Disclaimers: I don't own Trek, Voyager, Janeway, Chakotay or the bucket(s) that Janeway has been keeping in the ready room recently in case of… emergencies. Although it could be argued that it was actually me who put the bucket(s) there in the first place…
Author's Note: If you haven't watched the episode 'Scientific Method' (Star Trek: Voyager, Season 4 Episode 7) you might struggle to understand what is happening at the beginning of this story, but don't worry. If you are a trekker, like myself, you will probably already know the episode and perhaps even have a few of your favorite lines memorized (I'm afraid that I have) but, if you are not a trekker, there is enough detail in the opening chapter to give a brief summary of the episode in question.
This story was conceived, co-authored, edited and betaed by the beautiful and unequaled talents of Dr. Singing Violin. However, she let me write and post it because she thought it was about time that I gave Janeway some 'medical' comfort from Chakotay. Although, recently, I've been the one needing the comfort myself... *sneezes!*
I hope you enjoy reading this almost half as much as I have enjoyed writing it (it's kept me semi-sane recently), and I hope you'll let me know what you think. :)
Given that it was only the beginning of the beta shift, the corridors of the USS Voyager were far quieter than usual. Normally, there would be crew members running through them because they were late for their duty shifts, or because they had been called away from sleep and leisure activities to their battle stations. Even on an uneventful day, there would have been far more life in the hallways of the ship as people went about their routines. But today was different: the corridors were empty, the holodecks abandoned, the mess hall quiet.
On Deck Five, and more specifically, the area in and around Sickbay, it was a different story entirely. Just past the automatic doors, the small on-board infirmary lay in chaos. Empty hyposprays that had previously carried a variety of painkillers, anti-coagulants, stimulants, sedatives, and other drugs, lay strewn across any surface that was not taken up by the presence of a debilitated crewman. The EMH was run off his holographic feet as he tried, with the help of Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Tom Paris, and Ensign Harry Kim, to treat the eighteen crewmembers that were currently lying on, sitting on and leaning against the biobeds in Sickbay.
Thankfully, none of the injuries and ailments that they had come across in the crew members had been life-threatening. Approximately two hours ago, the Doctor had issued a ship-wide announcement ordering all crew to be scanned for injuries immediately. A group of twelve off-duty volunteers had worked their way through those crewmen who had already been restricted to their quarters while others oversaw the scanning of every on-duty member of the crew. Those with serious conditions had been beamed directly to Sickbay, where the two members of the crew that were qualified to perform more complicated medical procedures, namely the Doctor and the ship's chief pilot Tom Paris, had performed surgery on those in the most critical conditions. There had only been one death caused by the recent events on the small ship, a fact which brought little comfort to the EMH. However, his programming left little room for reflection on such matters when he had a room full of injured crew to heal.
Thank heavens for small mercies, his newly-installed subroutine echoed through his head. This particular addition to his program allowed him to 'hear' his thoughts rather than just reach a conclusion via the pre-programmed equations that compiled his 'thought' processes. He administered the hypospray of digitoxyline in his hand into the carotid artery of Ensign Samantha Wildman and told her to return to and remain in her quarters. Swiftly and efficiently, he moved on to the next patient in the queue.
The Voyager crew had been violated by a group of alien 'medical researchers' who had deemed them the perfect test subjects for a series of experiments that, they had asserted, may have enabled them to further their understanding of the various physiologies of Alpha Quadrant species and perhaps bring light to some as-yet unseen cures for their own people's ailments. However, the experiments that were supposed to be kept secret from the Starfleet crew were revealed when the Doctor and Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres discovered what, under closer inspection, turned out to be mechanical genetic markers embedded within DNA strands of the crew. Eventually, after enlisting the aid of Seven of Nine, the nature of the aliens' presence had been revealed, and upon realizing the extent to which the 'scientists' had been prepared to go and witnessing - and being powerless to stop - the death of her crewmember, the ship's captain snapped. It had been clear to the entire bridge crew that Janeway had not been thinking clearly when she drove the ship at full impulse power into a pair of binary pulsars, each with more than enough potential to severely damage the ship, and as a pair, with enough power to rip it bulkhead from bulkhead. It had been a miracle that the crew had come out the other side alive, and the shock of Janeway's reckless behavior subsided relatively rapidly as it became clear that her gamble had paid off and the full scale of the medical problems caused by the 'experiments' began to surface.
Sickbay had been brimming with patients ever since, and the Doctor made a note to check up on the captain as soon as he was able: she had already commed him and insisted that she be treated last.
Typical, his subroutine echoed as he picked up his medical tricorder and moved on to the next member of the crew.