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CLOSER TO FINE
The shuttlecraft glided serenely through space towards its destination, which could be seen through the viewport as they grew closer and closer. Doctor Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, and Lieutenant Commander Data, third in corrmand of the same ship, looked forward to getting off the shuttle and onto Space Laboratory Epsilon Gamma 1.
The doctor sighed as the station approached, and Data merely thought to himself that he could get out of this fixed sitting position and flex his android legs, which, like all machinery, electro-chemical or silicon, could begin to feel less than optimum when forced into one position for too long. And he had, of course, remained in the same position for all seven hours of the flight.
"I'll be glad to get out of here and into the station," Beverly said by way of conversation. "Stretch my legs, meet some new people."
"Indeed," replied Data.
They had been specially requested by Doctor Lane of SEG, as the scientists affectionately called their spacelab, to help with some delicate scanning procedures. The laboratory was studying the inhabitants of the planet from orbit rather than on the ground in order to avoid a repeat of what had happened with the Mintakans. They wanted Beverly Crusher there because they had managed to obtain some really interesting samples of alien blood and she was widely known as having had the most experience with analysing such things. Data, of course, was there because of his superior memory capacity and analytical abilities.
The Enterprise, on a diplomatic "first contact" mission, could not be rerouted to SEG, and so the doctor and android had taken a shuttlecraft instead. It hadn't been too bad, Beverly Crusher mused. Data had not pulled one of his marathon talks on her, and she had had a chance to make a tape to send off to her son, and get some reading (a book of Klingon poetry, believe it or not) done. Still, she was glad the journey was over, as Data now hailed the station. "This is Enterprise shuttle to Space Laboratory Epsilon Garrma 1. We are ready to approach and lock on."
Instead of the welcome which they expected, an obviously hysterical voice issued over audio. "No, no, turn around now!"
"May I ask why?" Data was still polite.
"We have a malfunction, shuttle! She's gonna blow!"
"Perhaps I could help..." began Data, but Beverly yelled, "Turn the shuttle around, Data, before we're all killed!"
Obediently Data began the maneuver, but just as they gained speed in the opposite direction, an explosion issued at the back of them. "Damn these things not having warp speed!" shouted Beverly, as Data tried to get them out of the path of the debris from the station. He realized automatically that the explosion had been of such magnitude that no piece of the station would remain large enough to land on the planet intact. The Prime Directive was safe - so far. But even a small piece of the station could do damage up here in space, flying at that speed.
As if on cue, something hit the shuttle. "Data!" said Beverly, able to do nothing else. She could fly a shuttle, of course, but in a situation like this Data was their best chance.
"I am trying to..." but he couldn't finish before another piece of debris hit, then another, then another. The shuttle careened out of control, towards the planet.
"We'll burn up!" said Beverly, though it was more a question than a statement.
"I am trying to keep us stable," her companion said. "But we are going to crash."
Is that all, was Beverly's last thought before the shuttle entered the planet's atmosphere.
Data remained calm - there was no other way for him - as he tried his best to land the shuttle instead of crashing it. He could see the land below getting closer, but he was concentrating on remaining as far away from any settlements as possible. He was lucky to have a positronic brain which enabled him to stay conscious throughout the crash landing, and to get Beverly out of the shuttle.
Starfleet shuttles were made of strong stuff and could not be blown up by impact, but Data knew by the way they hit the hard ground that the shuttle would be useless after this. He set the self-destruct - which would completely vaporise the shuttle - and proceeded to carry Beverly - who had not fainted but most likely passed out from the heat of the descent - from the shuttle. She had been trying to contact the Enterprise on their way down, but Data knew the transmission would not get through due to the disruption in space caused by the explosion of the spacelab. Data suddenly noticed that Beverly's communicator was gone. Was it on the shuttle? If so, in a minute it would be too late. He looked for his. Gone too. Having no time to worry about that, he hurried out of the way of the shuttle carrying the Enterprise doctor in his arms.
When he had settled her, Data reviewed his files on this planet. Epsilon Gamma IV, or Graer, as its people called it, had a humanoid population whose appearance was very light - light skin, light hair, light eyes. They would not fit in well. It was believed, though unconfirmed, that the humanoids were slightly telepathic, perhaps on a par with Vulcans. If so, it would be extremely difficult for them to pass themselves off as Graerians. Data speeded up his review of the files. There had to be some way of disguising themselves.
