GETTING TO KNOW YOU
by Pat Greiner
(Part 3 of 4)
What if the woman down the hall wasn�t Beverly? What if they had taken Beverly and created some sort of copy of her? Wouldn�t amnesia be the perfect cover to explain any slips that she might make?
Jean-Luc examined his suspicion for flaws. There were plenty. He had no proof that Voosan medical science, advanced as it was, could create a perfect copy of someone in a week�s time. And what was he basing this whole thing on? The chatter of a man he didn�t know. A man who seemed to have a personal grudge against the Voosans. For all Jean-Luc knew, the man�s brother could have wandered out an airlock in a drunken stupor. If he even existed. The Voosans had been exceedingly generous in their care of Beverly and him. He had no reason to suspect them, and yet � there was that nagging feeling. What if?
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She dressed in a rush. Good, there was time to fix her hair. She didn�t want him to suspect that she knew he was coming for her. She just wanted to look particularly stunning in a casual sort of way. Hair fixed, dressed, a touch of perfume � she didn�t even both sitting down. He�d be at her door any moment.
Ten minutes later she sat down.
Fifteen minutes later she went back to reviewing her journals.
An hour later, it occurred to her that he might be waiting for her to come and apologize. After all, she had been on her way to do just that when she discovered the romantic scene he�d set. Of course. He just wanted to be ready for her when she came to him. She�d been the one who�d been unreasonable, and it was her burden to apologize. She could do that � especially considering the welcome it looked like she would receive. With a last adjustment of her hair, she headed down the hall, pausing to listen outside his door. The music had stopped. As she was about to chime, a bead fell from one of her earrings and hit the floor.
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What had she been up to? What might she be planning? If they had taken Beverly � a huge if, he kept forcefully reminding himself � to what end? Why make a substitution? Although his mind buzzed with questions and suspicions and counter-arguments, his quarters were still enough to hear a bead drop. In his agitated state, he literally leapt to the door. �What are you doing there? If you�ve got something to say, stand up and say it. Don�t lurk about in the hallway. Stand up!�
Bead clutched in one hand, she straightened up and let all the hurt and humiliation she felt come out in one burst. �What am I doing here? That�s a damned good question. What the hell am I doing here?� She clenched her jaw as she strode back to her quarters.
Jean-Luc stared after her retreating form. She looked and sounded and smelled like Beverly. She was bright like Beverly. Gods knew she had a temper like Beverly. There was no good reason for him to believe she wasn�t Beverly. At this point, he almost hoped she wasn�t � because if she were, he could count on weeks or months of not being allowed to forget the faux pax he�d just committed.
Before retreating for another fitful night, he took one precaution. �Computer, notify me immediately if Dr. Crusher leaves her quarters at any time.�
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When Jean-Luc sat upright on his biobed and stretched his arms up, he could feel a slight discomfort throughout his torso.
�We think the boom knocked you into the cabin wall, with the point of greatest impact just below your rib cage. There was some internal bruising which is healing at a satisfactory rate, but you will feel some tenderness for another day or two.�
�My clothing?�
�It was damaged in the accident. We took the liberty of replicating new duplicates.� Dr. Haorft nodded to Garmz, who produced the clothing from a small cupboard and placed it at the foot of the bed. �We have other patients to see at this time. After lunch, we will return and take you to see Dr. Crusher.�
�Why is it necessary to wait for you? Can�t I just go �� he got to his feet, but at the first step his legs wavered beneath him and he barely managed to get back to the bed without falling.
�You are still feeling the effects of stasis. Give your body time to catch up to your mind. We will return in two hours time. Until then, Ambassador, please � stay in bed.�
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She hadn�t spent a moment in the sickbay since that first visit two days earlier. It was time to begin getting reacquainted with her profession. She worked her way from one instrument to the next and found that in most cases they were familiar to her. She knew their functions and she could deduce how to use them, but the actions didn�t come automatically. This must be what I was like as a young medical student, she thought. In theory I know what I�m doing, but I have to think everything through. I don�t have a feel for it anymore. In that personal log I viewed last night, she � I � talked about my passion for medicine. That Beverly must have been a wonderful doctor. And now this Beverly has to re-learn everything she discovered, everything she learned so deeply that it was stored in her very bones. My bones, damn it. I�ve got to stop thinking of my earlier life as another person. I am still me. And if it�s in my bones, then why can�t I find a way to get it out?
