<html><head><title>Star Trek: Assimilation</title><head>
<body background="../images/tile">
<center><h3>Star Trek: The Next Generation<br>
ASSIMILATION</h3><br>
<h4>by Tamara W. Bennett</h4>
<img src="../images/starship"></center><br>
<br>
PROLOGUE<br>
<br>
Dusk fell on Vulcan.<br>
<br>
The planet's red sky turned magenta, its twin suns sinking into the horizon, <br>
offering relief from their intense heat to the logical inhabitants of the hot, <br>
arid world. A slight breeze blew, stirring up small dust clouds and ushering <br>
the suns to a night of rest.  Light became dim on this side of the planet as <br>
two figures sat on the ground behind a magnificent Terran style chateau, <br>
deep in a mind meld and oblivious to their surroundings.<br>
<br>
One, a Vulcan male, had been born there, the other, a human woman, had <br>
been born light-years away on the blue-green planet where the <br>
architecture for the chateau had originated. The two had little in common <br>
save for a single Vulcan ancestor long dead who would have been <br>
forgotten had she not been the purpose for their meeting. The human in <br>
fact showed little of her mixed ancestry; the only outward hint was her <br>
long, black hair and eyebrows that arched a bit higher than usual for a full-<br>
blooded human. She lacked the pointed ears typical of many Vulcan <br>
descendants and her blood was red rather than green. They were cousins, <br>
distant blood relatives who had happened to become friends over the last <br>
few years as a result of the human's desire to seek out her Vulcan heritage <br>
for answers to a most perplexing problem. <br>
<br>
"My mind to yours," Sokan murmured as he pressed his fingers to <br>
Tresana's temples. She shivered, not from cold but from the slight shock <br>
of having another's consciousness enter hers for the first time. She had <br>
allowed Sokan to try this only out of desperation; under any other <br>
circumstances she would never have consented to a meld. The thoughts <br>
that circled through her head constantly were things that she did not want <br>
to reveal to anyone, least of all her cousin and her friend. But she trusted <br>
Sokan, and more importantly, Tresana needed an answer. More than she <br>
needed her privacy.<br>
<br>
It was a clear, warm night as the two who would have been strangers sank <br>
deeper into each other's thoughts, not noticing the stars beginning to <br>
appear in the sky. Tresana loved nights on Vulcan, and she wished that <br>
she were visiting for some other purpose. Any other purpose....<br>
<br>
Abruptly, Sokan began to tremble, then shake as he began to utter some <br>
sound that was unintelligible. Tresana could not tell what he was trying to <br>
say; the meld had been broken and she leaned back on her hands, <br>
watching Sokan with some degree of worry. She worried because Sokan <br>
was crying.<br>
<br>
"I do not know what to say. How do you live with such pain?" Sokan was <br>
regaining his composure as quickly as he had lost it but his distress still <br>
showed in spite of his Vulcan discipline. "I must apologize for my outburst. <br>
I...do not have a solution for you. The Kolinahr is out of the question, and <br>
training you in the mind techniques of our people would not likely be <br>
successful."<br>
<br>
Tresana breathed deeply of the warm Vulcan atmosphere. "I understand. I <br>
am sorry I upset you so with the meld. But I know now that I am making <br>
the right choice, and I thank you." Tresana rose to leave, but Sokan was <br>
not finished; he stood and followed her into the chateau where she <br>
gathered her few belongings.<br>
<br>
"You mean to do this." It was not a question.<br>
<br>
"Yes. I do." She faced him now with the same apologetic expression that <br>
she had worn when she had first arrived that day. <br>
<br>
"You will be dead to us. In fact I would almost prefer to assist you in ritual <br>
suicide than stand by and watch you do such a horrible thing." Sokan was <br>
angry; it showed even through his stoic speech, but he did not care. "This <br>
disease is so difficult for our people, and for you it has made itself even <br>
worse in that it will not show you mercy and kill you."<br>
<br>
"My physician has been working on a solution, so there is still hope." <br>
Tresana paused. "But very little. I still have to go to Deep Space Nine, you <br>
know."<br>
<br>
"You speak to reassure me, but you are not succeeding. What of Captain <br>
Picard? Will you be content to leave him behind as well?" Sokan's <br>
statement hit home then; Tresana began to feel the first twinges of guilt <br>
and panic . "Does he know of your plans? I doubt if he would approve. <br>
Think carefully, for what you do will be as irreversible as death itself, and <br>
you will never see Jean-Luc again."<br>
<br>
"I don't want to talk about him now!!" Tresana scrambled for the hypospray <br>
in her pocket and gave herself a long injection. She trembled and labored <br>
to breathe. "I'm sorry, Sokan. I have to leave; the Enterprise will be in orbit <br>
in an hour and I have to be ready for  transport." She raised her hand in <br>
the Vulcan salute.<br>
<br>
"Peace and long life, Sokan."<br>
<br>
Sokan did not return the traditional "V" shaped hand gesture. "Long life, <br>
perhaps. But I will not have peace, for I have lost my cousin and my friend. <br>
Be careful, Tresana." And with that, he went to his bedroom, saddened for <br>
her. He wondered if they would indeed ever meet again, and if his friend <br>
would be the same person if they did. <br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
ONE<br>
<br>
Captain's Log Stardate 94573.2: The Enterprise  is en route to Vulcan <br>
where we will pick up Commander Tresana Styles and then continue on to <br>
Deep Space Nine. The commander is due at the station in a week to meet <br>
with a private freighter which recently encountered the Borg and lived to <br>
tell about it. She is convinced that the freighter will provide information <br>
critical to Federation defenses. <br>
<br>
Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise 1701-E, the sixth starship <br>
by that name, was in his quarters as he entered his log, rather than on the <br>
bridge as usual. He put down his PADD and continued to look through his <br>
family photo album that was still tattered from the crash of the Enterprise-<br>
D. He had been meaning to put the pictures into another album but had <br>
never done it; things like photo albums were not readily available in a day <br>
and age of holograms and video files. He supposed he could have <br>
replicated one, but it wouldn't have been the same; besides, in a strange <br>
way the burnt edges of the pages and the huge gash on the front cover <br>
served as a reminder of a ship that had been lost too soon. Jean-Luc <br>
missed his old ship sometimes.<br>
<br>
The last time he had really looked through his photographs had been when <br>
Robert and Renee had been killed in the fire in France; until now he had <br>
had no desire to stir up old memories and grief at the loss of the only <br>
family he'd had left. But he was in an introspective mood, and he had left <br>
the bridge to sit in his quarters for a while and think. He was contemplating <br>
a major personal decision, and now as he leafed through images of his <br>
brother and nephew he found himself longing for a wife and family again. <br>
<br>
Picard's brief time in the Nexus had affected him more as time passed. <br>
After the crash of the Enterprise-D and the bizarre return and death of <br>
James T. Kirk Picard had come to the conclusion that his crew was his <br>
family, but now he wasn't so sure. The more he thought of it(and these <br>
days, it seemed, he couldn't help  thinking of it), the more he wanted a <br>
family. He wasn't so distraught that he thought he would have a perfect life <br>
like the Nexus had provided; at least, that was what he told himself, and <br>
he had had enough time to examine himself and his life to believe that this <br>
was not the case. Still, he wished he could talk to Guinan, who always <br>
offered a unique insight into any situation with her ability to seemingly see <br>
beyond time and space. However, Guinan was not on board; ironically she <br>
had taken leave to visit one of her children. This fact only served to drive <br>
home the point that he had no children of his own and in spite of their <br>
sometimes discomforting effect on him he wanted to have them. He hoped <br>
that the woman he was going to ask to share a life with him felt the same <br>
way, and right now he had every indication that she did. <br>
<br>
It was no coincidence that the Enterprise  was ferrying Tresana Styles to <br>
Deep Space Nine; Picard had pulled in a couple of favors owed him at <br>
Starfleet Command to have the ship's orders changed so that it would be <br>
possible. An understanding admiral had helped him out, because if Picard <br>
didn't ask Tresana to marry him now he might not get another chance. On <br>
the eve of the commander's forty-third birthday rumors were circulating <br>
through the upper levels of Starfleet that she was going to resign, and <br>
Jean-Luc knew that they were very close to the truth. Tresana had not <br>
been on active duty for a year now, and this new assignment seemed to <br>
be an effort to do one last thing before she left Starfleet altogether. <br>
Command was not happy at the prospect of losing one of its top scientists <br>
and an expert on the Borg, and Jean-Luc suspected that was the reason <br>
that it had been so relatively easy to get Admiral Brackett to change the <br>
orders. Starfleet wanted her someplace where it could find her if she was <br>
needed, and Picard, on a much more personal level, wanted the same.<br>
<br>
They had met ten years ago and had had a brief romance that fizzled into <br>
friendship when he was called for duty. That would have been the end of it <br>
had he not met her again, oddly enough through Commander Shelby, his <br>
would-be first officer who was now in charge of developing defenses <br>
against the Borg. Tresana was Shelby's technical adviser, instrumental in <br>
the development of the Defiant class warships and an emerging expert on <br>
the collective mind of the Borg. They had remained in touch, and in the <br>
past year, a romance had once again emerged as Tresana came on board <br>
to see him more frequently and seemed to have more trouble leaving him <br>
whenever it was time for her to go. Picard found that he was having <br>
trouble saying goodbye as well. He loved her.<br>
<br>
The chirp of his communicator interrupted his train of thought. "Captain, <br>
we'll be orbiting Vulcan in fifteen minutes."<br>
<br>
"Thank you, Number One. I'll be in Transporter Room Three."<br>
<br>
Picard closed his photo album, stood and looked at his reflection in the <br>
window. He hoped he was ready for this; for he had made up his mind that <br>
he would not end up like James Kirk. He would not die alone.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
TWO<br>
<br>
Captain Picard was not prepared for the figure that materialized on the <br>
transporter before him. He had expected the Commander Styles that he <br>
had seen on their previous visits; a tall, healthy figure with long black hair <br>
and thick bangs that barely touched a set of highly arched eyebrows, ones <br>
that cut oblique lines into a slightly paler than normal complexion. The <br>
Tresana Styles he knew was a strong, well-built woman in her early forties <br>
with cobalt blue eyes that sparkled with intelligence, courage and a vitality <br>
rare for someone who had attained her position in Starfleet at such an <br>
early age. This woman wore the same blue uniform and rank pips but <br>
there the similarities seemed to end.<br>
<br>
The first thing he noticed was that she had lost weight. At five feet eight <br>
inches she had weighed about 160 pounds when he had last seen her. <br>
That was a month ago; now she looked to be about 125. Picard examined <br>
her face closely and thought he could detect the reflective properties of <br>
medicinal makeup but quickly decided this could not be the case; what <br>
would it have been for? Such makeup was only used to cover redness and <br>
bruising from surgery or severe injury and Jean-Luc knew that neither <br>
situation was a possibility. Or so he thought. <br>
<br>
Had she been ill without bothering to send him a message? It would have <br>
been typical of her; he knew that she rarely saw a physician, and had <br>
never even brought her medical records on board the Enterprise, much to <br>
the chagrin of Dr. Crusher, who had stopped pestering her for the <br>
information a long time ago. Now that he considered it Jean-Luc realized <br>
that even he did not know that much about the commander's physical <br>
condition. She never complained and he had learned that asking just <br>
aggravated her. But this was too much to ignore; he would definitely ask <br>
later, but only after she was settled, and after he found out why she was <br>