Four point six two minutes later, he had the answer. The Graerians had a class of people who always wore long, flowing, blue robes which disguised all their features. These people were like holy people, and were treated with much the same kind of respect, except they were more like community psychiatrists who offered advice to all Graerians concerning their private lives. But it was the robes which meant something to Data - they had hoods, and women wore very close-fitting cowls, so they were perfect as a disguise for him and the doctor. But where to get them?
Data looked aside at Beverly. She was awake, and rubbing her head. "Did I faint?" she asked.
"That is unlikely, Doctor," the android replied. "The heat of the shuttlecraft during our entry into the atmosphere overcame you."
Beverly Crusher sighed, smiled. "Oh. I didn't faint. I passed out."
Data said nothing to that, as it was essentially correct.
He explained their situation, concluding with the fact that they could disguise themselves, but that the Enterprise would not realise they were missing until they were overdue to call in - and since they had been en route to a space station, that wasn't for a week. Beverly didn't have her tricorder, either, though Data had managed to save his. "I believe I can sneak into the small village in that direction," he said, indicating, "and procure us the robes which we will need."
"And then?" Beverly wanted to know.
"We survive." It was all he could think of to say. Being an android, he didn't have the same physiological needs as the doctor. But since she was an important part of the crew, he knew he'd have to look after her. Hiding Beverly in a thickly wooded area, Data snuck out at night into the little village to get the robes. His hearing, being superior to that of humans, picked up what the aliens were saying. They mentioned that some of their Helpers (apparently the label for the blue-robed people) were about to go on a kind of pilgrimage to various outlying settlements so as to gain a wider knowledge of their large area of responsibility.
The calculations worked in Data's brain as he realised that this was perfect! He and Beverly could pretend to be Helpers from another district and find an outlying settlement where no one would ask questions. He remembered the Prime Directive: No identification of self or mission, no references to space, no interference... But survival was permitted. Data quietly got himself out of the village and back to where the doctor was waiting.
The next day they had hiked for hours when they came upon a small secluded settlement of three families. All members of this family had the white hair and sky-blue eyes so characteristic of Graerians, though their skin was a little darker due to their way of life. Data now had files on how the Helpers behaved, and as they walked towards the settlement he called out for water.
Immediately, water was brought to them. No one said anything until both Data and the doctor had drunk their fill, then Data, from the depths of his hood, began introductions.
Helpers did not usually give their names, only designations, so Data gave his designation as "rememberer" and Crusher's as "carer". They were welcomed into the settlement - a patriarchal one, by the looks of things - by the head of the three families, who gave his name as Tarl. "It is not often we have Helpers here," he said to them when all were seated inside the hut.
"We are from far away," said the doctor. "We have come to familiarise ourselves with the people over the river." She said this as Data had told her, hoping it was right. But Tarl nodded. "I have heard of such journeys," he said. "We are most pleased to have you. How long will you be staying?"
"A few days," from Data. It was vague enough that they wouldn't get suspicious if the Enterprise duo left early, or stayed longer.
"We will prepare your accomodations," said Tarl. "Please wait here." Motioning to his daughter? niece? he left the hut.
Crusher turned to Data. "I think this is the best disguise we could have chosen," she said eagerly. "It covers our distinctive features and allows us freedom of movement."
"We have to be careful, Doctor," Data reminded her. "The duties of these Helpers are very specific. If we do something uncharacteristic of these people, they may well become suspicious."
The doctor agreed with that. But what could they possibly do that would awaken their suspicions, she wondered. The Helpers had complete freedom on the planet.
***
She soon discovered that the tiniest little thing made the Graerians nervous. When she refused the ceremonial Poar fruit, they cast their eyes sideways at her. She knew this, but it was poisonous to humans, and they had no antidote. She could NOT eat it. Beverly was also worried about the Helper advice Data was dispensing.
He seemed to bury himself in the part pretty quickly, she'd noticed. Data had advised the young woman - who was neither Tarl's daughter nor niece but third wife - to seek a life beyond the settlement, obviously
following his Federation-influenced files on freedom of choice. Beverly would have told her to make a go of it for a few more years. But Data told her to go out and live! And he was the android!
