Possession - J.M. Dillard [6]
Deanna drew a slow, even breath, allowing herself to sense the others’ feelings while still maintaining her own inner calm. “Captain …” she began gently. “All of that is well-considered, and may even prevent some future tragedy. However, in light of the fact that we’re on a tight schedule, the timing of extensive drills could be a problem.”
Picard simmered a moment, his lips drawing into a tight thin line as he gave her a sharp glance, then he looked away, down, and sighed, surrendering slightly. “That damned thing!” he grumbled.
This was not the time to remind him that he had eagerly volunteered the ship and her crew for “that damned thing”—a heavily scheduled transport assignment to support the Universal TechnoFair. The Enterprise had been picking up and transporting a major contingent of Federation scientists for at least a week now, and there were still several more stops on the schedule. The TechnoFair would not wait for them—no matter what had happened on board.
“Right now,” Deanna continued, in her consummately conciliatory counselor’s tone, “both of you need to come to grips with this tragedy. You’re both blaming yourselves for something only one person could have prevented—Ensign Ito, who violated procedure and risked herself unnecessarily.”
She glanced from Picard to Crusher, but neither officer met her gaze; instead, they each glowered at separate, far-distant points as they pondered her words. There was still anger, yes, but Deanna sensed it weakening. Wisely, she kept quiet until, at last, Crusher broke the silence.
“Janice’s Academy roommate is on board,” Beverly said, her voice strained, her eyes still focused on an unadorned patch of bulkhead. “She told me that Janice had made some technical blunder right after she’d been assigned here. The senior officer, Lieutenant Singh, handled it properly, but it was the first major error Janice had made in her career. She’d been golden at the Academy—completely unused to failure. Her roommate thinks that she was determined to make up for the perceived screwup, especially in light of our preparations to pick up those scientists. So she took too many risks.”
Crusher paused and drew a breath; her gaze seemed to turn inward, toward a painful memory. “I had her in sickbay in seconds. We used everything, did everything possible, but I couldn’t stabilize her. She’d suffered so much brain damage …”
Deanna herself drew a breath, steadying herself at the wave of sorrow, defeat, and failure that emanated from her friend. She regretted Beverly’s suffering; at the same time, she admired the compassion that made her such a good doctor.
“The worst thing about it is,” Beverly continued, her voice near breaking, “one of the scientists already on board—a surgeon, Dr. Ellis—has developed a technique for replacing damaged brain cells with synthetic tissue. It’s still experimental, but … with his technique, it’s theoretically possible to stabilize a damaged brain until the victim’s own cells can be cloned and specialized. Had I known he was on board, had I known of his work—it would’ve been a risk worth taking …” She lowered her face in a gesture of utter defeat.
“Beverly …” Deanna moved to stand beside her friend and put a gentle hand on her arm in support. “There’s no way you could keep track of all the people we’ve been picking up this last week. It’s easy to think this doctor might have helped Janice, but there was more than brain damage involved.”
Crusher nodded slowly, but her expression remained grim. Even so, Troi sensed the transformation of pure outrage into grief, mixed with the first glimmerings of acceptance—and so she again remained silent for a moment, until Picard sighed, and said, “I had to speak to her parents. Of all the responsibilities that I dread, this is the worst”—he gestured at his computer terminal—”to send my regrets to the parents of that promising young officer.” He turned