carrying so much luggage.<br>
<br>
There was her typical knapsack in which she carried her few personal <br>
items, among which was a gold IDIC symbol on a chain- a gift, she had <br>
told him, from a friend on Vulcan. There were a few clothes, toiletries, and <br>
a holographic imager which when activated produced a likeness of her <br>
grandfather. Jason Styles, former captain of the first Excelsior class <br>
vessel, had been dead for many years now but was not forgotten by the <br>
granddaughter he had raised. Beyond that Tresana never bothered to <br>
carry much besides her Klingon dak tagh knife, but this time was different. <br>
Beside the knapsack there were three large, menacing-looking silver <br>
metallic suitcases, menacing because Jean-Luc thought they looked quite <br>
heavy and he had a pretty good idea who would be carrying them to her <br>
quarters.<br>
<br>
"Captain, I didn't think you'd be here when I arrived." She smiled as she <br>
stepped off the transporter platform and walked over to him. She wanted <br>
to kiss him but restrained herself, knowing that it would make him <br>
extremely uncomfortable, especially in front of Ensign Gable. <br>
<br>
"Captain? You're being rather formal, Commander."  He walked over to <br>
retrieve her luggage.<br>
<br>
"Oh, Jean-Luc, don't, I can-" Her warning came too late; Picard had <br>
already tried to pick up one of the metal containers and let out a groan of <br>
displeasure. He succeeded but the strain of holding it was too much. He <br>
put it down almost immediately.<br>
<br>
"Uh, Ensign, please beam the commander's things directly to her quarters. <br>
What do you have in there, anyway?"<br>
<br>
"Oh, just a few things I picked up on Vulcan," she replied as they left the <br>
transporter room and headed for her quarters. "It is good to see you, Jean-<br>
Luc." With that she took his arm and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek <br>
before he could protest. They approached the turbolift and entered. "Deck <br>
eight."<br>
<br>
"Tresana, you...don't exactly look your best. Have you been ill?"<br>
<br>
"I've had a very nasty Vulcan flu, but I'm feeling much better now," she <br>
said. The lie rolled easily off her lips as she looked around the turbolift. <br>
She was well aware that she had lost a considerable amount of weight <br>
from the stress she had been under and had concocted the story to avoid <br>
having to go into any detailed explanations.<br>
<br>
Jean-Luc was surprised that she didn't become defensive as usual. He <br>
suspected that there was more to it; that flu did not explain the medicinal <br>
makeup, which he was now sure she was wearing, but he did not pursue <br>
the matter. No sense in starting an argument, especially now,  he thought. <br>
"You certainly look like you could use some rest."<br>
<br>
"And a good non reconstituted meal. Don't worry; I'm going to have Dr. <br>
Bashir look me over when we get to the station." This much was true, and <br>
she looked at him and smiled as they stepped off the turbolift.<br>
<br>
Picard knew that his request was futile but he decided to ask anyway. "I <br>
wish you would see Dr. Crusher-"<br>
<br>
"Dr. Bashir is my personal physician, and I don't want to see anyone else. <br>
We've been through this." They approached the doors to her quarters and <br>
as they entered, Tresana let out a sigh of frustration. "Ensign Gable is fast, <br>
but did he have to beam my things directly in the middle of the floor?"<br>
<br>
He was astonished to see her pick up those suitcases as if they didn't <br>
weigh anything and move them next to the wall. Maybe she wasn't feeling <br>
as badly as he had thought, or maybe he needed to work on strengthening <br>
his arm. He wasn't sure anymore but Tresana didn't give him any time to <br>
think about it because before he could ask, she was standing directly in <br>
front of him with her arms around his neck, kissing him and telling him <br>
what a pleasant surprise it had been to hear that the Enterprise would be <br>
taking her to Deep Space Nine.<br>
<br>
Picard told her he was needed on the bridge and left a few minutes later. <br>
Tresana was left by herself, and promptly pulled electronic security locks <br>
for the three suitcases. She couldn't help opening one to check the <br>
contents before she secured them and set the code; she had gone to a lot <br>
of trouble to get the items that filled those cases and did not intend to allow <br>
anyone to see them. Not that she was afraid of theft, not here; rather she <br>
feared the prying eyes of one Jean-Luc Picard. She should not have let <br>
him see her pick them up and move them; he was unaware of her Vulcan <br>
heritage and consequentially stronger than human muscles. Even in her <br>
half-starved condition she could have easily given Mr. Worf a run for his <br>
money on the holodeck.<br>
<br>
She had not been shunning food on purpose; God knew she had tried to <br>
eat, knowing Jean-Luc would ask questions when he saw her again. She <br>
even got hungry, so terribly hungry that she thought she could have eaten <br>
at Quark's bar on the station, but lately when she got around food she <br>
simply could not eat it. Hunger would vanish and in its place there would <br>
be the feeling that there was a tepid lump of foam in her stomach instead. <br>
She dreaded having dinner with Jean-Luc tonight; how would she ever <br>
avoid his suspicion?<br>
<br>
However, she didn't have time to consider that now; she only had a few <br>
hours before dinner, so she dumped the contents of her personal bag, <br>
gave herself an injection, and retrieved a cartridge. Tresana left her <br>
quarters and headed for the holodeck. She had a very important date.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
THREE<br>
<br>
Earth's hot sun beat mercilessly on the lush green fields of the Kentucky <br>
ranch that had been Tresana's home as a young child, the home she had <br>
shared with her beloved grandfather until she had gone to Starfleet <br>
Academy at he age of seventeen. Grandpa had died shortly thereafter, <br>
and she had always regretted leaving him behind. <br>
<br>
Until now. She stood with her hand over her eyes to cut the glare of the <br>
sunlight as she looked into the distance at the horse barn where Grandpa <br>
had spent so much time. It was here that she developed her love of horses <br>
that she shared with Jean-Luc; the two of them had gone riding in settings <br>
similar to this many times before. But not this one. This holodeck program <br>
was something that she had been working on with Lieutenant Barclay over <br>
subspace radio for two weeks, and so far everything was just as she <br>
remembered. She made a note to thank Reg later on, before they reached <br>
the station...before she left for good.<br>
<br>
She began walking, then running when she saw the tall figure brushing the <br>
chestnut stallion... Tiberius. Her horse's name was Tiberius. Grandpa had <br>
always hated that name. It was all coming back to her, but she barely had <br>
time to let it sink in; for at that instant Jason G. Styles looked up at the <br>
stranger and withdrew a very old type one phaser, pointing it directly at the <br>
granddaughter he did not know. "Who are you, and what the hell are you <br>
doing here?"<br>
<br>
Tresana couldn't help smiling; it was such typical Grandpa that she was <br>
having a difficult time recalling that this was a holodeck simulation. He was <br>
younger, and more vigorous than she recalled him, and it was a pleasure <br>
to see him so..."Grandpa, it's me, Tracy. I've come back to see you."<br>
<br>
The former commodore slowly lowered his phaser and seemed to think <br>
carefully. "Tracy, you look so much...older. What has happened to you?" <br>
<br>
"I've been away for a long time, I know." At this point Tresana completely <br>
forgot that this was a simulation and her emotions took over. "I'm so sorry I <br>
haven't come back before now...I've missed you so much."<br>
<br>
Jason re holstered his phaser and left the horse's side. "You seem to have <br>
grown up. How long have you been gone?"<br>
<br>
"A long time-"<br>
<br>
"I don't remember...I remember you left for the academy...then...where <br>
have you been?" He shook his head and paced a little before he came to a <br>
dead stop directly in front of her. <br>
<br>
"Grandpa, I need your help." She did not know what else to say. Her voice <br>
quivered.<br>
<br>
"Of course, Tracy, you know I would do anything for you. What is it, <br>
honey?"<br>
<br>
Tresana extended her hand to him, and he took it, holding it as tight as he <br>
had when she was a little girl. "Walk with me. I have something I need to <br>
ask you."<br>
<br>
 As the sun moved into late afternoon, the last two remaining members of <br>
the Styles family walked along hand in hand in the replication of a family <br>
ranch that Tresana had sold less than five days ago for three cases of <br>
gold-pressed latinum- latinum that would buy her passage on a Ferengi <br>
vessel. Tresana hoped and prayed that it would buy her life back.** <br>
<br>
Jason Styles faced his granddaughter, holding both of her hands now as <br>
the sun slowly set on them, signaling that time was running out. For both of <br>
them. <br>
<br>
"Tracy, you don't know how heartbreaking it was for me when the doctors <br>
told me that you would develop...this...someday too. Just like your father."  <br>
Jason shook his head again. "My son...my wife...and you. I had hoped that <br>
by this point in your life the Vulcans would have developed something, <br>
anything, to stop this."<br>
<br>
"The research into this disease has been slow. I have found that most <br>
Vulcans are reluctant to deal with it...It causes them a great deal of <br>
shame."<br>
<br>
"God damn them all! They always did have a lot of shitty ideas about <br>
logic!" Jason released Tresana's hands, removed his antiquated phaser <br>
and threw it as hard as he could. The weapon landed with a faint thud <br>
several meters away. He took her hands again. "I'm sorry."<br>
<br>
"You always did have a way of making your sentiments well-known." She <br>
smiled again, even through the tears that had started. Abruptly pieces of <br>
the simulation began to fade in and out, leaving gaping black holes in the <br>
sky and making sickly noises. Tresana noticed the ground beneath her <br>
feet alternating between grass and black and yellow grid marks. "Please, <br>
Grandpa, I have to know. We're running out of time...the holodeck can't <br>
sustain this complex a program much longer..."<br>
<br>
"Tracy, do what you have to do to survive." He held her close, one last <br>
time. "Don't let yourself end up like your father." There was a long pause, <br>
and Tresana feared that the program had given out. "Find a way to live."<br>
<br>
The holodeck arch appeared and the two looked over to see Captain <br>
Picard enter, looking puzzled as he slowly realized what was happening. <br>
Jason opened his mouth to say something to the officer from a different <br>
era but it was too late; sparks flew from the control panel and the entire <br>
program disappeared, leaving Tresana alone in the yellow and black <br>
square grid of an inactive holodeck. Now Jean-Luc held her, not sure <br>
exactly what this holographic commodore had said to her, and wondering <br>
how much of Tresana he had taken with him when he disappeared.<br>
<br>
Getting Tresana to talk about the holodeck program had been like getting <br>
her to talk about her medical records- damn near impossible. Jean-Luc <br>
had already given up by the time they had dinner in his quarters that night. <br>
<br>
In the wee hours of the morning Tresana lay awake on her side with Jean-<br>
Luc's arm resting on her shoulder. She listened to him breathe in deep <br>
sleep as she wept softly to herself. She wasn't so distraught as she was <br>
happy; she had never gotten the chance to say goodbye to her <br>
grandfather. In her own way, during the next few days, she would be able <br>
to say it to Jean-Luc.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
FOUR<br>
<br>
Two Borg held the captain's arms as they forcefully guided him through the <br>
corridors <br>
of the cube ship. Jean-Luc heard no sound apart from the soft echoes of <br>
his own reluctant footsteps as they approached their destination. The <br>
Enterprise was gone; destroyed by the Collective because it would be <br>
obsolete in the new order. He understood their reasoning all too well; the <br>
memory of his own assimilation was fresh in his mind as though it had <br>
happened just yesterday. <br>
<br>
Come back, Jean-Luc...<br>
<br>
They led him through a wide corridor, where he saw many other Borg, <br>
including his newly assimilated crew. Worf... Deanna... Will... Beverly... <br>
Geordi... Ro... Wesley... Tasha.. Data...Vash... Jack Crusher... then he <br>
saw Robert and Renee, waiting for him, and... Tresana was there too...<br>
<br>
Locutus, come back, we have her and we'll have you too, come back...<br>
