Blood and Fire Ch 03 - A Conflict of Interests
Title: Blood and Fire
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Star Trek - The Next Generation
Author's notes:
For disclaimer and background information go to the secondary index page.
Technical data of the Oberth-class vessel are borrowed from the Ex Astris Scientia website. If I’ve misinterpreted anything, it’s not the fault of that excellent site. I’ve made the Copernicus an Oberth-class ship because it was said to be a science vessel. Feel free to disagree with me. The rest of the technobabble is from the “Next Generation Technical Manual.
The captain of the Copernicus is “played” by Linda Hunt. Commander Yarell is, of course, Denise Crosby, and “Heroes” Jack Coleman (aka Nathan Bennett) has been cast as Dr. Blodgett.
Rating: Teens for this part, for certain horror elements.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 03 - A CONFLICT OF INTERESTS
Riker had left Hodell and Eakins behind on the Copernicus bridge to reactivate the consoles of the tactical station, where they hoped to download the previous log entries from. Freeman remained with them, trying to find out what had killed the dead executive officer, whose body was still half-lying in the command chair.
“Sooo,” Hodell said languidly, while doing his best to find the right connection within the opened and seriously vandalized console of the communications system and finally shut off the distress signal. “Are the two of you getting married any time, soon?”
“Perhaps; perhaps not,” Eakins replied evasively. He was a very private person who hated to discuss his personal life with strangers. Even with Hodell, with whom he’d served together on the Horatio for a while and whom he considered a friend.
“Why not?” like all Daliwakans, Hodell had married right after having reached maturity. The human reluctance to form permanent and binding relationships remained something of a mystery for him.
Eakins shrugged, finding the whole topic embarrassing, and gave no answer. Looking up from his dead patient, Freeman, who was a lot less uptight, came to his aid.
“Superstition,” the med tech explained. “We’re afraid that making it official would damage our relationship.”
Hodell stared at him, completely baffled. “You humans have the most bewildering beliefs I’ve ever heard of.”
“I thought you were to fifty per cent human, too,” Eakins noted.
Hodell shrugged. “A mere technicality. I’ve been raised as a Daliwakan; I think like one and feel like one,” he glanced at Freeman. “Have you found anything?”
Freeman shook his head. “These red marks on the man’s neck are definitely bite marks of some sort… although what might have caused them is unclear so far. I’m fairly sure, though, that the blood has been removed from the body through these wounds.”
“As I said: space vampires,” Hodell joked; then he found something within the console. “Ah! Here it is; the distress call has been terminated. Now for the ship’s logs… there…” he touched his comm badge. “Hodell to Enterprise; tactical station aboard the Copernicus has been reactivated… sort of. Prepare to receive log transmission.”
“Acknowledged,” Data’s voice answered. “Send transmission, Mr. Hodell. We are ready to receive.”
“Transmission is being sent,” Hodell touched the controls necessary to transmit the logs… and stepped back in horror as he spotted a fifteen-centimetre-long, slimy red worm slithering across the cables within the open console. “What the hell is that?”
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t belong here,” Eakins replied. “Colin, do you have a test tube?”
“Sure,” Freeman produced the requested item, and with the help of a pair of tweezers, he grabbed the creature and placed it into the test tube. The thing writhed within, trying to push the unbreakable tube apart with the help of its tentacles - fortunately, to no effect.
“Xenobiology will have their field day with this,” Hodell commented. “Do you have a clue what it could be?”
Freeman shrugged. “If not for its size or colour, I’d say it looks like a Regular bloodworm. But those are white, soft and barely a third of the size of this thing. Besides, Regulus VI is under quarantine. Has been for a century and a half.”
“Could this thing have killed the commander here?” Eakins asked, nodding at the corpse in the command chair.
“Perhaps,” Freeman said, “but surely not alone. This is something that must be more closely investigated.”
“Well,” Hodell said, “there are enough scientists aboard the Enterprise to study this thing and figure out what it is. Let’s shut this console down again and get out of here as long as we still can.”
He reached back into the opened console… and yelped in pain as something sharp bit him. He yanked his hand out and he and Eakins were horrified to see several more of the large red worms attached to his hand. He tried to shake them off but they were burrowing their fanged tentacles into his skin, not letting lose.
Eakins hit his comm badge. “Eakins to Riker. Sir, we’ve sent the logs to the Enterprise, but Ensign Hodell has been attacked by some sort of creatures. Ensign Freeman thinks they might have killed the executive officer of the Copernicus. Orders, sir?”
“Try to get Hodell free of the things and leave the bridge as quickly as you can,” Riker ordered. “We’re coming to your aid. Riker out.”
Eakins turned back to Hodell who still hadn’t been able to get rid of the worms on his hand. In fact, an entire wave of worms started slithering out of the open console, sliding down the removed panels, and attached themselves to different parts of his body.
“Oh God!” Hodell screamed in searing pain and horror. “Oh God, no! Dan, help me! Don’t let me die like this!”
Eakins fired his phaser into a group of the worms on the floor - to his shocked surprise, they transformed into the same pink and gold wavicles they’d previously seen in the corridor. Eakins fired again and another group of worms exploded into colourful sparkles. In the meantime, even more worms were pouring out of the open console, falling over Hodell like blood rain, covering his entire body, muffling the man’s desperate screams.
Eakins backed away in horror as the next swarm of bloodworms turned away from the fallen man and made its way in his direction.
“Dan!” Freeman called out to him. “It’s no use! You can’t help him. We need to get out of here, now! There’s nothing you can do for Hodell.”
“Yes, there is,” Eakins replied, suddenly eerily calm as his training finally kicked in. “Forgive me, Mikael,” he said, to his dying shipmate; then he set his phaser to kill and put the unfortunate man out of his misery.
A large cloud of wavicles resulted from Hodell’s disintegration, but the worms still kept coming from the opened console, in even greater numbers than before.
At that moment Riker and Worf came up behind them, and without asking questions, they opened fire at the worms, generating new clouds of wavicles in their wake. Still, they could not keep up with the new and numerous swarms of bloodworms, and so Riker decided that the best course of action would be to run to safety.
“The turbolift!” he called out to the others. “Run!”
Eakins grabbed the hand of the petrified Freeman and dragged him towards the turbolift, while still firing at the worms that kept coming. Riker and Worf followed suit. Finally, they reached the turbolift and squeezed themselves into the narrow little car.
“Deck Two,” Riker told the computer, while the turbolift doors were closing - way too slowly for his taste, as a new swarm of bloodworms was slithering towards them at alarming speed. “Emergency start. Authorization: Riker, William T, Code Alpha-6-0.”
The turbolift doors snapped closed and the car swung into motion with a breakneck speed. Freeman felt his stomach lurch into his throat, which could have been either the near free fall of the lift or the scene he’d just witnessed on the bridge.
“Where are we going?” Eakins asked.
“Rec room,” Riker explained. “Geordi found access to Captain Tensus’ personal files from there and is trying to break the code at the moment.”
They reached the room on the lower deck without further problems and found LaForge working at one of the shared terminals of the room. Ensigns Burke and Nagel were standing at the door, tricorder in the hand, checking for lifesigns.
“Hurry up,” Burke said. “Whatever it is, it’s hot at your heels.”
