Intellivore - Diane Duane [55]
Beverly chuckled softly. “Childlike, not childish,” she said. “Hardly a pejorative. You’re just another norepinephrine addict. At least you can admit it, though.”
“The first step to recovery, eh? What’s the cure?”
“Usually more adrenaline,” Crusher said, with a very slight smile.
“Thank you very much, Doctor,” Picard said, dry.
“Don’t mention it … you’ll get my bill in the morning.”
They walked on down the rows of mats. “It has to be said,” said Beverly. “I should apologize to you. I got pretty righteous with you the other day.”
Now it was Picard’s turn to give her the wry look. “You know something that Jack used to say to me?”
“No, what?”
“He said his father had told him that the most important thing to remember in a relationship was that if you were ever proved right about something, you had to apologize immediately.”
Beverly laughed. “So he did. I always did run a little late, though.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Better to be late that way than in the more final sense of the word.”
“You’re probably right about that, too.”
Picard glanced around them at the Oraidhe crew who lay about, feeling once more the heaviness that had been sitting in his chest all day, like a stone. “All this would not have happened if I had moved a little faster.”
“You can’t say that, Jean-Luc. There’s no guarantee, no way to be sure; too many variables in the situation, as Data would say.”
“The truth is,” Picard said, “that not all your trying to argue me out of how I feel is going to make any difference to them.”
Beverly looked at him with compassion. “No, you’re right there,” she said. “It doesn’t. But that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less valid. You called it: you did your job the best you could. Sometimes people die.” She stopped at the head of a line of mats, looked down along it. “In fact,” Crusher said, rather coolly now, “to be perfectly accurate about it, always, people die.”
“That sounds a little defeatist, Doctor.”
Crusher shook her head. “No, there come times when the ability to accept what is means a lot more than striving to make it otherwise. That poor guy who fell off the levitator: if it weren’t for Oraidhe’s surgeon leaving him alone, accepting his condition and letting it be as it was, right now we might not have a prayer.”
“You would still have found the crabs.”
“Yes, and would you want to have based a strategy on them? You should have seen your face. It looked like you were thinking, Crabs? Crabs??” She chuckled again.
“I suppose you were right. How are the crabs?”
“Pregnant,” she said, “both of them. We’re going to be coming down with fin-crabs momentarily. And I could use some help in finding them good homes.”
Picard gave her a lofty look. “Talk to Commander Riker. He handles all my pet placements.”
Crusher snorted softly. They looked over the big room together, and Beverly said, “When will we move?”
“Data says he needs another six hours to make sure all of the nonessential personnel are transported. Geordi needs about the same. A little extra time to get our resources properly divided between Enterprise and Marignano … and then we send the intellivore formal defiance. If it, or they, acknowledge it, fine. Otherwise, Marignano moves out and starts the active part of the operation. And Mr. Data will follow.”
“I’ve got my staff and Marignano’s getting ready measured dosages of entaskamine-lauryl,” said Crusher. “Logistically, it’s going to be a little exciting on both ships, but we’ll manage it. We have a lot of volunteers, and spray injectors aren’t difficult to use.”
“How long will you need?”
“Twenty minutes from the word go will be more than sufficient.”
Picard nodded. “I’ll give you an hour’s warning so that everyone will be in position.”
“That’ll be fine, Captain.”
He started to move away. She put a hand briefly on his arm, and he paused to look at her. “When did you eat last?” Crusher