Janeway had merely wanted to see the Doctor for ease of her headache but once she arrived, her eyes were greeted by a surprising scene. Ensign Tom Paris, the most 'invincible' man she had ever had the—displeasure?—of knowing, lay unconscious on a biobed. His right hand, from wrist to halfway up his arm, was wrapped in bandages.
B'Elanna Torres swirled around at the sound of her approach. The half-human, half-Klingon woman nudged Harry Kim and he turned from a careful watch over his friend.
"Captain," they chorused.
Harry's smile seemed strained as he looked at B'Elanna. "We've got to stop doing that."
"What's going on?" Janeway asked. Ruefully she thought, That is going to be my most memorable line if I keep saying it.
The Doctor sighed. "Perhaps B'Elanna or Harry could explain. All I am clear on is that Tom and Seven were beamed here, both injured, from Seven's regeneration chamber. Seven's head wound was minor yet bled profusely. She is in astromatrics, researching the soon-to-depart away team's mission. She wouldn't explain to me.
"I had to treat Mr. Sleeping Beauty over there for third degree burns on his right arm. He begged of me to wake him before the away team left. He still wants to pilot the Delta Flyer himself. I informed him I would ask you. Since the time is nearing for the away team to disembark, I was about to contact you."
Janeway frowned. She would have to assess the entire situation before she decided anything. "B'Elanna, Harry, you three were supposed to be making adjustments to the Flyer. Care to expound upon what happened?"
Torres furrowed her brow. "All I know is that Tom had an idea to add propulsion to the thrusters for faster speed and greater maneuverability. He was near the outside panels hidden in the underside of the Flyer, attaching and rerouting wires, when I heard him, form the inside, yell something. When Harry and I arrived, he was tangled in live wires, his hand burned, and unconscious. We dragged him from the area. He woke shortly after and insisted he walk to sickbay. I followed him while Harry began to clean up our mess. We ran into Naomi Wildman on our way and discovered Seven of Nine laying prone on the floor with on the floor with a gash on her forehead. Tom and Seven were transported to sickbay and I went back to the shuttle bay to help Harry finish up an hour ago. When we finished completely, we came here."
"Did you accomplish what you set to do?" Janeway inquired, directing the question to Harry.
Harry's dark face suddenly crinkled in a grin. "Yes, we did. Tom said he thought we might and I tested it in simulations. He'll be happy to know we have fifteen percent more maneuverability and twenty percent more speed. I look forward to telling him once he wakes up."
"Speaking of…" The Doctor interrupted, walking by them. He grabbed a hypospray that resembled all the others and placed it to the side of Tom's neck. The familiar hiss sounded, followed by Tom's eyelids blinking rapidly. With a final jerk, his blue eyes snapped open and surveyed the room. They landed on Janeway, and he sat up at once.
"Captain," he began.
Janeway's mouth quirked into a smile. The one time that Paris was going to be respectful is the time he doesn't have to be. "Rest, Tom. I want the truth. Can you fly?"
Tom examined his gauze-wrapped hand and flexed it experimentally. He proceeded to move his fingers over an imaginary panel, testing out the limits of his tendons. He flashed her his infamous grin and replied, "Aye, Captain."
Janeway still wanted to hear Tom's side of the story so she could put all angles in to her log. "First, care to tell me what happened?"
Tom's face flushed and he didn't meet her eye as he began. Once he was done, he risked a look, a defiant gleam in his blue eyes, as he waited for a reprimand.
Which would not come.
"Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your quick thinking and personal sacrifice to save the crew. I'll get a full debriefing of your mission when you return. I believe Tuvok is waiting for you, Harry, and B'Elanna at the shuttle bay. Good day," she said, ignoring the three startled faces that followed her out of the room. It helped to promote trust and loyalty in the captain if she occasionally did something completely opposite what her crew expected of her. It kept them on their toes, which is where she needed them to be.
"All systems are nominal. Whenever you wish to go, Mr. Paris," Tuvok instructed from his seat behind the weapons console in the Flyer.
Tom slid the Flyer out of the shuttle bay carefully. His right hand twitched in slight pain, reminding him to keep all movements slow. Acknowledging his body's warning, Tom oriented the Flyer toward the orange-red planet below. From space, it didn't look like much but, according to scanners, it was abundant in many types of edible food. Tom hoped what ever was down there was more tasteful than what Neelix had scrimmaged for the last time they had had to make a food stop. He had felt sick for a week.
"Let's get what we need and leave without any trouble," B'Elanna spoke up as they made their descent into the planet's atmosphere. Tom could almost hear his name on the end of her statement. Was it his imagination, or did he feel three pairs of eyes trained on the back of his head?
