Star Trek - Imbalance Part 12

KEIKO BIT HER LIP to keep from crying out at the nightmare sound of the Jarada voices humming and buzzing and clicking outside the tent. After the last few hours she was no longer sure how she should respond to them. All the students they had come here with were clearly crazy, their behavior unbalanced in the extreme. What she had seen of the teachers' disciplinary methods-killing deranged students instead of restraining them-inspired little confidence that the teachers were any more rational than their pupils. But was the insanity only temporary? Or, perhaps, cyclical? Or could a new group of Jarada have arrived to rescue them? As little as she wanted to admit it, the only way she and Tanaka were going to get back to the city was if the Jarada provided transportation. The question was-should they take a chance on trusting the Jarada or would they be better off waiting until the Enterprise spread its search pattern far enough to detect the two lone humans in this wilderness? She would have liked to discuss the options with Tanaka, but he was still unconscious. Besides, with the Jarada outside their tent, any noise they made would attract the insectoids' attention.

Tension wound itself tighter around her belly, twisting her insides into a tight knot of fear, and cold sweat trickled down her back. It would be different if she had some means of defending herself. A phaser would be welcome since she was so badly outnumbered. Then she could protect Tanaka, stunning any attackers before they got close enough to injure either of the humans again. Still, given how deadly the Jarada claws were, she would have settled for a well-made staff or even a st.u.r.dy tree branch long enough to land a solid blow without putting her within reach of her opponents. It was the waiting, the huddling in the tent and knowing she had no way of defending herself, that got on her nerves.

She suppressed a shudder, thinking what would happen if the Jarada outside were as crazed as the ones that had chased her and Tanaka into the forest. No, it wouldn't do to attract their attention unless she was positive they were friendly. And as long as they were speaking their own language, she had no way to tell what they were up to. She reached for the Jaradan translator, but stopped with her hand on the switch. The sound would attract attention from the insectoids outside, and she wasn't sure she should trust the Jaradan device. Tears of frustration burned her eyes as she thought of the damaged communicators. With a functional communicator she would have access to the ship's Universal Translator and she would know whether these Jarada were friends or foes. More to the point, she wouldn't even be in this mess. At the first sign of trouble, Miles could have beamed them back to the Enterprise, Tanaka would not have had his leg injured, and she wouldn't be lying in the darkness with several potentially insane Jarada outside her tent. To keep her panic at bay, she let her mind dwell on Miles and on how she would apologize to him when she got back to the ship. He had been right about this a.s.signment, although she still could not fathom the logic behind his conclusion.

After what seemed like forever, the voices faded away as the Jarada wandered off down the beach. Keiko didn't know if they were following the trail she and Tanaka had left-was it only a few hours earlier? -when they had walked along the lake after setting up their camp, or if the Jarada had just drifted that way by chance. Either way, she and Tanaka were safe for the moment.

Her body went limp, sagging against Tanaka's as the tension drained out of her. She shivered, unpleasantly cold where the air touched her sweat-slicked skin, and tried to pull the sleeping bag over herself. The far edge was folded under Tanaka's fever-hot body, and she couldn't free it without moving him. Nor could she raise the temperature to a more comfortable level for her exhausted body. The tent's controller, concealed in its pocket outside the door, might as well have been on the Enterprise for all her chances of reaching it.

After a brief struggle she gave up and wiggled as close to Tanaka as she could, thinking, If Miles hears of this, he'll never stop screaming about it. Still, it wasn't as if she had a lot of choices. If she kept a decorous separation between herself and Tanaka, she would become thoroughly chilled and the chattering of her teeth would probably bring down an attack by marauding Jarada. And it wasn't as if they were doing anything. With Tanaka in the condition he was in, Keiko wasn't even sure he knew where he was or whom he was with.

As if her thoughts had penetrated his delirium, Tanaka stirred and murmured something. Keiko put her fingers to his lips, hoping the gesture would quiet him. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. He thrashed harder, jabbing an elbow into her ribs. She groaned and rolled away, fighting the sudden return of her nausea. It would not do to get sick inside the tent, and she dared not crawl outside for fear of attracting attention from any hostile Jarada still in the area. For that matter, wherever she got sick, it would be like a beacon to a race that used scent as extensively as the Jarada. Jamming her hand across her mouth and swallowing rapidly, Keiko fought to keep her body from betraying them to the danger outside.