“Seal the doors shut and let’s hope the worms won’t be able to make their way through them,” Riker ordered, breathing heavily.
Worf and Burke followed his orders, using their phase rifles to weld the doors shut. Freeman, in the meantime, fell to his knees in a shadowy corner and threw up violently. Calming down his own breathing with some effort, Riker turned to Eakins.
“Report, Lieutenant.”
“The worms came from within the opened tactical console on the bridge,” Eakins told him in a calm, even voice that would have put a Vulcan to shame. “They attacked Ensign Hodell en masse, burrowing their tentacles into his skin. He couldn’t shake them off. I tried to fire at the worms as they came out of the console, but they just kept coming. Ensign Hodell was beyond help, so I was forced to kill him to spare him further agony.”
“It was the honourable thing to do,” Worf grunted, clearly impressed.
“I don’t know about honour,” Eakins replied tiredly. “All I know is that Mikael Hodell was my friend… and I killed him.”
“You had no other choice,” Freeman wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his uniform shirt and climbed to his feet. “He was being eaten alive. You saved him from unnecessary pain, that’s all.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to bear,” Eakins said flatly.
Freeman touched his shoulder in a brief gesture of compassion. “I know. I’m sorry, Dan.”
“Yeah, so am I,” Eakins turned away, denying himself the comfort of his partner’s touch. “Commander, have you found anything to explain the presence of these worms aboard the Copernicus?”
“Not yet,” LaForge replied in Riker’s stead. “But we know now that the Copernicus has definitely violated the Regulan quarantine. I’ve backtracked her course to the Regulus system, although there’s no entry about which planet they’ve actually visited.”
“It could only be Regulus VI,” Worf said.
Freeman shook his head. “Not necessarily. Regulan bloodworms are native to both Regulus II and Regulus V.”
“Ordinary bloodworms,” Worf corrected. These here are plasmasites… a vastly different kind. They are the ones because of which Regulus VI had to be put under quarantine one hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Are you sure about that?” Riker asked.
“I’ve never seen a plasmasite before; nobody has and lived to tell the tale,” Worf replied. “But yes, I’m quite certain about it, Commander.”
“In that case, we need to contact the Enterprise,” Riker said grimly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Picard took the news without surprise.
“Doctor Selar and Mr. Data have come to the same conclusion,” he told his executive officer. “You know, of course, what that means, Number One?”
“Of course,” Riker answered. “No rescue attempt is allowed. Starfleet General Order 9 is in effect, and a Code 9 procedure must be implemented immediately.”
“Which means what exactly?” Freeman asked, not liking the sound of that a bit.
“They’ll have to destroy the Copernicus, with us still aboard,” Ensign Nagel told him matter-of-factly. “We’re most likely infected anyway and would be a risk for any other vessel, including the Enterprise.”
Freeman blanched but managed to keep his fear under control… for now.
“We’re not quite there yet,” Picard said. “What’s your situation, Number One?”
“We’ve lost Ensign Hodell,” Riker informed him. “The rest of the away team is safe.”
“No; I don’t really think we are, sir,” Eakins guided the light of his rifle torch at the sealed entrance, and they saw with growing horror that several of the worms had already managed to squeeze their way over the top of the closed doors… and more were following.
“That’s impossible!” Worf howled in outrage and opened fire at the creatures. “We’ve sealed that door! Sealed!”
“They must have found a breach in the structural integrity of the bulkhead,” LaForge tried to wear off the newly produced cloud of wavicles the same way one would try to shoo away a swarm of mosquitoes. “Commander, we can’t stay here! We’ll be eaten in no time.”
“Correction, Captain,” Riker reported calmly. “It seems that our situation is not safe, after all. Any suggestions in which direction we should flee?”
“According to the Enterprise's sensors, the entire saucer section of the Copernicus is infested with the plasmasites,” Picard told him. “The only pace that might offer relative safety is within the repulsor field, in the middle of Cargo Bay Two.”
“I don’t think we can reach it in our own, Captain,” Riker said.
“You don’t have to,” Picard answered. “Chief O’Brien tells me he can beam you over, right in the middle of the field. There is some interference, but he thinks he can compensate for that. It is a risk, of course, but…”
“But still better than wait until we’re covered in bloodworms,” Riker finished for him. “Understood, sir. We’ll be ready in twenty seconds,” he gestured the others to take up a tight formation around him, then said. “Riker to O’Brien. Six to beam over to Cargo Bay Two. Energize.”
Just when the sealed door began to break down under the sheer mass of bloodworms, the transporter beam caught them and carried them away, hopefully into safety.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
All of them, with the exception of Work, who - to his surprise - found himself in the Isolation Lab of Enterprise’s sickbay.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“I apologize for the detour, Lieutenant,” Selar answered calmly from the other side of the containment field, “but I need a blood sample from you for my research. Should you turn out to be infected as well, we shall return you to the Copernicus. Of not, you can resume your duties on the bridge.”
Worf glared at her like a wounded targ. “You’ve no right…”
“On the contrary,” she interrupted, not the least intimidated by his death glare. “I have every right. I am the acting Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise, which gives me the right to use people as I see fit during a medical emergency. Now, be quiet and let me run this analysis.”
Worf scowled but shut up, knowing that trying to push the Vulcan would be fruitless. After about six minutes, Selar re-checked the results and nodded in satisfaction.
“It seems that you have been fortunate, Lieutenant,” she said. “I could not find any living plasmasites in your blood… or dead ones, for that matter. It is safe to assume, I think, that they have all directly gone after the easier prey: human blood. You may leave isolation if you wish; you present no danger to anyone.”
She dropped the forcefield and Worf stormed out, without as much as looking back. Selar suppressed the very un-Vulcan like urge to sigh, shook her head and returned to her work, hoping that the Klingon’s immunity against this particular kind of plasmasites would prove helpful in her efforts to find a cure.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When they rematerialized in the Copernicus’ cargo bay, they found themselves in the company of fifteen haggard survivors. Fourteen of them were wearing various kinds of Starfleet uniforms, while the last one, a human male in his mid-forties, was obviously a civilian… and an important one, too, if his fine clothes and his haughty demeanour were any indication.
Riker spotted the captain of the Copernicus at once - it would have been hard not to. After all, Captain Aria Tensus was barely four feet tall, and the only Starfleet officer ever originating from the First Federation. She’d have looked like a child in a uniform, if not for her deeply lined, mature face. At first sight, one would have guessed her age of about fifty; in truth, she was well into her nineties. Her species was small yet long-living.
“Commander,” she said in her raspy voice, “I regret to have gotten you in this situation. I strongly opposed to sending out the distress call but was outvoted by higher Starfleet authority.”
The extreme dryness in her voice clearly revealed what she thought about said authority. Despite his better judgement, Riker couldn’t help but sympathize. Sometimes Headquarters was too generous in playing with the lives of simple Starfleet personnel.
“Well, that’s a moot point now,” he replied. “We’re here, and we have to find a way out of this mess - for all of us.”
“Good luck,” Captain Tensus answered dryly, while Freeman went to check on the condition of the other survivors, doing his best to ease their pain. “Which ship have you come from, Commander?”
