows you are a good engineer,
Reginald."
      "Yeah, but P-Pierson is not going to listen to me.  He has seniority on
me and now he has the techs calling me B-B-Broccoli."
      "So, Reginald, why do you think Lt. Commander LaForge did not put
Pierson in charge?"
      "Well, I -uh- suppose he d-doesn't know as much as me about deflector
arrays."
      "Right!  So you know you are the one most qualified to oversee this
project.  The others know that too, even though they might not let on.  They
also know that the Lt. Commander expects them to get the job done, so I think
they'll come around and start following your instructions."
      Barclay smiled a big smile.  He still didn't think he was a very good
leader, but he felt better anyway.

* * * * *
      
      Kate Pulaski mumbled while she worked and it was really beginning to get
on Beverly Crusher's nerves.  They'd had to put down their research when Mrs.
LaForge had begun jerking again.  She was trying to scream, but couldn't make
her mouth and diaphragm work properly.  The result was an almost constant
throaty groan that was worse on the doctors' morale than the screaming.
      For the last couple of hours they had been trying everything in their
combined vast knowledge to calm the patient, but the patient would not be
calmed.  
      "The probes are not going to do any more good in this condition." 
Pulaski mumbled, leaning back in her chair to stretch her back.  Crusher's
glance showed her ire and she continued pressing buttons on the panel.  "We
need to try the neuron substitution tomorrow, Beverly."
      "Kate,"  Crusher's tone was one that she might use with a child.  "There
is obviously a connection between the sub-molecular structure of the affected
neurons and the change in the enzyme ratio that is indicated by the scanners. 
We don't need to perform that operation when we are this close to a
breakthrough."
      "But there is no way to tell the direction of the causality in that
connection.  If the disorder is causing the enzyme imbalance and we try to
correct the enzyme ratio, we could set up a positive feedback loop that would
cause the disorder to spread to the other subprocessors."
      Crusher picked up the line of thought.  "But if the enzyme ratio
imbalance is causing the disorder, and we tamper with the disrupted neurons it
could still initiate that feedback loop."  She slumped back in her chair at
the thought of the no-win situation.
      Pulaski looked at her hands, which were shaking from too much coffee and
too little sleep.  She then looked up.  "Computer, What is the likelihood of
the enzyme imbalance being caused by the disorder, as opposed to the
likelihood of the disorder being caused by the enzyme balance."
      The flat, masculine voice of the computer came back with the answer
almost immediately.  "Probability favors the likelihood of the disorder
causing the enzyme imbalance by 2.3 percent."
      "Computer, if we attempt to change the mapping of the neurons in the
affected area, what is the chance of increasing the enzyme ratio?"
      "53.7 percent."
      Both doctors frowned.  "That high?"  Pulaski mumbled.
      The computer responded to what it interpreted as a query from the
doctor.  "Due to the limited amount of case data, the margin of error is 33.2
percent."
 
* * * * *
        
      "Basically, Geordi, we have hit a brick wall.  We have found a clue as
to the cause of the disorder, but the computer can't reassure us as to the
likelihood of success."
      The doctors stood at the window to the ward with Wes and Geordi.  They
were looking in at the spasming patient and discussing possibilities.  Geordi
could barely hear them.  He was lost in thoughts of how his mother had helped
him into adulthood.  He could remember coming to her, frustrated with
relationships, frustrated with school, frustrated with his inability to be
like other people because of his VISOR.  She had given him wisdom from her
years of experience.  She had...
      Crusher placed a hand on Geordi's shoulder to bring him out of his
trance.  "We can try to perform the neural remapping, but there is a certain
amount of danger of causing the disorder to spread.  However, in the other
cases, it eventually spread without tampering with the neural mappings.  It's
really up to you."
      Geordi looked back to his mother.  The restraint field shimmered,
resisting her body's efforts to shake itself to pieces.  Mom, what would you
do?  He leaned his throbbing head against the cool glass and tried to decide. 
This close to the glass, he could hear her incomplete screams.  The screams
echoed in his mind and disrupted his thoughts even more.
      Pulaski broke in quietly.  "Geordi, Dr. Crusher and I couldn't perform
the operation right now anyway.  We are exhausted past our limits.  Take your
time.  Get some rest and decide tomorrow.  She'll be OK till then."  Pulaski
smiled her reassuring smile, but it was weak.  Geordi did not feel reassured.