It suddenly struck Beverly that the situation was pretty ironic. Of all the people to be stuck on a planet with, she got Data. Mr. Perfect. Mr. I-Know-Everything. And Mr. Innocent. And yet she couldn't have survived without him. What a strange universe.
It was indeed strange. Custom dictated that Helpers work with the families they were staying with in order to earn their keep, and to give something back to any community they were in. All Graerians wore short white overalls while working - Beverly and Data, however, could not. This was looked on as strange, but nothing was said.
The doctor and science officer worked, slept (well, Data pretended to sleep), ate, talked, and did those things which most rural isolated communities over the galaxies do.
One night, as they lay together in the hut constructed especially for them, the doctor turned to Data. "Data? How long before the Enterprise finds us?"
"We have been on this planet only 70 hours, doctor. The Enterprise will not even realise that Epsilon Gamma 1 Station has been destroyed until at least five days have passed."
"And then they'll come looking?"
"Yes." Data paused, considering his files on human behaviour. Then he said, "But most likely they will think we are dead as well."
"Yeah," answered Crusher. "And we've no way to call the ship even if they do come."
"The equipment here is quite primitive. However, Captain Picard displays a tendency to be thorough."
"You mean you hope he'll look for us?"
Crusher could feel Data's facial expression change in the dark as he said, softly, "Is hope a human emotion?"
***
Captain Picard was missing his science officer. Data was invaluable to him for reasons he couldn't even begin to discuss. He never needed to go to the library computer himself, he just asked Data. "Data, what's your computation of pi? Data, how many people on this planet? Data, what's the fastest Earth animal?" Data knew it all. And it was irritating not to have him around. But more than that, Picard missed his chief medical officer. It wasn't the same as when she'd gone off to Starfleet Medical - he'd resigned himself to that,, and Kate Pulaski had been like an old buddy - too much like himself, he thought upon reflection. This was different - he missed the Beverly woman. And he didn't want to think why.
"Picard to bridge."
"Yes, Captain."
"Mr. Worf, get me Spacelab Epsilon Gamma."
Thus, the Enterprise found out that that particular space station no longer existed. Starfleet surmised that it had been destroyed, since they had had no contact either. There was some magnetic activity in the area which could affect communications, but it was unusual for it to last this long. If the station had been destroyed, they could not even have had time to send out a distress call.
Picard requested that the Enterprise be allowed to cut short the diplomatic duties and divert to Epsilon Gamma and invesitgate. When it was granted, they headed out immediately. It would take two days to get there, however, since they were two warp days away from the rendezvous point of the shuttle. Picard spoke to no one unless it was necessary.
***
When the doctor and the commander had been at the Graerian settlement for three days, something happened which tore it completely. Graerians could not swim - immersing oneself in water was considered a kind of heresy. People who fell in usually drowned because of this. Beverly Crusher and two other women were helping a male youth collect the kelp-like freshwater weed that grew along the banks of the river when the young man fell in.
No one moved. They all looked upset, and then turned away, ready to mourn someone who was still alive and kicking, floundering in the water. Beverly Crusher did not think. She threw off the Helper's robe and dived in, dragging the young man to the river bank, gasping.
As she was administering CPR, the Graerians crowded around. She felt something - her hair was pulling at the side. Beverly lifted a hand to free it from the branch, or whatever it was, and encountered a hand. The two women were yanking her hair, staring at it, looking at its red fibres. She looked up to see both women stepping away from her.
"Who are you?" one asked.
Think, Beverly! Think! What do they teach us for situations like these? Say you're from a far-away land! She fought to remain calm. "I'm a Helper," she said simply. "We're from far away."
"I've never seen anyone like you," said the other woman unnecessarily.
Smiling, the doctor answered. "I know. But we're just foreigners. We mean you no harm."
The women seemed to accept this; but later Beverly and Data had to explain themselves to Tarl. Their story - that they were foreigners - was possible as not all the people on Graer looked exactly alike. But when they asked to see Data, they got a shock. His skin was much like theirs, but not his eyes. And Beverly's skin was tinged the wrong colour, as was her hair. Tarl could have sent them away just on this feeling - that they were not like them. Yet, he liked the two very much, felt they were good people. He secretly wished he could touch them so that he would know for sure whether they were what he thought.
"How will they find us?" Crusher asked Data one night.
"They will scan for us, and they will probably be able to find us quite easily due to my composition."
