From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: Cruel Mercy Part 4 [of 4] (REPOST)
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 1993 03:19:55 GMT


Star Trek
The Next Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_IV_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      Leaning in the doorway was an incredibly old human.  He was braced
against the door with one hand and had a cane in the other hand.  The cane was
pointed directly at Worf.
      "Isn't that just about par for the course for a Klingon.  'Death before
dishonor' and all that hogwash."  The old man spoke with a slow, southern
accent and waved his cane in the air as he talked.
      Worf ascertained that this man could not present a threat and resumed
his hands-behind-the-back pose.  "WHO are you, and what do YOU know about
Klingon honor."  Worf demanded.
      "I'm Leonard McCoy."  He smiled and nodded at Geordi.  "That's ADMIRAL
McCoy to you."  This last statement was directed at Worf and was not
accompanied by a smile.  "And I know a bit about Klingons and about honor.  I
didn't get to be this old and ornery by not understanding Klingons, and I was
fortunate enough to serve with Jim Kirk on the Enterprise - THAT is honor."
      McCoy continued.  "Hmmmph.  Klingons and honor!  Neither of those two
subjects has a bit to do with the question at hand, which is how long that
lady over there lives.  Most humans can't just haul off and kill a parent. 
It's just not NATURAL."  McCoy seemed lost in thoughts of the past for a
moment, then looked back to Worf.  "And it sure-as-hell isn't YOURS to decide
anyway!" He shouted, jabbing his cane in the air at Worf.
      Before Worf could separate enough Klingon honor from his swirling anger
to reply, McCoy was turning to leave.  McCoy was halfway down the hall when a
nurse came trotting out of a turbolift after him.  Catching up, she took his
elbow to try to support him as he walked.  He jerked away and continued down
the hall under his own power, brandishing the cane at the nurse the whole way.
      Worf stood for a moment grinding his teeth back and forth.  After he had
calmed himself a bit he turned back to Geordi.  "Remember what I said, Lt.
Commander."  With that he turned and left the ward.

* * * * *

      Later that day, Geordi and Data sat in a corner of Ten-Forward talking. 
Geordi was drinking an orange juice and Data was simply sitting with his hands
in his lap, talking and listening.
      "I think I understand how this decision would be a difficult one to
make."  The android tilted his head to the right slightly and held up his left
hand, palm up, as if holding something.  "Life is held sacred in almost all
the major recorded philosophies of the Federation.  One does not end the life
of any intelligent being unless absolutely necessary,  simply because 'It is
wrong.'"
      Data looked over at the empty hand, realized it would look ridiculous to
a human observer, and placed it back in his lap.  He continued.  "Considering
the recent universal theory that states that all matter, energy, and thought
is merely different forms of the same thing, it would seem wise to follow a
'Sacred Life' philosophy due to the uncertainty of the repercussions that the
death of an individual may have upon the remainder of the interconnected
universe."
      "But Data, I think Worf's point was that you've also got to think about
the dignity of the person.  I kinda understand where he's coming from."
      "Lt. Worf 'comes from' Khitomir, a Klingon homeworld that was destroyed
when..."
      "Yes, Data, but what I mean is that my mother has been a strong woman
her entire life and I would prefer to remember her in that way.  If I let this
go on indefinitely I'm afraid I'll start thinking of her as a vegetable."
      "A vegetable, Geordi?"
      "Uh, yeah Data - an invalid."
      Data nodded his comprehension.  "So you are saying that in being human,
others memory of the lost vitality of the 'vegetable' is more important than
the possible future vitality, if that 'vegetable' were to be cured.  Hmmmm,
curious."
      "Well, I don't know if that's just it either.  It's hard to describe."
      "Geordi, in light of my being incapable of understanding the situation
enough to advise you on a decision, I would suggest perhaps visiting Counselor
Troi."