* * * * *

      Riker stood outside the door with his hands behind his back.  He shifted
his weight from one foot to the other waiting for the door to open.  It opened
and he looked up into the thin face of Mr. Homm, who silently turned and moved
into the suite.  If Riker had not previously known the silent butler, he would
have mistaken Homm's attitude for disdain.  Instead, he tugged the front of
his jacket down and entered behind Mr. Homm.
      From the other room, he heard Lwaxana's voice.  "Commander Riker, It is
about time you were arriving.  I knew you would be by here soon.  You're
really not such a bad man, but the drinking has got to stop." 
      He stepped around the corner and saw Lwaxana sitting on a couch.  he
moved into the room and started to speak.  "I...wanted to come by and
apologize for my actions last night."
      "That is immaterial.  I know that is not your typical response to
frustration.  The point is that I felt it intensely distressing that you were
calling my daughter 'Imzadi' while damaging your mind with alcohol.  It is the
mind that gives that word meaning, and it has more meaning than you can
possibly know."
      "Deanna has explained..."
      "Oh, I am sure that Deanna has shared a great deal of the meaning of
that word with you.  When I am in her mind I can feel that you are a part of
her.  The problem is, as I said last night, this limited verbal communication
of yours.  Even though Deanna has powers that may be amazing to humans, she
still cannot convey the meaning of 'Imzadi' to you."
      The Commander took a seat across the coffee table from Lwaxana.  "How do
the Betazoid people tolerate having their private thoughts laid bare to the
public?  Whenever a Betazoid couple becomes close enough to refer to each
other as 'Imzadi,' everyone on the planet knows.  There would be nothing left
for the couple to share." 
      "Oh, quite the contrary, Commander.  'Imzadi' has special meaning
between the individuals in the couple, but it is more than just saying 'lover'
or 'friend' or 'mate.'  When the word is used between two people in the proper
context, it brings ... joy to the rest of the collective consciousness.  When
the word is misused it ..."
      Lwaxana paused looking for words similar to the idea she wanted to
convey.  "... It diminishes the rest of us, as well as the couple."  She sat
back on her couch and watched the Commander for a reaction.
      Riker was not used to being chastened, and he was silent for a moment. 
Finally his eyes met Lwaxana's.  "Could you tell me more about what 'Imzadi'
means?  I would really like to be closer to Deanna."
      "No."  Lwaxana almost shouted.  "You miss the point.  I can't TELL it
because it can't be told.  You can never know what 'Imzadi' means, because you
close your mind and hide away behind your feeble mental barriers.  I could
force feed your mind the concept, but it would be a little inappropriate,
don't you think?  You will never be any closer to Deanna until you become more
open minded to others."
      Mr Homm came into the room with a tray containing coffee cups and a pot. 
He poured two cups, placed them on the table between Lwaxana and Riker, and
left quietly.  Lwaxana sipped her coffee and returned it to the table.
      "Just as your race will never get beyond where they are now because you
all bury yourself in your individual minds, contemplating your individual
troubles.  I am often surprised that the collective human intellect does not
just collapse in upon itself, sending you all back to an evolutionary state
prior to the apes."
      They both sat quietly.  Lwaxana sipped coffee and watched as the
Commander fought a battle with himself.  He was trying to find a way to defend
the closed-emotioned human mentality, but he found that he couldn't.
      _I_want_to_understand_ he thought.
      Lwaxana smiled  <Do you?>
      _Yes_
      <Then you shall.>
      It only took a few seconds to give the Commander a view of centuries of
Betazed culture, the likes of which he had never conceived of.  She shared her
lifetime of experiences within a moment.  When she was finished, they shared a
smile.
      _So_that's_what_'Imzadi'_means!_

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