The door slid open with a soft whoosh. Only a voice came in. �Beverly. Please don�t throw anything, even though I deserve it.�
�What?�
�May I come in? I have every intention of groveling.�
�All right. But before you grovel, I get to have one small rant.� Her volume rose to just short of piercing. �What in the hell was going on last night?� She stopped, recomposed herself, and started to pace around the small room. �There. I suppose we can skip the actual groveling if you have any sort of reasonable explanation.�
�I can only plead temporary foolishness. I had planned a much different evening for us.� He noticed her sidelong smirk and paused. �You knew about it?�
�I was in fact on my way to apologize for my behavior. I found the music, the soft lights, the wine, the flowers, everything but you. And not wanting to ruin what you had obviously been planning, I went back to my quarters to wait.�
�Oh.� That made it even worse. Add another reason for her to feel rejected on top of the confrontation in the hallway and he was sunk. �Beverly, I was an idiot.�
�I�m not arguing that point, just asking why.�
He recounted the conversation with Master Vanseth the night before, and admitted to his speculation. �I let myself get carried away by a rather paranoid line of thinking, and I hurt you without meaning to. I really am very sorry, Beverly.�
�Apology accepted. But you know, I�ve been thinking. We�ve gotten off to such a bad start with the whole physical side of our relationship. What would you think of just calling a moratorium on that for, oh, say a week? We can concentrate just on getting to know each other again as friends, and then maybe things will be a little easier.�
�Under the circumstances, I think that is an excellent idea. We were friends for a very long time before we were lovers. It seems to be a pattern that works for us.�
�All right then. I feel a little more comfortable already. Now maybe I can start getting comfortable with my job.� She gestured around at the instruments. �What I need is practice. I don�t suppose you could arrange to be sick or injured pretty much continually for a few years?�
�I can�t say I�d go that far, but I was going to suggest that you�re welcome to practice running scans and tests and such on me. I�ll be quite a willing subject, and I�ll even try to drum up the anomalous result whenever I can.�
She smiled. �You asked for it. Please take a seat on the biobed, Ambassador. This won�t hurt a bit.�
An hour later, Jean-Luc had undergone a head-to-toe bactrion scan, complete blood analysis, neurological tests, and genetic scanning. He�d also suggested she run genetic tests on herself for the practice in reading the results. �You once told me that as a child, you had a severe bout of Pirakean fever.�
She looked at him and shrugged. �I don�t remember it.�
�Right. But you did, and I believe I�ve heard that Pirakean fever is a disease that leaves a genetic imprint in the patient�s cells.�
�Yes, that�s an accepted fact.�
�Can you find it in your scan?�
�I should be able to.� She consulted the databanks on the fever in order to confirm her facts, then scrolled through her scan and isolated the section of damaged RNA in only a few minutes.
�Well done, Beverly.�
�Thank you. One more thing I wanted to check on you. You said you had broken your leg, and the Voosans repaired it in stasis. Let�s take a look.� She displayed the scan of his femur on the screen. �Right there. Quite a clean break. No rough ends � almost as though something sliced right through it. And your skin is remarkable. There�s not even a faint scar. Of course, my arm is the same way. She pushed up her sleeve to show him. �Where the transponder was? Not even a hint of a line.�
�The Voosans� medical skills are impressive. I certainly don�t mind not adding another scar to this body. And I doubt you do either � as long as they didn�t fix your ear.�
�My ear?�
�Of course, you haven�t heard this yet. When you were thirteen, you had your ears pierced in the usual fashion, in the lobes. And you decided to be your own surgeon and add several more piercings in the upper part of your right ear. You got a virulent infection and were lucky not to lose the top of your ear. And although it would have been easy enough to have the scar repaired, you kept it as a reminder to yourself not to follow fads and always to sterilize your instruments. It�s just a small mark, and almost no one knows it�s there under your hair. Quite possibly no one but me.�
He lifted her hair and bent the top of her ear down so he could peer at the back. �Right there.� She put her hand up to feel it. �It�s not even big enough to feel. It�s just a faint line all the way back here.� He traced it with his finger. �If you didn�t have a friend to tell you it was there, even you would never know.�
�Jean-Luc?�
�Yes?�
�It was lunch time an hour and a half ago.�
�Now that sounds like the Beverly I know. I�ll go order something and meet you in the conference room in five minutes.�
They shared a smile before he left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, he went directly to the cockpit and programmed a course change. A sweeping turn that would not be noticeable from within the ship, and they�d be headed back to Voosah.