"These are good people, Data. I hope we haven't had any negative effects on them."
"You know I cannot tell," he responded. These aliens were humanoid, but it was pretty hard to judge their responses. Then he went on. "I do not think so, however."
It eased the doctor's mind and she slept, while Data reviewed all the information he had collected so far on this planet. It would be invaluable once he put it into the ship's library files.
Tarl, too, was pondering his guests. They were not from here, he thought, without knowing exactly what he meant by that. Graerians had no concept of space - to them, the stars were afixed to the dome of the sky and no one knew what was above that. The one with the orange hair could indeed heal people, as she healed Dyen. The one with the yellow eyes knew a lot, but strived to keep quiet about it. They were hiding something, Tarl decided. But he also knew they had no malice towards his people. He decided to embrace them.
And so that might have been the end of it if Beverly had not eaten a Poar fruit by mistake. Carved up, the fruit looked much like another citrus fruit, something like an orange. And the taste was much the same. Beverly was collecting the kelp-weeds again when the cramps began. "Data!" she shouted, figuring that, if the people knew they were from far away, strange names would not matter.
Data came running briskly. "Doctor?"
"Cramps! It had to be the fruit. I've eaten that Poar fruit."
Data said nothing, knowing that the only thing he could say would not be welcome - Poar fruit was poisonous to humans. The doctor looked up at him from her bent-over position. "I know, Data. There's no cure."
"What do you want me to do?" Data asked. There had to be something. Crusher thought about it as she bent further over, trying to stave off the pain. "It's too late to induce vomiting," she said, thinking aloud. "But I heard the Graerians say that they could relieve poisoning by using a kind of mind-meld."
Data looked shocked. His face mimicked shock perfectly. "Doctor - " he began, but she cut him off.
"I know, I know. If he mindmelds with me he'll know about us."
"Perhaps not, if your mind is strong." Data was reviewing files on known telepathic races.
"We have no choice," Beverly decided. "I'll die otherwise."
"Agreed."
***
Data went to find Tarl, who came running immediately, concern all over his light features. "Our people do not know how to relieve poisoning," Data said. "But I heard that your people are able to do this."
"What did Carer eat," Tarl wanted to know, "that this would happen?"
"I don't know," Beverly lied, "but I know the symptoms of poisoning."
Tarl rolled up the sleeves of his cream day-overall. "I must touch your mind," he said.
The doctor was prepared for this, but not for what he said next. "Together we will reach into the mind of your loved one and he will take the pain from you. When the pain is gone you might be able to work on rejecting the poison from your system."
"What?" asked Crusher suddenly. "What loved one?" Did the man mean her son, or...?
Tarl spoke as if to a child. "Your mind has its own mate," he said. "It will reach out to him or her, and then they will take away your pain."
Terrified now, but having no other choice, Beverly Crusher asked, "Will he be forced into it?"
"No. We will ask him, he will agree, and your life will be saved for a few more days."
"All right." She felt resigned as Tarl put his hand on her head, two fingers above each eyebrow in a parody of the Vulcan salute. She felt him reach into her mind, find what he was looking for, grasp it, and then...
Beverly felt herself sailing through space, through deep blackness dotted with points of coloured light, until she saw a beautiful silver fish swimming in that black lake. Beverly and Tarl moved closer—
Captain Picard was on the bridge, looking worried. What could have happened to the Epsilon Gamma station? His first officer was asking Lieutenant Worf about possible incursions into Federation space for the seventh time, and Deanna Troi was frowning at Picard's perceived stress level. Suddenly, Picard heard Beverly Crusher say, very clearly, "Jean-Luc?"
He sat up straight. "Beverly?"
The crew stared at him. "Captain?" asked Troi.
"I heard — " he began, stopped. Was he cracking up? He was sure he'd heard Beverly's voice. But before he could doubt his sanity, Troi smiled. "I feel — " she stopped. It was as if the Enterprise doctor was on the bridge with them. "Captain, I think we should go to your Ready Room."
Picard followed the Counselor into the Ready Room, wondering what was going on. The minute they were inside, Deanna burst out with, "I feel the doctor, Captain. Her presence was on the bridge with us."
"I heard her voice." Picard suddenly felt better.
"She is reaching out to us. She has help, though."
