Star Trek: Cruel Mercy

Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1
From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (patrick lane parker)
Subject: _Cruel_Mercy_ PARTS I and II
Message-ID: <plp1.708469717@Ra.MsState.Edu>
Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu
Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Sat, 13 Jun 1992 21:08:37 GMT
Lines: 801




Star Trek
The New Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_I_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

Captain's Log, Stardate 48923.53.  The Enterprise is
en route to Earth, where the crew will receive a much-
needed layover of one week.  During this time, a team
of Enterprise engineers and Earth-One technicians will
install the Enterprise's newly improved navigational
deflector arrays.

* * * * *

      As the Galaxy class starship silently slid past Saturn, the captain
viewed the rings in wonder.  No matter how many wondrous things he saw in his
travels, he was always impressed with the beauty of Sol's light reflecting off
the bands of dust and ice crystals that orbited the planet.  It was always
good to return to this system.
      It had been said that all human derived races felt a pull toward the
green and blue home world.  Whether this was true, or it was just contagious
excitement, most of the crew was looking out the port viewers and windows in
barely contained anticipation.  Of course bridge duty often had it's
advantages, and that day the bridge crew watched on the main viewer as the
massive, but graceful starship sailed past the ringed planet.
      As they approached Mars, the Captain glanced up at the Klingon security
officer manning the comm station behind him.  "Communications channel open to
Earth-One, please."  As the Klingon was complying, the Captain straightened
the front of his jacket and sat up straight in his command chair.  He then
looked up at the 3D communication sensor array and smiled.
      "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise, requesting docking
clearance."  This was, of course a formality.  Earth-One knew to expect him
and had tracked the Enterprise since long before it dropped out of warp speed
near Pluto.
      "Earth-One docking control to Enterprise, you are cleared to dock.
Please come around to port Alpha-four-three and initiate standard docking
sequence."
      As they rounded the monolithic station and initiated standard docking
sequence, Worf announced the arrival of a priority message from planetside for
Lt. Commander Geordi LaForge and Dr. Beverly Crusher.  The Captain tapped his
comm badge.  "Dr. Crusher, Mr. LaForge, report to the bridge, please."  In a
couple of minutes, the Chief Engineer and the Doctor stepped off the main
turbolift.
      Picard nodded and Worf placed the message on the main viewer.  It was
Dr. Kate Pulaski at Starfleet Medical.  Everybody on the bridge was pleasantly
surprised to see her except Data, who raised his eyebrows and contemplated the
possible justifications for Dr. Pulaski contacting the Enterprise on a
priority channel.
      "Captain."  She nodded, acknowledging Picard, then turned to Geordi.
"Geordi, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.  Your mother is here at
Starfleet Medical Headquarters in a coma.  She was brought here after
collapsing at her home outside San Francisco.  We have diagnosed her as having
developed Boliara's Disorder."  She looked like she was going to continue, but
fell silent.  Beverly Crusher frowned.
      Geordi stepped forward, his forehead creased with concern.  "Boliara's
Disorder, what's that?  Will she be OK?"  Kate Pulaski looked for an instant
like she was looking for the right words.  Before she could find them, Data
turned around halfway in his chair at the operations station.  The android
looked at Geordi and his voice took on the tone of a lecture.
      "Boliara's disease, first diagnosed 124 years ago by Dr. Lorien
Boliara..."  He tilted his head to the right slightly and continued.  "It is a
rare neuromuscular disfunction.  Since it's discovery, there have only been
four known cases, now five.  It is a condition that attacks human
neuromuscular pathways causing intermittent coma, pain, and loss of motor
control.  None of the first four cases survived the onset of the disease for
more than..."  Data stopped, his mouth still open.  Suddenly realizing how
this related to his friend, he stopped his monologue and stared contritely at
Geordi.
      Geordi felt his chest constricting.  He looked at Dr. Pulaski and opened
his mouth to speak, paused and swallowed.  Counselor Troi frowned and stood up
from her chair.  Dr. Crusher grabbed Geordi's elbow to steady him.
      Dr. Pulaski quickly continued.  "We are trying a couple of treatments,
but Dr. Crusher was part of the medical team that treated the last confirmed
case of Boliara's disease and we need her help down here."
      "We'll be right there."  Said Dr. Crusher as she and Geordi started for
the turbolift doors.
      "Mr. LaForge."  Geordi turned around to the Captain. "Good luck, Mr.
LaForge."

* * * * *

      <Deanna, dear, Don't you think it was time you were beaming down.  I am
waiting for you.>
      Counselor Troi was in her room getting ready to disembark.  She looked
around, surprised.  Then realized the voice was in her head.
      <Mother.  I'm not scheduled to beam down for another hour yet.  What are
you doing on Earth, anyway?>
      <Oh, I'm here at a diplomatic meeting.  These diplomats, however, are
possibly the most shallow minded creatures in the entire Federation.  It
speaks poorly of their collective races that they were chosen as ambassadors.>
      Deanna smiled at her mother's candid thoughts.  The Betazoids,
particularly the females, were perhaps the most open humanoids in the
Federation.  Deanna still thought it odd that an individual as brutally honest
as Lwaxana Troi be selected as ambassador for Betazed.
      <Really, dear!  How can you think that way about your loving mother.  Oh
well, are you beaming down yet?  Mr. Homm is preparing you a meal.  Your
favorite Earth dish; almondine trout, English peas and wine.>
      <Mother, I told you that I cannot beam down for another hour.  Besides,
almondine trout is hardly my favorite Earth dish!>
      <Another hour!  Your trout will be cold by then.>
      <Goodbye, mother.  I'll see you in an hour or so.>
      <Goodbye, that is such a final sounding word.  Remember, dear I am
always with you...Hmmm English peas, perhaps I should invite Jean-Luc to
dinner.>
      Troi started to reply that Captain Picard was French, not English, but
she felt her mother's presence leave her mind before she could finish the
thought.  She continued packing for another fifteen minutes.  She wanted to go
down to Ten-Forward and get one of Guinan's famous fudge sundaes, but that
would ruin her dinner.  Cold trout, indeed!  Perhaps she should go get that
sundae.
      As she started to go to the door, her communicator beeped.  It was Data.
      "Counselor, I have just been informed that your mother is expecting you
for dinner tonight.  Had I been aware of this, I would have modified the
computer-generated beam-down schedule to place you at an earlier time slot."
      "Well, actually, Data, I ..."
      "Do not fear, Counselor.  I just rescheduled your transporter time.  You
are now scheduled for beam-down in eight minutes."
      "Data, you should not have gone to the trouble."
      "Counselor.  I have not 'gone to any trouble.'  I am sure you realize it
only took a small fraction of my attention.  I only hope that you are able to
make it to your dinner engagement on time"
      Deanna sighed and rubbed her temples.  "Thank you, Data.  I appreciate
your thoughtfulness."
      On the bridge, Data turned back to his console, pleased that he had been
able to salvage Counselor Troi's dinner plans. 

* * * * *

      Doctors Pulaski and Crusher stood at the foot of the bed examining the
flashing charts.  Dr. Pulaski was filling Dr. Crusher in on the treatments
that had been tried.  Geordi was standing at the side of his mother's bed
looking helplessly at her.  A neuroscanner hovered over her head, constantly
feeding vast amounts of data to the medical computers,  and a pair of
neuroprobes were attached to her temples.  A pressure I.V. was strapped to her
upper arm and it would hiss periodically, injecting various fluids into her
body.  Despite being unconscious, her hand or cheek would occasionally twitch.
Geordi had never seen his mother so helpless as this, and it frightened him.
      Dr. Crusher took him by the elbow and led him away from the bed.  "In
cases like this, the neuroprobe can only take the edge off the pain.  To block
the pain completely could shut down the neural subprocessors in her brain that
control cardiac and respiratory function."
      "Let me get this straight, doctor: you could block the, but then she'd
die?"  He tilted his head back and blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing out.
      "It's quite possible.  We are trying to reduce the pain levels as much
as possible and still maintain normal bodily functions; a pretty tricky task."
      Dr. Pulaski continued.  "Right now she is pretty stable, so we are going
to begin running some more analyses on the data we have collected.  With
Boliara's Disorder, each new case we get adds a great deal to what we know
about how the disease works.  I think we can beat this thing this time."  She
smiled at Geordi.
      One of the computers beeped and the Doctors turned back to their
patient.  "Geordi, she is coming around."  Geordi stepped over to the bed and
leaned over, watching her eyelids flutter.
      "Mom." Geordi reached out and took her hand in his.  Slowly his mother
opened her eyes and focussed on her son.
      Her lips quivered.  "Am I dead and gone to heaven?"
      Geordi smiled and squeezed her hand.  "No, mom, you're not dead.  You're
OK.  We've got you at Starfleet Medical.  You fainted, but you're gonna be
OK."  Geordi couldn't tell if she had just squeezed his hand back or if it was
a muscular twitch.  He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
      "Oh, Geordi, It is so good to see you again.  It has been too long."
Geordi leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.  She tried to hug him, but
began trembling.
      "Geordi, I'm shaking.  What is the matter with me?"
      Before he could say anything her muscles clinched up and she screamed.
The pressure hypo on her arm discharged and her body began jerking.  Dr.
Crusher rushed over and began pushing buttons on the neuroprobe while Dr.
Pulaski ran a medicorder over her patient's chest.  A Vulcan intern came and
led the worried engineer away to allow the doctors room to work.  As he was
leaving he strained to see and hear the doctors at work.
      "We need eight units of Trioxin...neural degeneration in the
medulla...Alpha-Dextrin, 20 units...NURSE!..."

