Somebody's Hero
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Star Trek: Voyager
Copyright: Paramount
"Ensign? D'you mind if we stop by a weapons locker on the way?"
"I'm telling you, this is just a power failure. But if it makes you feel better … "
Tal Celes looked up at Ensign Kim with profound reassurance. Even in the blood-red emergency lighting, the handsome Ops officer looked like someone who knew what he was doing. Well, no wonder; the senior crew had to deal with crises like these on a regular basis. She didn't. If she hadn't run into him, she would still be wandering lost and terrified around the ship, wondering if the next time she rounded a corner, a Hirogen, Vidiian or Borg drone would be staring her in the face.
Do not, I repeat, do not cling to your superior officer's arm. You're a Starfleet officer, for the Prophets' sake. Keep it together.
"Have you seen Billy?" she asked, clinging to her flashlight instead.
"Who?"
"Crewman William Telfer? Science division? Caucasian Human, brown hair, brown eyes, about my height?" Most likely panicking because the last time we saw a power failure, a dark matter life form crawled inside his neck and almost killed him.
"Sorry, no." Kim's voice, so commanding earlier, was very kind. "But most likely he'll be down in Engineering with the rest of the crew."
"What about – oh, kosst, what about Mortimer Harren? He's all the way down on Deck Fifteen!" She tapped her useless commbadge reflexively, with not even a chirp in response. "I hate to say it, but he's got no friends, unless Billy and I count and he barely tolerates us. What if no one remembers him?"
"The Captain will. You know how she is."
"Right. I do." The thought of Captain Janeway steadied Celes as few other things could. This was the woman who had taken her three least capable crewmembers on an away mission just to make them feel included, and then put her own life on the line to protect them. Celes took several deep breaths.
"Which way?" she asked when they reached an intersection.
"Here." Kim touched her on the shoulder, guiding her to the left. Perhaps she wasn't the only one affected by this pitch-darkness after all.
Still, she thought, squinting into the thin white beam of her flashlight. I wish I knew where Billy was. Please, Prophets, keep him safe. And Harren as well. And all of us. If you can even hear me.
/
When the order came to abandon ship, all the Starfleet training in the world could not prevent the spread of panic and confusion. Ensign Wildman and Naomi were given first place on the Delta Flyer, along with a gas-blistered Tuvok and the terminally ill ex-Borg Marika, but chivalry turned out to have its limits. Kenneth Dalby tried to physically block Noah Lessing from entering a shuttlepod, on the grounds that the former Equinox crewman "didn't deserve it", until quiet Marla Gilmore of all people solved the problem by stunning Dalby with a phaser. Seven of Nine herded people into shuttles and escape pods like a sheepdog, snapping orders in a voice raspy from the nebula gas she had inhaled, clutching the Doctor's mobile emitter in one fist. Lieutenant Torres could be heard swearing in Klingon at Crewman Chell, who wanted to go back for his Bolian folk music collection.
"Billy!" Celes shouted over the noise. "Billy, where are you?"
No answer. Someone ran by in a hurry, knocking her back against the wall. She stood up on tiptoe and stared until her eyes ached. She could see several short brown heads of hair and many teal-colored jackets, but couldn't tell if them were his.
"Can you see him?" She turned to ask Ensign Kim, but he had disappeared. Of course. He had to help organize the evacuation. She caught a glimpse of his gelled black head a few meters away. He was holding a shuttle door open for two science crewmen, medics probably, carrying an unconscious Tom Paris on a stretcher.
Celes felt sick. How would she ever find Billy in this chaos? He could be anywhere. He could be having a full-blown anxiety attack, the kind where he couldn't breathe. He hated crowds. They were unsanitary. He could be trapped somewhere behind a force field on one of the compromised decks, choking on poison gas …
She began scurrying sideways along the wall, heading for the doors. She had to go back for him.
Seven of Nine blocked her way. "Crewman Celes, proceed to your designated escape pod."
"Not without Billy. I need to find him!" For once, she didn't feel afraid of her formidable supervisor. She was already at her limit.
"For the safety of all crewmembers, including Crewman Telfer, the evacuation must be efficient. I gave you an order. Comply."
"You're not even a real officer!" A childish response, but she wasn't thinking straight.
"I am," said Captain Janeway. "And I'll repeat her order. Go."
The older woman was quite a sight. Her jacket was gone, her gray turtleneck soaked with sweat, her hair a mess, and she wore an oxygen mask slung around her neck like a badge of honor. Her blue eyes blazed. She looked ready to take on an invading army single-handed, let alone a single misfit crewman.
"Right. Yes, ma'am." Janeway turned, ready to plunge back into the crowd. "Wait!" Celes called. "What about you?"
"Captain's privilege," Janeway replied with a razor-sharp smile. "I'll go last."