<br>
They approached the table where he would be assimilated once again, <br>
and Barclay was waiting for him, ready with the implants, those painful but <br>
familiar implants... the comfort of the Collective awaited him... Abruptly he <br>
was thrust onto the table and he felt the slight sting of a drill enter his <br>
temple.<br>
<br>
Come back, Jean-Luc, come back...<br>
<br>
Picard sat up in a cold sweat, his heart racing as he gripped the side of his <br>
skull, half expecting to feel the implants there. He looked beside him to see <br>
Tresana sleeping comfortably and pulled the blankets back a little to see <br>
for himself that she was OK. He slid back into the bed and held Tresana <br>
tightly, glad that she was there even though she was not awake to comfort <br>
him. He did not know why, but there was no mistaking it. The nightmare <br>
had returned.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
FIVE<br>
<br>
Two hours after the poker game Commander Riker sat at the bar in Ten-<br>
Forward hunched over a drink and trying not to look up. Counselor Troi, <br>
Dr. Crusher and Lieutenant Barclay watched him from across the room at <br>
their table, suppressing occasional giggle spells and trying not to get <br>
caught watching him. At least, Troi and Crusher were trying not to laugh. <br>
Barclay was trying to hide, not wanting to be seen by the commander.<br>
<br>
"Counselor, the commander's going to be very upset with me when he <br>
finds out I didn't really have a new holodeck program to wager. We <br>
shouldn't have tricked him with a phony bet." Barclay was very quiet, lest <br>
the commander hear of their deception even though they were on the <br>
other side of the room. He was rather pleased that he had been able to be <br>
good friends with Troi and Crusher, especially in light of the holodeck <br>
incident, but he was starting to regret having agreed to trick Riker in the <br>
poker game.<br>
<br>
"He'll get over it," she replied, spooning into a chocolate sundae and <br>
starting to giggle. She had not forgotten a recent week she'd spent without <br>
chocolate, courtesy of Riker and a lost poker game.<br>
<br>
"That's easy for you  to say." Barclay gulped down a large portion of his <br>
drink, never taking his eyes off of Riker, who was still sulking at the bar. "I <br>
see another broccoli season in my future." At that Troi and Crusher began <br>
laughing again, and even Barclay smiled a little. The doors to Ten-Forward <br>
hissed open and Captain Picard entered with Commander Styles on his <br>
arm. Abruptly, the trio became deathly silent. <br>
<br>
Barclay tried to break the awkward pause. "Commander Styles has, uh, <br>
lost some weight," he said. He did not know what else to say.<br>
<br>
"She hasn't just lost weight. She looks awful," Crusher added. "I'm going <br>
over there." Beverly got up and left. Troi sat motionlessly, spoonful of ice <br>
cream in mid-air, confused by the commander's appearance and <br>
wondering why she was hearing a desperate cry for help that had not been <br>
there before.****<br>
<br>
Commander Styles immediately approached Riker, unaware of his plight. <br>
"Commander, it's so nice to see you again. Could you have dinner with us <br>
some time this week?"<br>
<br>
Riker tilted his face out of view of Picard and Styles, putting his hand up <br>
and shaking his head no. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same."<br>
<br>
Tresana's brows furrowed slight confusion. "Will, what is it?"<br>
<br>
The first officer turned slowly and lifted his head. Picard couldn't help <br>
smiling in spite of Riker's obvious discomfort. Neither could Tresana. "Will, <br>
you've changed!" She feigned blindness to his self-imposed condition. "No, <br>
wait. Don't tell me! You got a new haircut!"<br>
<br>
"It's not  funny." Riker sank further into self-pity.<br>
<br>
"Oh, you'll be OK." Tresana gave him a small hug. "You look better without <br>
the beard anyway." She turned to Picard, still smiling at Riker's misfortune. <br>
"I'm going to go say hello to everyone." She left, passing Dr. Crusher along <br>
the way. Crusher tried to stop her but was unsuccessful, watching <br>
helplessly as Tresana was absorbed into a group of conversing officers.<br>
<br>
"Poker?" Picard asked.<br>
<br>
Riker nodded vigorously and turned back to his drink.<br>
<br>
"Captain, I need to talk to you." Beverly grabbed his arm and dragged him <br>
out of Ten-Forward into the corridor.<br>
<br>
The doctor spoke in a low, urgent voice. "Jean-Luc, she looks terrible."<br>
<br>
Picard winced. "Not now, Beverly."<br>
<br>
"If not now, when? Every time I see her she's a little bit more pale, a little <br>
thinner, a little more worn out. There could be any number of things wrong <br>
with her, things I could fix, but she never even brings her medical records <br>
on board. If there was an emergency I wouldn't have a clue as to where to <br>
begin. It's a flagrant violation of regulations for her not to have her files <br>
here and you know it!"<br>
<br>
"You're right. I haven't enforced the rules on her visits like I should. She's <br>
just...very concerned with her privacy. She's under the care of Dr. Bashir, <br>
and she said she's going to see him when we get to the station."<br>
<br>
"Well, she's going to have to get over it. I want you to order her to report to <br>
sickbay."<br>
<br>
"I will, but not tonight. I promise." He seemed sincere, and the doctor took <br>
him at his word. "In the meantime, I hope you'll have a drink with us later."<br>
<br>
"I don't think I can, I'm suppo-"<br>
<br>
He touched her shoulder and looked at her intently. "Please. I'd really like <br>
for you to be there."<br>
<br>
"Alright. I will." As Jean-Luc went back into Ten-Forward Beverly wore an <br>
expression that turned from bewilderment to astonishment and slight <br>
amusement as she slowly realized why he wanted her there tonight. Well, <br>
she thought, and here I was thinking  I'd never see the day.<br>
<br>
<br>
Troi and Barclay had remained at the table observing their fellow crew <br>
members, not knowing what to think. Barclay especially noticed how <br>
Tresana was mingling with the other officers, seeming to have the time of <br>
her life. "Counselor, I'm not a very good judge of people, but Commander <br>
Styles seems to be acting awfully chipper for someone who looks like she <br>
just got out of a Romulan prison camp."<br>
<br>
"In this case I think you're right." Troi stared at her ice cream with her <br>
hands in her lap. She had completely lost interest in eating it and was now <br>
watching as the frozen confection melted into a primordial chocolate soup <br>
with whipped creme on top. "Something is not right here..." Troi looked at <br>
Barclay, confused and a little scared by the negative emotions she was <br>
picking up. "Barclay... she's here to say goodbye."<br>
<br>
<br>
"Reg, I wanted to thank you for writing the holodeck program for me. It <br>
helped me more than I ever thought it would." Lieutenant Barclay and <br>
Commander Styles stood directly in front of a Ten-Forward window by <br>
themselves as the other crew members mingled in the lounge that was a <br>
lot more crowded than usual. After Tresana left Jean-Luc with Riker she <br>
had dragged the lieutenant from his seat next to Counselor Troi to tell him <br>
how successful the program had been. <br>
<br>
"You mean it worked? One of our ensigns had to pry the cartridge out after <br>
it fused with the other components."<br>
<br>
"It ran long enough for what I needed. I just wanted to tell you."<br>
<br>
Barclay looked around the room for Captain Picard and didn't see him. <br>
"Well, I would appreciate it if you didn't mention the fact that I wrote it to <br>
the captain. Or anyone else."<br>
<br>
Tresana's eyebrows furrowed a little. "Oh, why? Reg, what you did was a <br>
work of genius-"<br>
<br>
"What I did was disobey a direct order from the captain not to create any <br>
more holodeck programs based on real people. I know, this was a little <br>
different, but I'd rather let sleeping dogs lie." Barclay looked urgent now, <br>
and Tresana took him seriously. <br>
<br>
"Alright. I don't understand, but I won't say anything." Oh, yes. "The <br>
captain wants everyone to join us for a drink later. Why don't you come, <br>
too?"<br>
<br>
"Uh, I don't know." Barclay had already heard about that, and from his <br>
snooping through the captain's personal logs he had a pretty good idea <br>
what it was about. The captain made him uncomfortable anyway, and <br>
Barclay was sure he didn't want to be there when Picard dropped the <br>
bomb. <br>
<br>
Tresana was, however, resolved. "I'll see you there." She smiled, having <br>
no idea what was about to happen.<br>
<br>
<br>
A brief time later Ten-Forward had completely cleared out save for one <br>
little group. Tresana sat next to Jean-Luc at a small table with most of the <br>
bridge officers, along with Geordi LaForge  and Lieutenant Barclay from <br>
engineering. To her utter dismay Counselor Troi was seated next to her on <br>
her other side and there was no way for her to move without being <br>
conspicuous. Tresana had spent the last two years avoiding telepaths ever <br>
since a most unfortunate encounter with a Betazoid in the Vulcan Embassy <br>
on Earth and was not looking forward to the next time. Tresana knew that <br>
Deanna was half-human but that didn't put her at ease, and neither did the <br>
other officers. Jean-Luc's nervous mood wasn't helping either; she noted <br>
his discomfiture when he realized that Barclay was staying. She had <br>
wanted to be alone with Jean-Luc tonight; right now that did not seem <br>
likely to happen.<br>
<br>
The Enterprise officers had been exchanging memories and anecdotes for <br>
about forty-five minutes and as much as she cared for them all her <br>
patience was wearing thin; she wasn't sure if it was because of <br>
Commander Data's incessant laughing and antics with an abandoned fork <br>
or the fact that she desperately needed an injection and couldn't get away <br>
to give herself one. Riker had still been sulking until Beverly had leaned <br>
over and whispered something to him; now he sat glaring at Barclay as <br>
though the lieutenant had somehow done him a terrible wrong. Tresana <br>
wondered if it had anything to do with the absence of Riker's beard. <br>
<br>
The group finally became silent and when Jean-Luc spoke up to address <br>
them Tresana thought that he would be thanking them for a pleasant <br>
evening and they would be leaving. She couldn't have been more wrong. <br>
"If I could have everyone's attention for a moment, I have something I <br>
would like to say." Picard took a deep breath as they all turned their <br>
attention towards him. "I couldn't have asked for a better crew than the <br>
one seated here at this table. We have shared so many experiences that <br>
you are like a family to me. And, if you would indulge me for a moment, I <br>
have...an announcement of sorts."<br>
<br>
Tresana was completely baffled as Jean-Luc took her hand. He took her <br>
other hand, and too late she saw what was coming. The next few minutes <br>
seemed to go on forever with Riker, Troi, LaForge, Data, Barclay and <br>
Crusher all staring at her- more to the point, staring at both of them. <br>
Tresana had never been adept at receiving telepathic signals but they <br>
were coming in loud and clear right now, summed up in one word: shock. <br>
Looking back later she would only recall seeing everything as though she <br>
had been a tiny observer looking down on a table full of people frozen in <br>
time.<br>
<br>
"...will you marry me?"<br>
<br>
Tresana snapped out of her trance just in time to hear the question. She <br>
felt like she had no control over what she was saying; in fact, she thought <br>
someone else was talking when she gave her answer, but there was no <br>
mistaking whose mouth was moving.<br>
<br>
She laughed nervously, tripping over the words. "Well...I...don't see how I <br>
can say anything but yes." As he put his arm around her, she whispered <br>
that they needed to talk later. She resolved to give herself a very long, <br>
potent injection before they did.<br>
<br>
<br>
Data, LaForge, and Barclay, previously engaged in a technical debate, <br>
forgot all about dilithium and were speechless. Data, wanting to say <br>
something but unable to think of anything, brought his hand down on the <br>
fork, forgetting it was there. The utensil flew across five tables and landed <br>
in Troi's forgotten ice cream, splashing chocolate drops on the table upon <br>
impact. Beverly was surprised to find herself slightly envious of <br>
Commander Styles while at the same time she was happy for Jean-Luc. <br>
Riker promptly asked if he could be excused, and asked the captain to <br>
stop by his quarters later. And Deanna, picking up the astonishment of <br>
everyone present and Tresana's extreme panic, decided it was going to be <br>
a long way to the space station indeed. Only Tresana knew how far.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
