CHAPTER 4

Dr. Beverly Crusher had seen her friend, the captain, in many a narrow strait. However, she had never seen him look quite so meek or helpless as he did now.

Sitting in his robe on the biobed in front of her, Jean-Luc was just staring into space, and had been for nearly a minute. He seemed oblivious of the doctors and nurses going about their business elsewhere in sickbay.

It made her feel helpless, too—because even after the battery of brain-activity tests she'd put him through, she still couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Sighing, she completed one last scan with her tricorder and considered the results.

Troi, who was standing at the foot of the bed, looked at the doctor hopefully. Unfortunately, Crusher would have to dash that hope.

"I don't see anything that might cause hallucinations or a psychogenic reaction," she said.

The captain turned to her. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," echoed the doctor.

"Is there any indication of temporal displacement?" queried Troi. "Anything that might shed some light on the problem?"

Crusher shook her head. "Not that I can see. Usually, a temporal shift would leave some kind of trypamine residue in the cerebral cortex. But the scans didn't find any." Gently, she put her hand on Jean-Luc's shoulder. He half-smiled at the gesture, but his mind was clearly on his troubles.

"Frankly," she said, trying to lighten things up a bit, "I think you just enjoy waking everyone up in the middle of the night."

The captain looked at her. He seemed grateful for her effort to ease the considerable tension.

"Actually," he replied, picking up on her gibe, "I enjoy running around the ship in my bare feet. I find it..." He pretended to search for the right word. "Invigorating," he decided at last.

Now it was the doctor's turn to smile. "No doubt you do."

"Dr. Crusher?" The chief medical officer turned. Alissa Ogawa, one of her nurses, was headed this way with a padd. Ogawa was six months pregnant and looked every minute of it.

"Here are the biospectral test results," said the nurse.

"Thanks, Alissa," said Crusher.

Smiling, Ogawa crossed sickbay to attend to other things—and the doctor looked over the results displayed on the padd. Finally, satisfied that there could be no error, she turned to her patient, who had been watching her as she went over the data.

"And?" he asked.

"Well," she told him, "your blood-gas analysis is consistent with someone who's been breathing the ship's air for weeks. If you'd been somewhere else, there would be some indication of a change in your dissolved oxygen levelsrebut there isn't any such indication. You haven't left the Enterprise, Jean-Luc. Not as far as I can tell."

He frowned. "I don't understand," he said. He got that faraway look again—the one that tore at Crusher's heart. Unfortunately, the doctor thought, that wasn't the worst news she would give him today.

Turning to Troi, she asked, "Counselor... would you be good enough to excuse us for a moment?"

The Betazoid looked a little surprised, but she took the request in.stride. "Of course," she replied. And then, to the captain: "I'll look in on you a little later."

Jean-Luc nodded—but his gaze was fixed on the doctor now. He, too, wondered what kind of remarks required such privacy.

As Troi headed for the exit, Crusher met his scrutiny. This wasn't going to be easy, she told herself. But, as his doctor, she had to tell him.

"Jean-Luc," she began, "our scans didn't show any evidence of Irumodic syndrome. But it did reveal a particular kind of defect in your parietal lobe." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It's the kind of defect that could make you susceptible to several neurological disorders later in life... including Irumodic syndrome."

The captain absorbed the news. "I see," he said.

Until this moment, he had been dealing only with something he'd experienced elsewhere—more than likely, it seemed, in a particularly vivid nightmare. Now the nightmare—or at least this one aspect of it--was invading his real world.

Still, whatever dark prospects he contemplated, he kept them to himself. Outwardly, he didn't show the least sign of self-pity.

"Now," she continued, "it's possible you could have that defect for the rest of your life without developing a problem. And even if the syndrome does develop, many people lead perfectly normal lives for a long time after its onset."

Jean-Luc smiled wryly--even courageously. "Then why," he asked, "do you look like you've just signed my death sentence?"

He said it with a hint of a smile, so she wouldn't get the wrong idea. Just as she had tried to break the tension earlier, he was trying his best to break it now.

After all, he knew that she would not be pleased about this either. Not only was she his physician, she was his friend. And at times, she had been on the verge of becoming something even more.

"Sorry," said Crusher, unable to quite bring herself to smile with him. "I guess... this has caught me off guard." The captain took a contemplative breath and let it out.

"Well, it'll either happen or it won't. However, since we have no control over it, there's no point in worrying." He looked at her with something akin to defiance in his eyes. "Besides," he added, "something tells me you're going to have to put up with me for a very long time."

The doctor shrugged. "It won't be easy," she told him, attempting to match his attitude, "but I'll manage."

She wanted to say more, but she was interrupted by the entrance of First Officer Will Riker. Crossing sickbay in several long strides, he looked as serious as Crusher felt. Of course, Riker didn't know anything about the potential for Irumodic syndrome, which worried the doctor even more than Jean-Luc's current malady.

The captain eyed his second-in-command. "Well?" he inquired. "Did Worf find anything?"

Riker shook his head. "No, sir. His security scans came up negative." He held his hands out in a gesture of apology. "They're checking the sensor logs... but there's still no indication that you left the ship."

Jean-Luc slipped off the biobed and harrumphed. "It wasn't a dream," he insisted. "Something did happen."

Abruptly, they were interrupted by a voice on the intercom net. "Worf to Captain Picard."

The captain looked up. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Sir, there is an incoming transmission from Admiral Nakamura. It is a Priority One message."

Priority One? Crusher knew that Starfleet didn't use that designation lightly.

Jean-Luc turned to her. "Beverly?"

She knew what he wanted—and she had no objections. "Go ahead," she said. "Use it if you like."

The captain nodded by way of a thank-you. "Mr. Worf," he instructed, "route the communication through to Dr. Crusher's office."

"Aye, sir," replied the Klingon. "Rerouting..."

As Jean-Luc started across sickbay, the chief medical officer sighed. She hoped that Nakamura didn't want too much of the captain. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough on his mind.