There had been no scar on the back of her ear.
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Doctors Kwurgl, Haorft, and Garmz stared at each other. �Are we all quite certain that we agree? Do any of you have objections to this course? There could be ethical implications, I suppose,� Haorft began.
Garmz was emphatic. �The betterment of knowledge clearly outweighs the fate of any one individual.�
�Kwurgl, you would have to have the most direct hand in causing injuries. Are you comfortable with that?�
�They would not be life-threatening. We can control that to a large degree. They need only be rendered unconscious.�
�Can you provide a crew who will be discreet?�
�That is not a problem. There are plenty of us who value pure knowledge above all. And the Fountains of Hralob near the Mern Heights will be the perfect place to distract them, and convince them they were victims of a freak accident at sea. We cannot lose this opportunity to study a most interesting species.� Kwurgl turned to Haorft. �But delivering them here unconscious is not the difficult part. Are you sure you can create an undetectable replicant in a reasonable time?�
�What�s reasonable?�
�Even if they do sustain some injuries, I can�t imagine we could justify much more than a week. It�s not much time.�
�Five days to grow the physical shell. One to scan and copy basic memory patterns. One for some socializing.�
�And the higher memory patterns?�
�We couldn�t do it with enough accuracy � we don�t know their neurology well enough yet. If we don�t scan any higher patterns, the functional effect will mimic amnesia.�
Dr. Garmz watched the two senior physicians play devil�s advocate with each other until his impatience was strained a tick too far. �Yes, it will be difficult. We�ll face challenges. And we will have to misrepresent the situation to the male. But those are minor quibbling points compared to what we stand to learn. To obstruct this gain in knowledge would truly be a sin.�
The two older doctors nodded at each other. They knew Garmz was right. It was their duty, clear and simple.
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Jean-Luc considered the options as he sat in the cockpit. Either she was an exceptional actress, or she didn�t know she wasn�t Beverly. She might be a knowing spy or an innocent pawn. But what would be the purpose of putting a spy on his ship? If they wanted him or the ship, they had better opportunities to take both when they were on Voosah. Or this Beverly could be a sleeper of some sort, one who would somehow become a danger to the Federation when they finally arrived home. And in that case, she might or might not know her purpose, just as she might or might not know she wasn�t the real Beverly.
But most pressing was the question of the real Beverly�s whereabouts. If the replacement was a knowing spy, and the Voosans� purpose to somehow get her back to the Federation, then the real Beverly might merely have been in their way. And if that was the case, they might do anything from giving her a comfortable life to killing her. On the other hand, if the replacement doesn�t even know that she is a replacement, if she is just a sort of blank, then the purpose for putting her here is not anything that she would do. Rather, it would be to prevent my knowing that the real Beverly was gone. Which means that their real interest is in her. Every new �what if� branched off into half a dozen more possibilities.
There were twenty-three hours away from Voosah. He felt as though he were constantly looking over his shoulder, but Beverly � it seemed somehow wrong to call her that now � had made no suspicious movements at all. She�d spent the rest of the preceding day in her medical lab, and by the day�s end was asking whether the holosuite could be used to create some practice patients for her. She�d conversed excitedly about her progress over dinner, and he�d worked hard to maintain a friendly neutrality, then made an excuse to retire early.
The computer interrupted his thoughts. �Dr. Crusher has left her quarters.�
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She had thoroughly enjoyed exploring the instruments and equipment in sickbay the previous day. She might not remember being a doctor, but the basics of medical knowledge were still in her brain. It wasn�t study time she needed so much as practice. She planned to begin that morning in the holosuite.