* * * * *

      Will Riker sat in his quarters fidgeting.  He looked at his chronometer
for the hundredth time.  He and Deanna Troi had planned to beam down to
Memphis tonight.  He had heard about this fabulous jazz club on the river and
he had asked his long-time friend to accompany him.  She had agreed, but said
that she had to eat dinner with her mother first.
      The Commander was experiencing what Deanna would call 'cognitive
dissonance.'  He was torn between desperately needing his own command and
desperately wanting Deanna Troi.  He could not let it interfere with his
duties, and few people even knew that it bothered him.  Imzadi knew, though.
They had an 'agreement' because it was impossible for them to be any closer
right now, but it still gnawed at him.  The fact that their situation was of
indefinite duration made it even worse.
      He called down to Starfleet Medical again to check on the condition of
Geordi's mom.  The intern that answered told him that there was 'STILL no
indication, and that they were STILL DAMNED busy...'"  The communication
channel went dead.  Riker wondered if every doctor in the Federation was as
single minded and cranky as the ones he knew.
      He checked the time and decided he had to do something or he would go
stir-crazy waiting for Deanna.  He looked around his room; Trombone, no, duty
rosters, no.  Then his eyes fell upon his Anbo-Jitsu rod neatly stored beside
his bed.
      "Definitely time for a short match before she gets back."  He quickly
got dressed and, grabbing his sensor-rod, made for the holodeck.

* * * * *

      Deanna Troi sat in her mother's suite fidgeting.  She had pushed the
fish around on her plate until there at least appeared to be less than when
she had been served.  Mr. Homm, Lwaxana's tall, grey skinned valet noticed
that Deanna appeared to be finished burying the fish under the English peas,
and silently removed her plate from the table.  Deanna covertly smiled a
thankful smile at Mr. Homm, who smiled back and disappeared into the other
room.
      "So, mother, what is your diplomatic meeting about?"
      <Darling, I fear your abilities are going to waste on the Enterprise.
Why do you insist on using this backward verbal communication?>
      "Mother, I speak verbally because I work around humans.  You know as
well as I that human communication is far more complex than the verbal
component."
      <Oh, do I?>  Lwaxana frowned.
      <...and besides, my mental powers are not going to waste on board the
Enterprise.  In fact, I am becoming mentally stronger.>  Deanna and her mother
shared a smile at that.  <You have, however, avoided my question, mother.
What is the meeting about?>
      <Oh, nothing really...The Cardassians are wasting our time with peace
talks again. They don't intend to sign a pact with the Federation any more
than I intend to marry that Klingon security officer of yours.>
      <Then why did they send the ambassador here?  Surely you ought to be
able to determine that just by being near him.>
      <Oh, I don't know and neither does he.  They have only told him what is
necessary for him to come here and distract us with talk.>
      <Have you told the President yet?>
      <Yes, but you know how he is...>  The older Troi shrugged. 
      At this point, Mr. Homm came out of the other room bearing a covered
silver dish, which he placed in front of Deanna.  He lifted the lid and
revealed an elaborate chocolate fudge sundae.  She smiled a 'Thank-You-God'
smile at Mr. Homm, who quietly smiled and presented Deanna with a spoon.

* * * * *

      "C-C-Commander..."
      "Huh?  Oh, hey Reg,"  said Geordi, raising his head.  He had fallen
asleep at a table in the Medical Commissary and he was not completely awake.
"What're you doing here Reg?"
      "Just -uh- checking.  You know, sir."  Reginald Barclay looked up at the
ceiling as if he would find a cue card with the right words to say floating
over LaForge's head.  "The -uh- guys in Engineering were wondering how -uh-
your mother is doing.  The shy engineer had been standing with his arms by his
side, but he became more uncomfortable and folded them in front of his chest
to have something for them to do.
      "She is in a coma but the doctors are doing what they can."
      "Well ... Are -uh- you ..." Barclay looked down and swallowed.  " Are
you -uh- OK?  You ought to c-come back to the Enterprise and get some sleep.
You know?"
      "No, I'll be OK here, but there's something I'd like you to do for me.
I'll probably be here with mom for the remainder of the layover and I need you
to head up the project for replacing the navigational deflector arrays."
      Barclay was positively ecstatic.  "Great!, -uh-  Who's on the team?"
      "Whoever you think would be best, Reg.  You are the most qualified man
to lead this project.  This is your baby."
      "Thanks, I think I should have Gomez and Baker do the harmonic analysis,
and -uh- Fredricks can install the data m-models into the ..."
      "Whoever you think best, Reg.  Now go get some rest so you can get
started on that tomorrow."

* * * * *

      Troi was feeling wonderful now.  She'd had a nice conversation with her
mother, and Mr. Homm's sundae certainly didn't hurt.  Now she was looking
forward to the evening with Will.  She was almost skipping on her way back
from the transporter.  Thinking about what to wear, she almost ran over Reg
Barclay when she exited the transporter room.
      "Good evening, Reginald.  You seem to be in a good mood."  She smiled a
charming smile.
      "Yeah, -uh- Yes ma'am.  I was sent by the fellas in engineering to see
if Lt. Commander LaForge was doing OK."  Counselor frowned at the thought of
the engineers placing this uncomfortable task on Reginald.  "But when I got
there he put me in charge of the navigational deflector p-project."
      Deanna could physically feel the excitement and pride coming from the
engineer.  "That's great, Reginald!  He couldn't have picked a more capable
man.  Did you find out how he and his mother are doing?"
      "W-well...Geor, -uh- Lt. Commander LaForge looked tired, but he said he
would be OK."  Now Reginald realized that Geordi had distracted him away from
his mission with talk of the project.
      "Thank you.  I'm sure the Lt. Commander appreciated your thoughtful
visit.  I'll see you later, Reginald."  She waved and started back down the
corridor.
      "Bye, Counselor."  Barclay started back toward his quarters.
      The more she thought about Geordi's situation, the more weighted down by
it she was.  As she walked back to her quarters, she thought about the death
of her father.  She had cried for a long time, but living on Betazed had
helped her to come to terms with her grief.  There it was impossible to hide a
feeling from others.  It was much more difficult for some humans to get a grip
on their feelings because they tried to hide their emotions.
      By the time she got to her quarters she was thoroughly worked-up over
Geordi.  She decided she had better go see him.  She paused outside her
quarters, then headed down the hall to the Commander's room.  Will would
understand, he always did.

* * * * *

      Geordi sat at the same table where Lt. Barclay had left him.  He was
resting his head on his hands and waiting for the doctors to come out and tell
him how everything was going.  His mind was running in circles.  He was
thinking about having been sick and how his mother had cared for him, thinking
about having been born blind and how his mother had done everything possible
to help him.  It had been her efforts that allowed the experimental VISOR
technology to be tested on him.  She had encouraged him when the going got
rough in the Academy.  Now he sat helpless while the woman who gave him
everything was in dire need of help.
      "Geordi?"
      The engineer looked up, adjusted his VISOR.  "Counselor.  How's
everything going with you?"  He tried to put on a smile.
      "I might ask you that question."  She pulled a chair up and sat opposite
Geordi.
      "Well, the jury's still out.  The doctors are working on her now, trying
to stabilize her, but beyond that I haven't heard."  He scratched the back of
his head, then leaned on the table with his elbows.
      "You feel helpless.  I feel as if you are about to burst."
      Geordi felt his chest tighten up again, and swallowed.  He took a deep
breath trying to get his chest to relax.  Deanna reached out and took his
hands in hers.  At the same time she reached inward, lowering her defenses
that she found necessary for her to function around large groups of humans.
      As Geordi felt the surge of emotion leave him like an exploding dam, she
felt the tide of emotion roll over her.  The counselor and the counseled sat
and cried until there were no more tears.  She then convinced Geordi to go to
bed and get some rest so he could be strong for his mother the next day.

* * * * *

      The bearded starfleet officer sat alone in the corner of the dimly lit
room.  Around the room sat scattered groups of twos and threes.  On the stage
a woman in a red dress sang a song that made the officer's gut churn.   As the
woman's song wound to a close there was scattered applause and a waitress came
over to the officer's table. 
      "Y'all want another drink?"  The waitress glanced at the empty chair
opposite the dark haired man, then back at the man himself.
      "Yeah."
      She picked up the two empty glasses and placed them on her tray, then
slid away.  The officer cradled his head in his hands and stared at the table.
The room was already beginning to list to the side.  He thought about calling
for the android to check the inertial dampeners, then remembered he wasn't in
space.  He was in Memphis. He was in a jazz/blues bar. And he was talking to
himself now.
      "Imzadi, why?  Why can't we..."  He didn't know how to finish the
sentence.  He had been through this a dozen times with his ex-lover, and now a
billion times in his mind.  They had good reasons that they couldn't be any
closer right now.  He had to have his own starship.  She defined herself by
the number of people that she could help.  But these and numerous other
reasons couldn't stop them from wanting it.
      The waitress brought two drinks.  She set one in front of the drunken
Commander, and set the other in front of the chair next to him.  Then she
moved off to other tables.  The Commander reached over and picked up the drink
that was not sitting across from him, downed it, then put it down.
      "Goodness, Imzadi!  You sure are guzzling the rotgut tonight."
      He had already turned down two chances to have his own command,
partially because of Deanna Troi - Imzadi to him.  Deanna had turned down
numerous opportunities, both inside and outside Starfleet.  Her motivations
were also partially motivated by her Imzadi.  Despite both of them sacrificing
choice opportunities, neither could turn away from their individual dreams to
be with the other.  Will Riker rocked his head in his hands.
      "Oh, Imzadi..."  His voice trailed off.
      "Am I interrupting something, Commander?"
      Commander Riker looked up to see the woman he least expected to see.

* * * * *

Star Trek
The New Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_II_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      "Lwaxana! -uh- Mrs. Troi, What are you doing here?"  Lwaxana Troi was
standing over the intoxicated Will Riker.  She sat down in the chair next to
Riker, wrinkled her nose, and pushed the empty glass away.
      She leaned as close to Riker as she could and still breathe oxygen
instead of alcohol vapor.  Her voice was soft and had her typical air of
authority.  "First of all, Commander, this is not an appropriate activity for
an officer of the Enterprise."
      "Wha...  How did you..."
      "Secondly, you have been throwing around the word 'Imzadi' so carelessly
that any full-Betazoid on this side of the planet would probably be blushing."
      "Oh, you heard that."
      "Dear boy, you can't have expected ME not to feel you thinking that
word.  Your poor alcohol-ridden cortex couldn't stand a chance of blocking
that.  Not that any human could stand a chance mentally against a member of
the Fifth House of Betazed anyway.  Commander, why are you here getting
drunk?"
      Will gave her a look that would freeze nitrogen.  "You should already
know why I am here.  Just use your 'Fifth House' mental prowess to traipse
around in my booze ridden cortex..."  He did not enjoy having his drinking
bout interrupted by any telepath, particularly this one.
      Lwaxana sighed impatiently.  "Will.  I am not inside your mind because
humans have a complex about that sort of thing, but I can guess that this is
about my daughter."
      "Brilliant deduction."
      "If you were to allow me into your mind this wouldn't take even an
instant to clear up.  I would like to help you, but I couldn't possibly use
this primitive verbal communication of yours to communicate the ideas I need
to."
      "I'd rather you didn't.  Now, if you will excuse me, I'll be going."
Riker pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, and promptly collapsed
into a heap on the floor.
      "All right, Commander.  Have it your way - for now."  She stepped around
the chair, leaned down, and pressed his communication badge.  "Oh, transporter
man..."
      From the badge came the sound of a confused transporter operator.  "Yes,
who is this?"
      "Nevermind that.  Lock onto the Commander at this position and beam him
directly to his quarters."
      "Yes ma'am...I've got him now.  I am reading a tremendous amount of
alcohol in his blood.  Do you think I should set the transporter to filter it
out?"
      "No, I think the Commander needs something to remember this night by..."
She stood smiling as the transporter beam took Riker.

