Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [72]
“I don’t believe that,” Troi said, her lips tight.
“All right-all right, say I don’t either. Say you’ve convinced me. What happens once we do this? Once we’ve tasted this? If we open this door a crack, it may not close. Candles can start holocausts, Captain.”
Crusher suddenly got to her feet and stepped toward him, using her height and her own grace to prove that he wasn’t the only imposing one in the room. “We can keep control of ourselves, Mr. Riker. Medical science has had to live with self-control on a personal basis for centuries. Captain, I know you don’t like to use the weapons, but that thing is a tyrant!”
Riker bent over the desk, his palms flat on its black top. “If we bend our rules,” he insisted, “or even amend them, even at the request of the terminally ill, then we risk all of us. When we turn down the death requests of individuals, we protect us all.” He looked at the captain and said, “We’re playing ethical roulette, sir, and I’m not comfortable with it.”
Troi didn’t look at him, but there was a poignant lack of charity in her tone. “It’s not your comfort we’re talking about.”
His eyes flashed. “No,” he stabbed back, “but we’re risking the ethical security of every sentient life we contact from now on. How long before this gets out of hand? We’re at risk as a society if it does.”
The captain frowned at him. “I’m not willing to take on the moral burden of all humanity, Number One,” he said, “but I intend to take a stand here and now. I appreciate your playing devil’s advocate, but-“
“I’m not,” Riker told him. “I don’t think it’s our place to do this. And I don’t think it’s fair of those beings to ask this of us. We have the right not to become murderers.”
“Captain,” Crusher interjected, “we’re past the point of no return. Our killing them may be hard on us, but their living is harder on them.”
“That’s your opinion, doctor,” Riker clarified.
“Yes,” she said. “The captain asked for my opinion. If you’re captain someday, you don’t have to ask me.”
Bitterness swirled between them, and for several seconds, she let it have its way. Once the silence became oppressive, she inhaled deeply and addressed the captain with her final word. “Sir, in my judgment as chief surgeon of the Enterprise,” she said, “we have what will go down in my report as acceptable prior consent.”
The captain heard the ball drop cleanly into his court. Was his responsibility to the beings inside the entity, or to the entity, or to the ship, or to those lifeforms whose essences would be absorbed by that thing in the future if he failed to act now?
“It’s Federation mandate to avoid policing the galaxy, Captain.” Riker’s face reflected clearly in the viewport.
Picard nodded tightly. “Yes, we can’t forget that. Federation policy will have to be my guide on this. The dirty reality is that we may not even be able to save ourselves. The better part of valor may be to get away and let the Federation decide how to deal with this thing.”
Troi rocketed from her chair. “You don’t understand! These people can’t even communicate with each other! There are millions of them, all alone. Alone! It’s not like a crippled body. Even then there can be sight, sound, interaction-these people have nothing!”
The captain started toward her. “Counselor-“
She backed away. “You don’t know what it’s like! You can’t know. You can talk and discuss and argue, but you don’t know. Captain, if that entity comes after us and there is no way to stop it from absorbing us, I promise you I will not go on like that! I will not! I’ll kill myself first.”
“Deanna,” Crusher began, reaching for her.
But every one of them was affected by the utter conviction in her voice, her face, by the irrational promise from a person they knew to be supremely rational.
Riker felt especially responsible, and he stood a few paces away, unable to make himself go to her.
Dr. Crusher put an arm around Troi and steered her toward the door. “Come with me. I’ll give you something to calm you down.”
Troi started to go, but now she pushed away violently. “No! I don’t dare let