SIX<br>
<br>
"Jean-Luc, I don't know where to begin." Tresana sat on the couch in her <br>
quarters, put her head in her hands and looked up again. "You've, uh, <br>
dropped quite a bomb here. I...had no idea what was coming." She felt <br>
herself growing agitated and wished she could think of some viable excuse <br>
to slip away for about five minutes. She wanted an injection so badly she <br>
could taste it. <br>
<br>
"I'm sorry if I gave you a jolt." He sat next to her and put his arm around <br>
her. She pushed him away and got back up.<br>
<br>
"Don't touch me!" She was instantly sorry she had said that but was <br>
powerless to stop herself. Not two hours ago it had felt good to have his <br>
arm around her; now all it did was trigger guilt. Then anger. <br>
<br>
Jean-Luc was taken aback and wondered for a moment if this was the <br>
same woman he had proposed to in Ten-Forward. He leaned forward and <br>
pressed his palms together, not sure what was happening; just sure he <br>
was probably not going to like it. "This isn't about me surprising you, is it?"<br>
<br>
"Actually, it is, in a way. It's about you ambushing me in front of a group of <br>
people and not giving me a choice."<br>
<br>
Now it was the captain's turn to put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry-"<br>
<br>
"Don't be. I'm the one who's sorry. Jean-Luc, I can't do this. Not now." She <br>
stood at her desk, gripping the back of the chair for support and not <br>
looking at him.<br>
<br>
"I didn't mean to make it seem like there was a rush-"<br>
<br>
"Not ever. Jean-Luc, I can't marry you. I'm leaving Starfleet." She sat down <br>
now in an effort not to feel sick. It wasn't working.<br>
<br>
Picard was getting angry. "I'm not sure I understand what that has to do <br>
with anything." He rose from the couch and stood directly in front of her. <br>
"You haven't been on active duty for a year yet you've been on and off this <br>
ship running around the quadrant chasing the Borg, going on mysterious <br>
trips to Vulcan and God knows what else. Tell me the truth; is Starfleet <br>
sending you on some sort of mission?"<br>
<br>
Tresana wished she had thought of this herself; it was certainly a good <br>
excuse to disappear into thin air and never be seen again. No one would <br>
have thought to look for her; but her brain couldn't seem to keep up with <br>
the fast pace of her mouth. "No, nothing like that. I wish it were that <br>
simple." She tried to change the focus of the conversation. "You know, I <br>
thought you always said that the Enterprise was your home and the crew <br>
was your family."<br>
<br>
"Don't try to change the subject." She was still avoiding his gaze and it was <br>
making him crazy; he began pacing to let off some of the excess energy. <br>
"What has happened to you since you were here last? You've changed <br>
dramatically and I don't think I like it. You avoid everyone who cares about <br>
you, you're secretive, you lie, and quite frankly you look like you've been <br>
through a Cardassian prison camp."<br>
 <br>
Now she looked at him and clenched her fists under the desktop. "You <br>
know, you're the second person today who's told me I look like hell. If I'm <br>
so unpleasant to be around maybe you should leave." Her voice was quiet <br>
and grated with anger. <br>
<br>
"Maybe I will. But I want an explanation from you and I'm going to get it <br>
one way or another." He turned to leave but turned back around as though <br>
something had just occurred to him. "By the way, I'm ordering you to report <br>
to sickbay. And bring your medical records with you." After that he left, <br>
punching the wall with his fist on his way to his quarters and wondering for <br>
the life of him what had gone wrong. <br>
<br>
Tresana went on a rampage, breaking everything in sight and screaming <br>
thorough angry tears. It wasn't supposed to be this way; this trip was to <br>
have been a way for her to make peace with her past and now the future <br>
was looking very uncertain. Why did Jean-Luc have to do that? She didn't <br>
think about the soundproof walls as she put her fist through the computer <br>
monitor but she was thankful for them later. She shattered the desktop by <br>
bringing both fists down on it with her Vulcan strength. Strength not <br>
tempered with Vulcan discipline but aggravated by a Vulcan disease. God <br>
damn them all! Having had enough she went to her bathroom and put <br>
together an injection large enough to knock her out for twenty-four hours. <br>
She would put the mess she had made through recycling and replicate <br>
replacements later but for now she had to calm down somehow before she <br>
killed someone... or herself.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
SEVEN<br>
<br>
Tresana hadn't left her quarters since that last hideous argument with <br>
Jean-Luc. She had planned on staying there until they docked at DS9 and <br>
then slipping off the ship unnoticed; until then she did not want to run into <br>
him and repeat the scene from the other night. Just thinking about it made <br>
her sick to her stomach. She looked at the time and headed for the <br>
bathroom, not bothering to shut the door. It was time for another dose.<br>
<br>
The hiss of the hypospray was comforting to Tresana but the burn of a <br>
ninety percent solution of trilexorin entering her wrist was almost too much <br>
to bear. She winced and held the offending area tightly as she waited for it <br>
to take effect. She wondered what she was going to do when the drug <br>
stopped working altogether; right now it was only at half of its previous <br>
effectiveness. She put the hypo away in a drawer and looked at herself in <br>
the mirror. She was speechless to see Jean-Luc standing behind her in the <br>
doorway.<br>
<br>
Picard had a sardonic air about him that infuriated her almost immediately. <br>
"I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. Of course, anyone who goes <br>
through someone's medical records without permission probably doesn't <br>
care that much about privacy." She was dumbfounded, as Jean-Luc had <br>
intended, and he continued on without mercy. "You know, you could have <br>
just asked. I don't have anything to hide from you, but you seem to have <br>
plenty to hide from me. What was in the hypospray, Tresana?"<br>
<br>
Abruptly she pushed past him and made her way into the front room where <br>
she wouldn't feel so cornered. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I just <br>
needed to know-"<br>
<br>
"Know what? What the Borg did to me? That's what this whole rotten mess <br>
is about, isn't it? You're afraid of what they did to my mind." His demeanor <br>
softened a little but Tresana didn't care; she had gotten his mind off the <br>
hypospray for the moment. <br>
<br>
"No...I just wanted to know what it was like, to not feel anything- to feel <br>
nothing. Did you remember anything? Or anyone for that matter?" She <br>
didn't stop for him to answer. "I've been fighting the Borg for so long that I <br>
never bothered to try to understand them. I love you but I can't marry you, <br>
not now. Not with so many things wrong."<br>
<br>
"You're not making sense. What things?" <br>
<br>
Tresana didn't get a chance to reply, for at that instant a wave of dizziness <br>
swept through her head and she sat down hard on the floor, holding her <br>
forehead and grimacing. She had finally done it; she had overdosed and <br>
there was no hiding it. <br>
<br>
"Tresana, what is it?"  He took hold of her shoulders and shook her slightly <br>
in frustration. "Are you ill? I'm calling sickbay-"<br>
<br>
"NO!" She looked at him as though he was a demon and leaned back, <br>
backing away on her hands and feet and climbing onto the couch. <br>
<br>
Jean-Luc was at a total loss as to why Tresana was acting this way. <br>
"Commander, I am ordering you to report to sickbay." He was quiet now, <br>
still crouched on the floor because he didn't want to intimidate her too <br>
much. On the other hand, he thought that maybe he should drag her there <br>
himself. Under other circumstances he would have called Counselor Troi <br>
but Tresana seemed to have an aversion to the Betazoid and he wanted to <br>
keep her calm.<br>
<br>
"I won't go, and you can't order me. I'm leaving Starfleet. I sent my <br>
resignation in two hours ago. I'm a civilian, and I'm leaving as soon as we <br>
get to the station."<br>
<br>
"We'll see about that. In the meantime I can confine you to quarters." He <br>
stood and headed for the door. "We'll talk more in the morning, when <br>
you're more rational." He left, more confused than ever, wondering what <br>
had happened since her last visit with him that had been so bad.<br>
<br>
<br>
Tresana crawled over to her desk, climbed into her chair and activated the <br>
subspace communication function on her computer. Her Klingon dak tagh <br>
knife glistened on the desktop, drawing her interest so much that she <br>
almost didn't realize that the link had been established and Dr. Bashir was <br>
on screen.<br>
<br>
"This had better be good; it's nighttime here..." Julian had been sleeping <br>
and was not accustomed to subspace emergency calls. After a moment he <br>
realized it was his long distance patient and was wide awake. "Tresana, <br>
what is it? You look terrible."<br>
<br>
"Julian, I..." She stopped, trying to remember what she was calling for. Oh, <br>
yes. "I need to know what you've found out...the trilexorin isn't helping me <br>
anymore."<br>
<br>
The doctor had to think about what he would say to her. "This is not the <br>
time. Wait until I can see you in person. Then I can explain everything to <br>
you in detail."<br>
<br>
Tresana was suddenly angry with him. "Tell me the truth! You couldn't find <br>
anything, could you?"<br>
<br>
An aeon passed before Julian answered. "No." Another long pause. <br>
"Tresana, you have to understand that my resources here are limited. I <br>
wish you would allow me to send your records to Dr. Crusher; she could do <br>
a lot more for you."<br>
<br>
"I'm sorry. I don't care what you do with my records. I'm finished."<br>
<br>
"What are you going to do?"<br>
<br>
"Something I should have done a long time ago." She cut off the link <br>
before Julian could reply. Awake, disturbed, and helpless to do anything <br>
more for his friend, Julian reestablished a link with the Enterprise and <br>
asked for Dr. Beverly Crusher. This had gone on long enough. <br>
<br>
Still a day away from Deep Space Nine and her ride to the Neutral Zone, <br>
Tresana felt like a rat in a cage. The knife still lay on her desk, calling her <br>
to use it. She picked it up by the blade and began to cut.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
EIGHT<br>
<br>
help me<br>
<br>
Counselor Deanna Troi awoke to a night that was blacker than usual in <br>
spite of the soft glow of the nighttime lighting in her quarters. She rolled <br>
over and tried to go back to sleep, telling herself that voice she had heard <br>
was the echo of a fellow crew member's nightmare already forgotten. As a <br>
telepath Deanna was used to the thoughts of others occasionally sneaking <br>
into her mind, but the thoughts weren't usually as...loud as this one had <br>
been. Or as unfamiliar. She pulled her blankets closer around her and <br>
began to drift back into unconsciousness.<br>
<br>
help me<br>
<br>
Deanna's mind was rudely thrust awake again as the unwelcome voice <br>
intruded again. There was no doubt that someone trying to get her <br>
attention, and she knew that she would not sleep until she located the <br>
source. The voice haunted her though she did not recognize it; its <br>
desperation and pain tugged at her soul even as she put on her uniform <br>
and left her quarters in search of the unlucky being. <br>
<br>
She went from deck to deck on the dimly lit ship, following a psychic trail <br>
that seemed to be leading her on a morbid chase with more than its share <br>
of dead ends. Where had she heard it before? She knew it and did not <br>
know it, as if someone had whispered a secret to her that she couldn't <br>
remember. Deanna became frustrated as she came to a row of guest <br>
quarters, touching doors and mentally searching for the person who was <br>
crying out to her.<br>
<br>
Deanna<br>
<br>
"Will?" She called his name out loud but realized before she finished his <br>
name that Riker was not the one calling to her. Riker's quarters were not <br>
on this deck, and she knew now that the voice was very close...<br>
<br>
MAKE IT STOP<br>
<br>
This last message was so intent, so full of torment that the counselor <br>
gripped her head in anguish and fell against a nearby wall. But as quickly <br>
as the pain had surfaced it left again, and she found herself in front of <br>
Commander Styles' quarters. Commander Styles, who had been <br>
floundering in an emotional fog since she had come on board, even as the <br>
captain had proposed to her in Ten-Forward. Never a telepathic whimper, <br>