* * * * *

      "Doctor, how's she doing this morning?"  Geordi sat in Dr. Pulaski's
office.  He was feeling remarkably good this morning due to the release of
emotion and the sleep last night.
      Dr. Pulaski, however, was looking older than usual.  Having taken
Geordi's mother under wing, she was driving herself beyond her normal working
schedule.  "Not well, Geordi.  We were unable to completely stabilize her
condition, so Dr. Crusher and I sat up monitoring her.  She is more stable
right now, but we have something we think you should see."  Geordi followed
her out of her office and into a turbolift which sped them to Geordi's mother.
      She lay motionless with even more equipment hovering over her than last
time the Lt. Commander saw her.  Over her, the pale blue field of a
restraining field shimmered.  Beverly Crusher sat at a computer console
monitoring the patient.  She waved at Pulaski and Geordi and motioned for them
to come closer so they could talk.
      "I'm sorry, Geordi, but we had to place her in a restraining field to
keep her from hurting herself any more.  She was spasming so violently that
she was knocking herself against the probes and the side of the bed."
      "I understand, Dr. Crusher.  Have you been able to come up with anything
yet?" 
      "Well, actually we have come up with something.  It's kind of risky, but
we may have to fall back on it.  Look at this."  She pulled up a three
dimensional scan of Mrs. LaForge's brain on a holographic projector.  portions
of it were indicated in red.  Labels floated in the air over various lobes of
the brain as it rotated above the table.
      "These red areas are the areas that are currently affected by the
disorder.  If we could temporarily knock out these areas using the neuroprobe,
the pain levels would drop drastically.  But as we said before, these areas
control breathing and heart rate, among other things."  She paused to catch
her breath and punch a few buttons on the computer.
      Dr. Pulaski picked up where Crusher left off.  "But, using the neurodrug
Alpha-Dextrin and the probe, we may be able to reroute these neurons here and
here."  The hologram of the brain zoomed in on the red portion and high-
lighted a set of points.  "These are the actual neural subprocessors that are
controlling cardiac and respiratory output.  If we can reroute the impulses to
these subprocessors that are not in the red area, we can knock out the pain
and spasming almost completely and let the new subprocessors take over
breathing and cardiac control."
      "And that," Crusher added, pointing to the hologram. "if successful,
will give us the time to try to find a cure for the real problem."  The
doctors examined the hologram another moment, looking hopeful.
      "But you said that there was a risk involved?"
      "Yes, Geordi."  Pulaski answered.  "This is pretty risky and I wouldn't
recommend attempting it unless her condition deteriorates.  Right now, she is
pretty stable, and we can start letting our assistants monitor the scanners
while we continue to try to find a safer procedure."
      "We just wanted to let you know what we have come up with so you won't
be surprised if we are forced to attempt it."
      "Thank's.  I know she's in the care of the best doctors around.  If you
need me for anything, I'll be out in the lobby where I won't get in your way."
Crusher and Pulaski gave the Lt. Commander reassuring smiles as he left.

* * * * *

      "Can you believe this?  Have you heard who is heading up this team?
Boy, LaForge's mom must have really gotten to him."  Lieutenants Gomez,
Pierson, Baker, and Fredricks were standing in the main shuttlebay, waiting
for the skiff to arrive with the team of Earth-One technicians and part of the
new deflector array.  Gomez was standing with her arms folded in front of her
chest, taping one foot angrily.  Pierson and Baker were leaning against a
parked shuttle, and Fredricks was fiddling with a data pad.
      Gomez pointed a finger at Pierson and the look in her eye suggested that
fire would shoot forth from that fingertip.  "You've never given him a fair
chance.  Reg Barclay is a damned good engineer, and if you rabble don't give
him too hard a time, I'm sure he'll make a decent team leader.  Lt. Commander
LaForge knows EXACTLY what he is doing, so who are you to second guess him?"
      "Yuh-Yes Ma'am." Pierson snickered behind his hand.  Baker laughed
along.  This prompted Gomez to punch Pierson in the arm and move to stand by
herself a short distance away.  "guh-guh-gawsh, ma'am...I-I-I'm -gulp- sorry" 
Pierson mumbled.
      "Look, you guys," Called Fredricks to the others.  "Here comes the
skiff."
      They all turned around and watched the shuttlebay environment
containment field flash as the long, flattened shuttle passed through it.  The
skiff slowed, then sank to the deck.  There was a hiss as the hatch seal was
broken and the door swung open.  Pierson and Baker moved to help the Earth-One
technicians unload some of their equipment.  One of the techs walked over to
them with a tricorder and smiled.  "Where is the man in charge here?  I need
him to verify the transfer of these materials."
      Pierson spoke up.  "Oh, he's in main engineering right now, running a
check on the power field before we shut 'er down.  He'll be down directly, but
you can scan my badge for the materials."
      "Alrightey."  The tech pointed the tricorder at Pierson, it beeped, and
he checked the display.  "Pierson huh?  Glad to meet ya.  My name is
Michaels."  The two shook hands and began unloading materials.  "So what is
the name of the team leader, so I can introduce myself when he gets here?
      Pierson smiled a wicked smile, but Michaels didn't seem to notice.

* * * * *

      Riker began regaining consciousness, and wished he hadn't.  He was lying
in a heap on the floor of his quarters and did not remember just how he got
there.  He could remember being in Memphis, talking to someone.  As he lay
there his memory returned and he moaned.  The vibrations of the moan hurt his
head.
      He crawled into his bathroom and ran water on his head until he felt a
little better.  He then stripped, took a shower, and ordered the computer to
synthesize him a new uniform. 
      "Damn, that was dumb."  He leaned against the wall of his dressing room
as the replicator generated a clean uniform for him.  He got dressed and
tossed his dirty uniform onto the replicator pad.  "Computer, get rid of that
uniform."  The uniform disintegrated and it's components made their way back
to the ship's stores.
      Still feeling the effects of his first hangover in years, he made his
way to sickbay, where he was greeted by the terse Assistant Chief Medical
Officer; the Vulcan Selar.  Before he could even speak she pointed him to a
table and pulled a medicorder from her smock.  Waving the medicorder at the
Commander, she arched an eyebrow.
      "Alcohol, Commander?"
      "Oh, just get on with it, please doctor!"

* * * * *

      Lt. Barclay finished his tests and ordered the computer to begin the
shutdown of the navigational deflector arrays.  With this done, he smiled and
started down to main shuttlebay, humming.  This wouldn't be too bad, he
thought.
      Arriving at the shuttlebay, he saw that his team was already there.
Pierson, Baker, and several of the techies had the major hardware for the
arrays laid out on the deck, and were cataloging it.  Gomez and another tech
were looking at a terminal.  Fredricks was at another terminal checking the
new deflector programs while a tech huddled over him.  They seemed to be
disagreeing.  The remaining eight techs were going to be removing the existing
deflector arrays from the outer hull today and they were currently crawling
into their vacuum suits.
      Barclay moved over to the terminal where Gomez was working.  Gomez
looked up, obviously excited.
      "Reg, this is great!  The lab figures and the preliminary tests here
show that these new deflectors will increase navigational protection by 120 to
128 percent AND reduce the stress on the defensive shielding power system by
about 13 percent"
      "G-Great.  Have you simulated the effect on the harmonics of the -uh-
main power busses during full phaser yield or warp drive?"  He looked at the
pretty Lt. Gomez.
      "No, but I'll get right on it, I'm glad you reminded me."  She smiled at
him and he quickly averted his eyes as if that would keep him from blushing.
He stood there for another moment feeling awkward, then cleared his throat and
walked away.
      "Freddie, how is ..."  His words caught in his still constricted throat
and he just waved his arms indicating the console that Fredricks was working
on.
      Fredricks looked up from the terminal.  "Pretty good, Reg.  I was just
checking over the data models that we received from Earth-One.  They look
pretty good, but I think we can do better."  The tech that was watching
Fredricks frowned.  Lt. Barclay swallowed, finally clearing the obstruction in
his throat, and told Fredricks to carry on.
      As Barclay picked up a spare datapad and walked off leaving Fredricks
and the Tech arguing about the efficiency of data models, one of the techies
that was cataloging materials stood up, smiled, and introduced himself.
      "Hi, I'm Lieutenant Michaels from Earth-One.  You must be the team
leader here.  Lieutenant Broccoli, I've heard a lot about you."  Barclay
groaned, Pierson and Baker snickered, and Michaels just looked confused.

