The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [65]
Once the question had been posed, he touched on an answer and immediately shied away from it. Deelor always traveled alone. He didn’t need complications.
Dr. Crusher had never spoken to Ruthe alone before. At close quarters, without the distraction of Andrew Deelor’s strong personality, the woman’s reserved manner was even more accentuated. The lack of expression would go unremarked in a Vulcan, but in a human such behavior was oddly disturbing. For the first time Crusher saw Ruthe as more than just a passenger. She was also a patient.
“The drug is harmless,” said Ruthe as she handed the vial of cinnamon-scented liquid back to Crusher. “The Choraii were probably trying to help with the transfer. Without its influence Jason would have been much warier of Lieutenant Yar’s approach.”
The doctor was not mollified by the translator’s interpretation of the drug’s purpose. “That may be the case, but it increased his agitation when he was beamed over.”
“They always react violently at first, even the young ones.” Ruthe cocked her head. The faint cries of a child could be heard through the walls of sickbay. “Is that the other one?”
“Yes,” sighed Crusher. Iovino’s magical touch was no substitute for food, and the boy still wasn’t eating.
“The cinnamon would calm him down.”
“He needs food, not drugs.” The doctor fought to keep anger out of her voice. She couldn’t afford to alienate the translator now. Instead, Crusher used the subject to lead into a discussion of Ruthe’s past. “What did you first eat when you left the Choraii ship?”
Ruthe shrugged indifferently. “I don’t remember.”
Crusher had expected continued resistance. Even without the psych profiles in her medical file, the doctor would have guessed that Ruthe’s emotional distance served as a shield, protecting her from a painful past. Yet Jason’s best hope for survival lay in getting Ruthe to remember what she would rather forget.
“I have a plan for treating Jason, but I need your help.”
“I’ve already answered your questions about the cinnamon,” said Ruthe. “That’s all I agreed to do.” She turned her back on the doctor.
“I want to recreate the Choraii interior on a holodeck,” said Crusher calmly. “If Jason can return to a familiar environment, he might be lured out of his emotional withdrawal.” She watched for the slightest sign of a reaction from Ruthe, but the woman was difficult enough to read face-to-face. Trying not to exert any obvious pressure, Crusher continued the explanation. “Data has enough sensor-scan information to determine the broad characteristics of the bubble structure and the composition of the atmosphere. Lieutenant Yar can provide some idea of the interior, but not many details. You’re the only person who can confirm the authenticity of the final effect.”
“That child is very noisy,” said Ruthe. “Don’t you get tired of all that crying?”
“Yes, I do.” Don’t force, Crusher reminded herself.
Let her choose to help on her own.
“Try grapes.” Ruthe turned back around to face the doctor. “Or anything round with a soft center. The Choraii food always came in bubbles.” Having delivered that one piece of advice, she left sickbay.
Dr. Crusher tapped her com link. “Data, I’m ready to begin the holodeck project.” Ruthe hadn’t said no, and that was promising enough to start work.
At first glance the construction of the room was simple, its boxlike dimensions established by plain, undecorated walls and an uncarpeted flooring. Appearances were deceiving. The holodeck was one of the most highly sophisticated technological features of the Enterprise.
This particular holodeck was smaller than the one that held the Oregon farm, and the illusion it created was confined to the center of the room. A single transparent bubble quivered in place, its curving lines flattened at the contact point with the deck. The slick surface glistened in the sourceless ambient light used to illuminate the early design