Part 7 (1/2)
The woman sneered. ”That's right-you're not human. Why did they send you here? To rub our noses in it?”
”I appreciate this lesson in colorful terran language,” said Ro, ”but I have work to do. Does your visit have a point?”
”Yes”-the woman frowned-”it has a point. I've been ordered to put up with you, but there isn't a h.e.l.luva lot they can do to me if I don't. Still, I have a lab to run, and morale is bad enough around here as it is-so I'm going to try to get along. We just need to work out some ground rules.”
”What kind of ground rules?” asked Ro.
Drayton took a deep breath to calm herself, then continued. ”If you don't openly defy me and weaken my authority, I'll bend the rules to suit you. There are good reasons for not sleeping in this lab, but if you insist, I'll change the rules to allow it. I only ask that you consult me before you take action on your own.”
Ro nodded. ”Very well. I'll consult you, but I won't let you interfere with my mission.”
The small woman smiled grimly and replied, ”I won't let you interfere with mine either. Good night.”
Doctor Drayton ambled slowly around the lab, checking on a few experiments and computer screens as she went. She stopped to pick up a rubber glove that had fallen on the floor and dropped it disdainfully into a trash receptacle. Ensign Ro watched the dark-haired woman until the outer door clanged shut behind her, and she wondered if this would be their only confrontation.
Deanna Troi tried to get comfortable on the sleeping pad atop the hard earth of the mound. A few meters away, Worf snored contentedly, and Data sat on his haunches, staring alternately at the stars and at the pitch-black forest. It wasn't that she was cold; her paper-thin sleeping bag had a microscopic heating element based on nanotechnology that kept her body temperature at a perfect ninety-eight degrees, even in extremities like toes and fingers. But unlike Worf, she preferred soft bedding. Had they been sleeping in the forest, it occurred to her, she could have augmented the sleeping pad with a mattress of decomposing leaves and twigs. Tomorrow night, she promised herself, she'd collect some extra bedding before it got dark, but she wasn't going to poke around in those woods now.
As if reading her mind-or, more likely, hearing her toss and turn-Data remarked, ”You could return to the s.h.i.+p, Counselor, for your sleep period. I will alert you when the Klingons return.”
”That's kind of you,” Deanna replied, rolling onto her back. ”But I prefer to stay here with you and Worf. If I slept in my own bed tonight, I couldn't face those lost young people. I'm having a hard time empathizing with them, and maybe this will help. What do you suppose they're doing?”
”I certainly hope they are attending to Turrok's wounds,” the android answered. ”I believe if his initial contact with the knife changed its angle sufficiently, subsequent wounds would be mostly superficial.”
”Don't talk about it”-she shuddered-”please. I really despair that we're going to be able to get through to them and change their way of life. Unless we abduct them, as we did with Turrok.”
”That is an alternative,” Data replied, ”but it is preferable that sentient beings make their own decisions. Do you not agree?”
”I agree, Data. Keep reminding me of that, all right?”
”As you wish.” The android nodded. ”How often should I remind you?”
”Good night, Data.”
”Good night, Counselor.”
No one returned to the lab that night, and eventually Ensign Ro couldn't keep her eyes open or stare at readouts any longer. Thinking about the Calvert family and Doctor Drayton, the ensign made a trip to the lavatory, then stretched out on her simple cot. There had to be an interesting story behind Doctor Drayton's presence in this far-flung colony, and Ro resolved to ask Myra about it the next time she saw her.
The night was quiet, although there had been intermittent drumming that sounded far away. Even the animals in the forest and the footsteps overhead sounded unreal and far removed. Despite her fears and worries and the glaring lights of the laboratory, sleep overcame the Bajoran in due course.
She had no idea what time it was when she awoke, and she was slightly disoriented for a moment. But Ro certainly knew what had awakened her, as she could feel something crawling on her chest under her tunic. In her confused state she did what anybody would do and slapped at her chest to brush it off. Immediately there was a sharp, stinging pain that took her breath away, and she gasped. Now she knew she was in some kind of trouble as she carefully sat up in her cot.
Ro had never been much for proper uniform etiquette, and her collar was open as usual. Her determined calm was shattered by a deep, throbbing pain between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Alarmed, she ripped at her top, then screamed as something crawled down her stomach and bit her again.
Leaping to her feet, she shook the sc.r.a.ps of her top, and a jade-green creature that looked like a stick with legs tumbled to the floor. Under normal circ.u.mstances Ro would never take the life of any living thing, but she didn't want to let the giant insect get away before she could find out what it was. She stomped it with her boot just as it began to jump. With desperation she ground it into the floor.