* * * * *

      Geordi walked up to the slanted ward window and leaned on it, looking in
at his mother lying there.  All the technology connected to her and floating
around her brought back painful memories of Reannon Bonnaventure.
      The Enterprise had captured a Borg trooper after the destruction of a
Federation planet by a Borg scout ship.  They had identified the body that the
Borg had incorporated as a free spirited smuggler named Reannon.  Dr. Crusher
had managed to remove the technology implants, but her blank expression had
shown great emotional damage.  Geordi had taken her under his wing to try to
help dig her soul out from the depths to which the Borg consciousness had
pushed it.
      He had walked with her around the ship talking to her, had protected her
from aliens that wanted revenge on the Borg, had even become quite attached to
her.  Upon coming to her senses and seeing the lives that she had helped to
destroy, she took her own life with one of Dr. Crusher's scalpels.
      Geordi tried to shake the comparison between his mother and Reannon from
his head by thinking only about his mother.  Earlier, she had come around for
a brief time before she returned screaming and spasming to unconsciousness.
She had not even recognized Geordi.  Remembering that blank look took him
right back to his memories of Reannon lying on the deck in a pool of blood.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window.  Soon tears
streaked his face, his jacket, and the window.
      He saw a reflection in the window and tried to stifle the tears.
Failing to do that, he screwed up his courage and turned around to find Wes
Crusher standing behind him looking like he didn't know what to do or say.
      Geordi sniffed  "Hey, Wes-man!  What're you doing here?  Is the Academy
not keeping you busy enough?"  The Lt. Commander forced a smile.
      "Actually yes, I have a pile of...Well no, I mean I'm never too busy..."
He looked at his feet and shuffled them.  "When I tried to contact my mom on
the Enterprise, Data told me what had happened.  I suppose I know how you
feel.  When my dad died..."
      "Hey!  She's not going to die!"  Geordi interrupted him, then tried to
hide that Wes had touched a nerve.  "I mean, your mom and Dr. Pulaski have
this miracle cure that they are about to try."
      "Sorry, Geordi."  Wes had always hated visiting people who were
suffering because he felt totally useless in these kinds of situations.
Nonetheless, he felt that others expected him to be able to help.  "Let's go
sit down and you can tell me about this miracle cure."

* * * * *
     
      Troi felt like she was being run ragged.  This was supposed to be a Rest
& Relaxation layover, but it was turning out to be far from relaxing for her.
Geordi's situation was mentally draining for her, and now she was getting bad
vibes from Will after having to delay last night's date.  Will would have to
wait for the moment.  She did not want to be cruel to him, but she felt that
he was stronger than Geordi right now.  She was about to go talk to Geordi,
and desperately needed to center herself.  Sitting in her office, mental
barriers at full-strength, she meditated.  Just as she was beginning to feel
calmness descend on her, her door beeped to indicate a visitor.  She opened
her eyes and sighed.  "Come in, please."  She smiled as Reginald Barclay
entered.
      "Hello, Reginald.  What can I do for you today."
      Barclay wrung his hands and started in on his spiel at warp nine.
"Counselor, w-wwhat do I do.  Lt. Commander LaForge put me in charge of the
deflector replacement and I can't do it.  I -uh-..."
      "Reginald, calm down.  Last night when I spoke to you, you were pleased
that you had received the assignment.  Sit down and let's talk about what has
changed since then."
      The lieutenant sat down, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and finally
gave up on trying to feel comfortable.  "T-They won't -uh- listen to me.
I..."  He swallowed and wrung his hands again.  "I -uh- don't think I will be
able to get the job done."  He threw his hands in the air, noticed the awkward
motion, and sat on his hands to keep it from happening again.
      "Reginald, do you not trust Commander LaForge?"  The Counselor asked
disarmingly.  This put Barclay back in warp mode.
      "Oh I like him, he's the best.  I -uh- wish he could h-head up this team
and just tell me -uh- what to do."
      "The Lt. Commander can't be up here right now, so he chose you because
he felt like you can get the job done.  He knows you are a good engineer,
Reginald."
      "Yeah, but P-Pierson is not going to listen to me.  He has seniority on
me and now he has the techs calling me B-B-Broccoli."
      "So, Reginald, why do you think Lt. Commander LaForge did not put
Pierson in charge?"
      "Well, I -uh- suppose he d-doesn't know as much as me about deflector
arrays."
      "Right!  So you know you are the one most qualified to oversee this
project.  The others know that too, even though they might not let on.  They
also know that the Lt. Commander expects them to get the job done, so I think
they'll come around and start following your instructions."
      Barclay smiled a big smile.  He still didn't think he was a very good
leader, but he felt better anyway.

* * * * *
     
      Kate Pulaski mumbled while she worked and it was really beginning to get
on Beverly Crusher's nerves.  They'd had to put down their research when Mrs.
LaForge had begun jerking again.  She was trying to scream, but couldn't make
her mouth and diaphragm work properly.  The result was an almost constant
throaty groan that was worse on the doctors' morale than the screaming.
      For the last couple of hours they had been trying everything in their
combined vast knowledge to calm the patient, but the patient would not be
calmed. 
      "The probes are not going to do any more good in this condition."
Pulaski mumbled, leaning back in her chair to stretch her back.  Crusher's
glance showed her ire and she continued pressing buttons on the panel.  "We
need to try the neuron substitution tomorrow, Beverly."
      "Kate,"  Crusher's tone was one that she might use with a child.  "There
is obviously a connection between the sub-molecular structure of the affected
neurons and the change in the enzyme ratio that is indicated by the scanners.
We don't need to perform that operation when we are this close to a
breakthrough."
      "But there is no way to tell the direction of the causality in that
connection.  If the disorder is causing the enzyme imbalance and we try to
correct the enzyme ratio, we could set up a positive feedback loop that would
cause the disorder to spread to the other subprocessors."
      Crusher picked up the line of thought.  "But if the enzyme ratio
imbalance is causing the disorder, and we tamper with the disrupted neurons it
could still initiate that feedback loop."  She slumped back in her chair at
the thought of the no-win situation.
      Pulaski looked at her hands, which were shaking from too much coffee and
too little sleep.  She then looked up.  "Computer, What is the likelihood of
the enzyme imbalance being caused by the disorder, as opposed to the
likelihood of the disorder being caused by the enzyme balance."
      The flat, masculine voice of the computer came back with the answer
almost immediately.  "Probability favors the likelihood of the disorder
causing the enzyme imbalance by 2.3 percent."
      "Computer, if we attempt to change the mapping of the neurons in the
affected area, what is the chance of increasing the enzyme ratio?"
      "53.7 percent."
      Both doctors frowned.  "That high?"  Pulaski mumbled.
      The computer responded to what it interpreted as a query from the
doctor.  "Due to the limited amount of case data, the margin of error is 33.2
percent."

* * * * *
       
      "Basically, Geordi, we have hit a brick wall.  We have found a clue as
to the cause of the disorder, but the computer can't reassure us as to the
likelihood of success."
      The doctors stood at the window to the ward with Wes and Geordi.  They
were looking in at the spasming patient and discussing possibilities.  Geordi
could barely hear them.  He was lost in thoughts of how his mother had helped
him into adulthood.  He could remember coming to her, frustrated with
relationships, frustrated with school, frustrated with his inability to be
like other people because of his VISOR.  She had given him wisdom from her
years of experience.  She had...
      Crusher placed a hand on Geordi's shoulder to bring him out of his
trance.  "We can try to perform the neural remapping, but there is a certain
amount of danger of causing the disorder to spread.  However, in the other
cases, it eventually spread without tampering with the neural mappings.  It's
really up to you."
      Geordi looked back to his mother.  The restraint field shimmered,
resisting her body's efforts to shake itself to pieces.  Mom, what would you
do?  He leaned his throbbing head against the cool glass and tried to decide.
This close to the glass, he could hear her incomplete screams.  The screams
echoed in his mind and disrupted his thoughts even more.
      Pulaski broke in quietly.  "Geordi, Dr. Crusher and I couldn't perform
the operation right now anyway.  We are exhausted past our limits.  Take your
time.  Get some rest and decide tomorrow.  She'll be OK till then."  Pulaski
smiled her reassuring smile, but it was weak.  Geordi did not feel reassured.

* * * * *

      Riker stood outside the door with his hands behind his back.  He shifted
his weight from one foot to the other waiting for the door to open.  It opened
and he looked up into the thin face of Mr. Homm, who silently turned and moved
into the suite.  If Riker had not previously known the silent butler, he would
have mistaken Homm's attitude for disdain.  Instead, he tugged the front of
his jacket down and entered behind Mr. Homm.
      From the other room, he heard Lwaxana's voice.  "Commander Riker, It is
about time you were arriving.  I knew you would be by here soon.  You're
really not such a bad man, but the drinking has got to stop."
      He stepped around the corner and saw Lwaxana sitting on a couch.  he
moved into the room and started to speak.  "I...wanted to come by and
apologize for my actions last night."
      "That is immaterial.  I know that is not your typical response to
frustration.  The point is that I felt it intensely distressing that you were
calling my daughter 'Imzadi' while damaging your mind with alcohol.  It is the
mind that gives that word meaning, and it has more meaning than you can
possibly know."
      "Deanna has explained..."
      "Oh, I am sure that Deanna has shared a great deal of the meaning of
that word with you.  When I am in her mind I can feel that you are a part of
her.  The problem is, as I said last night, this limited verbal communication
of yours.  Even though Deanna has powers that may be amazing to humans, she
still cannot convey the meaning of 'Imzadi' to you."
      The Commander took a seat across the coffee table from Lwaxana.  "How do
the Betazoid people tolerate having their private thoughts laid bare to the
public?  Whenever a Betazoid couple becomes close enough to refer to each
other as 'Imzadi,' everyone on the planet knows.  There would be nothing left
for the couple to share."
      "Oh, quite the contrary, Commander.  'Imzadi' has special meaning
between the individuals in the couple, but it is more than just saying 'lover'
or 'friend' or 'mate.'  When the word is used between two people in the proper
context, it brings ... joy to the rest of the collective consciousness.  When
the word is misused it ..."
      Lwaxana paused looking for words similar to the idea she wanted to
convey.  "... It diminishes the rest of us, as well as the couple."  She sat
back on her couch and watched the Commander for a reaction.
      Riker was not used to being chastened, and he was silent for a moment.
Finally his eyes met Lwaxana's.  "Could you tell me more about what 'Imzadi'
means?  I would really like to be closer to Deanna."
      "No."  Lwaxana almost shouted.  "You miss the point.  I can't TELL it
because it can't be told.  You can never know what 'Imzadi' means, because you
close your mind and hide away behind your feeble mental barriers.  I could
force feed your mind the concept, but it would be a little inappropriate,
don't you think?  You will never be any closer to Deanna until you become more
open minded to others."
      Mr Homm came into the room with a tray containing coffee cups and a pot.
He poured two cups, placed them on the table between Lwaxana and Riker, and
left quietly.  Lwaxana sipped her coffee and returned it to the table.
      "Just as your race will never get beyond where they are now because you
all bury yourself in your individual minds, contemplating your individual
troubles.  I am often surprised that the collective human intellect does not
just collapse in upon itself, sending you all back to an evolutionary state
prior to the apes."
      They both sat quietly.  Lwaxana sipped coffee and watched as the
Commander fought a battle with himself.  He was trying to find a way to defend
the closed-emotioned human mentality, but he found that he couldn't.
      _I_want_to_understand_ he thought.
      Lwaxana smiled  <Do you?>
      _Yes_
      <Then you shall.>
      It only took a few seconds to give the Commander a view of centuries of
Betazed culture, the likes of which he had never conceived of.  She shared her
lifetime of experiences within a moment.  When she was finished, they shared a
smile.
      _So_that's_what_'Imzadi'_means!_

Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!darwin.sura.net!nntp.msstate.edu!Ra.MsState.Edu!plp1
From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (patrick lane parker)
Subject: _Cruel_Mercy_ PARTS III and IV
Message-ID: <plp1.708469769@Ra.MsState.Edu>
Sender: news@ra.msstate.edu
Nntp-Posting-Host: ra.msstate.edu
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Sat, 13 Jun 1992 21:09:29 GMT
Lines: 792


Star Trek
The New Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_III_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      Geordi could not sleep.  He sat at his desk in his quarters, the
computer showing scenes from his childhood.  He flipped through the dozens of
pictures numerous times, each one bringing back a cherished tidbit of memory
that had gotten buried under so much other stuff in his mind.
      A picture of his father, who had died when Geordi was two years old.  He
couldn't even remember the man.  What he did remember was his mother who
raised him by herself.  Geordi had not realized what a difficult
responsibility that had been for his mother until he was grown.
      A picture of Geordi when he was only months old.  His father was holding
him and his mother was smiling proudly at her child.  The only thing out of
place was the child's sightless eyes. 
      A picture of young Geordi LaForge, standing by his mother and modeling
his new VISOR.  There were very few experiences that he could remember from
that age, but this was one that he remembered vividly.  He was terrified by
the shifting bands of light and color when they first clipped the VISOR on and
he "saw."  His mother had coached him as best she could while he learned to
control the accessory.
      A picture of his mother's second wedding.  Her second husband was a good
man, but he'd died soon after the wedding.  A picture of the funeral.
      "Computer, discontinue images and rearchive."
      Lt. Commander LaForge got dressed and wondered down to Main Engineering.
There was only a skeleton crew on duty there, and they were playing cards.  He
waved at them, moved over to the main terminal, and sat down.
      "Computer, what is the status of the navigational deflector project?"
      "The main power feed has been disconnected and rerouted.  The external
navigational deflector arrays have been removed.  The data models have been
updated, but are not in service.  All materials have been catalogued and an
inventory is now appearing on viewer three."
      "Computer, discontinue listing."
      Lt. Commander Laforge was impressed.  He had been worried that Barclay
would have trouble getting the others to follow his lead, but apparently he
had picked a good team and they were getting the work done faster than
expected.  Geordi made a mental note to commend Reg on his good work.
      "Computer, place the duty roster for tomorrow's deflector project team
on viewer three.  Hmmm... Baker, Barclay, Fredricks, Gomez, and Pierson."  Reg
certainly picked the best people, even though Pierson and Baker could
sometimes get out of hand poking fun at Barclay.  Fredricks would be too busy
checking the new data models to cause Reg any problems.  Reg sure shouldn't
get trouble from Gomez.  Geordi secretly thought that Gomez liked Barclay. 
      He smiled to himself.  "Oh, well.  Reg seems to be handling it pretty
well.  Nothing left here for the old Lt. Commander to do." 

* * * * *

      Geordi was at Starfleet Medical bright and early the next morning,
talking with the doctors.  "Have you come up with anything else?"
      Dr. Pulaski sipped on a cup of steaming coffee.  She looked much better
this morning.  "Frankly, no.  We can attempt to swap the neural pathways, like
we talked about yesterday, although the chances of success are still uncertain
at best.  Or we can continue trying to keep her stable and keep her pain
levels down as low as possible."
      "How long can she last without the remapping procedure?"  Geordi leaned
forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees.  He stared at the doctor.
      "I don't know?  Dr. Crusher, you have more experience than I do with
Boliara's Disorder.  What do you think."
      Dr. Crusher shrugged her shoulders.  "We have no way of telling just how
long she could last in her present condition, but we do expect that if
something is not done soon, that the disorder will spread to the unaffected
subprocessors in her brain and we won't even have the option of remapping
cardiac and respiratory functions."
      "Well, doc, it looks like the best bet is to try the remapping
procedure."  Geordi gave her a half smile that seemed more than just a little
forced.
      "We will certainly do everything we can to get your mom back."

* * * * *

      "Awww C'mon, Freddie.  You know it's harmless, and it'll be funny."
      "No.  I don't think he'll be cool about it.  It'll get back to LaForge
and then we'll get it."  Fredricks looked intensely at Pierson for a moment,
then went back to his programming.
      "Oh, be for real.  Broccoli is a pain in the ass, but he won't tell
LaForge on us.  He hasn't ever before."
      Fredricks looked up at Pierson, annoyed at having been interrupted from
his programming.  "Look, I really don't think this is cool, and besides, if he
doesn't tell LaForge I think Gomez will."
      At that moment, Barclay walked into Main Engineering with Baker and
Gomez.  Fredricks was relieved to be able to get away from Pierson for a few
moments.  They all gathered around Barclay to get their instructions for the
day.
      "O-Ok, guys,  Today we gotta fire up the new -uh- power transit and test
the harmonics at nodes f-fourteen through twenty-t-three."  Just like the
Counselor had promised, Barclay had not had any more trouble from his team
since the Earth-One tech had mistakenly called him 'Broccoli.'  He was
actually getting used to giving assignments since he had seen that the team
would do what he said.
      "G-Gomez."  He still couldn't look her in the face when he spoke to her.
"I need you to -ahmmm- G-go up on the catwalk over there and do the harmonics
testing for nodes fourt-t-teen through eighteen.  Baker, you take the rest.
The test points are over there."  They nodded at him.
      "Freddie, you and P-Pierson stay on the computer over there and monitor
the data models.  Uhm...Make sure to w-watch for race conditions and
bottlenecks on the -ahhhm- secondary processors.  Those could cause trouble.
You guys shut the thing d-down if you see any problems over there.  I'll b-
begin the p-power-up slowly so we can have time to, -uh- you know, check it
all real carefully."
      Their meeting broke up and they all began taking their assigned
positions.  Barclay got a datapad and began checking the information on it.
Gomez and Baker got their equipment and began ascending to the catwalks while
Pierson and Fredricks walked over to the console.
      "Man, Freddie, I can't believe he had the nerve to tell YOU about race
conditions and bottlenecks.  He ought to know you're a better programmer than
that."  Pierson whispered as they were taking their places.  Fredricks glanced
over at Pierson with a barely controlled look of irritation.  They got to
their console and Pierson continued whispering to Fredricks as they pulled
their diagnostic programs up.
      Meanwhile, Barclay was watching the other two ascend to their test
sites.  When everybody was in place he called out to them.  "Ahmmmm, OK here
goes nothing.  C-Computer, apply power to the -um- deflector transit.  Five
percent only."
      They all listened as a faint hum filled the room.  Barclay glanced up to
the two engineers on the catwalks.  Two thumbs up.  He checked something on
his datapad. and glanced over at the two on the computer console.  Fredricks
was busy modifying some portion of the program while Pierson stood over him
watching.  Looks good, Barclay thought.
      "Ok, Computer.  B-Bring it on up to fifteen percent."  The whine
increased in frequency.
      On the port catwalk, Gomez was reading the increase in power and as the
computer loaded the transit more, she frowned and called out to Barclay.  "I
just read a brief fluctuation in the transit.  A little more power will
probably burn the impurities out of the pathway and straighten this out."
Baker called out from the starboard catwalk  "I'm not reading the fluctuation
over here.  All systems green."
      Barclay called out for the computer to increase the power load to
twenty-five percent.  The pitch increased again.  He looked up at Gomez who
was shaking her head.  Still having fluctuations.
      "C-Computer, what is the C-Current load on the port deflector transit?"
      "The load on the port deflector array transit is..."  The computer
paused.  "T-T-T-Twenty-F-Five P-P-Percent."
      Barclay looked up, flabbergasted that the computer was mocking him,
while Pierson fell back into his chair laughing.  As Pierson laughed, a
flashing light on his diagnostic panel went unnoticed.
      Suddenly the pitch of the whine in the compartment rose dramatically.
Gomez looked in shocked horror at her readings as the pitch steadily
increased.
      "Shit!"  Screamed Fredricks and dove for his console.  He began
manipulating the transit power controls frantically.
      Gomez suddenly realized her danger and dropped her tricorder.  She
turned to climb down from the catwalk, but she was too late.  The port transit
exploded directly behind her sending her flying through the air in a violent
spray of sparks and metal shards from the transit cabinet.  Her body fell in a
smoking heap in the center of the compartment just as the lights went out.
      Seconds later the red emergency lighting came on and the extinguishers
began choking the flames out.  Barclay stumbled over to where Gomez lay and
turned her over.  A pool of blood was forming under her hips, where a fragment
had sliced her inner thigh open.  Barclay stuck his hand across the wound and
leaned.  With his free hand he tapped his communicator.  "Sickbay this is
Engineering.  M-Medical Emergency."  He then used his free hand to press off
the blood flow through the femoral artery.  With his hands drenched in blood,
he waited for help.

* * * * *

      Geordi was worked up into a rare state.  He paced back and forth in the
hallway outside the operating room waiting like an expectant father for news
of his mother's condition.  Unlike an expectant father, however, he didn't
have a new life to look forward to.  He had the distinct chance of losing his
mother.  He looked at his chronometer.  The doctors and assistants, dressed in
their red hooded outfits had entered the room over an hour ago.
      Geordi jumped when his communicator beeped.  Tapping the badge, he
responded.  "LaForge here."
      Worf's deep voice came over the comm badge.  "Lieutenant Commander
LaForge.  You are needed on the Enterprise."
      "NOW, Worf?  My mom is in the middle of..."
      "Yes.  There has been an accident in Engineering.  Prepare to beam up."
      As the transporter beam locked onto Geordi and he began to feel himself
dematerialize, he saw a group of interns round the corner wheeling a cart of
equipment.  He saw them burst into the operating room at full speed, and then
he was on the Enterprise.

