Sickbay was just about what he thought it would be: dull and boring. The doctor was handling the few medical cases that came in. Tom got the boring paperwork. It was tedious to the point of mind-numbing. Did they really need to file reports on each crewman's health every three months? Wouldn't it be obvious on a crew of only a hundred and fifty who was sick and who wasn't? Wasn't the EMH supposed to remember all this stuff, anyway? He was plugged into the computer, after all. It wasn't like he could forget much.
Then again, Tom reflected, maybe the EMH had given him this job just to torture him. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. The sheer tedium of it was making his eyeballs hurt. Name. Rank. Chronic health conditions. Recent illnesses. Date of last vaccinations. Date of last physical. Over and over, until he thought his brain would melt. Argh. Maybe he'd have to head down to the holodeck when all was said and done. Then he realized that he'd even have to do Captain Proton alone, and it just wouldn't be as much fun. Perhaps Chaotica ought to use a Paperwork Ray instead of his usual death ray.
He sighed. Voyager was in orbit, and didn't need a pilot. Like it or lump it, he was stuck here. Had it really only been a few hours since breakfast? It seemed like weeks.
The overhead speaker beeped. "Kessel to Voyager sickbay," came the high-pitched voice of Ensign Kessel.
Paris glanced over at the doctor, who was treating a crewmember. He didn't want to bother the doc, and the opportunity to escape the mindless tedium of paperwork was quite welcome. The doctor gave him a brittle smile, which Paris judged to be license to take the comm, so he made his way to the console and answered the hail.
"Sickbay here," he said breezily. "What can I do for you?"
"I have some data to send up to the ship," Kessel replied. "Ensign Kim has been stung."
"Stung?" Paris said.
"Yes. By an insect. The tricorder scans are inconclusive. I have one of them in a sample jar, and I'm beaming it up now."
Paris blinked, trying to put it together. "All right," he said, not quite sure what she meant. A moment later, a clear jar sparkled into existence, containing a small black flying speck that buzzed angrily around the jar. He stared at it for a moment. Why was she bothering over this?
"You're telling me Harry got stung by a mosquito?" he said.
There were a few moments of silence. "Well, it's not an Earth mosquito, but it's similar – a flying insect with a proboscis." Her tone was somewhat pedantic and irked, as if mistaking a Delta Quadrant insect for Earth mosquitoes was a major blunder, committed by simpleminded non-scientists like himself.
The doctor strode over from his patient. "Mr. Paris," he said, "What I believe the ensign wants is a full scan of the insect."
"Yes," Kessel said instantly over the comm.
"Aren't you the biologist?" Paris asked.
"Yes, but the tricorders here indicate some foreign biological material in its body but I'm not sure what it is," she said. "The scanners in sickbay are higher resolution. You can get quicker results."
Paris still didn't quite understand. The doctor came over and gave him a cool look. "Mr. Paris, scan the insect. They serve as a carrier for many different types of diseases."
"Oh." Paris took the jar and stared at it. What was he supposed to do? Make the bug lie down on the biobed? "How does Harry feel?"
Harry's voice cut in on the comm. "I feel all right. Just a bump, like a mosquito bite."
"Everything on the medical tricorder checks out normal," Kessel put in.
Paris took the jar over to a table and got out a medical tricorder, hoping he'd be able to scan the thing. Kessel ought to be doing this; she knew what she was doing. Then again, he was trying to arrange for some alone time between those two, and Harry felt all right, and he didn't want to go back to the paperwork.
"Okay," Paris said, feeling more confident. "I'll scan your bug. For now, just give Harry some of the standard vaccine. It's in the medikit. That stuff ought to handle just about anything."
"Yes, sir," Kessel said.
An idea crossed his mind: a combadge trick B'Elanna had showed him once. It took a certain sequence of keys on his console before the computer cut the connection. If it worked, her combadge channel would stay on, and he'd be able to listen in on their conversation.
The console emitted a few alarmed beeps, and Tom waited. Had he been quick enough? He hoped so.
"I don't like the look of that one cell," Kessel said dubiously. "It might be a virus."
"I feel fine," Harry said agreeably. "It itches, that's all."
Tom grinned. He could hear the sounds of someone rummaging around for the medikit, and then the hiss of a hypospray. Over the comm, Harry grunted.
"I never get used to that," he said. "Especially right on the neck."
"We should keep an eye on you," Kessel said reflectively.
Yeah, there you go, Harry! Tom thought exultantly. There was a wsssh sound that he figured were shuttle doors. His wife's voice echoed over the comm. His lips twisted as the forcible reminder that he was up here and they were down there struck him again.