Finally the queasiness receded and Keiko crept back to check on Tanaka. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he felt as if he were burning up from the fever. Gritting her teeth, Keiko examined the leg, although the sight of it and the putrid smell of the infection made her stomach lurch. It was worse, much worse, with the swelling and redness stretching upward well past his knee and the yellowish-white rim extending over a centimeter back from the edge of the wound.

Although she knew it was futile, she injected him with the last of the antibiotics and squeezed the remainder of the ointment into the gash before replacing the bandage. Surprisingly, after his earlier restlessness, he was still while she treated him, although she didn't think he was conscious. The job finished, Keiko sat back on her heels, shaking with reaction. She did not need any medical training to know that, unless they were rescued soon, Tanaka was going to die from the toxins in his leg.

He started to thrash again, muttering in his delirium.What if he makes enough noise to attract the Jarada? Keiko thought, not liking the direction that thought led. They would both be trapped, since Tanaka was unable to go anywhere and she could not escape into the trees without his help. She crawled under the sleeping bag and held him, stroking his back and murmuring nonsense words to him. For a wonder, it worked and he quieted, lapsing again into sleep.

Keiko lay in the darkness, all desire for sleep driven from her. To keep the dogs of panic at bay, she went over their meager inventory of equipment in her mind, searching for items that could be adapted to broadcast a signal strong enough for the Enterprise to pick up. She tried to remember what she had seen in Tanaka's electronics kit, although she feared all the tools had been trampled into the sand by the Jarada who destroyed his tent. Still, if there was anything she could use, if she could recall just one object that might help her, she would brave being caught by the Jarada to find it.

Twice while she lay there she heard the sound of Jarada voices. Once a group, possibly the ones who woke her earlier, pa.s.sed along the beach headed for the Jarada encampment. Later she heard loud yelling and the thunder of running claw-feet on hard ground as a group of the insectoids charged through the meadow. Keiko did not need to see those Jarada to know that they, at least, were insane.

Fifteen minutes later Keiko noticed that one side of her tent seemed lighter than the others. Frowning, she shook her head to dispel the illusion, but the effect intensified. She glanced at her chronometer, even though she knew it was many, many hours to sunrise. The brightness couldn't be moonrise, because BelMinor's small moons were too inconsequential to give much light. The only illumination should have been the ruddy glow of the gas giant, now almost directly overhead, but that would not cause the sudden glow she had noticed.

A sudden gust of wind, heavy with smoke, shook the tent walls. Unable to help herself, Keiko began coughing. She had been trying to ignore the possibility, hoping that if she didn't think about a forest fire, the trees wouldn't burn. When she recovered her breath, she decided that she might as well look outside. If any Jarada were in the area, her coughing had already alerted them to her presence.

Once outside, she saw the extent of the disaster. To the north, where the road entered the area from the highway, the forest was a smoldering ruin. Keiko shuddered, realizing what would have happened if she and Tanaka had stayed in the trees near the road. As it was, the breeze off the lake had blown the fire north, away from their camp, while she and Tanaka had slept. Now, however, the wind had shifted direction, pushing the flames back toward the lake. One tongue had raced ahead, spearheading the onslaught, although most of the nearby forest was as yet untouched. At the edge of the meadow a tree exploded in flames, shooting sparks and smoldering brands in every direction. Satellite fires blossomed in the meadow, dancing among the stalks of gra.s.s.

Keiko checked the distance from the edge of the meadow to her tent. It was nowhere near adequate, even if she had had sufficient warning to soak down the fabric beforehand. In fact, she wasn't sure if the entire beach was wide enough, especially when her life was at stake. She stared at the lake, chewing her lip thoughtfully. The water offered their only refuge from the fire, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep them both afloat. Still, they didn't have any other options.

Tanaka was heavier than she had thought, his unconscious body dragging like so much dead weight. She hauled him outside, straining with the effort. Once he was clear, she retrieved their canteens for the purified water they contained and collapsed the tent, hoping against hope that it might escape the fire. By then, all but the fringe of trees nearest the meadow were in flames, and the crackle and roar of the fire almost deafened her.