* * * * *

      Geordi and Worf stood surveying the damage to the Engineering
compartment.  The gas from the fire extinguishers was beginning to clear from
the air.  On one side of the compartment some medics were straightening out a
body and placing it into a body bag on a maglev.  Even through the bag, Geordi
could see the body rapidly losing it's heat.  He nudged Worf and pointed to
the body.  "Who is that, Worf?"  The engineer recognized people by their
electromagnetic aura that surrounded them in life.  On this individual he
couldn't tell.
      "That,"  Stated Worf, flatly.  "Was Lt. Baker."  The massive Klingon
turned away from the medics to shift through the rubble.
      "What about the others.  Who else was in here at the time."
      Worf looked back over his shoulder.  "Lts. Fredricks, Barclay, Pierson,
and Gomez.  They are currently in sickbay.  Gomez is expected to die soon."
Worf was obviously outraged that an explosion would happen on his ship, while
in spacedock.  It simply did not look good for the security officer.
      Geordi turned and followed the medics to sickbay.  The outer ward of
sickbay was filled with nurses tending to minor injuries that occurred when
the ship was rocked by the explosion.  Geordi moved through the crowd into the
inner ward where Picard and Riker were surveying the injuries.
      Picard turned to Geordi.  "Mr. LaForge.  To say the least, I am not
pleased.  I would like to see you and the remainder of the senior staff in the
conference room in thirty minutes.  Bring along Barclay and Pierson."
      "Aye aye, Captain.  What about Gomez."
      "Acting CMO Selar is operating on her as we speak."
      As he said that, a door slid open and Selar appeared.  Her face, in
typical Vulcan fashion, betrayed no emotion.  Her olive complexioned face and
straight black hair were splattered with blood.
      "Doctor."  Picard turned to her.  "How is Lt. Gomez?"
      "Captain, Lt. Gomez will live.  I have repaired her femoral artery and
have given her an infusion of replicated blood."  The Vulcan doctor paused to
wipe some blood from her face.  "However, Captain, It was Lt. Barclay who
saved her life."  The doctor turned without another word and moved to tend to
another patient.
* * * * *

      Drs Pulaski and Crusher were so far down into the brain that it took the
largest fleet of medical computers in the Federation to keep them sorted out.
They had just finished the remapping when an enormous surge of impulses hit
the new pathways like a crew rushing for a single transporter on a dying
starship.  The doctors watched, fascinated, for a moment as their handiwork
held up and performed it's function properly.  Dr. Pulaski even ventured a
smile at the thought that their procedure had worked.
      But suddenly Dr Crusher burst Kate Pulaski's bubble.  "Well, the enzyme
ratio is holding, but take a look at the fourth sextant."  She pointed to the
computer screen to a small section that was showing signs of neural
repolarization.
      "Neural Sodium and Potassium level dropping fast."  Pulaski indicated
for the computer to stabilize the neurochemical levels at nominal levels, but
before it could get the chemical level changed, the patient's respiratory and
cardiac functions seized up and refused to be restarted by the automatic
surgical support systems.
      "NURSE!...get a cart in here.  NOW!"

* * * * *

      "Do you realize, men, the severity of your actions?"  Captain Picard
continued his monologue.  "By tampering with that computer, you neglected your
duties, causing the death of one crewman and almost causing the death of
another.  If that explosion had broached the antimatter containment fields,
you would have destroyed at least the Enterprise, and perhaps Earth-One as
well."  Picard turned away from Fredricks and Pierson and rubbed the top of
his bald head in aggravation."
      "Captain, "  Worf broke in.  "These two may have sabotaged the power
transit deliberately."  He looked at the two with disgust and rage.  If they
could have sunk farther into their chairs, they surely would have.
      Lt. Commander Data entered the room and informed the group of senior
officers that he had managed to get the glitch removed from the Engineering
computer, and that Earth-One and Enterprise engineering crews are beginning to
repair the damage.
      Captain Picard turned back to the security officer.  "Mr. Worf.  Please
arrange to have these two transported to Earth to await trial."  He then
turned back to the others at the table.  "Dismissed."
      As Worf took the two by their elbows and steered them out of the
conference room, LaForge turned to Barclay who had been sitting next to the
two ex-officers.  "Reg, you obviously didn't do anything wrong.  You couldn't
control what happened there, and this will not reflect poorly on you."
      Counselor Troi picked up from there.  "He is right, Reginald.  I think
we should go to my office and talk."  She stood, and she and the overwrought
Barclay moved to leave.  They were stopped short by LaForge, who placed a hand
on Barclay's shoulder.
      "Reg.  When you get through at the Counselor's office, if she says it's
OK, I want you to get back to Engineering and head up the cleanup and repair
operations, as well as the deflector project.
      "Oh, I-I-Idunno, I d-don't think..."
      "Reg, If the Counselor says you're fit, I want you to do this.  My
respect for your qualifications hasn't changed since this accident."
      With just a little coaxing, Troi got Reg out of the room, and LaForge
sighed and started out, only to be called back by Picard."
      "Mr. LaForge, you are becoming quite a good leader.  That was, it seems,
a good way to get Lt. Barclay 'back in the saddle' as it were."  He smiled the
smile that all of Picard's crew worked so hard to see.  "Lt. Commander, I
think that will be all for now.  You may return to Starfleet Medical.

* * * * *
     
      The horror that greeted Geordi when he returned to Starfleet Medical was
unlike any he had ever experienced.  The tank was filled with a thin pink
Trioxin fluid and his mother lay immersed in it.  She still had the
neuroprobes attached to her temples.  The probes' flashing lights filtered
through the pink fluid, creating an eerie visual effect.  Another set of
probes were attached to her chest just below the left breast and hat he was seeing.  They had said that the operation was a failure, and that
she had been placed in a life support tank.  They had told him, but he
couldn't have imagined it without seeing it for himself.  He slowly turned
away from the tank.  One of the doctors was saying something, but he couldn't
hear her.  He didn't even remember the doctors catching him as he fell.
      He saw his mother in a strange halo of color and light.  She was leaning
over to kiss him on the forehead.  Holding him as he cried about his first
lost love.  Watching proudly as he graduated the academy.  Smiling serenely as
her new husband lifted the veil.  Smiling, was she smiling?  No she was
screaming and Geordi could see her brain through her skull.  He adjusted his
VISOR, but to no avail.  He watched as her brain slowly dissolved.  She was
screaming for Geordi to help her.  Screaming for him to do something.  Do
something.  Do some...
      There was a hiss, like someone's final breath.  He tried to turn away
from it, but it had him.  He couldn't move.  Then there was voices, first far
away, then closer.  Who was it.  He recognized it.  It sounded like...
      "Doctor!"  He tried to sit up, but Dr. Crusher pushed him back down.  He
couldn't see her, but he could hear her talking.
      "Lie still, Geordi."

* * * * *

      Worf stood in his sparsely furnished quarters grinding his teeth.  Dr.
Crusher had informed all of the senior bridge crew of the outcome of Mrs.
LaForge's surgery, and of the Lt. Commander's fainting.  Of course Klingons
did not faint, but Worf had come to expect such weakness from humans, even
exceptional humans such as Lt. Commander LaForge.
      Still, this was not the time for such weakness.  There was no honor in a
perfectly healthy man lying in bed beside his half dead mother.  Worf decided
he would pay LaForge a visit and inform him of how he should be acting in this
situation.
      He left his room and his long strides carried him quickly to transporter
room eight.  Down on the planet, he quickly oriented himself and made his way
to Geordi LaForge's room.  Nobody at the hospital even attempted to detain him
or tell him he could not see the Lt. Commander.  It would have been futile,
for it is truly difficult to oppose a Klingon who has a goal.  He found the
Commander sitting in the ward with his mother.
      "Lt. Commander, I see you are well."  Worf stood in front of Geordi with
his hands behind his back.
      "Yes, Worf.  I will be OK.  I was just sitting here..."
      "Doctor Crusher informed me of your mother's condition."  He glanced at
the life support chamber with obvious disgust.  "You now have only one
choice."
      "What are you talking about, Worf."  Geordi was confused.
      "You must...,"  Worf paused to emphasize his next words.  "help her to
die well."
      Geordi looked dumbfounded.  "But Worf, we can't just give up on her.
She can still recover."
      Worf rocked forward on his toes and lowered his voice.  His outrage was
barely controlled.  "She is already dead, Lt. Commander.  It is the machines
that are still alive.  You do not do justice to your dead mother by allowing
her to continue to..."  Worf rocked back and pulled back his shoulders.
"...exist."  The last word was said with blatant disgust.
      Before Geordi could form words into a coherent reply, a voice came from
the door of the ward.  "Now just you wait a DAMNED minute, Klingon!"  Worf
turned to the speaker.  The Klingon's teeth were exposed and he was ready to
attack.

* * * * *

Star Trek
The New Generation

_Cruel_Mercy_

_Part_IV_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      Leaning in the doorway was an incredibly old human.  He was braced
against the door with one hand and had a cane in the other hand.  The cane was
pointed directly at Worf.
      "Isn't that just about par for the course for a Klingon.  'Death before
dishonor' and all that hogwash."  The old man spoke with a slow, southern
accent and waved his cane in the air as he talked.
      Worf ascertained that this man could not present a threat and resumed
his hands-behind-the-back pose.  "WHO are you, and what do YOU know about
Klingon honor."  Worf demanded.
      "I'm Leonard McCoy."  He smiled and nodded at Geordi.  "That's ADMIRAL
McCoy to you."  This last statement was directed at Worf and was not
accompanied by a smile.  "And I know a bit about Klingons and about honor.  I
didn't get to be this old and ornery by not understanding Klingons, and I was
fortunate enough to serve with Jim Kirk on the Enterprise - THAT is honor."
      McCoy continued.  "Hmmmph.  Klingons and honor!  Neither of those two
subjects has a bit to do with the question at hand, which is how long that
lady over there lives.  Most humans can't just haul off and kill a parent.
It's just not NATURAL."  McCoy seemed lost in thoughts of the past for a
moment, then looked back to Worf.  "And it sure-as-hell isn't YOURS to decide
anyway!" He shouted, jabbing his cane in the air at Worf.
      Before Worf could separate enough Klingon honor from his swirling anger
to reply, McCoy was turning to leave.  McCoy was halfway down the hall when a
nurse came trotting out of a turbolift after him.  Catching up, she took his
elbow to try to support him as he walked.  He jerked away and continued down
the hall under his own power, brandishing the cane at the nurse the whole way.
      Worf stood for a moment grinding his teeth back and forth.  After he had
calmed himself a bit he turned back to Geordi.  "Remember what I said, Lt.
Commander."  With that he turned and left the ward.