He laughed. "Come on, guys. There's nobody down here to hurt anyone so there's no way I can get in trouble."
Tuvok's dry tone floated up to him as they entered the last section of the atmosphere and saw a few wispy clouds. "Not logically. Just because our scanners could not detect life does not mean that there is none."
"Do I hear humor in your voice, Tuvok?" Tom inquired as he struggled to see past the murky clouds that reflected the red-orange light. Irritating the calm Vulcan was on e of his favorite pastimes.
"No, Mr. Paris, you do not. This is a serious matter," the Vulcan responded.
Harry gingerly climbed to sit next to Tom, cutting off his other reply. The darker man squinted to see. "How do you know where you are going?"
Flippantly, trying not to let his tension show, Tom answered, "I don't."
Harry swallowed and paled. "Oh."
"I suggest you go back to your seat. I estimate we're near the surface. It might be a bumpy landing," Tom warned. As if on cue, the brownish surface of the planet reached out of the dense mists as if to pluck the Flyer out of the sky.
Tom muttered under his breath as he fought to control the Flyer. Amazingly, Tom managed to settle the shuttle onto the ground with only a slight jerk. Shakily, he reached out to power down the Flyer, but instead left it so only the slightest touch would snap all systems to functioning and ready to burn out of there, if needed.
"At least the improvements are working," he grumbled. Without the added maneuverability, he doubted that he could have landed as gracefully as he did.
"I commend you on your engineering genius," Tuvok grunted as he pried himself out from behind the weapons console. Harry and B'Elanna had not been able to completely clear up the weapons console and Tuvok had to maneuver around a few loose wires.
Tom couldn't figure out if Tuvok was being sarcastic or serious. He decided to let it go unanswered as he rechecked his tricoder.
Harry paired with B'Elanna and so Tom was left with Tuvok. They split up in two different directions, agreeing to meet back at the Delta Flyer in four hours.
"Seven, I have disturbing news," the Doctor began without preamble as Seven of Nine joined him at a console in sickbay. He pointed to a screen where the familiar pattern of her brain was represented. The Doctor's finger speared a mass of black that covered half of her brain. "That is your cancer."
Seven dropped her hands in surprise. "But it has only been three days. This rate of growth is too rapid to be logical."
The Doctor's fingers dug up another imprint of her body. A separate black mass was growing in her right arm. "But this astounds me. I have no idea where it came from. Usually a cancer will show signs before it just appears. This I found after your rescue by Mr. Paris.
"And I have a theory about what happened as well."
Seven lifted an eyebrow. "All I remember is a sharp pain in my head. When I next became aware, you were bandaging Lieutenant Paris' right hand."
The Doctor grew animated. "Allow me to fill in the gaps for you. The cancer is beginning to create pressure inside your skull. I believe the building pressure causes you to have blackouts. You had your first one in your regeneration chamber and hit your head. These blackouts will become more common," his face was grave and concerned. "I would like for someone to be near you always. These attacks are unpredictable and unstable." He hesitated. He wanted to suggest himself for reasons beyond him being her doctor.
Seven gazed coolly at him. "I will alert you whenever I feel one of these…attacks, Doctor. Is that all? I was investigating the class-M planetoid that the away team is currently on."
The Doctor suppressed an unhappy sigh. He really should have known that that was what Seven would say. It was the best that he could hope for, after all. "Yes, Seven. That was all. I will inform you of any changes."
Seven gave a brief nod, then began to waltz out of the room. Midway there, however, she gasped and pressed a hand to her forehead. She began to slither to the floor in a heap.
Alarmed, the Doctor rushed to her and caught her in his arms. "Seven? Seven, can you hear me? Seven!" He demanded anxiously.
Slowly, the ex-Borg's eyes fluttered open. She focused on him through a cloud of murkiness. "Doctor?" Her voice was faint. "What happened?"
His face was inches from hers as he replied, "You cried out and fell. You must have had another blackout. Are you feeling all right?"
Seven's head was cradled in his hands and he supported her weight with his arms. To his surprise, holding Seven felt natural, as if she belonged there.
"I…I'm not sure," Seven admitted, shakily. Her blue eyes searched his own. "Doctor? Is this another lesson?"
"Yes…" He barely breathed. He felt compelled to kiss her. Bringing his mouth to hers, he found her lips were warm and plush. The kiss ended and they both stared at the other.
The silence stretched and he finally helped her to her feet. "That was a lesson in human erratic rescue methods," he rambled. "Some humans find the erratic approach the most satisfying. Now, about someone staying near you…"
Tom Paris scanned a dead-seeming tree. "Either the scanners are wrong or everything here is a reddish-brown color," he commented. Hooking the tricoder to his side, he reached up and began to pluck the brown fruits off of the tree, placing them in a sack attached to his other side.