Summoning strength she didn't know she had, Keiko grabbed Tanaka and lunged for the water. Once she got him moving, the sand made it easier, slipping under his boot heels instead of grabbing at them. She staggered into the water, shivering as the cold soaked into her uniform. Tanaka thrashed and fought, splashing them both thoroughly, but couldn't free himself from Keiko's hold around his shoulders. When the water reached up to her waist, she knelt, submerging herself to the neck and letting Tanaka's legs trail to the bottom.

A ring of flames marked the edge of the meadow, little dancing, spinning orange and yellow demons that mocked her with their cheerfulness. Beyond the gra.s.s fires the trees were a solid wall of flames too intense to look at. Even at this distance she could feel the heat blistering her face.

A loud explosion boomed across the meadow. Cascades of sparks fountained into the air, shooting in every direction. Slowly, a huge tree toppled toward the lake, its crown aimed straight at Keiko and Tanaka, flames streaming upward from every limb. Guessing its height and trajectory, Keiko scrambled to her feet. Gulping a deep breath, she pushed off on a diagonal, away from the sh.o.r.e. Tanaka hung in the water, his weight a drag on her movements, but at least he offered no resistance. Perhaps the cold water had shocked him to enough wakefulness that he would let her do the work.

She risked one glance toward the sh.o.r.e, just as a large, blazing limb landed across the tent. Unable to withstand direct contact with that much burning wood, the fire-resistant tent melted and its contents smoldered into flames. The falling tree hit the ground, bounced, and shattered into blazing fragments. One chunk arched out over the water, falling toward Keiko. She kicked desperately, trying to pull Tanaka out of the danger zone, but she knew she didn't have the strength to move both of them that fast.

Gulping a deep breath, she dived, pulling Tanaka down with her. The orange reflections in the water over her head spread farther and farther as the burning log fell toward them. The mirror splintered and the water erupted into a boiling froth. A red-hot chunk of wood seared her arm, and Tanaka jerked as another piece hit him. Then, at the moment when Keiko felt the last hope abandon her, the familiar tingle of the transporter wrapped itself around her and lifted her from the water.

Chapter Twenty-one.

WORF COULDN'T DECIDE which was the greater pleasure -frog-marching the sane Jarada to sickbay for Dr. Selar to examine, or stunning the insane Jarada as they boiled off the transporter pads and charged anything that moved. Either way, it felt good to be the one in control.

By ones and twos...o...b..ien locked on to the insectoids near the forest fire and beamed them to safety. So far they had rescued almost thirty Jarada in varying conditions, and Worf felt admiration for Data's skill in retrieving them. It was a difficult task, separating out the insectoids' life-form readings from the thermal background noise and from any creature that belonged in that forest. He had expected at least one large predator to get beamed up despite their precautions, but so far only Jarada had materialized on the pad.

"Why don't we just let them fry?" O'Brien muttered during a brief lull in the work. "They've made off with our people and I say we don't owe them anything."

Worf grunted. "I believe the captain wishes to question them. A wise commander uses all available sources of intelligence."

"This lot doesn't know anything." O'Brien's scowl deepened. "Why should we waste our time rescuing them when they turn around and attack us?"

"Because the captain ordered it." Worf's tone rejected any possibility of disputing Picard's wisdom in the matter.

"These are the last two," Data's voice said over the intercom. "And they seem to be moving."

O'Brien adjusted the controls, checked his settings against Data's readings, tweaked one of the levers marginally, and energized. Two drenched humans and several gallons of water materialized on the pads. Keiko was clutching Tanaka as though her life-or perhaps his-depended upon the strength of her grip. Worf did not understand much about human relationships, but he knew instantly that in his present mood O'Brien would find the worst possible misinterpretation for this scene.

"Keiko! What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?" O'Brien, his face flushed a brick red, stared at her as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

For a moment Keiko stared back at O'Brien, her expression starting at confusion and shifting in visible steps toward anger. Then Tanaka gasped, struggling for air. Keiko tore her attention away from her husband and lowered Tanaka to the floor, laying him on his stomach and turning his head to the side. When she hit his back with her hands, water gushed from his mouth.

Worf tapped his communicator. "Medical emergency! Doctor to the transporter room!" He glanced at O'Brien, but the transporter chief was still locked in mortal combat with his temper, so Worf started over to help Keiko.

Her second blow shoved more water from Tanaka's lungs. She was preparing for a third try, when he started coughing. That forced out more liquid and Tanaka lay on the transporter pad, gasping. Worf frowned, wondering how a human could recover so quickly from inhaling that much water.