* * * * *

      Later that day, Geordi and Data sat in a corner of Ten-Forward talking.
Geordi was drinking an orange juice and Data was simply sitting with his hands
in his lap, talking and listening.
      "I think I understand how this decision would be a difficult one to
make."  The android tilted his head to the right slightly and held up his left
hand, palm up, as if holding something.  "Life is held sacred in almost all
the major recorded philosophies of the Federation.  One does not end the life
of any intelligent being unless absolutely necessary,  simply because 'It is
wrong.'"
      Data looked over at the empty hand, realized it would look ridiculous to
a human observer, and placed it back in his lap.  He continued.  "Considering
the recent universal theory that states that all matter, energy, and thought
is merely different forms of the same thing, it would seem wise to follow a
'Sacred Life' philosophy due to the uncertainty of the repercussions that the
death of an individual may have upon the remainder of the interconnected
universe."
      "But Data, I think Worf's point was that you've also got to think about
the dignity of the person.  I kinda understand where he's coming from."
      "Lt. Worf 'comes from' Khitomir, a Klingon homeworld that was destroyed
when..."
      "Yes, Data, but what I mean is that my mother has been a strong woman
her entire life and I would prefer to remember her in that way.  If I let this
go on indefinitely I'm afraid I'll start thinking of her as a vegetable."
      "A vegetable, Geordi?"
      "Uh, yeah Data - an invalid."
      Data nodded his comprehension.  "So you are saying that in being human,
others memory of the lost vitality of the 'vegetable' is more important than
the possible future vitality, if that 'vegetable' were to be cured.  Hmmmm,
curious."
      "Well, I don't know if that's just it either.  It's hard to describe."
      "Geordi, in light of my being incapable of understanding the situation
enough to advise you on a decision, I would suggest perhaps visiting Counselor
Troi."

* * * * *

      Deanna Troi sat in her room trying to get the last traces of ice cream
out of the dish.  She finally laid the spoon down and ran her index finger
around the bottom of the bowl.  Licking the chocolate off of her finger, she
satisfied herself that she had gotten all the benefit out of this bowl that
she could.
      As she sat there, eyes closed, enjoying the aftertaste of the chocolate
as only she could, her door chimed.  She stood up and pushed her chair undeponses so that she could
read peoples' emotional states more accurately.  It was not a deliberate
manipulation of the other person, just a part of who she was.     Being only
half Betazoid, her mental powers were limited.  She had subconsciously
developed the probing speech patterns to compensate for her lessened powers,
much the same way that a blind person might develop a heightened sense of
heies that made her an excellent Counselor.
      "I'm doing well, Deanna.  Sorry I haven't been around, but I've had
several things on my mind."  He put on his charming grin, causing Deanna's
heart to skip a beat.
      "Come sit down and tell me about it."  She took his hand and started to
lead him to her couch, but the door chimed again before they could sit down.
Deanna shrugged apologetically at Will and took a step toward the door.  "Come
in, please."
      The door opened and Geordi stepped in.  Seeing Will Riker he stopped.
"Oh, sorry.  I know it's not office hours, but the computer told me you were
still awake so I thought I'd stop by and talk.  It can wait."
      "No, Geordi.  I was just getting up off the couch to leave."  The
commander straightened the front of his jacket.  "Deanna, nice to see you."
He gave her another of his smiles which sometimes made her regret her
professional duties.
      "Commander,"  Geordi smiled a knowing smile and tapped his VISOR.  "That
couch hasn't been sat on lately.  "I really ought to bug-out..."
Geordi backed up a step toward the door.
      Riker and Troi shared a guilty look at having been caught in a fib.
"Nonetheless, Geordi, duty calls."  Riker grinned and used the lame excuse to
get out of the awkward position he had dug himself.  He made his exit as
gracefully as possible.
      Deanna put a hand on Geordi's shoulder and pointed him to the couch.
"We are all very sorry to hear about your mother.  Beverly told us about it
and we are all very concerned about you."  The physical touch and Deanna's
soothing attitude calmed all of Geordi's reservations about disturbing her and
Riker.  He sat down on the couch as the Counselor sat in her chair facing the
couch.
      "I don't know what move to make next, Counselor.  She's not hurting
anymore.  They can't even tell how long she'll last before the machines just
can't keep up with the disease."
      "You are considering letting it end, then?"  Troi shifted in her chair.
      "Yeah, kinda...It's just, I don't know if I should - or even if I can."
      Troi could feel Geordi's guilt and uncertainty.  It was an almost
physical presence that affected her.  "You feel an obligation to her, but you
don't know exactly what that obligation is.  You're not sure what she would
want you to do."
      "Riiiight..."
      "Well in most cases, her wishes would be the deciding factor, but in
this situation the decision rests on your shoulders."
      Geordi scowled.  "Are you saying that what she wants is not a factor
here?"
      "No, of course not.  What she _would_have_ wanted is certainly something
for you to think about.  But in her present condition the probes that suppress
pain and keep her mind alive also suppress all higher brain activity.  Simply
put, she has no desires right now."
      "But Doc is still working on it.  They may be able to heal her tomorrow
for all we know."
      "Geordi, do you remember the three people that we found on the satellite
we picked up?  The ones that had been frozen in the early twenty-first century
to stop the progress of terminal illnesses."
      "Yeah.  I remember 'Sonny' was an alright guy."  He smiled at the
memory.
      "Geordi, those three were the exception, not the rule.  The vast
majority of all the people that attempted cryogenic suspension were never
cured.  Many of their bodies were lost.  Cryostasis was finally done away with
when the majority of people realized that it was simply too expensive -
emotionally, to cling to the past that fiercely."
      "So you think I ought to let her die?"  Geordi asked, still uncertain.
      "What I think, Geordi, is that you are going to have to make a decision
that YOU can live with.  I think that people are going to try to convince you
either in favor or against, but you mustn't let them decide this for you.  In
the end, if you allow others to make this decision you will doing a great
injustice to yourself and to your mother."
      "To my mother?"
      "Yes, Geordi.  You are a wonderful, talented, responsible person;
greatly due to her influence.  She would want you to make your own decisions.
That would do her the most justice."
      Geordi sat there for a couple of moments contemplating what she had
said.  "Thanks, Counselor,"  He said, standing up.  He left the Counselor's
room not sure if she had really helped him with his decision, but feeling
better anyway.

* * * * *

      Transporter Chief O'Brien watched as Worf and his son, Alexander, stood
side-by-side in the transporter room.  They looked quite similar, he thought,
particularly when they both stood there, arms behind their backs, feet
shoulder-width apart, chests proudly stuck out.  O'Brien smiled faintly.
      "What are you staring at?"  Worf demanded, noticing the Chief's
attention.
      "Oh, nothing, Sir."  O'Brien turned back to his controls and pretended
to be checking the settings."
      "Lieutenant, they are signaling that they are ready."
      "Then energize..."
      As the sparkling transporter effect faded, Jeremy Aster stepped off the
pad beaming with anticipation.
      "Khal'tre Ahr'eK,"  said the young human in fluent Klingonese."
      "Khal'tre GluR," replied Worf and Alexander in unison.  Worf motioned
for Jeremy to join them as they turned to leave.
      Jeremy and his mother, Marla, had been stationed on the Enterprise, but
his mother had been senselessly killed when a long-forgotten mine exploded
during an away mission on a planet whose warring occupants had long since
destroyed themselves.
      As the away team leader, Worf had felt responsible for the death of
Marla Aster, and had adopted Jeremy in a traditional Klingon ceremony.  The
ceremony had made them the equivalent of brothers.  Now Jeremy was living on
Earth and preparing to enter the Starfleet Academy.
      "I am glad you invited me up to the Enterprise again.  I'd heard you
were in dock here and I hoped to get to see you."  Jeremy had to walk quickly
to keep up with the long Klingon strides.
      Just then, they reached the door to Worf and Alexander's quarters.
"This is more than just a visit, Jeremy.  I have something to discuss with you
and Alexander."  Alexander and Jeremy remained standing as Worf seated himself
at his desk.  He removed an isolinear storage card from a slot in his computer
terminal and placed it on his desk in front of Jeremy.  It lay on top of a
stack of Alexander's drawings and paintings from art class.  The paintings
were simple, but they were the types of things a father proudly displayed in
prominent places.
      "As you know, Jeremy, your mother's death was instant; painless.  She
died standing up, as one should."  Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, but nodded.
Worf looked back and forth between his two young charges as he spoke.
      "There are times when one is not so fortunate as Marla Aster.  Some are
rendered helpless.  Useless..."  Worf thought back on his recent spine injury
that nearly left him paralyzed.  Alexander and Jeremy both looked disturbed by
this unusual lecture.  Jeremy leaned forward.
      "Worf, you're not going ..."
      "Silence!"  Worf realized too late that he was too abrupt.  "No, I am
well, but I am a warrior.  One is never certain..."  Jeremy leaned back and
looked at Alexander, who shrugged.
      Worf pointed at the card on his desk.  "This storage device contains a
copy of my wishes, should I be rendered..."  He paused, out of distaste for
the subject.  "Useless."  He pressed a button on his computer and began
playing a copy of the living will.

