Summary – An away mission goes horribly wrong and provides an opportunity for reflection and restoration for the senior staff.
Rating – K+
Tom Paris entered sickbay for the first time since the away team had arrived back from the planet carrying an uncharacteristic nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Glancing briefly at the darkened surgical bay he continued on to the doctor's office. As he approached, he noticed the doctor was poring over the data displayed on his computer console. "Okay Doc, 1400 hours as ordered. What's on the agenda?" he quipped, making light of the circumstances in an attempt to banish the butterflies.
"Ah, Mister Paris. I was just going over the captain's test results one last time. We will be doing reconstruction surgery today. Depending on how she tolerates the anesthesia, I'm hoping we can make significant progress, although it could take several hours to complete the task. Obviously, the fewer of these sessions we have to put her through the better."
"Understood, where do we start?"
"You start by going to see how the captain is doing. I'll join you in a minute."
"Whatever you say Doc." Tom picked up a medical tricorder and slowly walked out of the office and moved toward the surgical bay. As he approached he could clearly see the captain and he noticed she was staring at the ceiling. Opening the tricorder as he approached, he quickly checked her vital signs. "Good afternoon Captain, how are you feeling?"
"Fine Tom." She replied so softly that he almost didn't hear her.
"May I sit down?"
"If you want."
He reached for a nearby stool, pulled it over and sat. He observed her for a couple of seconds since he hadn't seen her since they had arrived back on Voyager. She seemed pretty weak, but then she had good reason. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
When she replied, her voice was still somewhat faint, "Maybe some water if you don't mind."
"Don't mind at all. Be right back." He walked to the replicator and returned quickly with a water bottle. He held it close to her mouth and let her take a drink.
She took a few swallows then moved slightly to indicate she was finished. "Thank you," she said, finally turning to look at him.
"You're very welcome. Glad to see you're doing better than the last time I saw you."
"I hear I have you to thank for that, although I'm not sure I'd call this better."
He wasn't sure if she was being serious or sarcastic or some combination of the two, but at least she was talking. "It was my pleasure. I'm just glad I could help. I have to admit I was scared to death at first, but the doctor said I didn't have a choice, and I couldn't let you go out without a fight."
When he finished speaking he waited for some kind of reply, but instead she was just staring at him so he continued, "Captain, I do believe that's the first time I ever managed to get you speechless. Usually you've got plenty to say to me. Even if it's just to chew me out for one of my lame-brained stunts." Was that an honest-to-God smirk on her face? He could hardly believe it.
Suddenly, without even realizing it was happening, her sarcastic sense of humor came to the fore and particularly because she was in the presence of the one person on her senior staff who seemed destined for all time to distract her. "Watch it Ensign, if I bust you any lower, you'll be calling Neelix 'Sir'." Unfortunately it was only a momentary diversion. Once she'd said it, the smirk vanished and she quickly became quiet, looking up at the ceiling again.
"Ouch," he said, holding his hand briefly to his chest as if wounded. She rolled her eyes in response. He lowered his head down almost beside hers and craned his neck to peer at the ceiling. "So, something interesting up there, or have you just been passing the time counting the tiles?"
"Thanks Tom."
"For what?" he asked as he sat up.
She focused her tired blue eyes on his. "First, for trying to cheer me up. And second, for saving my life. I think. The jury's still out on that one."
"Captain, everything will be fine, you'll see. And we're all here to help. Don't forget that."
The doctor chose that moment to arrive on the scene and Tom somehow felt like he'd just had an opportunity snatched from his grasp. She had sounded as though she could stand a little more encouragement.
"Mister Paris, I thought I asked you to check on the captain, not engage her in a lengthy conversation."
"Sorry Doc, just passing the time," he replied even as he held eye contact with his captain.
"Yes, I can see that. Captain, did you manage to get some sleep?"
"Some."
"Good, I'm glad you were able to get some rest without the need for a sedative. I also want you to know that Mister Paris and I will be performing surgery this afternoon as we discussed earlier. The quicker we get you on the mend the better. Do you have any questions before we get started?"
She finally looked away from Tom and shook her head indicating she did not. "Just get on with it Doctor."
That wasn't quite the response he had expected, but the situation she was dealing with would give anyone a short fuse. It was frustrating to him that he wasn't programmed to be a counselor. Those skills could really come in handy in circumstances like this.
As for Tom, he was still bothered by her apparent disposition. It was almost like a quiet resignation, to what he wasn't sure. If asked, he would never have listed that as a Janeway trait. Unfortunately they didn't have the time to delve into it right now. Her physical condition was still the greatest concern.
"Mister Paris, would you prepare a hypospray? It's time to put the captain back to sleep."
The doctor's voice shook him free of his thoughts and he did as asked, gently pressing the hypospray to her neck. "See you soon, okay Captain?" Tom said.