“From the Enterprise,” Riker said. “I’m William T. Riker, First Officer. Lieutenant LaForge is our chief pilot and a passable engineer at that. Lieutenant Eakins and Ensigns Nadel and Burke are from Security; and Ensign Freeman here is one of our medical technicians. Unfortunately, we’ve just lost our systems technician a few minutes ago.”
“My sincerest condolences,” the small captain bowed formally as it was custom among her people. “What you can see here, Commander Riker, is the rest of my crew,” she gestured at two Bolians, both wearing security uniforms. “Lieutenant Ays Brok, acting Chief of Security, and Ensign Taras Bulba, his co-husband. Dr. Cosma Shiva Hagen, second science officer,” she introduced a sensuous Betazoid beauty with the usual byzantine eyes of her species. “We don’t know what happened to Commander Ahrens, our Chief of Sciences, but since he’s been infected, too, I assume he must be dead by now.”
“He is,” LaForge affirmed bitterly. “He grabbed my phaser, killed himself and managed to infect us all in the process with whatever those flying things are.”
“Plasmasites,” a cold female voice answered, and a blonde woman in her mid-fifties, wearing the uni-coloured black uniform of Starfleet Intelligence and the rank insignia of a full Commander separated from the small crowd and approached them. She was accompanied by the civilian, who seemed to be about the same age. “And if you’re indeed infested by them, it was highly irresponsible to beam into our secured area and endanger our lives as well.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Riker said icily, “but it was either that or being eaten alive by gargantuan bloodworms. Sure you can understand why this was our only possible choice.”
They glared at each other with unveiled hostility, and Captain Tensus cleared her throat to hide her mild amusement. She seemed like a patient grandmother, watching her bickering grandchildren.
“By the way, this is the higher Starfleet authority I was speaking about,” she said. “Allow me the questionable honour to introduce you to Commander Jenna Yarell, from Starfleet Intelligence. The… gentleman is Doctor Raye Blodgett, a civilian scientist working for Starfleet Sciences.”
Riker turned to Yarell with a frown. “Have you authorized the Copernicus to violate the Regulan quarantine?” he demanded. “Are you aware of the fact that this is a Code Nine security breach? Or are you Intelligence guys suffering from delusions of godhood and believe the regulations don’t apply to you?”
Yarell’s round face showed not the least concern, and her pale blue eyes remained cold like ice. There was a certain doll-like quality about her, assuming people would fabricate dolls that were supposed to look middle-aged.
“Nonsense,” she said. “Code Nine doesn’t apply here. This mission is an authorized one, designed to discern if it would be possible to neutralize the threat of plasmasite infestation - based on Klingon physiology. As you probably know, the different blood chemistry of the Klingons makes them so immune they even drink the worms in bloodwine. We’re trying to use that to our advantage… before they’d do it.”
Riker stared at her in stunned disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I know, we’re allied to the Klingon Empire.”
“Not at all,” the civilian, Dr. Blodgett, intervened. “It’s a genuine concern, Commander. Klingons make finicky allies. Can you imagine what will happen if they - or the Ferengi, or the Romulans, or any other hostile powers - spread bloodworms throughout Federation space?”
“Actually, I can,” Riker answered dryly, “and so can Starfleet Command. Which was the reason to establish the Regulan quarantine in the first place… and the disaster you’ve caused by violating it proves that it had been the right thing to do. Now, have you really found a way to neutralize the plasmasites?”
Blodgett stiffened. “That’s strictly need-to-know.”
“Tough,” Riker countered. “I’m the only one who can talk my captain out of shooting your sorry asses into subatomic particles; so I need to know. Or else I’ll strongly suggest him to carry out the Code Nine directive.”
“You can’t do that!” Yarell protested.
“Of course I can,” Riker said. “and I will, unless you lay all cards on the table, now.”
Yarell and Blodgett exchanged concerned looks; then the Intelligence officer shrugged helplessly. “Tell him,” she said.
“Well,” the civilian scientist began uncomfortably, “it’s been proved that the initial spores are drawn to oxygen-binding enzymes - exactly like those which are found in human blood. Once there, they metamorphosize into the bloodworms…”
“In other words, you’ve no idea how to neutralize them,” Freeman said bitterly, looking up from his current patient.
“Well, no, not exactly,” Blodgett admitted, “but we’re close. We’ve made considerable progress in understanding their life cycle, and with enough time to finish our experiments…”
“I’m afraid there won’t be enough time,” LaForge interrupted. “In fact, there might be no time at all. The repulsor field - your only means of safety - is completely surrounded by these slimy worms, and the energy for the field will only remain strong enough to repel them for a short time longer.”
Blodgett blanched at that blunt statement and panic began to spread among the handful of survivors. Only Captain Tensus kept her calm; but again, she’d survived the one or other major crisis in her seven decades long career as a Starfleet Officer.
“So, what are we doing now?” she asked, no-one in particular.
Riker shrugged. “I’d suggest the Enterprise. Is there anything else?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Captain Picard was sitting on the bridge of the Enterprise in his usual, unflappable manner, radiating utter calm and serenity as always. In the inside, however, he was experiencing profound concern. What little Data had found out about Commander Yarell and her previous assignments, suggested someone with a very rigid way of thinking and with a somewhat fanatic attitude concerning the safety of the Federation. She wouldn’t back off one inch when she thought that safety to be endangered and would be very hard to persuade that she might be wrong.
Plus, there were about twenty endangered people aboard the Copernicus - including Enterprise’s own away team, already infected with the plasmasites - and Sickbay still hadn’t come up with any solution. In fact, there hadn’t bee any news from Sickbay for hours. Perhaps a little remainder wouldn’t harm…
The captain touched his comm badge. “Pickard to Sickbay. Doctor Selar, can you tell me something… anything that might help?”
“Doctor Selar in on her way to the bridge, Captain,” the voice of Dr. Martin answered. That piece of news revitalized Picard at once.
“Have you found a cure?” he asked.
“Afraid not, Captain,” the doctor answered regretfully. “In fact, I don’t think there could be any medical solution, not without long and extensive research in secured labs. We’ve got reason to assume that the metabolism of the plasmasites has been deliberately tampered with, as they show definite differences compared with the more common bloodworms; the ones Klingons are immune to.”
“So, does this mean we can’t do anything to help those people and will simply have to let them die?” Picard asked.
“There is one method that might work,” Dr. Martin replied, “but it would mean to put the patients at extreme risk. Doctor Selar will explain you the details. Sickbay out.”
Picard frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. On the other hand, Selar was a Vulcan and not prone to taking extreme risks, unless he found it logical to do so… meaning that there wasn’t any other solution and a possibility of more than eighty per cent to success. Statistics were the Vulcan way to deal with probabilities.
He only hoped that Commander Yarell would see the logic in whatever dangerous methods Dr. Selar was about to suggest.
“Mr. Worf,” he turned to the Klingon who had returned to the bridge after being released from the Isolation Lab, “establish a conference connection to the Copernicus. I believe Commander Riker will want to hear this.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Needless to say that Riker was fairly shocked by the Vulcan’s suggestion.
“Are you telling us that the only way to save any infected person would be to have all of the blood removed from their body, and then replacing it with fresh blood?” he asked incredulously. “That is your solution?”