Tuvok continued to scan the surrounding area, watching their backs against any unforeseen dangers. "I believe it more likely to be the latter. My scans show abundant nutrients."
Tom stretched to reach a bigger, redder fruit just beyond normal reach, standing on the toes of his feet. Tuvok eyed the precarious positioning which is counterpart had himself in yet said nothing. He did not want to provoke the man or cause him to lose his fragile balance.
"Well," Tom grunted as he lowered himself back onto solid ground, holding the prize fruit. He stared at it. "This should be worth some…" He broke off with a strangled noise.
"Mr. Paris?" Tuvok inquired. He watched as the younger man dropped to the ground, the fruit forgotten, and lay unmoving. Calmly, although he felt panic begin to tug at his mind, he tapped his commbadge as he knelt beside the fallen man.
"Tuvok to Torres and Kim."
B'Elanna's gruff voice was there at once, a reassuring thing. "What is it, Tuvok?"
"I suggest that you and Mr. Kim locate our coordinates and come as quickly as you can," he instructed. Swiftly, he probed Tom for any broken bones. Finding none, he watched as the facial muscles in Paris' face performed a series of contrasting and relaxing motions that one could safely assume was not normal.
"We'll be right there," Torres replied, her breaths coming in puffs, as if she were already running.
Tuvok kept vigil over Paris until Torres and Kim came bursting out of the trees. Torres' eyes narrowed in concern as she noticed Paris on the ground. "What happened?"
Kim frowned. "He's not having a good day, is he?" The young man commented.
Tuvok gave him a hard look to keep inappropriate comments to himself before answering Torres. "I am not entirely certain. He just fell over. It is not logical. There is nothing here that is affecting his physiological being."
Torres joined Tuvok at Paris' side. "Tom?" She asked, her concern evident in her voice although she tried to hide it. "Tom?" Experimentally, she poked him. At the touch, his eyes flew open. He took in the gathered group and his position on the ground before allowing Tuvok to help him stand up.
"I feel awful," Tom said without preamble. "What happened?" He rubbed his temples, groaning.
B'Elanna and Harry exchanged a worried glance. B'Elanna crossed her arms. "That's what we want to know. We were hoping you could tell us."
"Sorry. I can't help you there. I…" he suddenly winced as an intense pain shot across his brain. Faintly, he heard three voices calling his name. For the moment, though, he concentrated on something else. It sounded like the Doctor's voice, calling Seven of Nine's name. For a brief moment, sickbay swam before his eyes and the concerned face of the doctor.
"…Mr. Paris…"
"…Seven…"
"…Tom…"
"…Seven…"
Confused on who he was, he forgot where to go in his mind. Panicking, he stayed in-between both sickbay and the surface of the planet, fighting against a wave of indecision.
Dimly he heard, "…request emergency transportation to sickbay. Lock onto Mr. Paris' commbadge now…"
And even dimmer, "..help me get her onto the biobed. She's fighting me…"
Fight the Borg, the thought raced through his mind. He saw a memory of his parents being taken away and him being dragged to the assimilation chamber. Scared, he lashed out, feeling satisfied when one of his captors grunted in pain.
"…hold him down…"
"Captain, we have an emergency situation…"
"…are mentally shutting down…"
A frightened plea screamed at him, "Help me!" It sounded like Seven.
Then he felt it. Like an ooze covering his mouth and nose. He remembered when he fell in the recycle pit at the prison. He had almost drowned. Now he was doing it again.
"…both are not breathing…"
"…Tom! Can you hear…"
"…Seven! Concentrate on…"
"…need three ccs of…"
"…inject him now!"
Something touched his neck and his flurry of thoughts dimmed to nothing.
Janeway rushed around sickbay. Something was definitely wrong but, for the moment at least, she did not have the time to research what.
The Doctor shouted at an ensign, who was being kicked by Tom Paris' buckling form, "I want you to hold him down now!" He noticed Janeway. "Captain, we have an emergency situation here. I want sickbay quarantined."
Nodding, Janeway spoke the commands and codes to the Computer and watched briefly as the doors locked and sealed.
Seven, in the other biobed, screamed, an almost animal sound of pure terror. Only seconds later, Tom echoed her scream with one of his own.
Meanwhile, the Doctor was trying to take care of two patients at once. Three ensigns, him, and herself were the only ones that were aware of their surroundings in the room.
One ensign, Jacobson, Janeway remembered, read off a medical console. "Doctor!" The woman barked in surprise. "Both of them are mentally shutting down!"
Suddenly, Seven cried out, "Help me!" Tom almost seemed to look at Seven and he repeated, "Help me!"