She expected to find Jean-Luc in the conference room, but there was no sign of him when she passed through. Just as she was about to look in the cockpit, the door slid back and he stepped out. �Good morning, Jean-Luc.�
�Hello. Sleep in a bit this morning?�
�I seem to have. And when I did wake, I started looking through my old journals to see what I had to say about the med school experience.� She made a face. �When I recorded them, I obviously wasn�t considering the idea that I�d have to refresh my own memory years later. Otherwise I would have been much more serious, and wouldn�t have included nearly so much trivia about my social life.�
�I�m sure that can be useful in its own way. It�s all part of the same life. What are your plans for today?�
�I had breakfast in my quarters while I was reading. I�m on my way to the holosuite to work on some virtual patients.�
�At the rate you�re going at this, I�ve no doubt you�ll be a fine physician again.�
�I hope so. And until then, I hope neither of us gets sick or injured � at least, not anything worse than a first year med student could handle.�
She left him in the conference room and went to her task. The holosuite easily recreated her sick bay, and the first of the randomly generated patients appeared. After listening to the middle-aged woman describe painful arm movement following a fall, she ran some scans, diagnosed an abraded rotator cuff, used the sonic stimulator to heal the major damage and prescribed a follow-up regimen of anti-inflammatory meds.
�Computer, performance evaluation?�
�Diagnosis correct. Treatment followed accepted protocols.�
�One down. Next patient, please.�
She had seen four patients by lunch. Her work had been accurate, but slow. She still checked and double-checked every conclusion before acting on it. That was fine for ordinary situations, but she wouldn�t be much use in an emergency. Speed will follow when you�re ready, she reminded herself. This is your first day as an intern.
She diagnosed and treated another six patients during the afternoon, then decided to reward herself with some recreation. �Computer, list Beverly Crusher�s non-medical holosuite programs.� Time to see what she did for fun.
�There are forty-two recreational programs filed under Beverly Crusher. Begin list?�
�No, just tell me the three that have been used most often.�
�Crusher file two, Dance Studio. Crusher file ten, The Tempest. Crusher file twenty-two, Galaxian Spa.�
�The tempest? As in a storm?�
�This program simulates a rehearsal of William Shakespeare�s play The Tempest by the Rigellian Shakespeare Company.�
�What about Dance Studio? Computer, run Crusher file two.�
Light poured in through floor to ceiling windows, each recessed in its own alcove. It made pools of gold where it struck the well worn oak floor. There were mirrors on one wall and a railing just slightly above waist height along the opposite wall. �With or without a class?� queried the computer.
�Uh � with?� She had no idea what to expect. The door to the studio opened and a dozen young women poured in, along with one older one who went to the front of the room.
�The Pachelbel, Madame Skyatevna?� asked one of the other students.
�Da, of course. Everyone prepare � � The older woman�s gaze drilled into her like a phaser beam. �Beverly. What are you wearing?�
The rest of the class was in smooth, closefitting body clothes. This wasn�t starting off well at all. �Computer, end program.�
Madame Skyatevna and her students disappeared.
�All right computer, let�s see what�s so interesting about a rehearsal of The Tempest. Run Crusher file ten.�
There was no set on the stage, merely an accumulation of folding chairs. Roughly two dozen actors and actresses lounged on the chairs, paced about the stage, or sprawled across seats in the empty house. Some were studying lines. Some were napping. One saw her standing at the far end of the aisle, swept into a courtly bow with full flourishes, and called out, �Look lively, ye layabouts. Our Lady Director�s here.�
�I�m the director?� she said aloud but under her breath. �Oh, I don�t think so. Computer, end program.� The grid of the holosuite appeared once again. Maybe third time�s a charm. �Computer, run that spa program.�
�Welcome, Beverly,� the concierge greeted her warmly. �Would you like to start with a massage or the yoga class?�
Ah, this was more like it. Fragrant air, serene atmosphere, and complete relaxation. �I think I�ll go straight for the massage today.� The last two programs had left her feeling frustrated. That was what she did for fun? They seemed more like work to her. But as the masseuse placed warm round rocks on her back to begin relaxing her muscles, she found the tension leaving her. If her memory didn�t come back, or even if it did, she didn�t have to be a slave to everything she had done before the accident. She had been through a major event in her life. If it changed things � tastes, habits, interests, attitudes ... that was just a natural part of life. I have to be who I am, she thought as she drifted off into a light slumber. Not who I used to be.
