Crusher snorted at his persistence. “I will gladly let Dr. Selar treat it as soon as I take care of you.” She checked the readings on his monitors and adjusted the biomedical units slightly. “There. That should do it.”
Selar had been watching her, noticing in particular how little trouble she had using her injured arm. “Dr. Crusher, may I ask what happened to your arm?”
Reflexively, Crusher brought the arm up against her torso. “One of the Jarada went berserk and clawed me.”
“May I examine the injury?” Selar unwrapped the gauze and ran a scanner over the long, clean cut on Crusher’s arm. Under the heavy coating of ointment the wound showed no signs of swelling or inflammation. “This is most peculiar.”
“I don’t see anything wrong.” Crusher’s tone was defensive. Hearing herself made her realize how tired she was.
“No, but Ensign Tanaka received a similar wound.” Selar led Crusher over to Tanaka’s bed, where the full-body biomedical unit was struggling to keep his condition stable. “We surmise that the wound was poisoned, but so far we have been unable to isolate the specific toxin.”
Crusher handed her tricorder to Selar. “I ran two separate analyses of the ointment the Jarada gave me to treat my arm. You should be able to isolate the active ingredients and administer them in a concentrated form.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Selar took the tricorder and scrolled through Crusher’s information. After a moment she went over to the computer and ordered the lab to make the appropriate medication.
Crusher’s communicator chirped, reminding her she had responsibilities beyond her duties in sickbay. She tapped the device to acknowledge the page.
“Doctor, when will you and Commander Riker be ready to give me your reports on what happened on the planet?” Picard asked.
“I’ll be able to give you my report in about ten minutes, Captain.” If I remain awake so long, she added to herself. “However, Commander Riker is confined to sickbay and you will have to come here if you want his report.”
“In that case I’ll be there in ten minutes, Doctor. Picard, out.”
Crusher shrugged and gave Selar an apologetic look. “It sounds like you’d better fix up my arm fast. I think things are about to get a whole lot busier.”
Selar glanced around the room, then nodded significantly toward the security area, where the crazed Jarada, under restraints, were being monitored. “I was not aware that we needed any more business to occupy our time to the fullest.”
Crusher followed Selar’s look, for the first time realizing how many Jarada were in her sickbay. A relieved grin spread across her face. “You’ve been running tests on them, of course.” When Selar nodded, Crusher’s grin widened even further. “With those scans and the data I collected on the planet, we should have the answers to this entire mess.”
“I sincerely hope you are right.” Selar’s tone was restrained, but Crusher could see the hope that blazed in her eyes for the brief moment before the Vulcan turned to get the anabolic protoplaser to repair her arm.
O’Brien stood awkwardly just inside the door to sickbay, trying to work up enough nerve to face his wife. He knew he shouldn’t have blown up at her, but after the long hours of worrying, seeing her hanging on to Tanaka had been too much for his frayed nerves. Keiko squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, as if held by invisible restraints. Finally, knowing he had postponed his apology too long, O’Brien crossed to her bed.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said as soon as she saw him. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“If you’d just looked, you would have seen we were in trouble.” Her tone was resentful, but less so than he had feared. She shifted again, trying to find a comfortable spot for her shoulders. No matter how many advances were made in designing hospital beds, no one had ever found one that satisfied an unwilling patient.
O’Brien took her hand. “I know. I was just so worried that I wasn’t thinking straight. Will you forgive me?”
For a moment her expression remained so serious that he thought she would refuse. She studied him carefully, and then a brilliant smile spread across her beautiful face. “Of course, Miles. We can talk about it later.” The smile shifted to a grimace of intense frustration. “If you’ll tell the doctor to let me out of here! I keep telling them there’s nothing wrong with me!”
He looked around, trying to find any of the doctors. As if by magic, they had all disappeared. O’Brien squeezed her fingers. “I’ll do my best, but it doesn’t look like they’re going to make it easy. Why haven’t they let you go?”
She shook her head. “Dr. Selar said something about routine tests, but they finished all of those. I want out of here!”
O’Brien leaned over and kissed her. “I’ll see what I can do.” He wanted Keiko out of sickbay as much as she wanted out. He could not give her a decent apology, with a romantic dinner and soft music, while the doctors had her connected to so many monitors.
Chapter Twenty-two
IT WAS AMAZING how much clearer everything seemed after a good night’s sleep, Picard thought as he surveyed the group around the table in his ready room. Riker was present, certified fit for duty although his stiff movements proclaimed that he was not yet fully recovered. Worf, at the far end of the taoverble, glowered at his shiny reflection with more than usual intensity. Picard didn’t need to ask for recommendations to know that his security chief desired a rematch with the Jarada, this time on more equal terms. Even Troi’s face wore an unaccustomed grimness, as though she blamed herself for not sensing the Jarada’s insanity before so many people were jeopardized.
Picard shifted his attention to the other two officers in the room. Data, he knew, was eager to share the results of his geochemical surveys of the Beltaxiyan system with anyone who would listen. Crusher, although her eyes were dark-shadowed from lack of sleep, appeared almost as eager as Data to report her findings. Between those two reports, Picard hoped, he would have the information to plan their next moves. Mentally, he flipped a coin to decide who should go first.