* * * * *

      Deanna Troi sat in her room trying to get the last traces of ice cream
out of the dish.  She finally laid the spoon down and ran her index finger
around the bottom of the bowl.  Licking the chocolate off of her finger, she
satisfied herself that she had gotten all the benefit out of this bowl that
she could.
      As she sat there, eyes closed, enjoying the aftertaste of the chocolate
as only she could, her door chimed.  She stood up and pushed her chair undeponses so that she could
read peoples' emotional states more accurately.  It was not a deliberate
manipulation of the other person, just a part of who she was.     Being only
half Betazoid, her mental powers were limited.  She had subconsciously
developed the probing speech patterns to compensate for her lessened powers,
much the same way that a blind person might develop a heightened sense of
heies that made her an excellent Counselor.
      "I'm doing well, Deanna.  Sorry I haven't been around, but I've had
several things on my mind."  He put on his charming grin, causing Deanna's
heart to skip a beat.
      "Come sit down and tell me about it."  She took his hand and started to
lead him to her couch, but the door chimed again before they could sit down. 
Deanna shrugged apologetically at Will and took a step toward the door.  "Come
in, please."
      The door opened and Geordi stepped in.  Seeing Will Riker he stopped. 
"Oh, sorry.  I know it's not office hours, but the computer told me you were
still awake so I thought I'd stop by and talk.  It can wait."
      "No, Geordi.  I was just getting up off the couch to leave."  The
commander straightened the front of his jacket.  "Deanna, nice to see you." 
He gave her another of his smiles which sometimes made her regret her
professional duties.
      "Commander,"  Geordi smiled a knowing smile and tapped his VISOR.  "That
couch hasn't been sat on lately.  "I really ought to bug-out..."
Geordi backed up a step toward the door.
      Riker and Troi shared a guilty look at having been caught in a fib. 
"Nonetheless, Geordi, duty calls."  Riker grinned and used the lame excuse to
get out of the awkward position he had dug himself.  He made his exit as
gracefully as possible.
      Deanna put a hand on Geordi's shoulder and pointed him to the couch. 
"We are all very sorry to hear about your mother.  Beverly told us about it
and we are all very concerned about you."  The physical touch and Deanna's
soothing attitude calmed all of Geordi's reservations about disturbing her and
Riker.  He sat down on the couch as the Counselor sat in her chair facing the
couch.
      "I don't know what move to make next, Counselor.  She's not hurting
anymore.  They can't even tell how long she'll last before the machines just
can't keep up with the disease."
      "You are considering letting it end, then?"  Troi shifted in her chair.
      "Yeah, kinda...It's just, I don't know if I should - or even if I can."
      Troi could feel Geordi's guilt and uncertainty.  It was an almost
physical presence that affected her.  "You feel an obligation to her, but you
don't know exactly what that obligation is.  You're not sure what she would
want you to do."
      "Riiiight..."
      "Well in most cases, her wishes would be the deciding factor, but in
this situation the decision rests on your shoulders."
      Geordi scowled.  "Are you saying that what she wants is not a factor
here?"
      "No, of course not.  What she _would_have_ wanted is certainly something
for you to think about.  But in her present condition the probes that suppress
pain and keep her mind alive also suppress all higher brain activity.  Simply
put, she has no desires right now."
      "But Doc is still working on it.  They may be able to heal her tomorrow
for all we know."
      "Geordi, do you remember the three people that we found on the satellite
we picked up?  The ones that had been frozen in the early twenty-first century
to stop the progress of terminal illnesses."
      "Yeah.  I remember 'Sonny' was an alright guy."  He smiled at the
memory.
      "Geordi, those three were the exception, not the rule.  The vast
majority of all the people that attempted cryogenic suspension were never
cured.  Many of their bodies were lost.  Cryostasis was finally done away with
when the majority of people realized that it was simply too expensive -
emotionally, to cling to the past that fiercely."
      "So you think I ought to let her die?"  Geordi asked, still uncertain.
      "What I think, Geordi, is that you are going to have to make a decision
that YOU can live with.  I think that people are going to try to convince you
either in favor or against, but you mustn't let them decide this for you.  In
the end, if you allow others to make this decision you will doing a great
injustice to yourself and to your mother."
      "To my mother?"
      "Yes, Geordi.  You are a wonderful, talented, responsible person;
greatly due to her influence.  She would want you to make your own decisions. 
That would do her the most justice."
      Geordi sat there for a couple of moments contemplating what she had
said.  "Thanks, Counselor,"  He said, standing up.  He left the Counselor's
room not sure if she had really helped him with his decision, but feeling
better anyway.

