The Badlands_ Book One Part 18

"Yes, please. It's urgent."

"On my way," she confirmed.

Quickly, Troi hopped a turbolift down to sickbay, absently nodding to crew members she pa.s.sed on the way. She knew all of them. Many had shared some of their most private thoughts and feelings with her, so they viewed her as a close friend. Sometimes that made it difficult for her to walk through the corridors when her mind was on other things.

Right now, Troi was thinking about Will Riker. She had a bad feeling about this. Troi had consulted with Dr. Crusher yesterday, and the doctor had been very worried. She had promised to offer a diagnosis by this morning.

When Deanna saw Beverly, she became even more concerned. Dr. Crusher was visibly shaken, and Troi didn't need empathic powers to see that something very upsetting had occurred.

But when Dr. Crusher explained that Riker might have Mye rs disease, Troi's heart almost stood still. She had heard about Amba.s.sador Myers' misfortune through diplomatic circles. She was as concerned as Starfleet about the wave of terrible diseases that had been unleashed on Federation humanoids once they began coming in physical contact with Carda.s.sians.

"There is no cure, is there?" Troi asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Not yet, but I'm working on a treatment protocol." Crusher said grimly. "He's feeling better this morning. That makes it even harder. I had to tell him that Myers is known to be deceptive in its episodic attacks."

"Where is he?" Deanna asked, glancing into the sickbay. Riker was not in the main wardroom.

"He left. The computer says he's in his room, but he claimed he was going back on duty. I ordered the computer to override his commands." Dr. Crusher rubbed her eyes, which were reddened from staying up all night. "He went off swearing that he would find out what the Carda.s.sians had done to him. I couldn't stop him. I hope he's all right."

"It must be a shock for him," Troi said, feeling stunned herself.

"I had intended to have you here when I told him," the doctor worried, "but he practically ambushed me as soon as I arrived. I didn't have time to call youor security."

Troi made the appropriate soothing remarks. Beverly had obviously been working hard trying to find another explanation for Riker's illness.

"I'll go talk to him now," Troi added. "How sure are you about this diagnosis?"

"It's my chief suspect, but I'm not entirely convinced yet. He tested negative for the infectious agent, but the virus is notoriously difficult to detect." She shrugged in resignation. "However, the symptoms fit perfectly with Myers disease. If there is a reoccurrence, then we'll know for certain."

On the way to Riker's quarters, Troi kept hearing the dire tone in Crusher's voice, and the feeling of dread she sensed inside of her. Dr. Crusher didn't think there was much hope for Riker.

Troi steeled herself before signaling his door.

It took a few moments, but then Riker defiantly called out, "Come in!"

She carefully stepped over the threshold, unsure of what to expect. "Hi, Will."

Riker took one look at her and laughed shortly. "I should have known the doctor would sic you on me."

Troi was startled to see him without a beard, and suddenly she realized she liked him much better without it. He looked younger this way, more vulnerable, like the Riker she once knew.

Then on closer examination, she realized that otherwise he looked awful. There was a reddened blotch on one cheekbone, and his neck seemed mottled, too. His general appearance was disheveled. He was wearing his favorite blue s.h.i.+rt, but it looked wrinkled.

"I'm not going back to sickbay," he told her flatly, pacing back and forth through the living room.

Troi seated herself on the couch. "That's not the issue."

"Oh?" Riker raised one brow. "Then you're just here to a.n.a.lyze me."

"I thought you would want to talk about this, Will."

"Well, you can save your concern. I don't have Myers disease."

Troi tried to breathe regularly. It was difficult to block his turbulent emotions when she was this close to him. With others, it was easier to resist the emotional pain. But she had been intimate with Riker, and even though it was a long time ago, it left her somewhat more open to him.

"Why don't you think it's Myers disease?" she asked.

"The Carda.s.sians did something to me," Riker insisted. "They disabled the shuttlecraft, and there's no telling what else they did while I was on that wars.h.i.+p."

"Then why wasn't Data affected?" she asked.

Riker looked away. "That agent, Jos Mengred, he was interested in Data. He may have given orders not to harm him."

Troi considered the problem. Riker was having a typical denial reaction. He didn't want to accept the possibility that he faced a life battling an incapacitating illness. And she didn't need to rush the process of acceptance.

"Well, at least you got a shave out of this," she said lightly.

"That's not all she threatened me with. Look at this!" His fingers ran through his hair, pulling out thick clumps. Hair s.h.i.+fted down to the carpet.

"Oh no," Troi whispered.

"Started last night. You should have seen my pillow this morning." He shook his head. "Dr. Crusher lasered off my beard while I was still half-delirious. She wanted to do my head this morning, but I left before she could get hold of the laser-cutter."

Troi went closer to see. His hair was falling out in clumps, leaving bare spots. That was partly why he looked so wild and unkempt.

"You know, if you cut it short, it won't be as likely to fall out," Deanna said evenly.

He started to run his hand through his hair, then reconsidered the damage that would cause. "I don't care if I go bald. I just want to find out what's going on."

"Well, you can't go around the s.h.i.+p looking like that," she said. "If you saw one of your officers in that condition, you would give them a demerit on the weekly crew report."