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Jean-Luc had expected her to make an appearance for dinner, but their customary hour came and went and she was still in the holosuite. He could call her on the intercom, but he wasn�t inclined to do so. She was perfectly capable of replicating her own dinner whenever she chose to. He�d spent the afternoon pacing between the cockpit and the desk in his quarters, not having anything essential to do at either one, waiting impatiently for the Mistral to come within range of Voosah. It was still eleven hours away. He should try to get some rest before they arrived. With no distractions, he ate quickly, and was just clearing his plates away when she emerged from the holosuite, blinking drowsily.
�Did I sleep through dinner? I�m sorry, Jean-Luc.�
�No harm.�
�I found the Galaxian Spa program, and I must say, it�s very relaxing. I�ve barely woken up after my massage, and I feel as though I could go right back to sleep.�
�Perhaps you should. You�ve put in a good day�s work.�
�I think I will, before I wake up too much. See you later, or tomorrow.� She strolled down the hall toward her quarters half asleep, and sprawled across her bed, muttering commands to the computer to dim the lights and increase the temperature slightly, reprising the soothing feel of the spa.
He breathed a sigh of relief and stopped by the cockpit to check course, speed, and estimated arrival once more before retiring to his own quarters. �Computer, restrict access to these quarters and the cockpit to myself until further notice. Continue to inform me whenever Dr. Crusher leaves her quarters.�
�Acknowledged.�
He replicated a steaming mug of Aunt Adele�s sleep inducer and stretched out on his bed. He was sure sleep wouldn�t come, but the computer�s �Dr. Crusher has left her quarters,� brought him awake with a start. It was a bit after 23:00. He rose and moved silently to the door on bare feet. Soft footsteps passed by in the hall, pausing for a second outside his door before moving on. He removed a compact hand phaser from the small locker in the wall, set it to stun, and slipped it inside his tunic. A moment later he took it out again and made sure the setting was stun, then slid it out of sight.
He found her in the conference area. She was taking a plate and mug from the replicator, and smiled when she saw him. �I just woke up again � my first day as a doctor really must have taxed me more than I realized. Well, and that was one terrific massage. At any rate, now I�m wide awake in the middle of the night. I thought it would be interesting to see the view from the cockpit for a while instead of just eating in my room.� She had reached the door, which did nothing.
�Cockpit door, open.�
�Access to this area is restricted.�
�Restricted? Has it done this before, Jean-Luc? Is it some kind of malfunction?�
�I�m afraid not. I had the computer restrict access to the cockpit.�
�Why?�
He took a deep breath. �Beverly, I didn�t want to alarm you, but we may have attracted the attention of an alien ship. One has been traveling a course parallel to ours for the last half day or so. It has made no hostile moves, but has not acknowledged communication in any way. I took the precaution of restricting access to sensitive areas in case we should find ourselves with unexpected visitors.�
�But shouldn�t we do something more, try to get away from them, or ��
�Not at this point. We are being prudent. I have also placed protective restrictions on both our quarters. Now I suggest you return to yours and stay there for the remainder of the night. There�s almost certainly no cause to worry, but better safe than sorry.�
�But why can�t I get into the cockpit? I�m not an alien invader.�
�I didn�t actually mean to shut you out. I simply restricted access to no one but me. I suppose I wasn�t thinking that you�d be in the cockpit, still getting used to the ship as you are.�
�Oh. So I will be able to get in again?�
�Of course.� Come on, he thought to himself, just get her to go back to her quarters. �And now, Beverly, I think it would be best if you went back to bed.�
Miracle of miracles, she was in a mood to be amenable. �That actually sounds rather good. I�ll just take my nosh with me,� she lifted her plate and mug in front of her. �I trust you�ll wake me up if we�re about to get into any excitement.�
�You�ll be the first one I tell.�
�Good night, Jean-Luc.�
�Good night.�
He waited til she had disappeared down the hallway, listened for her quarters door to slide open and shut, then slipped back into the cockpit and closed the door. �Computer, initiate lock on Dr. Crusher�s quarters. Do not permit the door to open except upon my direct order.�
�Acknowledged.�
Voosah was still five hours away, but he wouldn�t be getting any more sleep. He replicated a mug of Earl Grey and paced the star deck as he drank.
(This story concludes in one more part.)