Celes settled into her escape pod as she'd done hundreds of times, blessing Commander Tuvok for the thoroughness and frequency of his drills. Of course the ejection controls were jammed, and of course it was Seven who had to manually override them because Celes had no idea how, but soon enough, the pod was underway. Her stomach lurched as the little metal lozenge dropped away from Voyager and began to drift in space.
Billy. Half of my heart. Please be okay.
/
The return of Voyager's crew was a lot more orderly than the evacuation had been. Some of them seemed almost disappointed, as if a few minutes hovering in space were a bit of an anticlimax after a desperate flight from a hostile alien intruder. Others were shamefaced, especially Dalby, who was slowly recovering from his stun to find Lessing half-carrying him out of their shuttle. Gilmore emerged behind them, white-faced and shivering. Mariah Henley, a former Maquis, tucked an arm around her and began muttering in her ear.
Celes made a clumsy attempt to smooth her hairstyle, which had been knocked askew. She was missing a pin somewhere. It annoyed her. So did the unsteadiness of her hands. Why couldn't she concentrate? They were safe, they were okay … except …
"Is this really the moment to worry about personal grooming?" someone sneered.
"Harren?" She spun around. "Billy!"
The two men looked shaken, but not visibly hurt. They smelled of sweat and acrid nebula gas. Harren carried a flashlight, Billy an oxygen mask and an emergency medical kit. His hair stuck up at the back. He looked ridiculous. She wanted to jump him.
"Wait!" He held out his arms crosswise to block her. "We went through the gas. What if we're contaminated?"
"Then go get decontaminated, you goof, so I can kiss you!" For once, she thought, his hypochondria wasn't out of place. "Hold on. Did you say you went through the gas?"
She hurried to catch up with them both as they joined the stream of injured people heading for Sickbay.
"Yeah." The tips of Billy's ears were red. "It was … pretty bad."
"Wha … how far?"
"From my station … but I kind of took a detour. Lucky none of the senior crew saw."
"Telfer rescued me," Harren grunted, avoiding eye contact even more than was usual with him. "Jeffries tubes, seven decks down. Then up again."
Seven decks down, then up again. In the dark. With pockets of poison gas all over the ship, a hostile electromagnetic life form slinking around inside the gel packs, and a single oxygen mask between them. Celes' eyes began to burn, and it had very little to do with the traces of gas.
"He was passed out," said Billy, his light tenor voice sounding older than she remembered. It might have been the gas, but perhaps it was simply the quiet competence with which he spoke. For once, he wasn't second-guessing. "The whole deck was contaminated."
"So he bundled me into a Jeffries tube, unearthed a medical kit and administered first aid. I … I didn't know he could do that." Harren's dry voice was tinged with something almost like respect. Celes glanced from one man to the other; Harren was noticeably taller than Billy, and heavier too.
"I didn't either." Billy shrugged.
/
It took a while for the two of them to be treated, for triage reasons, given how serious some of the other injuries were. The first thing the Doctor did was to clap a tricorder into Billy's hand and recruit him as a temporary assistant: "With Mr. Paris still unconscious, I'll have to make do. Don't even think of sneaking off with that once we're finished!" Billy flushed, but hurried off to diagnose patients without further protest.
"I'll make sure he gives it back," said Celes.
"And you, hold Tuvok's head still so I can use the dermal regenerator."
"Yes, Doctor." She swallowed a wave of nausea at the livid green burns on the unconscious Commander's face, clenched her teeth, and placed a careful hand on each of his temples.
"Mr. Harren - " The engineer opened his mouth, most likely to protest that he was an engineer, not a medic. The Doctor cut him off by shoving a tray of instruments into his hands. "Don't wander off."
/
By the time the Doctor got around to hypospraying Billy and Harren with a drug to clean out their lungs, it was almost time for gamma shift. All three of them were a little loopy with exhaustion – especially Harren.
"So, to top it all off, we ended up scrunched together in one of the last pods. For a hypochondriac, I have to say, Telfer, your personal hygiene leaves a lot to be desired." He wrinkled his long nose. "When was the last time you took a sonic shower?"
"Twice a day, thanks very much, and if you hadn't eaten replicated poutine for lunch – "
Celes cut their argument short by draping an arm around each of their shoulders. She squeezed them so close, their three heads almost knocked together. "I love you guys!"
Harren, to her amusement, turned beet red and said absolutely nothing.
A spark ignited in Billy's dark eyes. "Hmm. Since the Doctor gave us the all-clear … " He shifted his oxygen mask (which he had insisted on keeping – one never knew when life support might fail again) so it hung down his back instead of his front. "Come here," he said to Celes, holding out his hands. "You're my cure."
"Oh, yeah? Well, you're my hero. Take this and call me in the morning."
She kissed him with everything she had. He kissed her back with equal force. I thought I might never see you again, they said, without the need for words. Thank all the gods you're alive. I love you.
"This is not appropriate," said Harren. "Ugh. What the ... don't you need to breathe? One would think you've had enough air shortages today … "
They barely heard him.