* * * * *

      Transporter Chief O'Brien watched as Worf and his son, Alexander, stood
side-by-side in the transporter room.  They looked quite similar, he thought,
particularly when they both stood there, arms behind their backs, feet
shoulder-width apart, chests proudly stuck out.  O'Brien smiled faintly.
      "What are you staring at?"  Worf demanded, noticing the Chief's
attention.
      "Oh, nothing, Sir."  O'Brien turned back to his controls and pretended
to be checking the settings."
      "Lieutenant, they are signaling that they are ready."
      "Then energize..."
      As the sparkling transporter effect faded, Jeremy Aster stepped off the
pad beaming with anticipation. 
      "Khal'tre Ahr'eK,"  said the young human in fluent Klingonese."
      "Khal'tre GluR," replied Worf and Alexander in unison.  Worf motioned
for Jeremy to join them as they turned to leave. 
      Jeremy and his mother, Marla, had been stationed on the Enterprise, but
his mother had been senselessly killed when a long-forgotten mine exploded
during an away mission on a planet whose warring occupants had long since
destroyed themselves.
      As the away team leader, Worf had felt responsible for the death of
Marla Aster, and had adopted Jeremy in a traditional Klingon ceremony.  The
ceremony had made them the equivalent of brothers.  Now Jeremy was living on
Earth and preparing to enter the Starfleet Academy.
      "I am glad you invited me up to the Enterprise again.  I'd heard you
were in dock here and I hoped to get to see you."  Jeremy had to walk quickly
to keep up with the long Klingon strides.
      Just then, they reached the door to Worf and Alexander's quarters. 
"This is more than just a visit, Jeremy.  I have something to discuss with you
and Alexander."  Alexander and Jeremy remained standing as Worf seated himself
at his desk.  He removed an isolinear storage card from a slot in his computer
terminal and placed it on his desk in front of Jeremy.  It lay on top of a
stack of Alexander's drawings and paintings from art class.  The paintings
were simple, but they were the types of things a father proudly displayed in
prominent places.
      "As you know, Jeremy, your mother's death was instant; painless.  She
died standing up, as one should."  Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. 
Worf looked back and forth between his two young charges as he spoke.
      "There are times when one is not so fortunate as Marla Aster.  Some are
rendered helpless.  Useless..."  Worf thought back on his recent spine injury
that nearly left him paralyzed.  Alexander and Jeremy both looked disturbed by
this unusual lecture.  Jeremy leaned forward.
      "Worf, you're not going ..."
      "Silence!"  Worf realized too late that he was too abrupt.  "No, I am
well, but I am a warrior.  One is never certain..."  Jeremy leaned back and
looked at Alexander, who shrugged.
      Worf pointed at the card on his desk.  "This storage device contains a
copy of my wishes, should I be rendered..."  He paused, out of distaste for
the subject.  "Useless."  He pressed a button on his computer and began
playing a copy of the living will.

* * * * *
      
      The room was dark, except for an old fashioned lamp sitting on a night
table.  It shed its faint light throughout the room.  On the walls were
paintings - real ones, not computer generated prints.  The bed was an ancient
four-poster with real, hand-stitched quilts.  A computer sat on a table in a
dark corner of the room, but it was covered up with piles of ancient books and
newspapers.
      On the bed lay another relic.  The venerable doctor who had served for
so many years on the Enterprise.  NCC-1701, and then 1701-A.  A half empty
bottle of Kentucky bourbon lay on the bed beside him.  The nurses would have
blown a gasket, had they known.
      "Damn that green-blooded sonofabitch."
      Leonard 'Bones' McCoy lay on his back in the middle of the bed.  The
wrinkles in his skin made it hard to tell if his eyes were even open, but he
was awake.  These crevasses in his face were filled with bitter tears.
      "Damn my own horse doctoring.  What do I know, anymore, anyway."  The
argument with the Klingon had revived long-buried pains.
      After his father's death, McCoy had been possessed, obsessed with
helping people, any and every way he could.  What did that get him?  He had
been mind-raped by Sybok, and imprisoned at Rura Penthe by the Klingons.  He
had fought with the last of his outdated medical skills as Jim lay dying.  Now
he was living out the last of his days surrounded by halfwit nurses.  But to
this doctor who had seen death in many forms over the years, it was better
than the alternative.
      He threw his legs off the bed and sat up with a groan.  Opening a drawer
on his night table, he dropped the whiskey bottle in the drawer and stood up. 
McCoy stumbled over to the computer table and began shuffling through the
papers and books.  Where was it.  He knew it was here somewhere.  Suddenly he
saw the cracked corner of the book.  When he picked it up, the papers slid off
the desk and cascaded to the ground.
      Hugging the book close to his chest, he sidled back to the bed.  He
examined the book.  The gold letters had long since rubbed off of the cover,
and the corners of the cover were frayed.  He opened it carefully to the leaf
page.  'To the best Doctor in the galaxy, from your friend, Jim.'  McCoy
looked over to the photograph of Jim Kirk that sat on his night table.
      Returning his attention to the book, he held it by it's binding and let
it fall open to an often read villanelle:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