Keiko started to stand, but swayed dizzily from the sudden change in position. Before Worf could steady her, she had slumped to the floor, retching. With clinical detachment he noticed that she had not eaten anything recently.

The medical team charged through the door and descended upon their patients. Wisely, Worf executed a tactical retreat. It was never wise to get between a doctor and her patients. Selar ran her tricorder over both Tanaka and Keiko, then ordered them taken to sickbay. As Tanaka was lifted onto the stretcher, Worf got a clear look at the gash on his leg. The Klingon suppressed a growl, wondering what had caused that wound and why he had not known of such a threat on the planet's surface. The security chief was supposed to prevent dangerous aliens from attacking the ship's crew.

Keiko recovered enough to argue with Selar's orders, but the doctor was adamant. Even so, Keiko refused to get on the stretcher and, instead, walked from the room with unsteady strides. O'Brien watched her, furious now because Keiko had ignored him after his angry greeting. Humans! Worf thought in disgust. They always seemed to go out of their way to cause trouble for themselves. To avoid getting drawn into this particular family row, he headed for the bridge to report this latest development.

"Ms. Ishikawa and Ensign Tanaka?" Picard repeated Worf's words for confirmation.

"Yes, sir," the Klingon replied, straightening his shoulders to rigid attention. Behind him the image of the burning forest still occupied the bridge's main viewscreen. "They have been taken to sickbay for examination. Ensign Tanaka has a bad wound on his leg, but Ms. Ishikawa appears uninjured."

"Thank you, Worf. Carry on with your arrangements for our other-guests." While I decide how we're going to get out of this mess, Picard told himself. By now he had to have all the answers at his fingertips, but it felt as though one of the key pieces to the puzzle was still lying facedown, where he couldn't see the vital clue.

"Captain, we are receiving another message from Commissioner T'Zen." Data's voice was flat, a perfect study in boredom. "It is the same as all the previous ones, requesting to know if you have transmitted the draft agreement yet."

Picard suppressed a grin, thinking that the monotonous repet.i.tion of T'Zen's message had finally given the android a handle on why humans resented tedium so much. Had it really been only twelve hours since they had forwarded the agreement to the Federation Council? Thinking of everything that had happened since then, Picard was tempted to slap a quarantine on the Beltaxiyan system and leave. If Riker and Crusher weren't still on the surface, unaccounted for, and if they hadn't just rescued twenty-nine Jarada from the fire zone, the temptation would have been even greater.

Before he left the system, though, Picard wanted to know why things had gone so wrong. Clearly, his first hunch, that he and the Enterprise-and the Federation-had been set up, was correct. For his own peace of mind he needed the answers to the mystery. With a shake of his head he pulled his attention back to the android's statement. "Mr. Data, tell Commissioner T'Zen yet again that she should already have received the draft agreement, and that we cannot answer for the validity of the translation or the sincerity of the Jarada."

Data's hands flew over his board as he sent the message. "Captain, do you believe this repet.i.tion will in any way influence Commissioner T'Zen's actions in the future?"

Picard stood, unable to resist the desire to pace the deck any longer. "Probably not, Mr. Data. The commissioner seems remarkably impervious to our opinions." He circled the bridge, stopping beside the android to study the sensor readings. Data was far more capable than he was of interpreting the information, but on occasion Picard still liked to see the reports as they came in.

After a few moments the captain resumed his circuit of the bridge, stopping again between the forward stations. "Open a channel to the planet. Let's see if Zelfreetrollan will speak to me this time."

The viewscreen shifted to blank, waiting for the Jarada's reply. As Picard expected, it remained dark. "No response on any channel," Data said finally. "I have repeated the message five times on all frequencies."

"In that case, record a message that we have thirty-one Jarada aboard the Enterprise and wish to speak to the Council concerning their-disposition. And repeat it at five-minute intervals until further notice."

"Aye, Captain."

Picard started back for his chair, wondering what to do next. Judging from Worf's expression when he had returned from the planet, Picard was sure his security chief would like nothing better than to take an armed force into the Council Chambers and "persuade" Zelfreetrollan at phaser point to give them the answers. The problem with Worf's method was that it was a little too blunt to work with anyone who did not view things in the same stark light as a Klingon.

