Strange New Worlds 2016 (10 page)

But Wes was gone. Traversing other dimensions, experiencing pure thought and whatnot.
He would never be there again. She chided herself for being so sentimental. She was
going to have to do this on her own.

Data’s voice revived her. “Doctor, if you do not mind my saying so, you are displaying
signs of considerable fatigue.”

Crusher whisked an auburn lock out of her eye and forced a smile. “It’s all right,
Data, but I appreciate the concern. If I don’t solve this soon, these children may
be facing permanent genetic damage. Or worse.”

Data’s eyebrows contracted slightly, in what she had come to recognize as his expression
of deep thought. “Then perhaps you should take what Counselor Troi refers to as ‘a
break.’ It is my understanding that such deviations in focus can greatly enhance human
productivity, especially during periods of extended cognitive demand.”

“I can’t leave now, Data. I’m waiting on new vital readings from the patients to come
through from Keeper Ro’Kell.”

“I see.” He paused. “I may be able to offer a compromise. As you know, Doctor, since
I am an android, I do not require rest the same way humans do. My positronic brain
is capable of functioning at peak efficiency for extended periods of time. Therefore,
may I make a suggestion: I will remain here and await the transmission, and continue
analyzing the available information in hopes of discovering a solution, freeing you
to take ‘a break.’ ”

The data on the padd in front of her was starting to look a little fuzzy. She smiled
wanly. “Perhaps you’re right, Commander.” She rose, but slowly, stiffly.

“Very well. I will debrief you upon your return.” He moved to sit in her chair.

She picked up her padd and stepped toward the door, but paused. “Data?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“You’re a far better friend than most humans could hope for.”

The android’s brows drew upward and his lips pursed slightly. Crusher knew it wasn’t
surprise
exactly—that was a human emotion—but Data was showing, in his own way, that her statement
had affected him. As she turned to leave, Crusher saw that his pupils had already
begun flicking rapidly back and forth, as unfathomable quantities of data points coursed
through his neural net.

“Here you are—hot Rustafagan tea, harvested from the cratered moons of Belhayden.”
Guinan slid a steaming mug across the bar to where Beverly sat. “Quite a rare delicacy
in the Hahlron system. I guarantee it will wake you up.”

There were few people Crusher would trust to choose a beverage for her, especially
in her current state of exhaustion. Ever since Will Riker talked her into trying genuine
bottled tequila at his birthday party, the doctor had been a bit more discerning in
who she accepted a drink from. Guinan was no ordinary bartender, though—her El-Aurian
intuition had proven so accurate over the years that Crusher thought of the woman
as an enigma, a mysterious being whose wisdom often presented itself in unexpected
ways.

There were a number of off-duty crew in Ten-Forward, though no one else was currently
seated at the lounge’s bar. Guinan watched her for several minutes while the doctor
pored over the padd. There was nothing new there to see, and Crusher knew it, but
she felt compelled to keep trying.

“If you don’t mind me saying so,” Guinan finally said, “you look awful.”

The doctor rolled her eyes. “So I’ve been told. The affliction on Shar-Mi’la is a
puzzle I can’t seem to solve, not even with Data’s help.”

“Yes, Worf was telling me about it earlier.” She nodded to the Klingon seated at a
table in the corner. Guinan’s large disc-shaped hat accentuated her gestures, lending
them a sort of graceful power. “It’s a puzzle, all right. But I don’t think that’s
what’s bothering you.”

“Oh?” Crusher took a sip of the aromatic tea. It was much too strong for her taste,
a sudden assault of intense bitterness on her palate.
That’s odd,
Beverly thought.
Guinan’s suggestions are usually spot-on.

“It’s obvious what the issue is,” the bartender said. “You feel guilty for being a
bad parent.”

Crusher’s jaw dropped. Guinan was a friend, a trusted confidant. An eccentric, direct
one sometimes, but a friend nonetheless. How could she be so insensitive? “I beg your
pardon?”

Guinan shrugged. “I’d feel guilty too if I had sent my son off with some unknown entity,
completely unprotected. I mean, Wesley is still just a boy—”

“I don’t
believe
this—”

“The child just isn’t ready for that kind of responsibility.” The El-Aurian folded
her hands neatly on the bar, underscoring her calm acceptance of this fact, which
only drove Crusher’s indignation deeper.

“Guinan! Wes—” Crusher dropped her voice as the patrons at nearby tables glanced over.
“Wesley is twenty-two years old. He’s one of the most intelligent human beings I’ve
ever met. He even saved the
Enterprise
and her crew when—”

“Take it from me, Doctor,” Guinan said, crossing her arms. “The universe is a vast,
vicious place, and your son has no idea what he’s stepping into. He’s going to get
eaten alive.”

Crusher stood slowly. Her voice shook. “Now, you listen to me. Wesley is unique. Gifted.
Destined for something more than what I could give him, even more than what Starfleet
could give him. He’s
earned
this opportunity and is more than ready to handle it!”

Guinan smiled slowly, her dark lips stretching into a knowing grin. She shrugged.
“My mistake.”

The doctor stood there tense for a moment, then closed her eyes and sighed as she
realized what had just transpired. “You know, Guinan,” she said, sitting back down,
“I never can tell when you’re being serious.”

“Neither can I. But I find that conversations are more interesting that way.”

Doctor Crusher looked down and pressed the warmth of the cup into her palms so that
the steady heat bled into her. The aroma wasn’t quite so off-putting now. “It’s selfish
of me, isn’t it? To want him to stay. When he’s capable of more.”