“Dr. Crusher, would you give us your medical report?”
“Dr. Selar’s preliminary tests linked the mental instability with enzyme malfunctions and showed the biochemical imbalances were related to trace element deficiencies in the diet of the Jarada on Bel-Minor. When we compared her results with the scans I made of various Jarada on the planet, we were able to pinpoint the problem. Problems, actually.” Brushing a lock of hair off her forehead, Crusher gave a sigh of frustration. “The biochemistry is very complicated, and we’re only beginning to understand it.”
“Can you give us a brief summary, Doctor?”
“The extreme aggression is caused by overproduction of the hormone that functions in their bodies the way adrenaline works in ours. The feedback loop that controls this depends on an enzyme that contains an iodine atom. When the iodine levels fall below a critical value, the system produces the adrenalineanalog continuously. It simply won’t shut off.” She grimaced, thinking of what a human with a similar condition would be like. “At the same time, the intense delusions are caused by the malfunctioning of another set of enzymes. We haven’t completely worked out their proper function yet, but we do know that shortages of three of the rare-earth elements disrupt the secondary and tertiary folding structure of these proteins. At the moment Dr. Selar is administering the deficient elements to several of our guests and observing the results. Her preliminary reports are encouraging.”
“Mr. Data, how do your findings correlate with Dr. Crusher’s?” The physical parameters of the system would tell them the absolute limits imposed on any solution.
“The correlation is very strong, Captain. My surveys indicate that when the Beltaxiyan system formed, a number of the heavier elements were preferentially partitioned into Bel-Major. In particular, Bel-Minor shows a strong depletion in all the rare-earth elements and in the heavier of the gaseous elements, such as iodine, which are the elements that Dr. Crusher reports are deficient
in the Jaradan enzymes. Of course, it will take further study to determine the exact nature of the geochemical partitioning that occurred when this system formed.”
“Thank you, Mr. Data. Please consider the information you need to gather about this system, providing its owners give us permission.” Picard doubted that the Jarada would want them around much longer, but if his hunch was wrong, they could start working immediately.
Riker drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the mirror-smooth tabletop. “What do the element deficiencies mean in terms of our mission, Doctor? Will the Jarada you are treating recover completely?”
Crusher shrugged. “It’s too early to tell yet, but my hunch is—yes. All our simulations showed that the effects were completely reversible. In fact, Dr. Selar found some tantalizing evidence to suggest that this condition might have survival value if a hive were severely threatened. Crazed fighters, such as the Jarada we’ve encountered, would be harder to stop than normal individuals.”
“Ritual diets or fasting are part of the warrior tradition in many societies.” Troi frowned, searching her impressions of the Jarada for supporting evidence. “The carvings and mosaics we saw around the Governance Complex suggest a strong martial element to their culture.”
“As did the actions of their guardians,” Worf added. “However, we are not talking about their warriors now.”
Riker nodded in agreement. “We are talking about an entire society that is being warped by external forces.”
“The question is—do we offer them the doctor’s findings now?” Picard looked at each of his officers, checking for any final recommendations before reaching his decision. Only Crusher had anything to add.
“This problem completely baffled their best minds, Captain. Any hope we can offer them is better than what they have now.”
Riker shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to ease a sore muscle. “Besides, by the time they answer our message, Dr. Crusher’s results may be conclusive. Unless they have finally responded, all we can do is add this to our broadcast and wait.”
Picard nodded. “Mr. Data, make it so.”
O’Brien was waiting in her office when Crusher got back to sickbay. “Doctor, is anything wrong with Keiko? Dr. Selar won’t let me even see her.”
“Keiko!” Crusher slapped her forehand with her palm. Selar had insisted on keeping Keiko overnight, but all the test results had fallen within the normal range. “In all the excitement, I forgot about her.”
Lines of tension carved themselves deeper into his face. “I really didn’t mean to yell at her when she got back, but— She is all right, isn’t she, Doctor?”
“She’s fine, Miles.” Crusher fought to keep the grin off her face. “But you’re going to have to be a little more understanding for a while. She’s going to need your help.”
“What?” O’Brien blinked, his face gone blank with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this first, but—you’re going to be a father.” Crusher watched the proud, bemused grin spread over his face and was glad she had told him. She suspected that she would get little gratitude from the other prospective parent. However, that didn’t mean she could put off talking to Keiko any longer.
“I’m what?” Keiko gasped when Crusher told her the news. Her shock made Crusher wonder how she had managed to ignore all the symptoms so far.
Crusher leaned against the bed, watching Keiko with an amused expression on her face. The look was feigned, because she knew exactly what Keiko was feeling. She could still remember that horrible sinking sensation when her doctor had given her similar news halfway through her last semester of residency. In the long run, it had meant only that Wesley appeared a year earlier than she and Jack had planned, but in the short term, morning sickness and medical school had been a stressful combination. Still, the experience had taught her that sympathy was the last thing Keiko needed.