something that Troi had found disturbing about the captain's would-be <br>
fiancee. Now she felt Tresana and all her helplessness through those <br>
doors...<br>
<br>
"Computer, override security lock, authorization zero-zero-omega Troi <br>
four." The doors hissed open, revealing the pitch black interior. "Lights." <br>
Light flooded the room but Troi saw no one. She quickly scanned the <br>
interior for the commander and found nothing. Then she looked behind the <br>
desk. Commander Tresana Styles sat huddled in a tiny ball behind the <br>
furniture, knees drawn up to her chest and shaking violently.<br>
<br>
Then Troi saw the blood. On the carpet, the desk, the wall behind her. <br>
There were large tears in Tresana's sleeves, with gaping cuts underneath <br>
that still oozed slightly. The commander's hands were in shreds and her <br>
uniform was soaked. What bothered Troi the most was the Klingon dak <br>
tagh knife that lay on the floor beside her. The commander had done this <br>
to herself.<br>
<br>
Deanna squatted on the floor and touched Tresana's shoulder. <br>
"Commander, can you hear me?" There was a long pause, and Troi feared <br>
that Stiles had slipped into a catatonic state and couldn't see or recognize <br>
anything. <br>
<br>
"I'm sorry..." The commander spat out her words in a small, tottering voice <br>
through tears that had begun to roll down her face. The droplets fell to the <br>
floor, mingling with the blood that was already there. "I couldn't get to my <br>
communicator. I can't move...you're the only telepath on board..."<br>
<br>
Deanna tapped her own comm badge and sat down with Tresana. "Troi to <br>
sickbay. I need someone in Commander Styles' quarters immediately." <br>
She forcefully pulled Tresana's hands away from her body and held them <br>
as gently as she could so as not to aggravate the bleeding. "Why did you <br>
do this to yourself?" <br>
<br>
"Don't know...needed to. Julian tried to explain it once." Tresana's eyes <br>
remained fixed to the floor. "Tell Jean-Luc I'm okay. He worries.." At that <br>
she began to sob uncontrollably and began to have trouble breathing.<br>
<br>
"Commander, you are far from 'okay.'" Dr. Crusher stood behind Deanna <br>
as she scanned Tresana with a medical tricorder. "I wish you had <br>
permitted Dr. Bashir to send me your medical history sooner. We could <br>
have been better prepared to deal with this." <br>
<br>
"Julian sent my medical records? Oh, God..."<br>
<br>
"You should have had them with you when you came on board. The <br>
trilexorin isn't working anymore, is it?"<br>
<br>
"No." It was futile to try to keep it a secret anymore.<br>
<br>
Troi was lost. "What is it, Doctor?"<br>
<br>
Crusher was taking various pieces of equipment out of her medical kit, <br>
looking frustrated and taking a deep breath. "The commander suffers from <br>
severe depression." Beverly tried to choose her words carefully. "And <br>
we're running out of treatment options." The hiss of the hypospray seemed <br>
to punctuate her statement. Tresana flinched a little, then seemed to begin <br>
to relax.<br>
<br>
Troi still looked puzzled. "I don't understand." No treatment? For a mere <br>
case of depression?<br>
<br>
At this point Tresana decided to confess, looking Troi directly in the eye. <br>
"My great-grandmother was Vulcan. She had Bendii syndrome. The gene <br>
mutated itself by the time it reached my father so that it's not fatal...but it <br>
takes effect when you're about 12 or so. It never lets go..." She looked <br>
away now. "My father committed suicide when the trilexorin stopped <br>
working. He was younger than I am now." <br>
<br>
Beverly crouched on the floor now and tried to take on a gentler tone. "I'm <br>
going to have you beamed directly into sickbay. Then we can talk about <br>
this and try to figure out what to do."<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
NINE<br>
<br>
Less than twenty-four hours after the incident Tresana was back in her <br>
quarters and Dr. Crusher was in Captain Picard's ready room trying to <br>
explain what happened. She had just finished fusing Tresana's skin <br>
tissues back together when she was ordered to make a report and she <br>
was forced to leave Dr. Selar in charge of sickbay. Beverly was angry at <br>
Jean-Luc for making her leave for essentially personal reasons, reasons <br>
that could have waited, especially in light of the research she was now <br>
doing. <br>
<br>
She had barely had time to review the commander's medical records and <br>
was on the verge of discovering...something. There was an aspect of <br>
Tresana Styles and her recent stay on the Enterprise that Beverly was <br>
blinded to for some reason and she felt that if Jean-Luc would simply leave <br>
her alone for a minute she would eventually understand what didn't make <br>
sense. And deep down, on a personal level, she resented being the <br>
keeper of his ill-chosen companion. However, the doctor was never one to <br>
allow personal affairs to interfere with her work; besides, she was too <br>
preoccupied with the condition of her patient's mental state to think much <br>
about things of that nature.<br>
<br>
Styles had been telling the truth for the most part; she was indeed of <br>
Vulcan descent and she certainly carried a mutated form of the Bendii <br>
syndrome gene, but the commander apparently had a gift for <br>
understatement, as well as for just plain leaving things out. As Beverly <br>
combed through her medical records what she found was unsettling to say <br>
the least, and had she known the extent of Tresana's condition the <br>
commander would never have left sickbay that afternoon. However <br>
Tresana was not likely to leave her quarters for a while, and it wasn't like <br>
she could leave the ship, or even beam down to DS9 without prior <br>
authorization from someone in medical. Had this been the case the doctor <br>
would have been initiating hearings; as things were she was pondering a <br>
disturbing medical and psychological profile.<br>
<br>
She didn't know where the commander had been getting it or exactly how <br>
long Styles had been using it but tests had shown she had been injecting <br>
herself with a ninety percent solution of trilexorin for quite some time. Not <br>
only was the powerful drug no longer working but the  commander was <br>
also addicted to it, and her condition was slowly worsening. Beverly <br>
understood why she didn't want to get married  and burden Jean-Luc with <br>
her severe depressive state, but he deserved to know the reason. Even if <br>
Beverly was only telling him because regulations required she report <br>
anyone on board who might represent a danger to themselves or others, <br>
rather than because he cared.<br>
<br>
The captain sat at his desk with head in hands, hard-pressed to believe <br>
what he was hearing. He raised his head and spoke in a quiet voice. "And <br>
you're telling me there's nothing you can do to help her."<br>
<br>
"Maybe, maybe not. The Bendii gene itself is complicated enough, and the <br>
mutation she carries is tough to follow, even for a disciplined Vulcan mind <br>
like Selar's. It would take a long time to develop an effective treatment, <br>
and she...might not be able to endure the symptoms long enough." Beverly <br>
didn't want to say the word suicide. Not right now. "Tresana hasn't stayed <br>
in one place long enough for Dr. Bashir to be able to conduct any viable <br>
experiments. She's too obsessed with the Borg."<br>
<br>
"Well, it explains the odd way she's been acting and why she...doesn't <br>
want to be around me." Picard had to force those last painful words from <br>
his mouth. "But I don't understand why the Borg are a part of any of this <br>
save for her engineering pursuits, and she told me she's resigning from <br>
Starfleet effective immediately. And it doesn't tell me why she was looking <br>
through my medical history. And if it is Bendii syndrome, even a mutated <br>
form, why hasn't the crew been affected?" None of this explained the three <br>
cases of gold-pressed latinum either. That was one piece of the puzzle <br>
that really didn't fit.<br>
<br>
Beverly shook her head slightly. "I wish I could tell you. It may be because <br>
only about thirteen percent of her genetic makeup is Vulcan and she <br>
simply doesn't have the telepathic abilities that someone like Sarek did. <br>
Right now I've got to work on a drug that will numb her mind long enough <br>
for me to work out a treatment. I know I don't really need to ask, but I'm <br>
going to need the Enterprise to make a few stops in the next couple of <br>
weeks..."<br>
<br>
Picard continued to look at Crusher but he did not hear what she said. He <br>
only heard three words.<br>
<br>
numb her mind<br>
<br>
Jean-Luc, I can't marry you; I'm leaving Starfleet...I looked through your <br>
records because I was curious...I wanted to know how it felt to not feel <br>
anything; did you remember anything? I've been fighting the Borg for so <br>
long that I've never bothered to try to understand them...I do love you but I <br>
can't marry you, not now, not with so many things wrong...I wanted to <br>
know how it felt to not feel anything... Jean-Luc, I'm leaving <br>
Starfleet...Jean-Luc<br>
<br>
"Jean-Luc!" Beverly jolted him out of his trance, nearly shouting. "What is <br>
it?"<br>
<br>
Picard shook his head slightly as if to try to clear his mind. "I'm sorry. Make <br>
whatever arrangements are necessary. This is going to have to wait." <br>
Abruptly, he got up and headed for the door. "And I would appreciate it if <br>
you would go ahead and initiate those hearings. If she's planning what I <br>
think she is, we're going to need all the leverage we can get to keep her on <br>
board this ship and in Federation territory."<br>
<br>
Before Beverly could open her mouth to reply, Picard left and was on his <br>
way to Tresana's quarters.<br>
<br>
<br>
Picard stood outside Tresana's quarters for a full sixty seconds before he <br>
lost all patience. "Computer, locate Commander Styles."<br>
<br>
"Commander Styles is not on board the Enterprise."<br>
<br>
Picard stood silently for a moment. "Computer, who authorized <br>
Commander Styles' transfer?"<br>
<br>
"Transfer authorized by Dr. Selar."<br>
<br>
Picard was already on his way to sickbay as he tapped his comm badge <br>
and contacted Commander Riker. "Number One, take a security detail to <br>
DS9 and search the place. Bring back Commander Styles."<br>
<br>
"Sir, the commander had auth-"<br>
<br>
"Not anymore. Just do it!"<br>
<br>
"Yes sir."<br>
<br>
The captain nearly ran over a couple of ensigns on his way up to sickbay <br>
and he came very close to stumbling through the doors. Dr. Selar was <br>
running a DNA scan when she looked up and saw him.<br>
<br>
"Doctor, why did you allow Commander Styles to leave the Enterprise?"<br>
<br>
Selar was ever the calm and matter-of-fact Vulcan as she put down her <br>
PADD and folded her hands behind her back. "There were no legal <br>
grounds upon which I could base her detention."<br>
<br>
Picard shook his head slightly. "Surely...you realized her situation..."<br>
<br>
"If by that you mean that I must have known about her desire to seek <br>
assimilation by the Borg because of her medical condition, then you are <br>
correct in that regard."<br>
<br>
"How long have you known about this?' The captain was deathly quiet at <br>
this point, almost whispering.<br>
<br>
"Approximately sixteen hours, twenty-three minutes."<br>
<br>
"Selar,  please...."<br>
<br>
"I apologize, Captain. I had not considered your emotional ties to the <br>
commander. I presume you have contacted Starfleet?"<br>
<br>
"That's next if we don't find her on DS9."<br>
<br>
"Captain, I would suggest that Starfleet be contacted immediately. You are <br>
not likely to find the commander on the station. If my calculations are <br>
correct, she has already acquired transportation to the last known location <br>
of the Borg. If she were assimilated, the damage to Federation security <br>
would be incalculable."<br>
<br>
"Then why did you let her go knowing what she would do?"<br>
<br>
"Sir, I must respectfully decline to answer the question on the grounds that <br>
I might incriminate myself."<br>
<br>
Jean-Luc took a deep breath, straightened his tunic and struggled to cling <br>
to the one nerve he had left. "Doctor, I want you to send me a full report as <br>
soon as your shift is over." He paused, not knowing quite what to do. <br>
"And...you're confined to quarters until a disciplinary hearing.<br>
<br>
<br>
Riker didn't have to assemble a security detail; after speaking with Worf on <br>
DS9 the two of them had decided to assemble a group on the station. <br>
Things would have been a lot more simple if Styles had left her <br>
communicator on but apparently she had not been out of sorts enough to <br>
forget to remove it before she left. The station had been sealed, so now all <br>
they had to do was sweep each level, and Security Chief Odo had already <br>