"So how is he?" B'Elanna asked.
"He seems to be all right," Kessel said. "Sickbay is investigating the insect. They said I should give him the standard vaccine, just in case."
"Okay," B'Elanna said. "Well, we ought to make sure. Harry, why don't you stay here and help Ensign Kessel scan for life forms."
Atsa my girl, Tom thought.
"Hmmm," B'Elanna added. "There's some weird activity on sensors...well, what do you know. Your combadge channel hadn't closed." He heard a brief beeping as she keyed something into a console. A stifled chuckle told him he'd been discovered. Then the comm went dead. Tom grinned sheepishly. He should have known she'd catch him.
A few minutes later, his own combadge buzzed. "Torres to Paris."
"Go ahead," he said. "Is there a problem, B'Elanna?"
"Ha," she said. "Quit listening in on us and scan your bug, Lieutenant Paris. We're handling Ensign Love Connection on the surface just fine. Oh, yes, and we're mining dilithium too. You know, the stuff that makes the ship go fast? I just thought I'd remind you of that."
"Yes, dear," Paris said, grinning. "How's it going?"
"It's fine. The dilithium is good quality, and it's not too hard to extract. We got lucky this time – ouch, dammit! Sorry. These mosquitoes are awful."
"I'll swat this one when I'm done with it," Paris informed her. "As punishment for what his compatriot put you through."
"That sounds fair," B'Elanna said.
"I miss you," he told her.
"I know. I miss you too." She cut the connection and went about her business, far away from him. He took a moment to sigh and turned his attention to the mosquito. It had stopped buzzing around and settled on the floor of its prison. It even looked like an Earth mosquito. Uglier, though.
"Wondering what to do with your new pet?" the doctor asked acerbically.
Paris gave the doctor a cool smile. "Actually, I was wondering what to name him," he cracked.
"Start off with a full bioscan. Concentrate on foreign bodies: germs, viruses, and the like," the doctor said.
Paris took the jar and placed it on a biobed, feeling sort of silly as the diagnostic palette closed over it. There were at least six inches of space between the palette and the top of the jar. Then again, he thought, they had once put a bioneural gel pack on a biobed, hadn't they?
The screen lit up, pouring data in. A computer graphic of the insect appeared on the display panel, and it was just as ugly even when magnified ten times. It had a long, thin snout and compound eyes, seeming to stare at him from the panel as if accusing him of being the author of all its misery.
Since this was the first time the insect had ever been entered into their database, it would take a while. For a moment he thought it might make a good Captain Proton serial. Queen of the Diabolical Space Mosquitoes. Perhaps Buster Kincaid could get the girl this time. That's what he was shooting for, wasn't it?
Paris stayed by the angered insect. It kept him away from the paperwork. He picked up a medical tricorder and scanned at it himself while the computer did its job. There was a fragment of human DNA in there. He stopped and focused on that. Yep, it was Harry's – a few blood cells that that the diabolical space mosquito was digesting. There was something else there, too, which must be what Kessel had been asking about. It looked like a virus to his layman's eyes, so he set the sensors to focus on that.
It was an odd-looking virus. He didn't think he'd ever seen one quite like this. He was concerned. When the doctor had finished treating the crewman he was with, Paris caught his attention.
"Hey, doc," he said. "Have a look at this."
The doctor frowned and came over. "Yes?" he asked irascibly.
"Look at this virus," Paris said. "I've never seen anything quite like it."
The doctor looked at the panel, studying it in silence for a few moments "That is an unusual structure," he said. "Perhaps Ensign Kim ought to return to the ship for an examination. I'll inform the captain."
Paris fought not to frown. The mission was important; after all, dilithium was vital to Voyager's operations. And he did want to see if Kessel and Kim hit it off. Still, the doctor was the chief medical officer, and for all his ability to be a colossal pain, he really did care about the crew. Paris tapped his combadge. "Paris to Kim."
There was no response except for an almost silent hiss of static from his combadge. He felt the first few tendrils of fear tickle his throat.
"Paris to Kim. Harry, respond."
Again, a few moments passed by, each heavy as lead. Paris worked his jaw and felt acid churn in his stomach.
"Paris to away team!"
A few minutes passed that he could have sworn were longer than his entire sentence in New Zealand. Tense silence ruled the sickbay. He looked up at the doctor. Sick, desperate realization roiled his frame and cast his face in stone.
Then Captain Janeway's voice came from the overhead speakers. "Bridge to sickbay. Prepare for incoming casualties. We've gotten an emergency comm from the away team. All members are down. We're beaming them directly to you. Get ready."