“Correct, Commander,” Selar answered with unshakable Vulcan calmness. “By separating the blood from the living organism that it sustains, the plasmasites that have already begun the metamorphosis would be killed and present no further danger for either the patient or his or her surroundings. Only the spores can cause infection, as you know.”
“That’s all well and good, but wouldn’t this be an extremely dangerous gamble?” Riker asked. “Anyone undergoing this… treatment would have no more than a few minutes for the transfusion to be complete - or that person would die.”
“Ten minutes at best,” Selar corrected. “And yes, there is considerable risk involved. But this is the only method we can apply in the short time you have left. The only other solution would be to let the infection run its natural cycle - which would mean the inevitable death of every single person aboard the Copernicus.”
“I see,” Picard sighed. “Doctor, is there any secure way to beam those people over to the Enterprise, without endangering everyone aboard our ship?”
“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan answered without hesitation. “Engineering has already established modified containment fields around the Isolation Lab; beaming the patients directly there should not present more than a four point three nine per cent risk for the crew to be contaminated.”
“And you consider that an acceptable risk,” Picard said. It wasn’t really a question, but the Vulcan acknowledged it nonetheless.
“Yes, Captain, I do.”
“Very well,” Picard came to a decision. “Make it so. Have Sickbay prepared to accept the patients in the worst physical state first. Time might be an issue here.”
“Understood, Captain,” the Vulcan left.
“Captain Picard,” the cold, authoritative voice of Commander Yarell interrupted their conversation via comm system. “Surely, I don’t have to remind you of Starfleet General Order Thirteen, which states that critically important personnel must be rescued from a hostile situation before anyone else, do I?”
“No, Commander, you don’t have to,” Picard replied icily.
“Then I believe we both agree that Doctor Blodgett and myself should be in the first group that will be transported back to the Enterprise,” Yarell continued; then she added as an afterthought. “Together with Captain Tensus, of course.”
“Forget it,” the small woman growled somewhere in the background. “I won’t flee my ship first like some cowardly rat!” Like you, the unspoken comment hovered between them.
“Commander, you can’t be serious!” Riker protested. “There are sick people here that need medical assistance, and they need it now!”
“That’s unfortunate, and we’ll do our best to help them,” Yarell replied, “but there are higher priorities that must be respected.”
“Like saving your own ass, right?” Riker all but exploded into her face. “Of all the selfish, cowardly…”
“Number One,” Picard interrupted in his most severe command voice, before his second-in-command could give the Intelligence officer a sound reason to have him court-martialed. “She is right. General Order Thirteen is very clear about this. Like it or not - and I certainly don’t like it - we must act as she demands from us.”
“And have these people suffer or die, just because a flag officer is too concerned with her own safety?” Riker asked in utter contempt. These people need help, Captain.”
“And they will have all the help we are able to provide,” Selar’s voice answered. “Rest assured, Commander, that I have taken such hindrances into consideration.”
Picard looked around in surprise. “Where is Doctor Selar? A moment ago she was still here.”
There were collective shrugs from the bridge personnel. Nobody had a clue where the Vulcan could have gone.”
“Computer,” Picard said, “locate Doctor Selar.”
“Doctor Selar is in Transporter Room Three,” the artificial, feminine voice of the ship’s computer replied promptly.
“I believe she is planning to beam over to the Copernicus, Captain,” Data commented helpfully.
“Has she gone mad?” Picard asked from his Second Officer in disbelief.
“I do not think so, Captain,” the android replied. “My theory would be that she is referring to her oath as a physician and intends to help the people aboard the Copernicus any way she can, until they can be beamed over to the Enterprise.”
Picard briefly closed his eyes. The verbosity of his android officer sometimes drove him to spontaneous headaches.
“We’ll see about that,” he rose from the command chair. “Mr. Data, you have the bridge. Mr. Worf, you with me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When they reached Transporter Room Three, they found Dr. Selar, in full hazmat gear and equipped with two oversized med kits, standing at the control console.
“Hold the transport, Ensign,” Picard ordered Sonya Gomez, a newbie from Engineering, who was operating the controls; then he turned to the Vulcan. “Just where do you think you are going, Doctor?”
“I am preparing to beam over to the Copernicus, of course,” Selar answered with that infuriating patience Vulcans sometimes used when dealing with humans; even with their commanding officers. “The survivors of the Copernicus need medical assistance, Captain. I must examine them and inject them with drugs that can slow down the metamorphosis of the plasmasites until they can be over here. They are considerably weakened, according to Commander Riker’s preliminary report, so I am taking metabolic boasters with me to ensure that they will, in fact, survive long enough for being treated.”
“You’re taking unnecessary risks, Doctor,” Picard said. “There is no need for you to go over in person. Certainly Ensign Freeman can handle a few inoculations on his own.”
“Ensign Freeman is a highly capable medical technician when it comes to field work,” Selar allowed, “but he does not have any experience with infectious agents or parasitic organisms. He would not know what to use, should one of the patients have a toxic reaction. These are very potent drugs we need to use here.”
“Why can’t you send Doctor Martin then?” Picard asked. “He used to work at Gagarin Station and is more experienced when it comes to pathogens than everyone else from the medical staff.”
“Doctor Martin is human,” Selar answered, “and it is a proven fact that humans are particularly vulnerable to plasmasite infections. As a Vulcan, I have a considerably higher immunity factor; although I cannot compare it with that of a Klingon, of course,” she added with a glance in Worf’s direction.”
“That might be,” Picard said,”but Doctor Martin is only responsible for himself. You as a single parent, on the other hand…”
“Captain,” the Vulcan interrupted, “such a remark is beneath you. T’Meir and I have discussed the danger of our mission many times in the past. She understands the risks; and she knows that should I die in the line of duty, our Clan would take care of her. I do not take unnecessary risks. As you can see, I have prepared myself to stay as safe as possible, given the circumstances. But if I do not beam over to that other ship to help those people, although I am the one best suited to do so, then my oath as a physician is meaningless and I would act against everything I had been taught as a Vulcan. The needs of the many…”
“… outweigh the need of the few; or that of a single person, I know,” Picard finished the old Vulcan mantra for her and sighed. “I could forbid you to beam over, you know.”
“I know,” Selar smiled at him, without actually smiling. It was a Vulcan thing, involving the eyes only; even after decades of exposure to the many Vulcan non-expressions, Picard still couldn’t figure out how they were doing it. “But you will not, will you? I am certain that you can see the logic in my actions, Captain.”
“Perhaps,” Picard said reluctantly. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “This is simply a necessity; one that neither of us can avoid. Now, if you do not mind, Captain, I have patients to treat,” she stepped onto the transporter platform and looked at the ensign standing behind the operator console. “Energize.”
Sonya Gomez stole an uncertain look at Picard. The captain nodded reluctantly. Gomez touched her controls, and in the next moment the Vulcan doctor was gone.
“Transfer complete,” Gomez reported. Picard nodded absent-mindedly.
“Thank you, Ensign,” then he, too, looked at the Klingon, as though asking for his opinion.
“You’re asking me as a Klingon?” Worf clarified. “Beat her. As a professional... she was right.”
On his way to the turbolift Picard shook his head ruefully, unable to shake off the foreboding of impending doom. If Worf had suddenly developed a sense of humour, the end of the world as they knew it could not be very far.