Riker relaxed slightly. "Yeah, I suppose that's true."

"Let me get you into s.h.i.+p-shape condition," Troi told him. "Where's your laser cutter?"

"I could go to the barber," Riker said warily.

Troi pushed him back down. "I'll have you know, I'm a talented hair stylist. I should have opened a little shop on Betazed." She rummaged through the top drawer. "Ah, here it is."

Troi made Riker sit down on the chair under the light. He seemed tense, but she keep talking about her cousin who had taught her how to cut hair. His shoulders seemed to ease after a while, as she expertly flashed the laser cutter along the ends of his hair. Riker had been wearing it longer lately, so she cut off quite a bit, leaving it only a centimeter along the sides, and a few centimeters on top.

"There, that looks wonderful on you," she told him, stepping back slightly. She didn't want to mention that the back of his head was quite bald in patches. From the front it looked good. "You look very tough. I'd say you could go completely smooth, but we don't want to threaten the captain."

Riker gave her a grateful smile. But she still sensed that edge in him that always wanted to maintain control. As he examined his much shorter hair in the mirror, he nodded in approval.

Then he glanced down at his wrinkled s.h.i.+rt. "I have to change into my uniform."

"Don't you think you should rest first?" Troi suggested. "You're still very ill. You would probably feel better if you lay down on the couch and relaxed."

"I have to find Data. He started work last night on recalibrating a probe to look for subs.p.a.ce carrier wave particles." He went to his closet to get a uniform. "I have to find out what the Carda.s.sians did to me."

"You've been ordered to stay off duty."

"I know. I'm not going to the bridge." Riker pulled out a red-and-black uniform and went into the other room to change.

Troi hesitated, wondering if she should call Dr. Crusher. But unless Crusher sedated him again, Riker wouldn't stand for bed rest right now. He needed something to occupy his mind.

"As long as you alert sickbay if you start to feel worse," she called.

He emerged, looking pale but competent. "I'm fine."

She stopped him at the door. "I mean it, Will."

Impatiently he nodded. "I understand. I'll check on Data, then come back here to work. Does that make you feel better?"

"Yes." But she didn't feel better. She paused in the corridor watching him walk to the turbolift. He stood very tall, and her heart ached for him at the sight of the bald patches on the back of bis head. He was trying so hard to not think about the worst because the worst was unthinkable. She wasn't sure what else she could do to help him.

She sighed as he disappeared into the turbolift. Captain Picard should be immediately informed about Riker's reaction to the bad news, she thought, even if it did make her late for her appointment with Ensign Ro. After the reception last night, the captain had asked her to have a talk with Ro.

Troi wasn't sure what she could do to help the ensign, either. When a humanoid went through the terrible things that Ro had experienced under the Carda.s.sian occupation a full recovery was problematic. Ro had worked out some form of socialization, and she had made it through the Academy, but Troi had serious doubts about Ro's long term stability. In Troi's opinion, Ro was a time bomb that could go off at any moment.

Jos Mengred decided to visit Counselor Troi first thing in the morning. The Betazoid had been very accommodating last night, much more cosmopolitan than the other crewmembers, including Captain Picard. And she was the s.h.i.+p's counselor, with intimate knowledge of every person on board the Enterprise.

In many ways, Counselor Troi performed a similar function to his on board Commander Ocett's wars.h.i.+p. Like Troi, he kept an eye on everyone and knew exactly what they wanted, what they felt, and what their weaknesses were.

Mengred dispatched Pakat to the bridge to oversee the survey operations. He didn't believe for a moment that it was a concidence that the Enterprise, had been a.s.signed an ordinary survey mission of the sector mat just happened to border Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce. But he was also quite sure that on the bridge, it would appear that a survey mission was underway.

Accompanied by one guard, Mengred proceeded to Counselor Troi's office. He was following instinct, as he usually did in his work. Over the years, as an agent for the Obsidian Order, he had realized that people subtly advertised the information that they held. The hard part was getting it out of them.

Even that wasn't so difficult once you knew what you were doing.

The office was open, so the guard escorted him inside. It took them a moment or two to ascertain that Counselor Troi was not yet in.

What trust ing people, to leave their doors unlocked, Mengred thought. He would make the most of this opportunity.

The security guard, who had introduced herself as Lieutenant Rev, took up a station near the door. Mengred had tried talking to her, but she knew better than to do more than exchange a few pleasantries. Mengred understood security personnelthey were trained to be suspicious of friendly behavior. So after that, he maintained a wary silence with her, knowing that would soon lull her into complacency.

Mengred wandered around the s.p.a.cious room. There were several sets of couches and chairs arranged for conversational purposes. At a sharp look from the guard, Mengred gave the counselor's desk with its computer monitor a wide berth.

A painting next to the security guard caught his attention. It was an image of Deanna Troi as seen from a distance. As he drew closer, the colors fragmented until they resolved into tiny dots of pure color.

"Very unusual," Mengred commented. Then he noticed the signature in the cornerData. "The android did this?"

Rev glanced at Mengred, then the painting. "Yes, Commander Data is an artist."