Ro could hear footsteps pounding above her, and she knew her second scream had been loud enough to attract attention. Suddenly her thumping heart, throbbing chest pains, and the panicked footsteps overhead all melded into one giant drumbeat that pummeled her brain. The Bajoran staggered around the lab; the blood vessels inside her head felt as if they might explode, and bizarre lights and shapes a.s.saulted her senses. She knew she was hallucinating, but she felt as though the crushed insect had wormed its way into her brain. She wasn't even aware that she was screaming.
Weird, hollow voices shouted at her, and arms grabbed her, but she struggled with these new demons. ”Sickbay!” she heard someone yell-maybe it was she. Pain and lights exploded in her head and rushed down her body, and she felt she was melting and igniting simultaneously.
She knew she was dying.
Chapter Seven.
RO PLUNGED UNDER the brackish green water and felt herself gasping for air. She flailed in terror as the thick liquid flowed over her and pressed against her chest-it pushed and pushed until the pain was excruciating. She held her breath and tried to kick her way out, but the water was like syrup and pulled her deeper with every desperate movement. She was going to die! It was just a matter of what would get her first-the lack of air, the chest pains, or the wispy tentacles pulling her deeper. She screamed and screamed, not thinking how strange it was to be doing that underwater, but still the sticky liquid pulled her deeper. Deeper into darkness.
Then she saw lights spinning somewhere above her, like bodies in a transporter, s.h.i.+fting and flowing in and out of reality. She swam desperately toward the lights until she suddenly found herself walking, then running. She had to run, because they were chasing her-giant skull-faced Carda.s.sians! They were giant because she was a little girl again, running for her life. The gaunt creatures caught her and threw her to the ground; she screamed and kicked and cried, because this was real! This had happened before! She screwed her eyes shut as they carried her away, because she knew the nightmarish vision that was about to come next.
There he was-her compa.s.sionate father, a leader of her people-beaten, bleeding, and kneeling on the ground. Seeing her, he shook like an animal awakened from a long sleep, staggered to his feet, and yelled in rage, ”No!” The Carda.s.sians glared at him, their black eyes rimmed by bone. Then they swarmed around him and struck him down again and again. The little girl struggled and turned away, but she couldn't shut out the sickening blows. Mercifully, she felt herself collapsing again into darkness.
When she awoke, arms were still holding her. No, not arms, restraints. She was strapped to an examination table in a modern sickbay with a screenful of readouts blinking and blipping rea.s.suringly behind her.
”Ro!” a small voice called. ”You're awake!” Grinning down at her was the cheery face of Myra Calvert, and it reminded her of the girl she had once been-before she'd lived through the nightmarish visions in her memory.
”I'm awake,” sighed the Bajoran, ”but I seem to be strapped down. What happened?”
”You were going crazy,” said Myra, clearly impressed by what she had seen. ”Full-scale hallucinations. They had to strap you down, or you would've hurt yourself and probably everybody else. I've never heard anybody scream like that.”
Above the girl's face hovered another familiar face, and their red hair seemed to blend in Ro's blurred vision.
”Hi.” Doctor Beverly Crusher smiled. ”Good to have you back.”
”Am I on the Enterprise?” asked Ro.
”No, you're in the settlement sickbay,” answered Beverly. ”They know more about these mantis bites than I do. Of course, I know more about Bajoran physiology than they do. So between the two of us, we managed to pull you through.”
”Do I have to stay in restraints?”
”I don't know,” said Crusher. ”You're lucid now, but the effects of the venom might come back. Let me ask Doctor Freleng. He's out in the hall with Captain Picard.”
Beverly vanished, but her small a.s.sistant stayed by Ro's bedside. ”You're lucky,” remarked Myra. ”You got bitten twice, and n.o.body's survived two bites from a pit mantis.”
”That's what bit me?” asked Ro groggily. ”A pit mantis? It was something that crawled under my s.h.i.+rt.”
”Yeah.” Myra frowned. ”That was weird. We have pressurized doors around here to keep those things out. I'll have to check the cages to make sure none of our specimens escaped.”
”How long have I been ... here?”
”About six hours,” answered Myra. ”It's just breakfast time.”
Ro wanted to ask more, but a young man she didn't know came striding up to her bedside, followed by Beverly Crusher and a grinning Captain Picard.
”I'm Doctor Freleng,” said the young man, peering through a scope into her eyes. ”Oh, yes, you look excellent. I'll have to take Doctor Crusher's word for it that your vital signs are what they ought to be.”
”Almost,” offered Beverly. ”That must be quite a powerful neurotoxin.”
”It is.” Freleng nodded. ”If we could get out to catch more of those mantises, maybe we could develop an antidote. Right now every reaction is different. One member of a scouting party died instantaneously. But when President Oscaras was bitten he just sat around in a stupor all day, smiling blissfully. Here, I think it's safe to take off the restraints.”