Data's voice interrupted Picard's thoughts. "Captain, I am picking up an anomalous burst of energy from a location in the mountains a hundred and fifty kilometers south of the city." The android's fingers danced over his board, adjusting the settings. "And, Captain"-he paused again to confirm the readings- "I am scanning two humans in close proximity to the signal."

A sigh of relief and of triumph washed through the bridge. Data had found both Riker and Crusher! "Relay the coordinates to the transporter room, Mr. Data. Tell Mr. O'Brien to beam them home."

"I don't understand his reaction!" Keiko's voice was shrill with indignation. She shifted her shoulders, as if trying to find a comfortable position on the diagnostic bed. After a moment she turned her head toward Troi, her mouth compressing into a stubborn line. "And I don't see why I need to be here either."

"Your husband has been very worried about you," Troi said in a gentle voice. "Men often react with anger to cover the fact that they are relieved."

"d.a.m.n stupid reaction! Why couldn't he have just said he was glad to see me?" She changed position again, and this time Troi sensed that her discomfort was mostly emotional. "And why is the doctor keeping me here anyway? I'm not sick."

Troi debated what she should tell Keiko. Anything close to the truth would probably be unwelcome, she decided after a few moments. That left Troi with the option of trying to devise a plausible lie. "That burn on your arm is not trivial. Besides, Dr. Selar wishes to examine you thoroughly, in case you brought any unknown diseases back from the planet. We know so little about this system that every bit of information is useful."

"If there was anything harmful on the planet, the transporter would have filtered it out." Keiko's voice slipped into the didactic tone of someone who doesn't like children but is trying to reason with a four-year-old. "I feel fine. I don't need to stay here."

Troi glanced at the monitors behind Keiko, reading the confirmation for what she had already sensed. No, Dr. Selar did not intend to release this patient until someone, preferably a human doctor, had a long talk with her. Summoning her best professional smile, Troi patted Keiko on the shoulder. "Consider it an unexpected vacation while your husband is getting control of his temper." And you, of yours, Troi added to herself. "Besides, given the shape Ensign Tanaka is in, I think the doctor would like you to stay here for now."

"I don't want to!" Despite the defiant words, Keiko's face suddenly went pale and she clamped her hand over her mouth. She swallowed several times, fast and hard.

A commotion at the door interrupted Troi's reply. With relief she broke off the argument as Beverly Crusher herded a limping Will Riker into the room. Troi gasped as she got a good look at them. Crusher's left arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow in heavy gauze, the dressing a textbook example of emergency field care on a primitive planet. Riker had two off-white sheets tied around his body. They were adequate to protect his modesty but did little to hide the numerous sc.r.a.pes and bruises that covered almost every inch of his body.

"I won't take any more arguments from you, Will." Crusher pointed him toward an empty bed with a gentle push on the shoulder. "You are on the sick list until the swelling goes down in that knee."

"What about you, Beverly? Are you going to relieve yourself of duty until your arm heals?" He paused, but not long enough for her to interrupt him. "The captain needs me on the bridge to help sort all this out."

"Wrong! What information the captain needs he can ask you for shortly. But you're not going anywhere. There's too much risk of serious complications from bruises as severe as yours, particularly since they weren't treated promptly."

"Complications?" To take the weight off his swollen knee, Riker sat on the edge of the surgical bed, but he showed no signs of being ready to lie down. "Hardly anything more severe than would happen to your arm if it started bleeding again, I should think."

"Practicing medicine without a license, aren't you, Commander?" Suddenly, hands gripped him from behind and Selar guided him backward onto the bed. Crusher swung the biomedical unit into position over his torso and locked it in place while Selar brought a smaller unit for his knee. "To answer your question- yes, those bruises are more dangerous because blood clots could develop and then break loose into your bloodstream. The quicker we take care of you, the better I like it."

Riker rolled his eyes, his expression telling her that he still thought she was overreacting. "And what about your arm?"

Crusher snorted at his persistence. "I will gladly let Dr. Selar treat it as soon as I take care of you." She checked the readings on his monitors and adjusted the biomedical units slightly. "There. That should do it."

Selar had been watching her, noticing in particular how little trouble she had using her injured arm. "Dr. Crusher, may I ask what happened to your arm?"

Reflexively, Crusher brought the arm up against her torso. "One of the Jarada went berserk and clawed me."