Mengred waited until Rev's eyes slipped back to the painting. Then his thumb pressed the tip of his little finger. High frequency EM waves were emitted.

Rev hesitated, her gaze fixed on the painting. Mengred cleared his throat, but she didn't move. The EM waves caused a vibration in the occipital bone at the base of the cranium through which the medulla oblon-gata pa.s.sed, linking the spinal column with the brain. This vibration extended to the adjoining bones of the skull, interfering with the firing of neurons and sensory transmissions from the spinal column. The result was a fugue-like state that could last up to several minutes.

Mengred moved quickly around the desk. He knew he was risking discovery if the counselor returned or if Rev snapped out of the trance too soon. But it was worth the risk. He wasn't worried about the internal sensorsthe range of the cone of EM stunning waves was very short, and it wasn't likely they had reached the sensors in the ceiling.

Mengred found a locked drawer and inserted the nail of his middle finger. He counted five heartbeats before the locking mechanism was triggered. On a Carda.s.sian lock, it would have taken at least a dozen heartbeats.

The drawer slid open, revealing a padd. Mengred accessed the short term memory systems. People rarely cleared out their short term files, and handheld units were known to save up to several weeks worth of data automatically. Accessing the short-term memory wouldn't activate the computer uplink which could alert the counselor or security that someone was using her system.

He had to insert a virus that would open the data files when the proper code was supplied. He keyed in the code on the padd. A string of file-names of the latest data inputs appeared on the screen.

Mengred inserted the tip of his forefinger into the download port and copied the entire memory file into his fingertip database. He wiped the transaction from the memory file and shut down the unit.

He returned the padd to exactly the same position and closed the drawer. It locked automatically. How convenient Now he wouldn't have to take the time to relock it.

Mengred hurried back to the security guard's side, and took up exactly the same position. So Rev wouldn't notice anything unusual, Mengred was turning away when Rev shook her head, coming out of the fugue state.

"Machines can do incredible things," Mengred said, gesturing back to the painting. "It's mesmerizing...."

"Yes ...," Rev said, glancing from him to the painting again.

Mengred continued his tour of the room as if nothing had happened. Rev shook her head before resettling into her guard position. He was certain she was not aware of the lapse of time.

He sat down on the couch and pulled out his own hand unit With his back turned to the guard, he inserted his finger-port. The information from the padd downloaded into his hand unit.

In no time, the latest entries were on his screen. Several were about Ensign Ro. Last week the Bajoran had been permanently a.s.signed to the Enterprise. She had been present when Captain Picard had betrayed Admiral Kennelly's pact with the Obsidian Order. Kennelly had agreed that Starfleet would locate the terrorists and lure them out so Carda.s.sian wars.h.i.+ps could destroy them.

As Mengred scanned the data on Ro, noting her discipline problems, he considered how unlikely it was that such a woman had destroyed Enabran Tain's carefully laid plans. Attacking the Federation outpost and making it look like Bajorans had done it had been easy compared to locating an admiral in Starfleet who could be swayed by Carda.s.sian persuasion.

Mengred glanced up at the security guard and smiled. Rev had no idea he had just made off with a treasure trove of information.

He would have plenty of time later to a.s.sess the files he had obtained, but he enjoyed examining it right under Rev's eyes. He ran through the rest of the data files, picking up knowledge of crew weaknesses in several key leaders.h.i.+p areas. He noted Troi's opinion of each officer or technician, but her rating system was soft, with carefully weighed pros and cons in each report.

Mengred paused when he crossed a name he knew Lieutenant Worf. Troi was a.n.a.lyzing Worf's behavior during the recent conclusion of the Klingon civil war. Avidly, he read about the murder of K'Ehleyr, the mother of Worf's child. Troi mentioned that Worf was relieved that his family name was finally cleared when the Duras family challenge failed to gain the leaders.h.i.+p of the Klingon High Council.

Tain will be pleased, Mengred thought. Carda.s.sian knowledge of the details of the recent Klingon civil war was insufficient at best The last entry concerned Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

The entry was cryptic, but revealing. Troi had theorized that Picard's abduction by the Borg had revived his old fears of being drawn into his family's wine-making business and leading a life that was not his own. The Borg finally forced him to conform and subjugate his own will to that of the overpowering 'family,' the report noted.

So, a year after the Borg defeat at Wolf 359, Picard was still haunted by the memory of his a.s.similation. Tain would be pleased with that bit of information, too.

Mengred closed his hand unit, feeling quite invigorated. This a.s.signment should offer no trouble at all.

He was further delighted when the door opened and Ensign Ro walked in. She stopped in midswagger, her mouth opening at the sight of Mengred.

Then she noticed the guard. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Counselor Troi's notations on the Bajoran were fresh in his mind. Mengred couldn't resist sowing some dissension among the crew. "I suppose I'm here for the same reason you are. Apparently Starfleet can't make up its mind between the Carda.s.sians and the Bajorans."

Ro glared at him. "Starfleet knows better than to trust Carda.s.sians."

Mengred stood up to go closer to her, knowing she would hate that. "I'm here, aren't I?"