* * * * *

      The room was dark, except for a solitary light strip on the ceiling.  It
shed its faint light throughout the room.  On the walls were paintings - not
originals, of course, but tasteful computer generated prints.  A computer sat
on a table in the center of the room, it's screen showing a photograph of a
woman and a child.
      On the bed lay a young man.  The bright Chief Engineer who served on the
latest of a long line of proud vessels, Enterprise.  NCC-1701-D.  Lying beside
him was an intricate device that allowed the man to see.  On his temples, a
pair of optical input ports blinked rhythmically.  The young man slept. 

* * * * *

      <Deanna, dear.  I think you're neglecting that young man of yours."
      <I have certainly not neglected Will, mother!  I've just been busy with
Geordi for the last few days.>
      Lwaxana and Deanna sat in an open air cafe watching the people move back
and forth on the sidewalks of San Francisco.  Despite the crowds, Deanna could
allow herself the luxury of relaxing and allowing her mental shields to fall. 
Her mother was more than capable of protecting Deanna from the chaotic
thoughts of the masses.  To any onlookers it would appear that the two were
quietly sitting in the morning sun, but they were really having one of their
frequent conversations.
      <When was the last time you were alone with him for any length of time?>
      <Last night, in fact.>
      Lwaxana smiled.  <Oh, really!  Did it go well?>
      <Actually, we were interrupted by Geordi.  He came to talk about his
mother.>  Deanna frowned, realizing what her mother was talking about.  <Will
did say that he had some things to talk about.>
      <What could Geordi have possibly had to say that was so important that
he had to interrupt you and Will?>
      <Mother!  You know I can't...MOTHER!>
      The smile on Lwaxana's face slid off.  She had just inadvertently read
directly through Deanna's lowered mental shields into the part of her mind
that held topics that she considered confidential.
      "Deanna, I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to pry."  The look on her face
begged for forgiveness.
      "That's alright, mother"  Said Deanna.  She did forgive her mother, but
still began slowly raising her mental shields once again, almost unaware of
doing it.
      "I didn't know about Geordi's mother.  I'm terribly sorry."
      "Mother, I really can't discuss Geordi's private business with you. 
That would violate his trust in me."  The two sat in silence for a few
moments.  Lwaxana seemed to be disturbed by more than the mental slip. 
Finally her eyes became misty and she spoke softly.
      "I never told you about Timicin's Resolution.  It seemed to really touch
his family deeply.  I'm afraid they did not think very highly of me for trying
to interfere."  Deanna suddenly realized the memories that had just been
stirred up in her mother.
      The thought of 'mercy killing' had caused her to remember Timicin again. 
She had fallen in love with the scientist just before he had been forced to
end his life by his people's customary 'Resolution.'  This was done in mercy,
so they claimed, to allow the individual to die in dignity and to prevent him
from becoming a burden to society.
      <Mother...>  Deanna allowed the wall around her mind to crumble again. 
Lwaxana smiled faintly and mother and daughter embraced mentally, sharing the
experience completely for the first time.