started. This was going to be quick and simple.<br>
<br>
The first officer was taken aback to find Geordi LaForge in the transporter <br>
room. "Mr. LaForge, will you be joining the search team?"<br>
<br>
"What search team? I was just on my way to visit O'Brien. What'd you <br>
lose?"<br>
<br>
"Oh, I didn't lose anything." The two Enterprise officers stepped onto the <br>
transporter platform. "But the captain's looking for his ex-fiancee. <br>
Something major is happening and he hasn't had time to hold a briefing, I <br>
guess."<br>
<br>
"Oh, you'd be surprised." Lieutenant Barclay, transporter chief for the shift, <br>
was muttering to himself more than anything else, but LaForge and Riker <br>
heard anyway.<br>
<br>
"Barclay, do you know something we don't know?" LaForge smiled a little.<br>
<br>
"Uh, not officially I don't."<br>
<br>
"Well, why don't you unofficially debrief us when we get back." LaForge <br>
snickered a little, knowing that the lieutenant used his excessive free time <br>
to pilfer through private computer files for entertainment. "In the meantime, <br>
I'm leaving you in charge of engineering. Energize." Riker and LaForge <br>
shimmered out of sight and materialized on the DS9 transporter platform. <br>
<br>
As the two stepped down, Riker asked, "Why did you leave Barclay of all <br>
people in charge of engineering?"<br>
<br>
LaForge couldn't help smiling again. "Will, that guy has too much time on <br>
his hands. Besides, we're docked at a Federation station, the only vessel <br>
in sight is a Ferengi marauder, and I'm just a communicator tap away. <br>
What could possibly happen?"<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
TEN<br>
<br>
Data sat at the science station monitoring communications from DS9 and <br>
the Ferengi vessel on the other side of the station. While he monitored, he <br>
was contemplating a new dietary supplement for Spot, plotting a course to <br>
the last known location of the Borg,  writing a new holodeck program, <br>
downloading files from the main computer, and speculating as to where <br>
Commander Styles might be. The android's fingers flew across the panel <br>
entering information even as he read computer responses to several <br>
different entries at once. He was interrupted by a rapidly flashing red light <br>
on his console and a pulsating alarm. He turned his head and saw the <br>
cause for the alarm on the main viewscreen.<br>
<br>
"Oh, shit!" Data whirled around in his chair tapping his comm badge but it <br>
was too late. A series of photon torpedoes impacted, knocking him out of <br>
his chair and causing various explosions throughout the ship. Had anyone <br>
been looking at the viewscreen at that moment they would have seen <br>
DS9's docking pilon flying through space. Electrical impulses ran through <br>
Data's console and sparks flew from two or three areas on the bridge in a <br>
spectacular fountain of light. Picard emerged from his ready room almost <br>
immediately.<br>
<br>
"Mr. Data, what the hell is going on?" Picard headed for his chair but didn't <br>
sit down. His communicator chirped.<br>
<br>
"Riker to Enterprise! What's happening?"<br>
<br>
"We are under attack from the Ferengi vessel, sir!" Data got up off the <br>
floor to get back to his station. The bridge was pure bedlam, with officers <br>
running back and forth taking casualty reports and rerouting power all over <br>
the ship. The red alert beacons were flashing and the whine of their siren <br>
permeated the ship.<br>
<br>
"Prepare to fire on the Ferengi ship!" <br>
<br>
"Too late; the Ferengi have gone into warp." Before Picard could reply he <br>
was interrupted by a call from engineering.<br>
<br>
"Barclay to bridge!"<br>
<br>
"Report, Mr. Barclay!" <br>
<br>
Picard could hear chaos in the background of Barclay's message; the <br>
shouting and coughing nearly drowned the lieutenant's message out <br>
altogether. "Sir, they knew exactly where to hit us. We've got to evacuate <br>
everybody to the saucer section and separate the ship now!"<br>
<br>
"Mr. Barclay, are-"<br>
<br>
"Sir, there's no time to explain! She's gonna blow!"<br>
<br>
"Understood. Begin evacuation! Mr. Data, start the separation sequence." <br>
Picard took exactly one second to allow the situation to sink in. He was <br>
losing another ship.<br>
<br>
<br>
From the bridge on DS9, Commander Riker and Chief Engineer LaForge <br>
could only watch helplessly on a viewscreen as the ship they'd had for less <br>
than eighteen months headed for a violent premature end.<br>
<br>
<br>
Barclay was panicking even as he evacuated the lower half of the ship, <br>
ushering people through exits and coughing from the thick smoke. It's too <br>
soon, he thought madly to himself as he attempted unsuccessfully to <br>
activate emergency measures to control some of the smoke so that people <br>
could at least see their way out. Where was LaForge? Images from his life <br>
began to play themselves in his head; his mother, the academy, Counselor <br>
Troi on the holodeck..."I am the Goddess of Empathy..."<br>
<br>
Young Ensign Gable was the last one Barclay knew of. He pushed him <br>
through the door and activated the seal. <br>
<br>
"Sir! You'll be trapped!" Gable began to go back.<br>
<br>
Barclay pushed him back through. "Somebody's got to stay behind to pilot <br>
this thing away from Bajor. I'll be OK, now get out of here!"<br>
<br>
Barclay remained long enough to make sure the seal took then headed for <br>
the battle bridge. He had lied to the ensign; there was no way he was <br>
going to get out of this alive. He decided that if he did he was going to take <br>
extended leave on the holodeck. <br>
<br>
<br>
Riker, LaForge and most of the senior staff of DS9 stood glued to the <br>
veiwscreen as the Enterprise separated and the battle section ever so <br>
slowly turned and began to inch away from Bajor and the station. Worf <br>
looked up from his console. "One minute, seventeen seconds to warp core <br>
breach."<br>
<br>
"Oh my God." Geordi massaged his forehead and began to pace.<br>
<br>
Riker was mesmerized by the scene before him. "Can they get the battle <br>
section out of range in time?" Where was Deanna? Or the captain? And <br>
why was he here, helpless to do anything?<br>
<br>
"Yeah...Worf, can you tell if they got everybody evacuated?" Geordi was <br>
directly in front of Worf's station now.<br>
<br>
"There is one person remaining on the battle bridge." Worf looked at <br>
Geordi in disbelief, his voice as soft as a Klingon's could be. "It is <br>
Lieutenant Barclay."<br>
<br>
LaForge and Riker could only stare at the viewscreen with their mouths <br>
half open, partly in admiration and partly in horror as they watched the <br>
battle section and the former Lieutenant Broccoli drift away from the <br>
station toward certain death.<br>
<br>
<br>
Barclay worked furiously, bouncing back and forth between consoles on <br>
the battle bridge trying to get the ship as far away from the saucer section <br>
and Bajor as possible. He looked at the time. Thirty seconds.<br>
<br>
He hit the last few buttons and watched as DS9, the Enterprise saucer and <br>
Bajor shrank. The battle section would be well out of range when it <br>
exploded. <br>
<br>
Fourteen seconds. <br>
<br>
Barclay sat on the floor, put his head between his fists, closed his eyes <br>
and braced himself for total obliteration. His mind raced as he counted <br>
along in his head, and he thought madly that he would have liked to have <br>
gone to the bathroom one last time...<br>
<br>
Eight, seven, six....<br>
<br>
...he wondered if it would be over with quickly, or if he would drift in space <br>
for a few seconds...<br>
<br>
<br>
Picard, Crusher, Data, Troi, and several of the bridge crew watched the <br>
battle section float toward certain doom as helplessly as the crew on DS9. <br>
Troi was crying, grateful that she had been so forgiving of the lieutenant in <br>
the last few weeks and wishing that she had invited him to play poker more <br>
often.<br>
<br>
<br>
...two, one.....<br>
<br>
Nothing. Barclay remained on the floor, convinced that he had somehow <br>
lost count.<br>
<br>
Five seconds. Then ten. Barclay finally dared to stand and look at the <br>
console. He couldn't believe what he saw: the computer was caught in a <br>
preprogrammed loop designed to make the crew think that the ship was <br>
going to explode. He sat down, shaking as he pulled up data on the rest of <br>
the ship and the casualty reports. The warp engines would take a few <br>
hours to repair, and there was certainly damage to the ship, but only <br>
enough to temporarily disable the warp drive. And no one had been <br>
seriously injured. An elaborate ruse, perpetrated by someone who really <br>
knew what they were doing...<br>
<br>
...someone like Tresana Styles, who was probably on board the Ferengi <br>
vessel right now, certain that no one would be able to stop her, especially <br>
since the only starship in the sector was now disabled. Barclay didn't know <br>
whether to be angry or relieved as he sank into the chair, ignoring the <br>
agitated hails from the saucer section and the station. He took a moment <br>
to send a prayer of thanks to whatever deity might be listening. Then he <br>
pulled up a map of the battle section to determine the location of the <br>
nearest restroom.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
ELEVEN<br>
<br>
The senior staff of the Enterprise had entered the briefing room with a <br>
sense of great relief two hours after the near loss of their ship, but a few <br>
minutes into the meeting the mood had quickly changed to a much more <br>
somber one. Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, Dr. Crusher, and <br>
Commander Data had been listening in stoic silence as Captain Picard <br>
quietly explained what Tresana had done and why. LaForge, still working <br>
on repairs to the warp drive, was not in attendance and had sent <br>
Lieutenant Barclay instead. The most notable of the group, however, was <br>
Commander Shelby, who did not sit at the table as the rest of them but <br>
preferred to pace restlessly about the room with her hands clasped behind <br>
her back. <br>
<br>
Picard didn't know how Shelby had gotten to the Enterprise so quickly after <br>
he had contacted Starfleet Command, but less than ninety minutes after <br>
their close call with disaster Shelby had beamed aboard the ship with only <br>
a standard issue phaser on her hip and a hard expression on her face that <br>
he was accustomed to seeing on fellow officers only in times of great <br>
crisis. He knew that this wasn't any easier for her than it was for him; <br>
Shelby had orders to kill Styles if she had to, and the two had a long <br>
history of friendship together. Shelby had in fact requested that she not be <br>
assigned this mission because of her personal involvement and had also <br>
begged Admiral Brackett not to send the Enterprise for the same reason. <br>
The admiral had listened to her but had not taken her advice; he wanted <br>
her there because of her expertise on the Borg, and he wanted Picard <br>
there because Styles was likely to listen to him.<br>
<br>
Barclay told the group that while repairs were going well, they were not <br>
likely to catch the Ferengi vessel before Styles could make it over to the <br>
Borg ship, and the group made plans for the Enterprise to hide behind a <br>
nearby moon while Picard and Shelby beamed over and retrieved the <br>
commander. "Well, if there are no further questions, everyone is <br>
dismissed." Picard backed up in his chair to get up but not before one crew <br>
member spoke up. His words stopped Picard cold.<br>
<br>
"Um, I have a question- er, comment, really." Barclay fidgeted as he <br>
addressed the group, wishing that he had Riker's confidence. "I, uh, think <br>
we should let her go. Sir."<br>
<br>
Picard froze midway out of his chair. "Excuse me?" He sat back down and <br>
glared at the lieutenant at if he had suggested that the earth was flat.<br>
<br>
"We should let her go, sir." Barclay was frightened out of his wits and the <br>
tremors in his voice showed it.<br>
<br>
"Lieutenant, how did you arrive at this conclusion?" Shelby had stopped <br>
her pacing and glared at him in a manner that was only slightly less <br>
intimidating than Picard's.<br>
<br>
"Ah, well, first of all, the knowledge that Commander Styles has of our <br>
defenses isn't worth the risk of getting her back. And we're risking the lives <br>
of everyone on this ship, not to mention the ship itself to do it."<br>
<br>
Shelby's forehead puckered slightly. "I think Starfleet disagrees with you <br>
about her, Lieutenant."<br>
<br>
Barclay was growing more confident. "Well, I don't understand why. She <br>
hasn't been on active duty for a year now, and unofficially it's probably <br>
been longer than that. There have been enough technological advances in <br>
our defensive capabilities since then that if she were assimilated the <br>
damage would be minimal. We're chasing her for a lot of reasons, but her <br>