Go to work, Janeway instructed herself. She raced over to help the lone ensign, Peters, that was trying to hold Tom down long enough to get the biobed to enfold around him like Seven had been. She launched all her body weight near Tom's head and Peters slapped the mechanism that would close the protective shield around Tom.
Jacobson droned, "Doctor. Both are slowing…now they're both not breathing."
Janeway released her hold and saw that what the ensign had said was true. "Tom! Can you hear me? Tom? Breathe!"
Across the short distance, she heard the Doctor yelling, "Seven! Concentrate on the sound of my voice! Breathe, Seven!" When that did not seem to accomplish much and alarms began warbling from both biobeds, he pointed to a hypospray. "Get me that hypospray! I need the three ccs of monocloride to enforce the urge the breathe."
Another ensign, Meyei, ran to the hypospray, snatched it from the neatly laid out cart, and passed it to the Doctor. He injected Seven and she took in a great gasp, Tom copying a second later, though no hypospray had been used on him. Laboring for each breath, the two jerked under the enfolding wings of the biobeds. Janeway, having studied some medicine herself, frantically looked around. Finally, she saw the desire hypospray. "Peters, get that hypospray and inject him now!"
Hurrying, Peters obeyed. He touched the cold, tiny nozzle against the side of Tom's neck and the hiss ensued. Gradually, Tom quieted down, still fighting to breath, but at least unconscious enough to not fight his helpers anymore.
"Captain…" the stunned voice of the Doctor intruded upon her observations.
She shifted her attention to Seven, laying quietly a few feet away, as if she, too, had been injected. Like Tom had when the Doctor had forced Seven to breathe…
"You bought us some time, Captain, but I fear this is a mystery I can't begin to understand," the Doctor said sadly.
A beep came from her commbadge. Chakotay's voice demanded, "Captain! What's going on? Why is sickbay in quarantine?"
Suddenly remembering that she had left Chakotay in her ready room when the Doctor had frantically contacted her, she smiled slightly. "I'll inform you when I know myself. It's just safer this way, for now. Is the away team back?"
"Yes, with the exception of Tom, who I've been told is in sickbay," Chakotay replied.
"Find out what you can about what Tom was doing before his episode and what he did during it. Something strange is going on," she murmured, half to herself.
"Chakotay out."
She locked gazes with the Doctor, who was bent over Seven's monitor. Peters, Jacobson, and Meyei were gathered around Tom's bed, gazing at him silently. Pushing aside her puzzlement, she joined the Doctor.
He began to talk as soon as he noticed her. "The rate of growth with this cancer is astounding, Captain. It has multiplied three times its size in the past ten minutes. If it continues to grow like this, Seven will be lucky to have a month left to live, not six."
"I can understand Seven's behavior," Janeway mused. "But not Tom's."
The Doctor sighed. "Neither do I. If you will come with me…?" He asked, as he walked briskly to where Tom lay. The three ensigns scattered as he approached.
I guess Tom's reputation as a pilot is highly esteemed, Janeway allowed the thought to pass through her mind. She leaned over the Doctor's shoulder as he examined Tom's body and brain. She gasped.
"How is that possible?" She blurted, not believing what she was seeing.
The Doctor swallowed. "I'm not sure. I'm going to run the scanners again to eliminate errors." After a few minutes, the same thing stared them in the face. "This is not good."
"But how did the cancer spread from Seven to Tom? IF it was a communicable disease, it could have been spread through the air, or saliva, or blood. Cancer is not a communicable disease!" Janeway chewed on her bottom lip while her eyes absorbed the information in front of her. Two separate black masses of cancer that were the same size as Seven's were imbedded in Tom's body. Something else about the cancer nagged at her. Not in the cancer itself, but in its position…
"Doctor," Janeway said suddenly, her eyes bright. "Show me Seven's and Tom's diagrams side by side. I have a theory about this."
Silently, the Doctor complied. His eyes grew wide as he saw the same thing that Janeway had. "The cancer is in the exact same positions in both Seven and Tom," he breathed. "But how? Why?"
Janeway cleared her throat. "What if this cancer is somehow communicable? You had said, when Seven was first diagnosed, that what was in Seven was similar to the humans' terminal cancer. Perhaps this can be spread just like a twentieth-century cold. Which could mean…"
"…everyone on Voyager has been exposed," the Doctor finished.
"But not you. You're a hologram. Which makes it easier to run full scans on everyone on board," Janeway thought out loud.
The Doctor reached up to a separate panel and adjusted something. "After the air in here is cleared, I will block off this section of sickbay. Then, I'll start the scannings. If I get to work immediately, I might have results in four to five hours."
Janeway nodded. "Do it."
The Doctor looked at her. "You will be first, Captain. If you'll come this way, please?"