* * * * *

      Geordi woke up and groped for his VISOR.  He had fallen asleep thinking
about what Deanna had said.  He knew she was right.  His mother would want him
to be his own man, and to be strong.  Strong like her.  He looked back to the
computer at the picture of he and his mother holding hands.  He had just
played a successful baseball game and she was so proud of him.  Imagine that -
a blind boy playing baseball.  He smiled at the memory.
      "Computer discontinue images and rearchive."
      The computer chimed its acknowledgement as Geordi made his way to the
bathroom to get cleaned up.  After a long, hot shower, he stood in his
dressing room looking into the mirror.  Actually, his VISOR was directed at
the mirror, but he was looking inward.
      "Mother, I know now what I have to do.  You want to be strong again, but
you know the doctors don't think you can.  I love you mom.  I have to let you
go."  He could almost hear her speaking back to him.  Reassuring him that this
was the right decision.  He could see her face in his minds eye.  She was so
proud of him.  Geordi finished dressing and left to tell the doctors his
decision.
      He did not beam directly to Starfleet Medical.  Instead he had himself
beamed to the park that adjoined the hospital.  After a mind clearing walk, he
arrived at the Hospital.  He went directly to Dr. Pulaski's office but she was
not to be found.  He walked up to the nearest computer terminal.
      "Computer, where is Dr. Kate Pulaski."
      "Dr. Pulaski is in the Life Support ward.  Twenty-seventh floor."
      Geordi rode the turbolift to the twenty-seventh floor.  When the door
whooshed open he just stood there, lost in thought.  Finally the turbolift
asked for a destination and Geordi snapped out of his reverie.  He took a deep
breath and headed for the ward.  Just as he got there, Dr Pulaski stepped out
of the door.  She looked disappointed when he told her, but she nodded and
turned back into the room.
      Geordi stood at the side of the tank as Dr. Pulaski disconnected the
mechanisms that kept Mrs. LaForge alive.  He nodded and thanked her as she
turned to leave.  He thought he saw a tear roll down her cheek as she turned
to leave Geordi with his dying mother.
      He didn't know how long he stood there before he felt the touch of a
hand on his shoulder.  The grip was strong and reassuring.  He turned around
to find the aged face of Admiral McCoy.
      "Son.  I know how this has been on you."  His eyes sparkled in such a
way that Geordi knew that the old man was right.  Strangely, this old man
seemed to understand even better than Deanna Troi what he had gone through. 
The old man held something out to Geordi.  It was an ancient book.  Geordi had
seen books like this only a couple of times in his life.
      "I want you to have this.  It was given to me when I was hurting like
you are now.  It'll do more good in your hands than mine."  Geordi looked like
he was going to refuse the extremely valuable gift, but McCoy shook it at him. 
"Go on, boy.  I've got the damn thing memorized anyway."
      Geordi took the book reverently and examined it.  The gold lettering had
almost completely rubbed off of the cover.  He opened the cover and discovered
that the first page had been ripped out.  On the title page, however, there
was a message written in a careful script handwriting.

From a grave man, near death, who sees with blinding
sight

To a blind man, whose eyes can still blaze like
meteors and be gay.

* * * * *

      In the newly repaired engineering room of the Enterprise, the engineers
stood at attention as the Captain and Chief Engineers inspected the repairs
and cleanup.
      "Well, Lt. Commander LaForge, it appears that your people have done an
exemplary job."  Captain Picard smiled at the group of engineers and at the
Chief Engineer.
      "It seems, however, that I have other business here in the Engineering
room of our Enterprise."  Captain Picard slowly moved down the line of
uncomfortable looking engineers.  He stopped when he stood in front of
Reginald Barclay.
      "Lt. Barclay, I am told that you supervised the installation of the new
Navigational Deflector Arrays."
      "Yuh, -uh- I...  Yes Sir."  Barclay looked like he least wanted to be
here.
      "And that they have been tested and are fully operational."
      "Yes S-Sir"
      "And that during the unfortunate accident you performed well and saved
the life of Lt. Gomez."
      "Well, I..."  Barclay didn't know what to say to that one.  He stole a
glance down the line at Gomez, who smiled at him.  He blushed and turned back
to the Captain.
      "Well done, Barclay, well done indeed."  Picard smiled and shook
Barclays hand.  The engineer almost fainted.  LaForge clapped his appreciation
for Barclay, and the rest of the engineers took his lead and joined in.
      Picard dismissed the group and they huddled around Barclay clapping him
on the back and congratulating him on having gotten to shake the Captains
hand.  As the group was dispersing, Barclay spotted Gomez through the crowd.
      He seemed hesitant, but Geordi patted him on the shoulder and encouraged
him and he moved over toward her.  She grinned at him and limped over to meet
him.  She hooked her arm around his elbow and grinned
      "I seem to be having some difficulty walking on my own, Reg.  Would you
mind terribly, helping me back to my quarters?"  

* * * * *

      Riker was sitting in his quarters when Deanna came by.  They seated
themselves on the Commander's couch and Deanna began talking.
      "Will, I'm sorry I've been so busy with Geordi.  He has really had a
rough time this week.  You said you had some things on your mind.  Tell me
about them."
      "I can't tell you."  Riker looked mischievous.
      "Why not, Will?  You have always been able to talk to me before."
      "It can't be told.  Not with words."
      Deanna had been probing his mind, trying to detect some clue as to the
reason for his strange mood.  Suddenly she felt his mind open up and her
consciousness almost fell into his.  He smiled and reached out for her hand. 
She returned the smile and pulled him closer.
      "Oh, Imzadi!"
      Back on Earth, Lwaxana Troi sat sipping coffee in her suite.  She
smiled.