importance to Federation security isn't one of them. What will happen to <br>
her if we do recover her?"<br>
<br>
Troi, puzzled by the display before her, decided to play along. "She will <br>
probably be sent to the Vulcan Science Academy and the doctors there will <br>
try to develop a treatment."<br>
<br>
"We'll presume for a moment that it's better for Starfleet that way. It <br>
probably is on a public relations level; they wouldn't be seen as a group of <br>
uncaring people who allowed one of their officers to commit something <br>
akin to suicide. It's better for the Vulcans, because they'll be able to use <br>
her for research." Barclay took a deep breath, knowing that he was about <br>
to tread on dangerous ground, and looked at Captain Picard. "It's better for <br>
you, sir; you won't be worried about her. But is it better for her?"<br>
<br>
"Of course it is, dammit! We're talking about the Borg, not a Sunday stroll <br>
on Risa!" Picard slammed his fist on the desktop in anger. Everyone was <br>
shocked by the captain's display but Picard did not seem to notice, and if <br>
he had he would not have cared. "This is a mental condition, not some <br>
debilitating fatal disease. There's always an alternative to suicide!"<br>
<br>
"Sometimes a mental condition can be just as debilitating as any physical <br>
problem." Picard's anger worried Troi, and she exchanged glances with <br>
Riker, who was equally worried about the captain. <br>
<br>
"Captain, sometimes there isn't. While a rare practice, euthanasia has long <br>
been accepted as a viable alternative by the medical community at large." <br>
Beverly tried to look Picard in the eye but the captain was glaring at <br>
Barclay.<br>
<br>
Undaunted, Barclay continued to press on, wondering if the briefing would <br>
end with him and Picard in a fist fight. While some other officers present <br>
had seen Picard this upset before, Barclay hadn't and he was nervous. <br>
"Just because her pain is emotional doesn't mean that it's any less serious. <br>
Who are you to say how bad it is? Who are all of you to deny her the only <br>
cure she can find? And doesn't she deserve better than to be a guinea pig <br>
wasting away in a padded room somewhere?"<br>
<br>
"Lieutenant, you are oversimplifying matters-" Shelby would have <br>
continued, but Picard cut her off.<br>
<br>
"The Federation needs  her in one piece- I  need her in one piece. I'll tell <br>
you what she doesn't deserve: assault, surgical mutilation, losing her <br>
individuality!"<br>
<br>
"Sir, the Federation may need her, but she's done her bit for king and <br>
country. And if you'll forgive my use of the term, what you need from her is <br>
irrelevant. I've had depression, sir, and if what I went through was just a <br>
taste of what she has endured for the last thirty-one years then I don't <br>
blame her at all for doing whatever she has to do to feel better." Barclay <br>
took a breath and continued. "You're all thinking of yourselves, what you <br>
want, and you don't care what she needs. Assimilation...losing her <br>
individuality... may be the only thing that will help her, except for maybe a <br>
phaser set to kill, and everyone is trying to stop her for their own selfish <br>
reasons." The lieutenant shook his head slightly. "It's no wonder the <br>
commander was so secretive."<br>
<br>
Picard's anger was getting the best of him now, and he stood up. "Mister, <br>
you are out of line-"<br>
<br>
"Captain Picard, sit down!"  Riker almost shouted the words. Picard, <br>
realizing he was out of line, reluctantly obeyed. Everyone was silent for an <br>
instant, then Troi asked a question.<br>
<br>
"Barclay, why are you telling us this?"<br>
<br>
"Because you all remind me of my mother. When I was still at the <br>
academy, my father developed a fatal blood disease and wanted to end his <br>
life. She said a lot of the same things the captain has said. Out of <br>
deference to her, he didn't go through with a drug overdose and he ended <br>
up dying a lingering, painful death." Barclay stopped and looked at the <br>
captain almost sympathetically in spite of his fear. "However this turns out, <br>
sir, I thought you should know in advance that it's not going to be pretty. <br>
There are no easy answers. You either allow her to do the most hideous <br>
thing you can think of, or you take away her dignity and control and wait for <br>
a cure that may never come. I don't envy you, sir."<br>
<br>
Shelby was clearly irritated by the conversation and attempted to end the <br>
hostilities. "None of this matters. These orders come directly from the High <br>
Council, and we couldn't change them even--" She was interrupted by the <br>
chirp of Picard's communicator. <br>
<br>
"Sir, the warp engines are back on line." LaForge sounded exhausted.<br>
<br>
"Acknowledged. Set a course to intercept the Ferengi vessel, warp eight." <br>
He looked at everyone in the briefing room. "Everyone is dismissed."<br>
<br>
<br>
Everyone filed out of the meeting room in a much more sober mood than <br>
they had arrived; Data in particular seemed quite disturbed in spite of his <br>
silence during the briefing. Picard remained seated, his hands carefully <br>
folded on the table, trying to absorb a situation that he had not had time to <br>
think about until now. Only Commander Riker remained behind to confront <br>
him. <br>
<br>
"Sir," he began, not looking forward to articulating the event, "I've released <br>
Dr. Selar and returned her to active duty."<br>
<br>
"Why?" Picard stared at some nameless imaginary object, never making <br>
eye contact with his first officer. He had been acting completely out of <br>
character, and Riker was worried. It was why he had stayed behind to talk <br>
to the captain alone. <br>
<br>
"As long as Commander Styles was on the new medication she was legally <br>
sane, and Dr. Selar was powerless to hold her. If you had stopped to ask <br>
her, she would have told you that." Riker swallowed and inhaled deeply as <br>
he sat down in front of the captain, hoping this wasn't going to be as <br>
difficult as he had pictured it. "Are you planning to board the Borg vessel <br>
with Commander Shelby when we get to the site?"<br>
<br>
"I have every intention of it."<br>
<br>
"Then let me take command until we have Tresana back on board." One <br>
eyebrow inched slowly up Picard's forehead, making him seem almost <br>
menacing. Riker began to get nervous; this was not going well. "Sir, you <br>
are too personally involved here to be able to make rational decisions. In <br>
the last six hours Commander Styles has escaped, you've unjustly <br>
confined Dr. Selar and we've almost lost this ship. For the record, if I had <br>
anything to say about it we wouldn't be warping all over the quadrant and <br>
risking everyone on this ship, not to mention the ship itself, to rescue <br>
someone who doesn't want to be rescued."<br>
<br>
"We're talking about the Borg, Will."<br>
<br>
"What the Borg do is awful. It's hideous, but we can't allow it to govern the <br>
way we conduct our business. I hope Tresana doesn't end up setting some <br>
sort of precedent here. But what if she does, and others follow? Can we <br>
stop them? Should we? We've had several people defect to the Romulan <br>
Empire in recent years and we didn't stop them." Picard opened his mouth <br>
to protest but Riker cut him off. "We don't have time to debate all the <br>
particulars here, but there's very little difference between the two. And if I <br>
have to, I'll argue it before the High Council. Starfleet can't afford this, and <br>
neither can you."<br>
<br>
"Remember you said that when what's left of her is speaking for the <br>
Collective, telling us resistance is futile." Picard felt the grip of the <br>
collective's iron hand slowly tightening itself around his neck once more. <br>
Every time it let go it had returned, only to grip a little tighter, only to take <br>
another little piece of his life away, until there would be nothing left. He <br>
wondered when resistance would become futile for him as well. Even now <br>
he could feel them calling to him. Come back, Jean-Luc, we have her and <br>
we'll have you too, come back... <br>
 <br>
"Give me command, sir. I'll allow you to beam over to retrieve the <br>
commander because you're the most qualified to talk her out of there. But I <br>
won't allow this ship to be put in jeopardy again." Don't make me have you <br>
officially declared unfit for command. Please don't make me do that to you. <br>
I couldn't stand it.<br>
<br>
An eternity elapsed as the two who had served together for that last <br>
decade stared at each other, each waiting for the other to make the next <br>
move. Riker even got up to leave, preparing to do one of the most difficult <br>
things he'd ever done and wondering if his friendship with the captain <br>
would ever be the same. But before he got to the door Picard spoke, <br>
saying the three words that would spare him the misery of a hearing and <br>
the regret of having to hurt his captain even more than he already was.<br>
<br>
"Make it so," he said.<br>
<br>
<br>
TWELVE <br>
<br>
Picard watched the transporter room disappear and the interior of the Borg <br>
vessel take its place. Shelby was next to him, phaser already drawn even <br>
though Enterprise sensors had established that the Borg were in a sleep <br>
cycle. "We've got to hurry," she said. "There's no telling when they'll wake <br>
up." She started to walk and Picard followed.<br>
<br>
"We'll be fine for a couple of hours or so." Picard couldn't explain how he <br>
knew; he just did. He could hear the Borg as they scanned the seemingly <br>
endless rows of pathways and chambers, pathways and chambers that he <br>
knew as he had known the Enterprise D... pathways and chambers that <br>
had been taken all too soon...Jean-Luc, it's been too long...we have <br>
her...you need her...you need us...your mind needs us...come back to the <br>
collective, Locutus, come back...<br>
<br>
"No!" Picard shouted as he pressed his fists against his temples, unsure if <br>
what he heard was his own mind or if it was the sound of millions of Borg <br>
begging him to return. He fell to his knees and Shelby knelt next to him. <br>
She placed a hand on his shoulder to try to offer him support but it wasn't <br>
working.<br>
<br>
"Sir, I'm going to have you beamed out. This is too much for you." She <br>
spoke to him as she might speak to a child. "No one will think any less of <br>
you if you go back."<br>
<br>
"Absolutely not...I'm fine," he gasped, still hunched over in some mental <br>
prison that only he could understand. Shelby helped him stand and they <br>
proceeded at a much slower pace now, Picard fingering the flap of the <br>
medkit that Beverly had sent as though it contained some kind of holy <br>
water that could save the universe. He just wanted it to save Tresana, or <br>
at least give him enough time to get her out of there...<br>
<br>
"Captain!" Shelby was looking up at a platform high above them and he <br>
looked too. Tresana.<br>
<br>
"Get out of here!" The former commander shouted as she ripped a Borg <br>
component from the wall and threw it in their direction.<br>
<br>
Picard and Shelby had to move quickly to avoid the flying chunk of metal <br>
that sparked with deadly voltage even after it landed. "We just want to talk <br>
to you, Commander!" Shelby still had her phaser in hand. Picard was <br>
unable to say anything. "We have something here for you from Dr. <br>
Crusher!"<br>
<br>
"Sure! A one way ticket to a Vulcan funny farm!" With that she threw <br>
another charged piece of wall at them. Tresana's eyes were raging with <br>
fear. "I won't live like this anymore!"<br>
<br>
Some of the flying debris grazed Shelby's forehead and she put her hand <br>
up to the small wound as she watched Tresana turn to run. This was <br>
stopping. Now.<br>
<br>
Shelby raised her phaser to fire and all too late Picard saw that the <br>
weapon was set to kill. He swung his arm upward to knock the phaser out <br>
of her hand, but he never made impact. He heard the sound of a weapon <br>
firing, saw the sickly green glow of a Borg disruptor...and Commander <br>
Shelby fell to the ground as the beam of deadly light hit her in the back.<br>
<br>
Picard withdrew his own phaser and whirled around, almost firing a deadly <br>
phaser blast at... Lieutenant Barclay. <br>
<br>
"Don't shoot!" He shouted, squinting and holding his arms outward. In his <br>
right hand he held a crudely fashioned replica of a Borg disruptor. When <br>
he was satisfied that Picard wasn't going to vaporize him, he approached. <br>
<br>
"Barclay, what the hell are you doing?" Picard re holstered his weapon and <br>
looked around. Tresana was out of sight. Damn.<br>
<br>
"Sir, Commander Shelby never had any intention of bringing Tresana back <br>
alive. I had to beam over and stop her."<br>
<br>
"How did you know this?" <br>
<br>
"Captain, Shelby and Tresana are very close friends, and Shelby decided <br>