"May I examine the injury?" Selar unwrapped the gauze and ran a scanner over the long, clean cut on Crusher's arm. Under the heavy coating of ointment the wound showed no signs of swelling or inflammation. "This is most peculiar."

"I don't see anything wrong." Crusher's tone was defensive. Hearing herself made her realize how tired she was.

"No, but Ensign Tanaka received a similar wound." Selar led Crusher over to Tanaka's bed, where the full-body biomedical unit was struggling to keep his condition stable. "We surmise that the wound was poisoned, but so far we have been unable to isolate the specific toxin."

Crusher handed her tricorder to Selar. "I ran two separate a.n.a.lyses of the ointment the Jarada gave me to treat my arm. You should be able to isolate the active ingredients and administer them in a concentrated form."

"Yes, Doctor." Selar took the tricorder and scrolled through Crusher's information. After a moment she went over to the computer and ordered the lab to make the appropriate medication.

Crusher's communicator chirped, reminding her she had responsibilities beyond her duties in sickbay. She tapped the device to acknowledge the page.

"Doctor, when will you and Commander Riker be ready to give me your reports on what happened on the planet?" Picard asked.

"I'll be able to give you my report in about ten minutes, Captain." If I remain awake so long, she added to herself. "However, Commander Riker is confined to sickbay and you will have to come here if you want his report."

"In that case I'll be there in ten minutes, Doctor. Picard, out."

Crusher shrugged and gave Selar an apologetic look. "It sounds like you'd better fix up my arm fast. I think things are about to get a whole lot busier."

Selar glanced around the room, then nodded significantly toward the security area, where the crazed Jarada, under restraints, were being monitored. "I was not aware that we needed any more business to occupy our time to the fullest."

Crusher followed Selar's look, for the first time realizing how many Jarada were in her sickbay. A relieved grin spread across her face. "You've been running tests on them, of course." When Selar nodded, Crusher's grin widened even further. "With those scans and the data I collected on the planet, we should have the answers to this entire mess."

"I sincerely hope you are right." Selar's tone was restrained, but Crusher could see the hope that blazed in her eyes for the brief moment before the Vulcan turned to get the anabolic protoplaser to repair her arm.

O'Brien stood awkwardly just inside the door to sickbay, trying to work up enough nerve to face his wife. He knew he shouldn't have blown up at her, but after the long hours of worrying, seeing her hanging on to Tanaka had been too much for his frayed nerves. Keiko squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, as if held by invisible restraints. Finally, knowing he had postponed his apology too long, O'Brien crossed to her bed.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said as soon as she saw him. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"If you'd just looked, you would have seen we were in trouble." Her tone was resentful, but less so than he had feared. She shifted again, trying to find a comfortable spot for her shoulders. No matter how many advances were made in designing hospital beds, no one had ever found one that satisfied an unwilling patient.

O'Brien took her hand. "I know. I was just so worried that I wasn't thinking straight. Will you forgive me?"

For a moment her expression remained so serious that he thought she would refuse. She studied him carefully, and then a brilliant smile spread across her beautiful face. "Of course, Miles. We can talk about it later." The smile shifted to a grimace of intense frustration. "If you'll tell the doctor to let me out of here! I keep telling them there's nothing wrong with me!"

He looked around, trying to find any of the doctors. As if by magic, they had all disappeared. O'Brien squeezed her fingers. "I'll do my best, but it doesn't look like they're going to make it easy. Why haven't they let you go?"

She shook her head. "Dr. Selar said something about routine tests, but they finished all of those. I want out of here!"

O'Brien leaned over and kissed her. "I'll see what I can do." He wanted Keiko out of sickbay as much as she wanted out. He could not give her a decent apology, with a romantic dinner and soft music, while the doctors had her connected to so many monitors.

Chapter Twenty-two.

IT WAS AMAZING how much clearer everything seemed after a good night's sleep, Picard thought as he surveyed the group around the table in his ready room. Riker was present, certified fit for duty although his stiff movements proclaimed that he was not yet fully recovered. Worf, at the far end of the taoverble, glowered at his shiny reflection with more than usual intensity. Picard didn't need to ask for recommendations to know that his security chief desired a rematch with the Jarada, this time on more equal terms. Even Troi's face wore an unaccustomed grimness, as though she blamed herself for not sensing the Jarada's insanity before so many people were jeopardized.