* * * * *
     
      The room was dark, except for an old fashioned lamp sitting on a night
table.  It shed its faint light throughout the room.  On the walls were
paintings - real ones, not computer generated prints.  The bed was an ancient
four-poster with real, hand-stitched quilts.  A computer sat on a table in a
dark corner of the room, but it was covered up with piles of ancient books and
newspapers.
      On the bed lay another relic.  The venerable doctor who had served for
so many years on the Enterprise.  NCC-1701, and then 1701-A.  A half empty
bottle of Kentucky bourbon lay on the bed beside him.  The nurses would have
blown a gasket, had they known.
      "Damn that green-blooded sonofabitch."
      Leonard 'Bones' McCoy lay on his back in the middle of the bed.  The
wrinkles in his skin made it hard to tell if his eyes were even open, but he
was awake.  These crevasses in his face were filled with bitter tears.
      "Damn my own horse doctoring.  What do I know, anymore, anyway."  The
argument with the Klingon had revived long-buried pains.
      After his father's death, McCoy had been possessed, obsessed with
helping people, any and every way he could.  What did that get him?  He had
been mind-raped by Sybok, and imprisoned at Rura Penthe by the Klingons.  He
had fought with the last of his outdated medical skills as Jim lay dying.  Now
he was living out the last of his days surrounded by halfwit nurses.  But to
this doctor who had seen death in many forms over the years, it was better
than the alternative.
      He threw his legs off the bed and sat up with a groan.  Opening a drawer
on his night table, he dropped the whiskey bottle in the drawer and stood up.
McCoy stumbled over to the computer table and began shuffling through the
papers and books.  Where was it.  He knew it was here somewhere.  Suddenly he
saw the cracked corner of the book.  When he picked it up, the papers slid off
the desk and cascaded to the ground.
      Hugging the book close to his chest, he sidled back to the bed.  He
examined the book.  The gold letters had long since rubbed off of the cover,
and the corners of the cover were frayed.  He opened it carefully to the leaf
page.  'To the best Doctor in the galaxy, from your friend, Jim.'  McCoy
looked over to the photograph of Jim Kirk that sat on his night table.
      Returning his attention to the book, he held it by it's binding and let
it fall open to an often read villanelle:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

* * * * *

      The room was dark, except for a solitary light strip on the ceiling.  It
shed its faint light throughout the room.  On the walls were paintings - not
originals, of course, but tasteful computer generated prints.  A computer sat
on a table in the center of the room, it's screen showing a photograph of a
woman and a child.
      On the bed lay a young man.  The bright Chief Engineer who served on the
latest of a long line of proud vessels, Enterprise.  NCC-1701-D.  Lying beside
him was an intricate device that allowed the man to see.  On his temples, a
pair of optical input ports blinked rhythmically.  The young man slept.

* * * * *

      <Deanna, dear.  I think you're neglecting that young man of yours."
      <I have certainly not neglected Will, mother!  I've just been busy with
Geordi for the last few days.>
      Lwaxana and Deanna sat in an open air cafe watching the people move back
and forth on the sidewalks of San Francisco.  Despite the crowds, Deanna could
allow herself the luxury of relaxing and allowing her mental shields to fall.
Her mother was more than capable of protecting Deanna from the chaotic
thoughts of the masses.  To any onlookers it would appear that the two were
quietly sitting in the morning sun, but they were really having one of their
frequent conversations.
      <When was the last time you were alone with him for any length of time?>
      <Last night, in fact.>
      Lwaxana smiled.  <Oh, really!  Did it go well?>
      <Actually, we were interrupted by Geordi.  He came to talk about his
mother.>  Deanna frowned, realizing what her mother was talking about.  <Will
did say that he had some things to talk about.>
      <What could Geordi have possibly had to say that was so important that
he had to interrupt you and Will?>
      <Mother!  You know I can't...MOTHER!>
      The smile on Lwaxana's face slid off.  She had just inadvertently read
directly through Deanna's lowered mental shields into the part of her mind
that held topics that she considered confidential.
      "Deanna, I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to pry."  The look on her face
begged for forgiveness.
      "That's alright, mother"  Said Deanna.  She did forgive her mother, but
still began slowly raising her mental shields once again, almost unaware of
doing it.
      "I didn't know about Geordi's mother.  I'm terribly sorry."
      "Mother, I really can't discuss Geordi's private business with you.
That would violate his trust in me."  The two sat in silence for a few
moments.  Lwaxana seemed to be disturbed by more than the mental slip.
Finally her eyes became misty and she spoke softly.
      "I never told you about Timicin's Resolution.  It seemed to really touch
his family deeply.  I'm afraid they did not think very highly of me for trying
to interfere."  Deanna suddenly realized the memories that had just been
stirred up in her mother.
      The thought of 'mercy killing' had caused her to remember Timicin again.
She had fallen in love with the scientist just before he had been forced to
end his life by his people's customary 'Resolution.'  This was done in mercy,
so they claimed, to allow the individual to die in dignity and to prevent him
from becoming a burden to society.
      <Mother...>  Deanna allowed the wall around her mind to crumble again.
Lwaxana smiled faintly and mother and daughter embraced mentally, sharing the
experience completely for the first time.

* * * * *

      Geordi woke up and groped for his VISOR.  He had fallen asleep thinking
about what Deanna had said.  He knew she was right.  His mother would want him
to be his own man, and to be strong.  Strong like her.  He looked back to the
computer at the picture of he and his mother holding hands.  He had just
played a successful baseball game and she was so proud of him.  Imagine that -
a blind boy playing baseball.  He smiled at the memory.
      "Computer discontinue images and rearchive."
      The computer chimed its acknowledgement as Geordi made his way to the
bathroom to get cleaned up.  After a long, hot shower, he stood in his
dressing room looking into the mirror.  Actually, his VISOR was directed at
the mirror, but he was looking inward.
      "Mother, I know now what I have to do.  You want to be strong again, but
you know the doctors don't think you can.  I love you mom.  I have to let you
go."  He could almost hear her speaking back to him.  Reassuring him that this
was the right decision.  He could see her face in his minds eye.  She was so
proud of him.  Geordi finished dressing and left to tell the doctors his
decision.
      He did not beam directly to Starfleet Medical.  Instead he had himself
beamed to the park that adjoined the hospital.  After a mind clearing walk, he
arrived at the Hospital.  He went directly to Dr. Pulaski's office but she was
not to be found.  He walked up to the nearest computer terminal.
      "Computer, where is Dr. Kate Pulaski."
      "Dr. Pulaski is in the Life Support ward.  Twenty-seventh floor."
      Geordi rode the turbolift to the twenty-seventh floor.  When the door
whooshed open he just stood there, lost in thought.  Finally the turbolift
asked for a destination and Geordi snapped out of his reverie.  He took a deep
breath and headed for the ward.  Just as he got there, Dr Pulaski stepped out
of the door.  She looked disappointed when he told her, but she nodded and
turned back into the room.
      Geordi stood at the side of the tank as Dr. Pulaski disconnected the
mechanisms that kept Mrs. LaForge alive.  He nodded and thanked her as she
turned to leave.  He thought he saw a tear roll down her cheek as she turned
to leave Geordi with his dying mother.
      He didn't know how long he stood there before he felt the touch of a
hand on his shoulder.  The grip was strong and reassuring.  He turned around
to find the aged face of Admiral McCoy.
      "Son.  I know how this has been on you."  His eyes sparkled in such a
way that Geordi knew that the old man was right.  Strangely, this old man
seemed to understand even better than Deanna Troi what he had gone through.
The old man held something out to Geordi.  It was an ancient book.  Geordi had
seen books like this only a couple of times in his life.
      "I want you to have this.  It was given to me when I was hurting like
you are now.  It'll do more good in your hands than mine."  Geordi looked like
he was going to refuse the extremely valuable gift, but McCoy shook it at him.
"Go on, boy.  I've got the damn thing memorized anyway."
      Geordi took the book reverently and examined it.  The gold lettering had
almost completely rubbed off of the cover.  He opened the cover and discovered
that the first page had been ripped out.  On the title page, however, there
was a message written in a careful script handwriting.

From a grave man, near death, who sees with blinding
sight

To a blind man, whose eyes can still blaze like
meteors and be gay.

* * * * *

      In the newly repaired engineering room of the Enterprise, the engineers
stood at attention as the Captain and Chief Engineers inspected the repairs
and cleanup.
      "Well, Lt. Commander LaForge, it appears that your people have done an
exemplary job."  Captain Picard smiled at the group of engineers and at the
Chief Engineer.
      "It seems, however, that I have other business here in the Engineering
room of our Enterprise."  Captain Picard slowly moved down the line of
uncomfortable looking engineers.  He stopped when he stood in front of
Reginald Barclay.
      "Lt. Barclay, I am told that you supervised the installation of the new
Navigational Deflector Arrays."
      "Yuh, -uh- I...  Yes Sir."  Barclay looked like he least wanted to be
here.
      "And that they have been tested and are fully operational."
      "Yes S-Sir"
      "And that during the unfortunate accident you performed well and saved
the life of Lt. Gomez."
      "Well, I..."  Barclay didn't know what to say to that one.  He stole a
glance down the line at Gomez, who smiled at him.  He blushed and turned back
to the Captain.
      "Well done, Barclay, well done indeed."  Picard smiled and shook
Barclays hand.  The engineer almost fainted.  LaForge clapped his appreciation
for Barclay, and the rest of the engineers took his lead and joined in.
      Picard dismissed the group and they huddled around Barclay clapping him
on the back and congratulating him on having gotten to shake the Captains
hand.  As the group was dispersing, Barclay spotted Gomez through the crowd.
      He seemed hesitant, but Geordi patted him on the shoulder and encouraged
him and he moved over toward her.  She grinned at him and limped over to meet
him.  She hooked her arm around his elbow and grinned
      "I seem to be having some difficulty walking on my own, Reg.  Would you
mind terribly, helping me back to my quarters?" 

* * * * *

      Riker was sitting in his quarters when Deanna came by.  They seated
themselves on the Commander's couch and Deanna began talking.
      "Will, I'm sorry I've been so busy with Geordi.  He has really had a
rough time this week.  You said you had some things on your mind.  Tell me
about them."
      "I can't tell you."  Riker looked mischievous.
      "Why not, Will?  You have always been able to talk to me before."
      "It can't be told.  Not with words."
      Deanna had been probing his mind, trying to detect some clue as to the
reason for his strange mood.  Suddenly she felt his mind open up and her
consciousness almost fell into his.  He smiled and reached out for her hand.
She returned the smile and pulled him closer.
      "Oh, Imzadi!"
      Back on Earth, Lwaxana Troi sat sipping coffee in her suite.  She
smiled.