that Tresana didn't need to suffer anymore. She decided to kill her rather <br>
than allow her to be assimilated or even to be institutionalized. I, uh, read <br>
Shelby's personal logs, sir." He saw Picard look at Shelby's motionless <br>
body on the floor. "She'll be OK, I just stunned her." Now Barclay handed <br>
Picard the mock Borg weapon and backed away a little. The captain <br>
examined the bulky piece, not sure what the lieutenant wanted him to do <br>
with it. "You're going to have to shoot me, sir."<br>
<br>
Picard looked at him as though he were out of his mind and Barclay <br>
continued. "Sir, if you don't shoot me, there's going to be a board of inquiry <br>
and we'll all be court marshalled. Even Shelby for disobeying orders. As it <br>
is now we've got a chance of getting out of this. With Tresana alive."<br>
<br>
The captain turned the crude pistol around and reluctantly aimed it at <br>
Barclay. "Does anything happen on the Enterprise without you knowing it?"<br>
<br>
"I don't think so, sir." Had the situation not been so serious Barclay would <br>
have smiled."It's her life, sir, her choice. Not Starfleet's. Go get her." <br>
Picard still hesitated. "Hurry."<br>
<br>
The captain closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, not opening them until <br>
he heard Barclay hit the floor. Picard tossed the weapon out of sight and <br>
began to climb upward to the platform, thinking that maybe Will had been <br>
right. Starfleet didn't try to stop people who defected before, why now? <br>
The answer came to him as he hoisted himself onto the platform and <br>
stood; because it was wrong. He walked, scrutinizing the upper levels. <br>
What she had chosen was worse than death, and no one was better <br>
qualified to make that decision than he was. Nothing was so bad that he <br>
should allow this, or her death for that matter. Barclay had tried to tell him <br>
he was being selfish but he disagreed; even if that was the case he was <br>
being selfish for the right reasons. Abruptly, he heard footsteps around the <br>
corner and rushed to follow the sound.<br>
<br>
"Tresana, wait!" Picard ran, turning the corner to see her for the first time. <br>
Her skin glistened with sweat as she breathed rapidly, clenching her fists <br>
in preparation for a struggle. Picard held his hands open above his <br>
shoulders and moved much more slowly even as she retreated.<br>
<br>
"Go back to the Enterprise, Jean-Luc." Tresana was laughing now, though <br>
for the life of her she should not discern what was so humorous. "Don't <br>
make me hurt you."<br>
<br>
"I'm afraid we've reached that point already." Picard stopped, still holding <br>
his hands up and wondering what to say to her. His emotions took over <br>
and he began to plead with her. "Tresana, come back with me. Beverly's <br>
been working hard on this, and I have a new-"<br>
<br>
"I know what you have!" She wiped the perspiration from her face with one <br>
fist and continued. "More false hope from our brilliant pioneering medical <br>
team. Don't make me laugh, Jean-Luc, I don't feel like it." In spite of her <br>
declaration Tresana continued to stifle the wicked chortles welling up <br>
within her and leaned against the wall. She leaned over with her hands on <br>
her knees as the laughter turned to heaving sobs and she screamed with <br>
frustration and pain of thirty-one years of suppressed feelings. The noise <br>
echoed throughout the corridor.<br>
<br>
This was the first time that Picard saw the full effects of the Bendii gene on <br>
the woman he had been prepared to marry; he knew that she probably had <br>
not had access to medical facilities on the Ferengi ship, and he thought he <br>
had been prepared for Tresana's erratic behavior. He wasn't. He moved <br>
toward her to touch her shoulder. Abruptly her mood changed, and she <br>
stood up not to embrace him but to swing one powerful arm across his <br>
face. The impact of the blow knocked him backward and almost sent him <br>
flying over the edge of the platform before he caught himself on a cable.<br>
<br>
"I wish my life could have been different!" Her voice trembled as she <br>
shouted, looking down on him and once more backing. "Go back to your <br>
starship and your family there. I wanted to spend my life with you but I <br>
can't. Nothing can change that. Nothing!" Tresana ran.<br>
<br>
Undaunted Picard got up and went after her, tackling her from behind. The <br>
two rolled along the platform for a moment before she threw him off and <br>
rose to her feet. Picard rose, too, but before he could gain any ground she <br>
hit him again, and again, forcing him to hit back. She stumbled backward, <br>
more from shock than from the impact, wiping blood from her mouth with <br>
the back of her hand and staring at him with insanity in her eyes. The blow <br>
seemed to infuriate her after a split second and she lunged at him with all <br>
the strength of her Vulcan ancestors, strength that was suddenly not <br>
enough in her rapidly deteriorating condition. Jean-Luc grabbed her <br>
shoulders and slammed her against a nearby control panel so hard that <br>
sparks flew on contact.<br>
<br>
"You don't know," she pleaded, "You don't know what it's like." Tears <br>
mingled with the sweat on her face as she struggled to escape his grip. <br>
<br>
Picard slammed her into the wall again. "I know what it's like to be <br>
assimilated!" Again. Tresana stopped and looked him directly in the eye. "I <br>
know what it's like to die!"<br>
<br>
She looked at him and fell into his arms sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm <br>
sorry..." Picard beheld a moment of relief before she slid her hand up to his <br>
neck, giving him a Vulcan nerve pinch and rendering him unconscious. <br>
She caught him and gently lowered him to the floor. <br>
<br>
Tresana kissed his cheek and stood to look at him one last time. "Don't <br>
worry, Jean-Luc." She shook violently. "I won't let them hurt you before you <br>
can leave."****<br>
<br>
Picard awoke to the hiss of a hypospray to see Shelby and Barclay <br>
standing over him with perplexed expressions of worry on their faces. No <br>
one spoke as he accompanied them to the beam-out location; there was <br>
nothing to say about anything. On their way they noticed that the Borg had <br>
awakened from their sleep cycle but were ignoring them as they had <br>
ignored almost every away team. Barclay tapped his communicator to <br>
signal for beam-out, but not before Picard noticed one Borg in particular. <br>
Barclay and Shelby saw it, too, and they grabbed Picard's arms before he <br>
could run.<br>
<br>
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to scream, but the sound never came; the <br>
Borg vessel shimmered slowly out of existence as the newly assimilated <br>
Tresana Styles looked up at them, showing no recognition in a face <br>
obstructed by the implants she had worked so hard to get.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
THIRTEEN<br>
<br>
Captain Picard entered Barclay's quarters not quite knowing what to <br>
expect, but was pleasantly surprised to that they were not unlike his own <br>
and there were no holographic projections of Counselor Troi in a goddess <br>
outfit. He mentally chided himself for thinking that way; it was precisely <br>
those kinds of prejudices he'd had about the lieutenant that had brought <br>
him here to Barclays' domicile to begin with. Barclay emerged from his <br>
bedroom with a giant canvas and set it on the floor. "I didn't think you'd be <br>
down here tonight, sir."<br>
<br>
"I had a moment so I thought I would go ahead and stop by. May I see <br>
your painting?"<br>
<br>
"Oh, I didn't paint this, sir. Mr. Data made this for me." He turned it around <br>
to reveal a portrait of himself against a background of space with the battle <br>
bridge of the Enterprise off in the distance. The images were of almost <br>
photographic quality. "I was just trying to figure out where I should hang it."<br>
<br>
"Mr. Data never ceases to amaze me. It's a fantastic piece." Picard <br>
straightened his tunic, wondering where to begin. "Lieutenant, I came <br>
down here to say some things to you that I probably should have said a <br>
long time ago. I've been somewhat hard on you because of the parody of <br>
me that you created on the holodeck a few years ago, harder than I should <br>
have been-"<br>
<br>
"Captain, you had every right to be angry-"<br>
<br>
"Please, let me finish. I held a grudge against you because of that, and it <br>
has occurred to me that I was being quite...well, petty. You've shown many <br>
times since then that you are a fine officer...and a good person. I don't <br>
know why I had to watch you almost sacrifice your life and career in these <br>
last few days to realize that. I was wrong about you, and I'm sorry." For the <br>
thousandth time that week, Barclay was without words. Picard continued. <br>
"At any rate, Vice-Admiral Nechayev informed me an hour ago that you're <br>
to receive the Starfleet Citation for Conspicuous Gallantry for the actions <br>
you took to save Bajor and the space station. I wanted to be the first to <br>
offer you congratulations."<br>
<br>
Picard offered a handshake, and Barclay took it. "I don't know if I deserve <br>
it...it was a false alarm."<br>
<br>
"The point is that you thought it was real, as did all of us. You should be <br>
very proud of yourself; this citation puts you in the same class as Admiral <br>
James Kirk." Picard smiled.<br>
<br>
"Oh, sir, I hope not. I don't want to die without a family like he did."<br>
<br>
Picard knew the lieutenant didn't mean anything by what he said but the <br>
words stung his heart just the same. "Well, I really should be going. I hope <br>
you have a pleasant evening."<br>
<br>
"Oh, by the way, sir, the bridge crew is meeting on the holodeck at 1900 <br>
hours to see my new program. You're welcome to join us; I think you would <br>
like it."<br>
<br>
"Maybe some other time; I...have some paperwork I need to attend to. But <br>
thank you for offering."<br>
<br>
Barclay decided to hang Data's painting some other time. Even though he <br>
knew there was a good reason for it, Captain Picard's presence made him <br>
feel sad, and he wanted to go to the holodeck now. He wished the captain <br>
would have accepted his offer; if anything, Jean-Luc Picard needed his <br>
friends right now.<br>
<br>
The holodeck was chock full of people when he arrived even though the <br>
show wasn't scheduled for another thirty minutes. He decided to start <br>
anyway. "Computer, activate holodeck program Barclay 14."<br>
<br>
A large outdoors setting appeared with birds, flowers, and a grassy mound <br>
in the middle. Then a replica of Barclay himself appeared, but not as the <br>
bridge crew knew him. <br>
<br>
"I am the Goddess of Empathy," the figure declared, sporting flowing white <br>
robes and tossing flower petals at everyone. The Barclay figure wore <br>
heavy, exaggerated make-up, and spoke in an artificially high voice. "Cast <br>
off your inhibitions..."<br>
<br>
Barclay himself watched with deep satisfaction as everyone laughed <br>
themselves to tears. Even Riker, whose beard was beginning to grow back <br>
nicely, couldn't stop chuckling. The lieutenant was glad he finally had so <br>
many friends who could laugh with him, and he was even happier that he <br>
finally felt that he deserved it.<br>
<br>
<br>
The doors to Captain Picard's quarters hissed open and Beverly stood in <br>
the doorway for a moment, not sure if she should just go on in even though <br>
they had been unlocked. From her vantage point she could see Jean-Luc's <br>
photo album lying open on the table, with several pictures next to it; they <br>
were pictures of Tresana Styles in happier times and the captain had been <br>
adding them to his collection. Picard himself stood in front of a window with <br>
his arms folded across his chest looking extremely distraught. <br>
<br>
"I'm sorry, I can come back later-"<br>
<br>
"It's alright. Please come in." Jean-Luc never turned around. The doors <br>
hissed shut behind her, and Beverly approached him slowly. <br>
<br>
"I just came back from Lieutenant Barclay's holodeck program. You really <br>
ought to go see it; I think you'd like it."<br>
<br>
"I will eventually." He still had his back to her. "I just don't feel like it right <br>
now."<br>
<br>
"Jean-Luc I am so sorry-" Beverly had to stop before she lost her <br>
composure. She felt as though she might burst into tears; she hated to see <br>
him like this. She wasn't sure, but he looked as if he had been crying.<br>
<br>
"Well, so am I."<br>
<br>
"I did some more research on the treatment. It wouldn't have worked <br>
anyway." Beverly placed a hand on his shoulder as a single tear managed <br>
to free itself and trickle down her cheek. "I thought it might help if you <br>
knew."<br>
<br>
"It doesn't," he whispered, staring out his window into the gaping <br>
emptiness of outer space, wondering what might have been.<br>
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