Chapter 04
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Star Trek - The Next Generation
Author's notes:
For disclaimer and background information go to the secondary index page.
Technical data of the Oberth-class vessel are borrowed from the Ex Astris Scientia website. If I’ve misinterpreted anything, it’s not the fault of that excellent site. I’ve made the Copernicus an Oberth-class ship because it was said to be a science vessel. Feel free to disagree with me. The rest of the technobabble is from the “Next Generation Technical Manual.
The captain of the Copernicus is “played” by Linda Hunt. Commander Yarell is, of course, Denise Crosby, and “Heroes” Jack Coleman (aka Nathan Bennett) has been cast as Dr. Blodgett.
Rating: Teens for this part, for certain horror elements.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER 03 - A CONFLICT OF INTERESTS
Riker had left Hodell and Eakins behind on the Copernicus bridge to reactivate the consoles of the tactical station, where they hoped to download the previous log entries from. Freeman remained with them, trying to find out what had killed the dead executive officer, whose body was still half-lying in the command chair.
“Sooo,” Hodell said languidly, while doing his best to find the right connection within the opened and seriously vandalized console of the communications system and finally shut off the distress signal. “Are the two of you getting married any time, soon?”
“Perhaps; perhaps not,” Eakins replied evasively. He was a very private person who hated to discuss his personal life with strangers. Even with Hodell, with whom he’d served together on the Horatio for a while and whom he considered a friend.
“Why not?” like all Daliwakans, Hodell had married right after having reached maturity. The human reluctance to form permanent and binding relationships remained something of a mystery for him.
Eakins shrugged, finding the whole topic embarrassing, and gave no answer. Looking up from his dead patient, Freeman, who was a lot less uptight, came to his aid.
“Superstition,” the med tech explained. “We’re afraid that making it official would damage our relationship.”
Hodell stared at him, completely baffled. “You humans have the most bewildering beliefs I’ve ever heard of.”
“I thought you were to fifty per cent human, too,” Eakins noted.
Hodell shrugged. “A mere technicality. I’ve been raised as a Daliwakan; I think like one and feel like one,” he glanced at Freeman. “Have you found anything?”
Freeman shook his head. “These red marks on the man’s neck are definitely bite marks of some sort… although what might have caused them is unclear so far. I’m fairly sure, though, that the blood has been removed from the body through these wounds.”
“As I said: space vampires,” Hodell joked; then he found something within the console. “Ah! Here it is; the distress call has been terminated. Now for the ship’s logs… there…” he touched his comm badge. “Hodell to Enterprise; tactical station aboard the Copernicus has been reactivated… sort of. Prepare to receive log transmission.”
“Acknowledged,” Data’s voice answered. “Send transmission, Mr. Hodell. We are ready to receive.”
“Transmission is being sent,” Hodell touched the controls necessary to transmit the logs… and stepped back in horror as he spotted a fifteen-centimetre-long, slimy red worm slithering across the cables within the open console. “What the hell is that?”
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t belong here,” Eakins replied. “Colin, do you have a test tube?”
“Sure,” Freeman produced the requested item, and with the help of a pair of tweezers, he grabbed the creature and placed it into the test tube. The thing writhed within, trying to push the unbreakable tube apart with the help of its tentacles - fortunately, to no effect.
“Xenobiology will have their field day with this,” Hodell commented. “Do you have a clue what it could be?”
Freeman shrugged. “If not for its size or colour, I’d say it looks like a Regular bloodworm. But those are white, soft and barely a third of the size of this thing. Besides, Regulus VI is under quarantine. Has been for a century and a half.”
“Could this thing have killed the commander here?” Eakins asked, nodding at the corpse in the command chair.
“Perhaps,” Freeman said, “but surely not alone. This is something that must be more closely investigated.”
“Well,” Hodell said, “there are enough scientists aboard the Enterprise to study this thing and figure out what it is. Let’s shut this console down again and get out of here as long as we still can.”
He reached back into the opened console… and yelped in pain as something sharp bit him. He yanked his hand out and he and Eakins were horrified to see several more of the large red worms attached to his hand. He tried to shake them off but they were burrowing their fanged tentacles into his skin, not letting lose.
Eakins hit his comm badge. “Eakins to Riker. Sir, we’ve sent the logs to the Enterprise, but Ensign Hodell has been attacked by some sort of creatures. Ensign Freeman thinks they might have killed the executive officer of the Copernicus. Orders, sir?”
“Try to get Hodell free of the things and leave the bridge as quickly as you can,” Riker ordered. “We’re coming to your aid. Riker out.”
Eakins turned back to Hodell who still hadn’t been able to get rid of the worms on his hand. In fact, an entire wave of worms started slithering out of the open console, sliding down the removed panels, and attached themselves to different parts of his body.
“Oh God!” Hodell screamed in searing pain and horror. “Oh God, no! Dan, help me! Don’t let me die like this!”
Eakins fired his phaser into a group of the worms on the floor - to his shocked surprise, they transformed into the same pink and gold wavicles they’d previously seen in the corridor. Eakins fired again and another group of worms exploded into colourful sparkles. In the meantime, even more worms were pouring out of the open console, falling over Hodell like blood rain, covering his entire body, muffling the man’s desperate screams.
Eakins backed away in horror as the next swarm of bloodworms turned away from the fallen man and made its way in his direction.
“Dan!” Freeman called out to him. “It’s no use! You can’t help him. We need to get out of here, now! There’s nothing you can do for Hodell.”
“Yes, there is,” Eakins replied, suddenly eerily calm as his training finally kicked in. “Forgive me, Mikael,” he said, to his dying shipmate; then he set his phaser to kill and put the unfortunate man out of his misery.
A large cloud of wavicles resulted from Hodell’s disintegration, but the worms still kept coming from the opened console, in even greater numbers than before.
At that moment Riker and Worf came up behind them, and without asking questions, they opened fire at the worms, generating new clouds of wavicles in their wake. Still, they could not keep up with the new and numerous swarms of bloodworms, and so Riker decided that the best course of action would be to run to safety.
“The turbolift!” he called out to the others. “Run!”
Eakins grabbed the hand of the petrified Freeman and dragged him towards the turbolift, while still firing at the worms that kept coming. Riker and Worf followed suit. Finally, they reached the turbolift and squeezed themselves into the narrow little car.
“Deck Two,” Riker told the computer, while the turbolift doors were closing - way too slowly for his taste, as a new swarm of bloodworms was slithering towards them at alarming speed. “Emergency start. Authorization: Riker, William T, Code Alpha-6-0.”
The turbolift doors snapped closed and the car swung into motion with a breakneck speed. Freeman felt his stomach lurch into his throat, which could have been either the near free fall of the lift or the scene he’d just witnessed on the bridge.
“Where are we going?” Eakins asked.
“Rec room,” Riker explained. “Geordi found access to Captain Tensus’ personal files from there and is trying to break the code at the moment.”
They reached the room on the lower deck without further problems and found LaForge working at one of the shared terminals of the room. Ensigns Burke and Nagel were standing at the door, tricorder in the hand, checking for lifesigns.
“Hurry up,” Burke said. “Whatever it is, it’s hot at your heels.”
“Seal the doors shut and let’s hope the worms won’t be able to make their way through them,” Riker ordered, breathing heavily.