The Counselor made the captain sit down, then she took his hand to intensify any possible contact. "Reach out with your mind," instructed Troi.
Picard closed his eyes, thought, "Beverly?"
"Jean-Luc?"
"Beverly, where are you?"
"On Graer. Epsilon Gamma 1 Station blew up. Ihe shuttle crashed. We're fine... will be fine."
Picard opened his eyes. "They're all right," he told Troi.
But his Counselor was frowning. "The doctor is in pain," was all she said.
"Beverly? Are you all right?"
"I've managed to poison myself with a Poar fruit. I... that's why we need your help. They say that if you... agree to take the pain, I can go on longer. Perhaps the Enterprise will get here before the poison completes its work in my body."
"What can I do?" asked Picard immediately.
"It's dangerous, Captain, and there's a lot of pain."
"Beverly, don't argue."
In his mind, Picard heard Beverly say, "Tarl... quick... do it." Then, in a flash of blinding pain in his midsection, Picard fell from the couch and curled up on the floor.
Deanna Troi felt very severe pain emanating from the captain, but she knew its cause was not physical. It came from a pain-transference technique. Such things were known in the galaxy, but this was the first time she had ever witnessed it. "Sickbay to the Captain's Ready Room," she said into her communicator.
The pain was gone. Beverly Crusher got up from the bed. "It's still there, though, isn't it?"
"The poison, yes. But now you can fight it, without pain."
She tried to leave the hut, but a light-skinned hand on her arm stopped her. "You are not from here," he said.
"What?"
"From this world. You are from another world, somewhere." Beverly only looked down. "Tell me!" he demanded.
"We came here by accident," put in Data from behind. "We meant you no harm."
"I know that. Where are these other worlds?"
"They... when you look into the sky at night, you see stars. Each of those stars is like your planet's sun. And many of them have worlds such as this close to them."
Tarl shook his head. "It is difficult for me," he said, frowning. Data knew his people wouldn't comprehend space for at least another millennium. "But," Tarl went on, "I shall take comfort knowing that ours is not the only... place."
Beverly smiled at him. "And we shall be happy to have a friend here."
"You will always have friends here," the man said before stepping out of the hut.
It was only when they had beamed Dr Crusher and Commander Data aboard and given the doctor the antidote to the poison that the pain left the captain. He got up, shrugged off the offers of help from the nurses and his first officer, and went to find the woman responsible. He buzzed at her quarters and walked in without waiting for permission. Beverly Crusher was sitting cross-legged on her bed, crying. Picard sat gingerly next to her. "Beverly?"
"I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc!" she blubbered. "What you went through for me!"
"It saved your life," he pointed out reasonably.
She wiped at her eyes and looked at him sideways, trying to smile. "It's just... you were the only person who could do it. My mind sought you out with Tarl's help."
"I read Data's report. They're telepathic."
"Yes."
Both knew they were avoiding the issue. But Picard surprised the doctor by asking, "Why me?"
Why you indeed, Crusher wanted to say. Why not Odan, or Wesley? Why you. But she knew why. "We've started to live for each other, Jean-Luc. You must have noticed this. We... we need each other. I needed you, and you were there."
True, the captain wanted to answer. I need you, too, he wanted to say. "I was glad to help," was what he finally did say, getting up, about to leave.
"Don't do this, Jean-Luc."
"What?"
"Ignore it."
"Beverly, we must ignore it. I couldn't do my work otherwise."
"You mean love is a distraction."
"Yes." He wasn't looking at her as he moved towards the door. Beverly Crusher moved to intercept him, and blocked his path. "I'm sorry," she said. "I do know what it's like for you."
Picard touched her face lightly. "Thank you." Their lips just, just touched, and then he turned and went out the door, this time looking back at her.
Ten days later, Picard received a message from Starfleet saying that the explosion on the Epsilon Gamma Station had been the result of some dilithium crystals being over-energised, which had affected not only the power cells but also the orbit stabiliser, leading to a two-fold explosion. The Enterprise had lost a shuttlecraft, Beverly and Data had gained a friend, Tarl had gained knowledge that They Were Not Alone, and he, Picard, had gained an insight into his own motivations. They were based on lack of a love in his life.
Could he operate as the captain with that distraction? he wondered. He didn't want to find out. He wanted things to stay the same. But he knew the laws of nature were against him.
THE END