“Yes, but that’s the paradox of parenthood. You want them with you because you love
them. But your purpose as their guardian is to get them to the point where they don’t
need you anymore.”

Well, I’m extremely successful by that standard
,
Crusher thought. She sighed. “Guinan, I can’t help thinking that if I had done something
differently, paid more attention to his needs, maybe Wes might have found a career
path here that could have challenged him. Maybe not Starfleet, but something—”

“—something that could compare with freely exploring all of space-time with a near-omnipotent
guide?” Guinan tilted her head skeptically.

Doctor Crusher groaned, fatigue drawing her eyes nearly closed. “No, I suppose not.
If I had tried to keep him here, he would have been absolutely miserable for the rest
of his life.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Or worse . . .” She grabbed the padd and
flipped back through the genetic sequences.
It can’t be—it can’t be that simple
. It was so obvious now.

The doctor slapped her combadge. “Crusher to Commander Data. Meet me in transporter
room three immediately!”

“Aye, Doctor. On my way.”

As she rose to exit, she paused. “Guinan, feel free to call me a bad parent anytime!”
The El-Aurian smiled and shrugged, and Crusher turned to dash out of Ten-Forward.

The keepers who were on duty in the Shar-Mi’lan quarantine medbay had no way to know
what Doctor Crusher was doing. And she didn’t have time to explain. She saw their
panic, their misunderstanding written plainly on their faces, but she couldn’t stop.
The physician in her rebelled, insisting on a bedside manner that did not cause trauma—even
emotional trauma—to innocent bystanders. But the Starfleet officer in her knew that
time was running out and she had to
move.

After several minutes of unsuccessful banging on the medbay doors, followed by repeated
attempts to locate either Ro’Kell or Cal’Sohn, Beverly Crusher made a decision.

“Data, pry open the doors.” The android looked at her with a confused expression.
“Do it!” This was a medical mission, and Picard had assigned Crusher to lead the away
team to Shar-Mi’la. Apparently, his trust in her prevailed, because Data complied
and used his android-enhanced strength to pry apart the metal doors.

Crusher slipped through and was immediately met by a medic. “Federation Keeper!” the
pink-skinned woman exclaimed. “We wish to cooperate with you, as we know you are helping
the children, but we have procedures. You cannot just—”

“I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to trust me!” Crusher said, sidestepping
the woman. As Data reentered the room, Beverly pointed to Nah’Tren, still comatose
on the bed. She looked nearly dead. “Data, pick her up.” He moved to the bed and easily
lifted the young body into his arms.

The mother gripped Crusher’s arm. “Where are you taking her?”

“Outside.”

Bel’Narr’s eyes became huge. “You’ll kill her!” Data waited in the doorway, cradling
the child. The keepers looked on in terror.

“Do you want your daughter to live?”

The Shar-Mi’lan nodded.

“Then you must let her go. Come on. It will be all right.” The doctor guided the overwhelmed
woman out the door, pulling her along as gently as possible, struggling to keep up
with Data as he sprinted unnaturally fast down the corridor, perfect neural net–controlled
balance guiding his steps. Within moments they were pushing past a guard at the front
arch who had obviously been alerted to their scheme.
What will the captain say about this?
Crusher thought. She had notified Picard that she was beaming down, but there wasn’t
time to explain. She had to help the girl before it was too late.

Striding through the mossy courtyard, Crusher fought for breath as Data picked up
speed and headed for the portal to the outside. The work crew was still clustered
around the opening in the shield and stared dumfounded as Data passed through the
arch, the force field sizzling as he broke through it.

Crusher slowed up just before the barrier, holding Bel’Narr tightly lest she collapse
or—worse—run out after them. The two women stared through the shield at the sunscape
beyond, as both Data and Nah’Tren were bathed in the blue-white glow of the sun—and
bombarded by lethal doses of tetra-helon. Data stood unaffected, and for several minutes
it seemed that Nah’Tren would show no change either. She still appeared dead, her
skin gray and scaly, her eyes slits of white. Data’s sturdy form dwarfed her thin
limbs as he stared down at her, waiting, like everyone else, for a miracle—or a tragedy.

Please, this has to work
,
Crusher thought.
Oh please, if you can hear me, help her!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures running up to her. From their voices,
she identified them as Cal’Sohn and Ro’Kell. They must have finally answered her pages.

“Doctor Crusher,” Cal’Sohn puffed, bending over as he reached her side. “What is the
meaning of this? Our keepers are terrified. How—” His eyes caught sight of the girl
in the sunscape, her skin drinking in the helon, and his face contorted in horror.
He motioned frantically to Ro’Kell. “Keeper! Keeper! Sunstroke, look what they’ve
done
!”

Crusher tried to focus enough to respond, but by the time she did, Ro’Kell was yelling
at her. “Murderers!” He shook his fists near her face. “How could you? She’s just
a child! I don’t know what the Federation’s policies are, but on this planet, we do
not
sacrifice
our children when things become dire!” His pink face became bright red. Bel’Narr was
still barely coherent at Crusher’s side; she dare not run.
Please . . .

Just as Cal’Sohn was ordering the stunned work crew to apprehend Data and Crusher,
something happened, something that would forever change life on Shar-Mi’la. Crusher
was watching for it, expecting it, pleading with every power in the universe for it.
And she was, understandably, the first to recognize it.