Worf and Burke followed his orders, using their phase rifles to weld the doors shut. Freeman, in the meantime, fell to his knees in a shadowy corner and threw up violently. Calming down his own breathing with some effort, Riker turned to Eakins.
“Report, Lieutenant.”
“The worms came from within the opened tactical console on the bridge,” Eakins told him in a calm, even voice that would have put a Vulcan to shame. “They attacked Ensign Hodell en masse, burrowing their tentacles into his skin. He couldn’t shake them off. I tried to fire at the worms as they came out of the console, but they just kept coming. Ensign Hodell was beyond help, so I was forced to kill him to spare him further agony.”
“It was the honourable thing to do,” Worf grunted, clearly impressed.
“I don’t know about honour,” Eakins replied tiredly. “All I know is that Mikael Hodell was my friend… and I killed him.”
“You had no other choice,” Freeman wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his uniform shirt and climbed to his feet. “He was being eaten alive. You saved him from unnecessary pain, that’s all.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to bear,” Eakins said flatly.
Freeman touched his shoulder in a brief gesture of compassion. “I know. I’m sorry, Dan.”
“Yeah, so am I,” Eakins turned away, denying himself the comfort of his partner’s touch. “Commander, have you found anything to explain the presence of these worms aboard the Copernicus?”
“Not yet,” LaForge replied in Riker’s stead. “But we know now that the Copernicus has definitely violated the Regulan quarantine. I’ve backtracked her course to the Regulus system, although there’s no entry about which planet they’ve actually visited.”
“It could only be Regulus VI,” Worf said.
Freeman shook his head. “Not necessarily. Regulan bloodworms are native to both Regulus II and Regulus V.”
“Ordinary bloodworms,” Worf corrected. These here are plasmasites… a vastly different kind. They are the ones because of which Regulus VI had to be put under quarantine one hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Are you sure about that?” Riker asked.
“I’ve never seen a plasmasite before; nobody has and lived to tell the tale,” Worf replied. “But yes, I’m quite certain about it, Commander.”
“In that case, we need to contact the Enterprise,” Riker said grimly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Picard took the news without surprise.
“Doctor Selar and Mr. Data have come to the same conclusion,” he told his executive officer. “You know, of course, what that means, Number One?”
“Of course,” Riker answered. “No rescue attempt is allowed. Starfleet General Order 9 is in effect, and a Code 9 procedure must be implemented immediately.”
“Which means what exactly?” Freeman asked, not liking the sound of that a bit.
“They’ll have to destroy the Copernicus, with us still aboard,” Ensign Nagel told him matter-of-factly. “We’re most likely infected anyway and would be a risk for any other vessel, including the Enterprise.”
Freeman blanched but managed to keep his fear under control… for now.
“We’re not quite there yet,” Picard said. “What’s your situation, Number One?”
“We’ve lost Ensign Hodell,” Riker informed him. “The rest of the away team is safe.”
“No; I don’t really think we are, sir,” Eakins guided the light of his rifle torch at the sealed entrance, and they saw with growing horror that several of the worms had already managed to squeeze their way over the top of the closed doors… and more were following.
“That’s impossible!” Worf howled in outrage and opened fire at the creatures. “We’ve sealed that door! Sealed!”
“They must have found a breach in the structural integrity of the bulkhead,” LaForge tried to wear off the newly produced cloud of wavicles the same way one would try to shoo away a swarm of mosquitoes. “Commander, we can’t stay here! We’ll be eaten in no time.”
“Correction, Captain,” Riker reported calmly. “It seems that our situation is not safe, after all. Any suggestions in which direction we should flee?”
“According to the Enterprise's sensors, the entire saucer section of the Copernicus is infested with the plasmasites,” Picard told him. “The only pace that might offer relative safety is within the repulsor field, in the middle of Cargo Bay Two.”
“I don’t think we can reach it in our own, Captain,” Riker said.
“You don’t have to,” Picard answered. “Chief O’Brien tells me he can beam you over, right in the middle of the field. There is some interference, but he thinks he can compensate for that. It is a risk, of course, but…”
“But still better than wait until we’re covered in bloodworms,” Riker finished for him. “Understood, sir. We’ll be ready in twenty seconds,” he gestured the others to take up a tight formation around him, then said. “Riker to O’Brien. Six to beam over to Cargo Bay Two. Energize.”
Just when the sealed door began to break down under the sheer mass of bloodworms, the transporter beam caught them and carried them away, hopefully into safety.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
All of them, with the exception of Work, who - to his surprise - found himself in the Isolation Lab of Enterprise’s sickbay.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“I apologize for the detour, Lieutenant,” Selar answered calmly from the other side of the containment field, “but I need a blood sample from you for my research. Should you turn out to be infected as well, we shall return you to the Copernicus. Of not, you can resume your duties on the bridge.”
Worf glared at her like a wounded targ. “You’ve no right…”
“On the contrary,” she interrupted, not the least intimidated by his death glare. “I have every right. I am the acting Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise, which gives me the right to use people as I see fit during a medical emergency. Now, be quiet and let me run this analysis.”
Worf scowled but shut up, knowing that trying to push the Vulcan would be fruitless. After about six minutes, Selar re-checked the results and nodded in satisfaction.
“It seems that you have been fortunate, Lieutenant,” she said. “I could not find any living plasmasites in your blood… or dead ones, for that matter. It is safe to assume, I think, that they have all directly gone after the easier prey: human blood. You may leave isolation if you wish; you present no danger to anyone.”
She dropped the forcefield and Worf stormed out, without as much as looking back. Selar suppressed the very un-Vulcan like urge to sigh, shook her head and returned to her work, hoping that the Klingon’s immunity against this particular kind of plasmasites would prove helpful in her efforts to find a cure.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When they rematerialized in the Copernicus’ cargo bay, they found themselves in the company of fifteen haggard survivors. Fourteen of them were wearing various kinds of Starfleet uniforms, while the last one, a human male in his mid-forties, was obviously a civilian… and an important one, too, if his fine clothes and his haughty demeanour were any indication.
Riker spotted the captain of the Copernicus at once - it would have been hard not to. After all, Captain Aria Tensus was barely four feet tall, and the only Starfleet officer ever originating from the First Federation. She’d have looked like a child in a uniform, if not for her deeply lined, mature face. At first sight, one would have guessed her age of about fifty; in truth, she was well into her nineties. Her species was small yet long-living.
“Commander,” she said in her raspy voice, “I regret to have gotten you in this situation. I strongly opposed to sending out the distress call but was outvoted by higher Starfleet authority.”
The extreme dryness in her voice clearly revealed what she thought about said authority. Despite his better judgement, Riker couldn’t help but sympathize. Sometimes Headquarters was too generous in playing with the lives of simple Starfleet personnel.
“Well, that’s a moot point now,” he replied. “We’re here, and we have to find a way out of this mess - for all of us.”
“Good luck,” Captain Tensus answered dryly, while Freeman went to check on the condition of the other survivors, doing his best to ease their pain. “Which ship have you come from, Commander?”