“What are you laughing at?” Keiko demanded, turning her anger from her husband to her doctor. “I suppose you think it’s funny or something!”
“Actually, I was thinking about myself.” Crusher allowed the corner of her mouth to lift in a self-mocking grin. “You sound exactly like I did when I found out I was going to have Wesley.”
“You didn’t want to have Wesley?” Keiko’s anger vanished as she considered this interesting puzzle. “I always thought you were the perfect mother.”
“Yeah, well—” Deliberately, Crusher looked down at the floor, as if weighing a heavy confession. When she judged her timing was right, she looked up with an embarrassed shrug. “Jack got an unexpected leave and—well, it happens to the best of us. I’ve set up a reading program for you so you’ll understand what’s happening with your body. And, please, come in to talk anytime you need to. I’ll be glad to listen.”
Keiko took a deep breath. “Does this mean I can get out of here now?” she asked in a calm tone.
“Yes.” Crusher stepped aside to let her swing her feet off the bed. Keiko swept out of sickbay, pausing only to glare at O’Brien, who was still waiting in Crusher’s office.
Looking crestfallen, O’Brien came up to the doctor. “Does she really hate me that much? I mean, if two people really love each other, shouldn’t they be happy to have a baby?”
Crusher sighed. “Which answer do you want for that question?”
“Which?” O’Brien shook his head, looking more puzzled than ever. “I don’t understand.”
“You want me to tell you, ‘Yes, the baby will make her happy because she loves you.’ And it probably will, eventually.” She gave him an apologetic grin. “Then there’s the other answer, the one that isn’t so easy. For every woman, pregnancy is a little different. Some become every bit as irrational as our Jarada guests—and for about the same reasons. When you put a woman’s body through the changes that go with pregnancy, the mind is affected by the hormones too. Whether you want it to be or not.”
“But, Doctor—how long is she going to keep hating me for this? I mean, I’ve got six younger brothers and sisters and my mother was always so happy when another one was coming.”
Crusher shook her head. “Remember, I told you every woman is different?” When he nodded reluctantly, she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Your job is to help Keiko as much as possible. That’s all you can do right now. While I”—she glanced significantly toward the security area—“have to try getting a different set of biological parameters back to normal.”
“Dr. Crusher, can I ask—I mean, I couldn’t help but hear what you told Keiko.” O’Brien shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “How long did it take for you to quit being mad at your husband?”
She gave him a speculative look, trying to guess how much reassurance he needed. There were times when she could use Troi’s empathy! “Oh, about the time I quit being morning sick.” But he doesn’t need to know I was one of the unlucky few who was morning sick for eight of the nine months.
“Thank you, Doctor.” His look of relief told her she had guessed right. Now, if only their solution to the Jaradan problem worked so quickly and so well! She stopped for a moment to check Tanaka’s leg, which was (at last!) well on the road to recovery, before moving on to administer the next round of treatments to the Jarada.
Once more Picard and his senior officers were gathered in the ready room to discuss the Jaradan problem. They had a guest, a Jarada pilot rescued from one of the attacking ships. The russet-colored insectoid stood in the corner of the room, its legs tucked under its body in a resting position. It watched its hosts with great interest, its head moving back and forth as each person spoke. “Still no response to our message, Mr. Data?” the captain asked, just to confirm what they already knew.
“No, sir. There has been absolutely no indication that the transmitter is receiving our signal.”
“Dr. Crusher, what is your report?”
Crusher glanced toward her guest before speaking. “The first Jarada to receive
injections of the deficient trace minerals have fully recovered. Based on this, we are administering the therapy to all the Jarada on board. We estimate that even the worst cases will be fully recovered by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Picard nodded. “Now that we have the answers to the questions, what’s our next step?”
Again Crusher glanced toward her guest. The russet-colored Jarada bobbed its head at her. “I’ve checked the ship’s stores and we can easily spare a three month supply of the necessary elements for every Jarada on the planet. That will give them time to locate their own supplies, even if they have to mine Bel-Major to get them. As far as contacting the Council of Elders, Zelk’helvk’veltran has some thoughts on the matter.”
Picard bowed his head to the Jarada. “We would be honored, Zelk’helvk’veltran, if you would share those thoughts with us.”
The Jarada stepped forward until its claws rested on the table. “In all probability, the transmitter has been taken off line or has been damaged by unbalanced individuals. I predict that most of the Council of Elders are still capable of dealing rationally with your people, if you can locate them. However, they will not be readily accessible, because they will not wish to be harmed by the insane members of our own society.”
“Could you take us to Zelfreetrollan?” Picard asked, leaning forward in his chair to pin the Jarada with his command look.
The Jarada curled its arms upward toward its shoulders. “I believe I can, but I have no guarantees that he will be in the location I predict.”
Yes or no? It wasn’t a question to ask aloud with their guest in the room. Looking at each of his officers in turn, Picard waited for the fractional nods that indicated they felt the gamble was worth taking. “Mr. Worf, assemble your team in the transporter room in twenty minutes. Dr. Crusher, Counselor Troi, and I will accompany you, as will any of our guests that the doctor feels are in fit condition to return home.”
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