She looked him in the eye again, but didn't reply. Then she slowly closed her eyes and drifted into unconsciousness as the drug took hold.
It was now 1700 hours and Chakotay was in the captain's ready room keeping himself as busy as possible to keep his mind on what was going on down in sickbay. He'd just finished going over the first reports from the away teams and they were making remarkable progress thanks to the earlier work done by the captain and her team.
Since they were working in the tunnels where day or night made no difference, and they had an ample supply of manpower, the team leaders had set up multiple shifts. The next shift was just about to start and Chakotay was staying on the bridge through the transition just in case something came up that needed his attention. He anticipated that handling it this way would get them finished with their mining operation and headed back on their journey to the Alpha Quadrant in no time.
Picking up a cup of tea from the desk, he rose and relocated himself to the sofa near the viewport to studying a report from Joe Carey stating that they had already incorporated the first of the dilithium into Voyager's systems and were again operating at close to peak efficiency. Most of the remaining mining would now be done to replenish their reserves, a good idea in the Delta Quadrant. Ample supplies of dilithium weren't easy to come by, and even when they could be found, they were often controlled by a less than friendly alien race.
The sound of the door chime pulled his attention toward the door. "Come in."
It was B'Elanna.
"Back from the planet I see."
"Yup. Nick and I just finished handing off to the next shift."
Chakotay motioned for her to join him. She moved to the upper level of the ready room but did not sit. As she stepped up beside him she handed him a PADD. "Here's the most recent report on our progress. Seven and I spent some extra time with them to show them the finer points of avoiding getting caught in a cave-in. Something the two if us should have paid more attention to on the first trip." There was definitely a note of sarcasm in her voice; Chakotay was pretty sure he could hear a hint of anger as well. She was edgy and wasn't managing to hide it well.
"Something go wrong down there B'Elanna?"
"No, everything went fine. It's all in the report. Why do you ask?"
"Well, if you don't my mind saying so, you seem a little tense."
If B'Elanna had looked less than happy when she arrived she was downright exasperated now that Chakotay had noticed it. "I suppose I am, but it has nothing to do with the away mission." Pulling herself around to face the other direction and walk several paces away, she finally came to rest with her hands gripping the railing that created the boundary between the upper level sitting area and the rest of the room.
Chakotay smiled inwardly for a moment as he watched her. Now that she was at least stationary, she was far from still. B'Elanna was one of the most physically expressive individuals he had ever had the pleasure to know. It was almost as if her emotions were as fully connected to every muscle in her body as they were to her brain. Even standing where she was she gave the impression of a cheetah poised for the chase. But his amusement was brief. Something was truly bothering her and she was obviously going to make him pry whatever it was out of her. "So what does it have to do with?"
"It's nothing I can't handle, let's just drop it okay?" she said, although from the way she said it, it was more of a statement than a true question.
"Not if you want out of this room any time soon."
She turned and looked directly at him and blurted out, "Okay, if you must know, I guess I'm still feeling guilty about the captain." And that was it, matter of fact, to the point, end of discussion.
But Chakotay wasn't going to let that torpedo fly without digging deeper. "Why would you feel guilty about that?"
B'Elanna looked at him with a mild expression of shock on her face, "You mean you haven't heard?"
He was genuinely confused now, "Heard what?"
"Chakotay, the accident was our fault; Seven's and mine. I can't believe no one has said anything to you. I thought for sure since you said you talked to the captain…"
"She didn't say a word B'Elanna. Only asked how all of you were. Maybe you better tell me what happened; the whole story."
She was standing in a darkened tunnel similar to the ones they had encountered on the planet, and yet this one was different somehow. There was a gray mist that hung near the floor and although there shouldn't be any light here, she was able to see. She wasn't sure where she was, but she felt compelled to walk forward deeper into the tunnel, but this also felt odd to her; how could she be walking when she'd been hurt?
As she moved slowly through the mist she noticed she was coming to a large open cavern with several visible tunnels leading from it, dark maws alluring yet intimidating at the same time. Walking farther into the cavern she could hear what she thought were voices, but she couldn't tell where they were coming from or what they were saying. They seemed to be coming from all directions and then echoing in the vastness of the chamber, and they were growing louder.
As the voices became louder and louder, she began to be able discern what some of the voices were saying. They were taunting, condemning… "You brought us here, we'll never get home… I'll never see my wife and children again… It's your fault they were killed, you sent them on that mission… I waited for you Kath, you never came back… You never accepted us because we're not Starfleet…" and on and on incessantly, her accusers continuing to recite a litany of judgment not seeming to know that the ultimate verdict she had already pronounced on herself… guilty.