“From the Enterprise,” Riker said. “I’m William T. Riker, First Officer. Lieutenant LaForge is our chief pilot and a passable engineer at that. Lieutenant Eakins and Ensigns Nadel and Burke are from Security; and Ensign Freeman here is one of our medical technicians. Unfortunately, we’ve just lost our systems technician a few minutes ago.”
“My sincerest condolences,” the small captain bowed formally as it was custom among her people. “What you can see here, Commander Riker, is the rest of my crew,” she gestured at two Bolians, both wearing security uniforms. “Lieutenant Ays Brok, acting Chief of Security, and Ensign Taras Bulba, his co-husband. Dr. Cosma Shiva Hagen, second science officer,” she introduced a sensuous Betazoid beauty with the usual byzantine eyes of her species. “We don’t know what happened to Commander Ahrens, our Chief of Sciences, but since he’s been infected, too, I assume he must be dead by now.”
“He is,” LaForge affirmed bitterly. “He grabbed my phaser, killed himself and managed to infect us all in the process with whatever those flying things are.”
“Plasmasites,” a cold female voice answered, and a blonde woman in her mid-fifties, wearing the uni-coloured black uniform of Starfleet Intelligence and the rank insignia of a full Commander separated from the small crowd and approached them. She was accompanied by the civilian, who seemed to be about the same age. “And if you’re indeed infested by them, it was highly irresponsible to beam into our secured area and endanger our lives as well.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Riker said icily, “but it was either that or being eaten alive by gargantuan bloodworms. Sure you can understand why this was our only possible choice.”
They glared at each other with unveiled hostility, and Captain Tensus cleared her throat to hide her mild amusement. She seemed like a patient grandmother, watching her bickering grandchildren.
“By the way, this is the higher Starfleet authority I was speaking about,” she said. “Allow me the questionable honour to introduce you to Commander Jenna Yarell, from Starfleet Intelligence. The… gentleman is Doctor Raye Blodgett, a civilian scientist working for Starfleet Sciences.”
Riker turned to Yarell with a frown. “Have you authorized the Copernicus to violate the Regulan quarantine?” he demanded. “Are you aware of the fact that this is a Code Nine security breach? Or are you Intelligence guys suffering from delusions of godhood and believe the regulations don’t apply to you?”
Yarell’s round face showed not the least concern, and her pale blue eyes remained cold like ice. There was a certain doll-like quality about her, assuming people would fabricate dolls that were supposed to look middle-aged.
“Nonsense,” she said. “Code Nine doesn’t apply here. This mission is an authorized one, designed to discern if it would be possible to neutralize the threat of plasmasite infestation - based on Klingon physiology. As you probably know, the different blood chemistry of the Klingons makes them so immune they even drink the worms in bloodwine. We’re trying to use that to our advantage… before they’d do it.”
Riker stared at her in stunned disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I know, we’re allied to the Klingon Empire.”
“Not at all,” the civilian, Dr. Blodgett, intervened. “It’s a genuine concern, Commander. Klingons make finicky allies. Can you imagine what will happen if they - or the Ferengi, or the Romulans, or any other hostile powers - spread bloodworms throughout Federation space?”
“Actually, I can,” Riker answered dryly, “and so can Starfleet Command. Which was the reason to establish the Regulan quarantine in the first place… and the disaster you’ve caused by violating it proves that it had been the right thing to do. Now, have you really found a way to neutralize the plasmasites?”
Blodgett stiffened. “That’s strictly need-to-know.”
“Tough,” Riker countered. “I’m the only one who can talk my captain out of shooting your sorry asses into subatomic particles; so I need to know. Or else I’ll strongly suggest him to carry out the Code Nine directive.”
“You can’t do that!” Yarell protested.
“Of course I can,” Riker said. “and I will, unless you lay all cards on the table, now.”
Yarell and Blodgett exchanged concerned looks; then the Intelligence officer shrugged helplessly. “Tell him,” she said.
“Well,” the civilian scientist began uncomfortably, “it’s been proved that the initial spores are drawn to oxygen-binding enzymes - exactly like those which are found in human blood. Once there, they metamorphosize into the bloodworms…”
“In other words, you’ve no idea how to neutralize them,” Freeman said bitterly, looking up from his current patient.
“Well, no, not exactly,” Blodgett admitted, “but we’re close. We’ve made considerable progress in understanding their life cycle, and with enough time to finish our experiments…”
“I’m afraid there won’t be enough time,” LaForge interrupted. “In fact, there might be no time at all. The repulsor field - your only means of safety - is completely surrounded by these slimy worms, and the energy for the field will only remain strong enough to repel them for a short time longer.”
Blodgett blanched at that blunt statement and panic began to spread among the handful of survivors. Only Captain Tensus kept her calm; but again, she’d survived the one or other major crisis in her seven decades long career as a Starfleet Officer.
“So, what are we doing now?” she asked, no-one in particular.
Riker shrugged. “I’d suggest the Enterprise. Is there anything else?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Captain Picard was sitting on the bridge of the Enterprise in his usual, unflappable manner, radiating utter calm and serenity as always. In the inside, however, he was experiencing profound concern. What little Data had found out about Commander Yarell and her previous assignments, suggested someone with a very rigid way of thinking and with a somewhat fanatic attitude concerning the safety of the Federation. She wouldn’t back off one inch when she thought that safety to be endangered and would be very hard to persuade that she might be wrong.
Plus, there were about twenty endangered people aboard the Copernicus - including Enterprise’s own away team, already infected with the plasmasites - and Sickbay still hadn’t come up with any solution. In fact, there hadn’t bee any news from Sickbay for hours. Perhaps a little remainder wouldn’t harm…
The captain touched his comm badge. “Pickard to Sickbay. Doctor Selar, can you tell me something… anything that might help?”
“Doctor Selar in on her way to the bridge, Captain,” the voice of Dr. Martin answered. That piece of news revitalized Picard at once.
“Have you found a cure?” he asked.
“Afraid not, Captain,” the doctor answered regretfully. “In fact, I don’t think there could be any medical solution, not without long and extensive research in secured labs. We’ve got reason to assume that the metabolism of the plasmasites has been deliberately tampered with, as they show definite differences compared with the more common bloodworms; the ones Klingons are immune to.”
“So, does this mean we can’t do anything to help those people and will simply have to let them die?” Picard asked.
“There is one method that might work,” Dr. Martin replied, “but it would mean to put the patients at extreme risk. Doctor Selar will explain you the details. Sickbay out.”
Picard frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. On the other hand, Selar was a Vulcan and not prone to taking extreme risks, unless he found it logical to do so… meaning that there wasn’t any other solution and a possibility of more than eighty per cent to success. Statistics were the Vulcan way to deal with probabilities.
He only hoped that Commander Yarell would see the logic in whatever dangerous methods Dr. Selar was about to suggest.
“Mr. Worf,” he turned to the Klingon who had returned to the bridge after being released from the Isolation Lab, “establish a conference connection to the Copernicus. I believe Commander Riker will want to hear this.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Needless to say that Riker was fairly shocked by the Vulcan’s suggestion.
“Are you telling us that the only way to save any infected person would be to have all of the blood removed from their body, and then replacing it with fresh blood?” he asked incredulously. “That is your solution?”
