Picard to House

Three

*Counsellor Troi*
Mid 2357

I had sensed the Captain struggled with that decision, but I believed he made the right choice.
We had to negotiate with the Council for half an hour just so we could discuss the matter with one of the higher-ups. And even he proved difficult to agree with; he was definitely hiding something, but I hoped it wasn't important. But we eventually settled on a plan; while we borrowed the bird of prey, the Klingon crew would be guests aboard the Enterprise. Which doctor we were going to visit was another decision we'd make onboard the bird. Choosing the officers who'd attend was another problem too. All the senior officers were automatically required, with two security lieutenants, Chief O'Brien and two nurses to assist Doctor Crusher in treating Worf.
Within three hours a bird of prey was approaching us, ready for the test that lied ahead. We were fortunate in that it had only been a few light years away from our position.
From when we first talked to the Klingon captain, I felt a heavy sense of dread across the bridge. It wasn't until we stood on the other ship's transporter pad that we eased up a bit. My hand rested on Worf's biobed; he looked truly awful.
The Klingon captain - whose name I couldn't pronounce - was waiting to greet us, a dirty smile across his face. "Ah, Captain Picard! Welcome aboard," He instantly changed attitude. "I trust my ship will be returned in one piece?"
"I assure you it will be," Jean-Luc replied. "And I trust you will leave my ship in its current condition?"
"Of course." He turned and barked in Klingon. Within seconds his crew had taken our place on the transporter, the captain following them. "Do not disappoint me, Picard."
The transporter activated, the Klingon crew vanishing instantly. Jean-Luc immediately started leading us to the bridge through dark and unclean hallways. The Enterprise looked heavenly compared to that.
"Do Klingons have any sense of cleanliness?' Beverly muttered, pushing Worf in front of me. I sensed how stressed she was and brought up the rear of the bed. A boil on Worf's face popped, with pus oozing down his nose. Bile rose in my throat.
Jean-Luc reached the bridge first, stopping in front of the viewscreen. He gave us a solemn look. "Now comes what we couldn't agree on; where do we go?"
Data took a breath. "I have consulted over two thousand possible doctors as candidates from across Earth's history. One candidate was Florence Nightingale, but they do not have the equipment necessary to appropriately treat Worf's injuries. Another was Christiaan Banard, who performed the first heart transplant in nineteen sixty-"
"What's your point, Data?" Riker snapped.
"..There was a doctor in the early twenty-first century named Gregory House, who was thought to be one of the best, despite his methods of treatment-"
"What? What do you mean?"
Data shrugged. "The file does not say. Most of the information about him was lost or removed after the Third World War. He did have at least four other doctors on the side to help him diagnose a patient and solved thousands of cases during his career."
"..You don't mean that Gregory House?" Beverly said slowly.
"He is the only doctor on file with that name."
"I've read so many stories about him in ancient articles - he was a total jerk to his patients! Who knows what he might do if he realises Worf isn't human?!"
Jean-Luc sighed in desperation. "Do you have any other suggestions?"
"I believe given the circumstances, he is our best choice, sir." Data answered.
I could tell the rest of the crew didn't know what else to do. "We have to try it, Captain. At least then Worf still has a chance."
"The twenty-first century is primitive compared to us!" Beverly remarked. "No tricorders, no hyposprays, no universal medical library; they won't know how to treat him! Why can't we try the twenty fifth century? At least then they'll have our technology. Why can't we use this Klingon ship to go to a Starbase?"
"If we travel to the future, Doctor," Geordi explained, "we may learn things about our futures we weren't supposed to know. We might create a paradox or somethin'."
Beverly was exasperated. "Jean-Luc, surely you think this is crazy!"
"This whole operation is crazy," the Captain stated. "But I think it's worth the risk. At least in the twenty-first century it'll be easy for us to disguise our intents; Worf's forehead, for example. A result of bad so-called 'plastic surgery'."
"Do you think they'll believe that?" Riker asked.
"Does anyone have a better idea?!" Jean-Luc snapped. He leant on a nearby console. "It's not ideal, but it'll have to do."
The rest of us took that as the 'return to your post' cue. Jean-Luc lay back in the captain's chair, while Riker and I took ones either side. Both of them were extremely worried.
"You're doing the right thing, Captain," I said soothingly.
Jean-Luc gave the order to engage and sighed. He appeared weary. "I hope you're right, Counsellor."

*****
It seemed as though no time had passed before Data's voice broke off my train of thought. "We have arrived in the Earth year of two thousand and five, approximately thirty light years from Earth."
"Cloak up," the Captain ordered. "We don't want them tracking us on their..what's it called?"
"Radars?" Riker suggested.
"Yes, that's it. Radars."
While Data pushed the ship up to warp six, I stepped off the bridge to find Beverly on the deck below with two of her nurses, tending to Worf. "How is he?"
"His liver has stabilised," Beverly checked his heart rate. "I'm a little concerned about his heart. I don't get why his second heart hasn't kicked in, considering I had to electrocute him."
"What about his second liver then?" I suggested. "If his backup systems aren't responding-"
"-then maybe his immune system is failing too," Beverly grabbed her tricorder and scanned Worf's body. "His white blood cell count is through the roof!"
"So that means..?"
"His immune system isn't failing, its attacking him," She scanned him again. "If this was the intruder's fault, then they must've given him something that's sent his body into overdrive, but I cannot find it!"
Beverly slammed her hand on the corridor wall. "Why didn't I think of that before?! Of course they injected him with something!"
She leant against the wall, shaking slightly. The amount of frustration coming from her was almost heartbreaking.
"Get some rest. You are exhausted and Worf needs a rested doctor," I said quietly. "The nurses and I will watch him."
A small nod from Beverly preceded her stepping into the turbo lift. "I'll camp in the captain's room."
I smiled. "Hope there's no bedbugs."
The doors shut as my friend went for her well-deserved rest. I turned and gazed at Worf's distorted features. "And I hope we can heal you in time."