Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [16]
Picard could see Crusher biting back a reply. She asked, “Will his doctor be there?”
“I’m afraid not,” Haftel said. “Dr. Jika was called away on a medical emergency across the campus just before your ship entered orbit. She’ll be along as soon as she’s able, but I told her I wouldn’t keep you waiting. Ah. Here we are.”
Maddox’s room was state of the art, as one might expect from a research institute. They found the commander lying unconscious on a biobed, cortical monitors affixed to his neck and forehead. Someone in a Starfleet engineering uniform sat slumped in a chair beside the bed, his back to the Enterprise party. He didn’t move as Crusher picked up a medical padd from a nearby console and keyed the patient’s chart.
A snore suddenly issued from the seated engineer, drawing Picard’s attention. He focused on the officer for the first time, and smiled in recognition.
La Forge shot Picard an inquiring look and the captain nodded, still smiling. Geordi leaned over as quietly as he could and lifted a tray of food from the officer’s lap. Then, La Forge nudged his shoulder and, pitching his voice low, said, “Reg? Regggg? Time to wake up.”
Reginald Barclay’s eyes snapped open and, as La Forge must have predicted, he leapt to his feet before bothering to check whether he had a tray of food on his lap. He stared wide-eyed at the figures around him as if trying to separate them from some dream he had been having, then exclaimed, “Geordi! I mean, Commander La Forge! You’re here. I mean, of course you’re here. I knew you were coming, but I wasn’t expecting …” He looked around again, this time taking in the scene. “You’re all here.” He ran his fingers back through his hair, tried to straighten his uniform, then found the paper napkin under his chin and tugged it away. Nodding, he said, “Admiral, excuse me. I … I must have dozed off. Captain Picard, I … I … I …” he began to stutter, then willed himself to be calm. “What time is it?”
Geordi glanced at the chronometer in the corner of his optic display and replied, “Nine A.M. local time, Reg. It’s okay. Obviously, you’ve been here for a while.”
“Indeed, Mr. Barclay,” the captain said. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, we should apologize for waking you so suddenly.”
“No, really,” Barclay said. “It’s fine. Really. I’m fine. Nine A.M.? Then, I’ve been asleep for, oh, an hour. That’s more than enough. You see, I’ve been sitting up with Bruce—Commander Maddox—talking to him. They say that helps sometimes, you know.”
“Yes, Reg,” Dr. Crusher said. “Sometimes it does, though sometimes it’s not very good for the person who’s doing the talking.” She popped open her medical tricorder, passed it in front of Barclay, then studied the results. Crusher rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’ve seen worse,” she muttered and pulled out a hypo. “This should balance out your electrolytes, but you’re going to need real sleep soon. Preferably in bed.” She pressed the hypo against his arm and Barclay seemed to relax as the concoction hit his bloodstream.
“Thank you, Doctor,” he said.
“And eat some real food soon,” Crusher finished with mild disgust, staring at the tray.
“Yes, Doctor.” Barclay sighed contentedly. Some people, Geordi reflected, required more mothering than others. Or enjoyed it more than others. Or possibly both at the same time.
“It’s good to see you, Reg,” La Forge said. “The Enterprise has been a much, uh, quieter place since you transferred. I had no idea that this is where you ended up, though. I thought you were at Jupiter Station—”
“And I was,” Barclay interrupted. “For a while. Then I came here about …” He searched his memory.
“Three months ago,” Haftel said. “A very eventful three months. Reg has been our envoy with Dr. Lewis Zimmerman on Jupiter Station, who has been helping Commander Maddox with the theoretical work. But when it came time to do the real work of assembling the … apparatus … Maddox decided it would make more sense for Reg to be here.”
“Exactly,” Barclay said, then fixed his sights