The commotion was becoming unbearable and she began to frantically search from one tunnel opening to another trying to decide which one to take to get away from the ever increasing cacophony of sound. As she spun in circles looking for a way out, she clamped her hands over her ears to try to muffle some of the noise, so loud now that it was almost painful.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and she dashed down the nearest tunnel. Immediately the sound died down and she could only hear one voice. She couldn't understand the words, but she was sure that it was coming from farther down the tunnel she was now in.
Slowly, carefully, she made her way along the tunnel, eventually coming to a bend in the passage that she couldn't see around. She continued on anyway, becoming more and more apprehensive about what might lie ahead. When she finally emerged from the bend into a straight section of the tunnel, someone was standing in the shadows several meters in front of her. She couldn't make out who it was in the gloom and darkness, but she instinctively felt afraid.
She stopped where she was, but the unknown being was somehow getting closer to her without any outward signs of movement. It seemed to float through the gloom. As the shadowy figure moved closer her fear became intense and she tried to turn and run back out of the tunnel the way she had come but she found she could no longer move. She began to struggle, but her feet were fixed to the floor where she stood. Looking down, she discovered that a pile of rock now surrounded her legs and feet, completely trapping her - paralyzing her once more, in its cold, hard grip.
Turning back to see where the figure was, she was horrified as she could recognize who it was. The figure was now no more than a meter from her and had moved into an area where there was enough light to make out its features. It was Ransom, or what was left of him. His skin was white as a sheet with what appeared to be blood on his face and neck and menacing sunken eyes that stared right through her. He moved directly up to her, looked at her with those terrifying eyes and said, "Think you're better than I am do you? Starfleet protocol… Almighty Prime Directive… Personal honor… Meaningless here… All meaningless. Survival, that's all that matters… Survival… By any means possible! You'll see… You can't hold out forever…"
He just kept circling her, berating her as he went, shouting the same things over and over and over. She clasped her hands to her ears again but the specter just kept coming closer and closer until she could feel his cold breath on her face. He reached out and grabbed her around the throat and began to squeeze until she could no longer breathe. Her vision began to fade, and as she was about to pass out, all she could hear was his awful voice repeating, "You'll end up like me, you'll see, you'll end up like me, you'll see…"
Chakotay was still surrounded by a mountain of work after he had talked to B'Elanna. He now knew exactly what had happened on the planet. The communications with Nick Wilkins during the ordeal had given him some of the information but he was now keenly aware that it had not been even half of the story. He had dismissed her back to her quarters to get some rest and had admonished her not to let this get to her. Once the captain was up to seeing visitors he would suggest to her that she should talk to B'Elanna.
But in the mean time, he had a lot to do. He and Kathryn usually split the task of going over reports. But it was all falling to him right now. He took a quick look at the chronometer on the computer console on her desk and realized that it had been several hours since they had arrived and he had sent Tom to sickbay. She should be well into the surgery by now. He looked out the viewport and silently prayed everything went well.
From the doctor's perspective, things had been going smoothly for the last several hours. He had managed to reconstruct the captain's shattered ribcage without too much of a problem, although he had resorted to invasive surgery to complete the process. There were bone fragments throughout her chest and lower abdomen, and a significant amount of associated tissue damage, simply too much to be handled any other way. He had checked her thoroughly when that was completed for any sign of trouble and, determining that she was strong enough, had done the same with her fractured pelvis. She would have to remain in an osteogenic field for some time to handle bone, muscle and tissue regeneration, and there would eventually be some minor surgery remaining to remove some of the hardware he'd used to hold everything together until her bones could heal, but he felt she was now through the worst of it. She would be stiff and sore for a long time, and require physical therapy to regain the strength in the surrounding muscles, moreover, there was still her back injury to contend with, but all things considered, the operation had gone remarkably well, until now.
Warning lights and sounds began to go off on the computer consoles in the surgical bay. Tom checked the readouts, "Doctor, I'm detecting a problem with the captain's vital signs. Pulse, respiration and blood pressure are all dropping," he said, his anxiety growing with every word.
In his own way, the doctor was as alarmed by this turn of events as Tom was, but he had no choice but to complete what he was doing or he could make the situation worse. "I'm almost finished here Ensign, give her 20 mg's of cordrazine and call out any changes to the readings."
The doctor finished quickly, but the medication Tom had administered wasn't stabilizing her vital signs.
"Doc, they're still falling…"
Just then they heard a steady high-pitched hum from one of the monitors on the biobed. "She's in respiratory arrest. Cortical stimulator, now!" exclaimed the doctor.
Tom did as instructed as rapidly as possible and the doctor generated several pulses through the stimulator, but nothing seemed to help. "Doctor, we have to do something!" Tom was close to panic. All he could think about was that after all she'd been through, that after they had all been so grateful to have her back, they were about to lose her anyway.
TBC