“Correct, Commander,” Selar answered with unshakable Vulcan calmness. “By separating the blood from the living organism that it sustains, the plasmasites that have already begun the metamorphosis would be killed and present no further danger for either the patient or his or her surroundings. Only the spores can cause infection, as you know.”
“That’s all well and good, but wouldn’t this be an extremely dangerous gamble?” Riker asked. “Anyone undergoing this… treatment would have no more than a few minutes for the transfusion to be complete - or that person would die.”
“Ten minutes at best,” Selar corrected. “And yes, there is considerable risk involved. But this is the only method we can apply in the short time you have left. The only other solution would be to let the infection run its natural cycle - which would mean the inevitable death of every single person aboard the Copernicus.”
“I see,” Picard sighed. “Doctor, is there any secure way to beam those people over to the Enterprise, without endangering everyone aboard our ship?”
“Yes, Captain,” the Vulcan answered without hesitation. “Engineering has already established modified containment fields around the Isolation Lab; beaming the patients directly there should not present more than a four point three nine per cent risk for the crew to be contaminated.”
“And you consider that an acceptable risk,” Picard said. It wasn’t really a question, but the Vulcan acknowledged it nonetheless.
“Yes, Captain, I do.”
“Very well,” Picard came to a decision. “Make it so. Have Sickbay prepared to accept the patients in the worst physical state first. Time might be an issue here.”
“Understood, Captain,” the Vulcan left.
“Captain Picard,” the cold, authoritative voice of Commander Yarell interrupted their conversation via comm system. “Surely, I don’t have to remind you of Starfleet General Order Thirteen, which states that critically important personnel must be rescued from a hostile situation before anyone else, do I?”
“No, Commander, you don’t have to,” Picard replied icily.
“Then I believe we both agree that Doctor Blodgett and myself should be in the first group that will be transported back to the Enterprise,” Yarell continued; then she added as an afterthought. “Together with Captain Tensus, of course.”
“Forget it,” the small woman growled somewhere in the background. “I won’t flee my ship first like some cowardly rat!” Like you, the unspoken comment hovered between them.
“Commander, you can’t be serious!” Riker protested. “There are sick people here that need medical assistance, and they need it now!”
“That’s unfortunate, and we’ll do our best to help them,” Yarell replied, “but there are higher priorities that must be respected.”
“Like saving your own ass, right?” Riker all but exploded into her face. “Of all the selfish, cowardly…”
“Number One,” Picard interrupted in his most severe command voice, before his second-in-command could give the Intelligence officer a sound reason to have him court-martialed. “She is right. General Order Thirteen is very clear about this. Like it or not - and I certainly don’t like it - we must act as she demands from us.”
“And have these people suffer or die, just because a flag officer is too concerned with her own safety?” Riker asked in utter contempt. These people need help, Captain.”
“And they will have all the help we are able to provide,” Selar’s voice answered. “Rest assured, Commander, that I have taken such hindrances into consideration.”
Picard looked around in surprise. “Where is Doctor Selar? A moment ago she was still here.”
There were collective shrugs from the bridge personnel. Nobody had a clue where the Vulcan could have gone.”
“Computer,” Picard said, “locate Doctor Selar.”
“Doctor Selar is in Transporter Room Three,” the artificial, feminine voice of the ship’s computer replied promptly.
“I believe she is planning to beam over to the Copernicus, Captain,” Data commented helpfully.
“Has she gone mad?” Picard asked from his Second Officer in disbelief.
“I do not think so, Captain,” the android replied. “My theory would be that she is referring to her oath as a physician and intends to help the people aboard the Copernicus any way she can, until they can be beamed over to the Enterprise.”
Picard briefly closed his eyes. The verbosity of his android officer sometimes drove him to spontaneous headaches.
“We’ll see about that,” he rose from the command chair. “Mr. Data, you have the bridge. Mr. Worf, you with me.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When they reached Transporter Room Three, they found Dr. Selar, in full hazmat gear and equipped with two oversized med kits, standing at the control console.
“Hold the transport, Ensign,” Picard ordered Sonya Gomez, a newbie from Engineering, who was operating the controls; then he turned to the Vulcan. “Just where do you think you are going, Doctor?”
“I am preparing to beam over to the Copernicus, of course,” Selar answered with that infuriating patience Vulcans sometimes used when dealing with humans; even with their commanding officers. “The survivors of the Copernicus need medical assistance, Captain. I must examine them and inject them with drugs that can slow down the metamorphosis of the plasmasites until they can be over here. They are considerably weakened, according to Commander Riker’s preliminary report, so I am taking metabolic boasters with me to ensure that they will, in fact, survive long enough for being treated.”
“You’re taking unnecessary risks, Doctor,” Picard said. “There is no need for you to go over in person. Certainly Ensign Freeman can handle a few inoculations on his own.”
“Ensign Freeman is a highly capable medical technician when it comes to field work,” Selar allowed, “but he does not have any experience with infectious agents or parasitic organisms. He would not know what to use, should one of the patients have a toxic reaction. These are very potent drugs we need to use here.”
“Why can’t you send Doctor Martin then?” Picard asked. “He used to work at Gagarin Station and is more experienced when it comes to pathogens than everyone else from the medical staff.”
“Doctor Martin is human,” Selar answered, “and it is a proven fact that humans are particularly vulnerable to plasmasite infections. As a Vulcan, I have a considerably higher immunity factor; although I cannot compare it with that of a Klingon, of course,” she added with a glance in Worf’s direction.”
“That might be,” Picard said,”but Doctor Martin is only responsible for himself. You as a single parent, on the other hand…”
“Captain,” the Vulcan interrupted, “such a remark is beneath you. T’Meir and I have discussed the danger of our mission many times in the past. She understands the risks; and she knows that should I die in the line of duty, our Clan would take care of her. I do not take unnecessary risks. As you can see, I have prepared myself to stay as safe as possible, given the circumstances. But if I do not beam over to that other ship to help those people, although I am the one best suited to do so, then my oath as a physician is meaningless and I would act against everything I had been taught as a Vulcan. The needs of the many…”
“… outweigh the need of the few; or that of a single person, I know,” Picard finished the old Vulcan mantra for her and sighed. “I could forbid you to beam over, you know.”
“I know,” Selar smiled at him, without actually smiling. It was a Vulcan thing, involving the eyes only; even after decades of exposure to the many Vulcan non-expressions, Picard still couldn’t figure out how they were doing it. “But you will not, will you? I am certain that you can see the logic in my actions, Captain.”
“Perhaps,” Picard said reluctantly. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “This is simply a necessity; one that neither of us can avoid. Now, if you do not mind, Captain, I have patients to treat,” she stepped onto the transporter platform and looked at the ensign standing behind the operator console. “Energize.”
Sonya Gomez stole an uncertain look at Picard. The captain nodded reluctantly. Gomez touched her controls, and in the next moment the Vulcan doctor was gone.
“Transfer complete,” Gomez reported. Picard nodded absent-mindedly.
“Thank you, Ensign,” then he, too, looked at the Klingon, as though asking for his opinion.
“You’re asking me as a Klingon?” Worf clarified. “Beat her. As a professional... she was right.”
On his way to the turbolift Picard shook his head ruefully, unable to shake off the foreboding of impending doom. If Worf had suddenly developed a sense of humour, the end of the world as they knew it could not be very far.
Chapter 04