RAGNAROK 2
Author: Rocky

Lieutenants Rollins and Ayala stood at attention, waiting for their head of department to continue with the tactical and security briefing. Tuvok paused, aware they were looking at him expectantly. For an instant, instead of the living officers before him, he saw the face of one who was not there and never would be again.

Strange that he should feel Ken Dalby's absence so keenly. The former Maquis had never been easy to get along with-Dalby had in fact seemed to take a perverse delight in trying to arouse the chief of security's ire-and Tuvok would not have automatically considered him when calling a meeting of his most trusted and dependable underlings. And yet, whenever a crisis arose, Dalby had always met it unflinchingly, and usually played a key role in conquering threats or repelling attacks. As he had when the Borg Queen's specially modified drones invaded Voyager two months earlier. Dalby had fallen in the battle to retake Engineering, an early casualty in the current round of hostilities with the Collective.

A most uncharacteristic thought rose in Tuvok's mind as he looked at the men facing him now; he found himself wondering which of them would be next.

"We have discussed distributing sidearms to each crew member," the Vulcan said, his voice carrying no hint of emotion. "A cache of the large compression rifles will be available on each deck near the turbolifts, in addition to the regular weapons lockers, in case of an intruder alert. Mr. Ayala, have you gone over the redundancy plans?"

"Yes, sir," Ayala replied. He held out a PADD. "All the back-up systems are in place, forcefields fully charged and operational in case of hostile boarding parties as well as any hull breaches."

"Very good." Tuvok gave a cursory glance at his checklist. "Mr. Rollins, is the self-destruct sequence functional in the event of a 'worst case scenario'?"

To his credit, Rollins did not flinch as he discussed the current state of the last ditch defense mechanism. He then finished with a report on the most recent inspection of the ship's escape pods.

Of course, Tuvok thought, they are thinking ahead in terms of survival, even beyond the destruction of the ship. Human resiliency, even in the face of almost certain death, never ceased to amaze him.

"The next item on our list: phaser banks and photon torpedo complement."

Act II

The Doctor snapped out commands in a controlled, yet hurried tone.

"Icheb, I want you in the lab replicating as much of your nanovirus vaccine as possible-the same strain that we used aboard the Trefla."

Icheb frowned. "We already have a sizable quantity available, Doctor. How much additional material do you require?"

"About triple the volume we currently have in the stasis chambers. The entire crew must receive inoculations," Voyager's chief medical officer said. "Or in the case of individuals such as Ensigns Pierce and Gilmore-who have previously been treated-boosters to stimulate the basal level of nanoprobes present in their systems." Icheb nodded and went off to the labs without another word.

The Doctor looked after him for a moment, weighing having another person working with the young man, but immediately decided against it . There were other pressing issues to be concerned with. Icheb would just have to manage alone until Naomi Wildman reported for duty in another three hours.

He continued, "Ensign Gallagher, take the stocks we already have and begin administering the vaccine to the bridge personnel, then work your way down through as many decks as you can."

"It will be very time-consuming to inoculate the entire crew one at a time," Gallagher objected, her frown matching his. "What about using the ship's ventilation system as a method of dispersal?"

"Not practical," he said tersely, glancing at his PADD. Then, "It would take even longer to first convert the virus into aerosol form. Individual inoculations are the best option. Oh, that reminds me, I need to speak with Lieutenant Torres about the feasibility of administering the nanovirus to the gel packs themselves. Ensign Redman-" he addressed the Life Sciences officer who had been 'drafted' for the current shift. "Ensign Redman, as soon as the next batch is ready, I want you to do the same, but starting from Engineering and covering the lower decks. In the meantime, you can administer neural suppressants-not nearly as effective a protection against assimilation, but it will do in a pinch."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Sam Wildman calmly. "Should I administer inoculations as well? Or assist Icheb?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Neither. I'm counting on you to make sure Sickbay facilities are prepared for large numbers of casualties. You know the drill. Check all equipment, see that it's in a state of readiness, and that trauma teams are standing by on their assigned decks. Do a quick inventory of plasma, stabilizing enzymes, coagulants and neural regenerators, and replicate anything that's in short supply."

He quickly shooed them off to their respective tasks. Trish Gallagher was a regular member of the medical staff; eminently capable, he knew she would work as efficiently as possible. He had his doubts about George Redman; the man had served only a limited number of shifts on medical duty, but he could not spare Sam Wildman from Sickbay. It suddenly occurred to the Doctor that perhaps he couldn't count on Icheb's presence for an extended period of time. Doubtless Engineering would also be clamoring for his services before long.

The Doctor would never admit it out loud, of course, but more than anything he wished Lieutenant Paris was there with him. Insubordinate attitude, inappropriate comments and all, as long as he could have his skilled assistance. But the Doctor knew that he wouldn't see Paris cross the threshold of Sickbay anytime soon, unless it was as a patient. Under his breath he muttered imprecations at whoever had thought that the ship's most skilled pilot would make a good Sickbay assistant cum field medic.

The task the Doctor had set himself was inventorying his supplies of deassimilation drugs, in particular bragrahydrophortizine-L and ryanicdine-6. And zanamivir, he reminded himself; the broad-based antiviral was essential for combating the secondary infections that often set in once the cybernetic neural implants were disconnected. He just hoped he would have a chance to use them-not that he wanted Voyager to be boarded by hostile drones, but there was no denying that was a preferable outcome to the ship being destroyed completely. Surely it wasn't asking too much for him to hope that after the battle was over, he would have the time and facilities to try to correct any damage.

As he worked, the Doctor continued to fret about the conditions in Sickbay. Lack of materials and medications, not enough personnel-there was *never* enough personnel. "Why is it always *my* department which gets short-changed each time?" he muttered, a bit louder than he anticipated. "I'm good, but not *that* good."

Gallagher rolled her eyes. Redman made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter and was rewarded with a holographic glare. Redman hastily grabbed his medikit and hurried toward the door. He nearly bumped into Tuvok on his way out and stammered an apology.

"As you were, Ensign," Tuvok said, stepping to one side. Redman and Gallagher quickly exited.

"Commander," said the Doctor without looking up. "Unless this is a situation that requires emergency medical intervention, I would appreciate it if you would return at a later time. We're rather busy at the moment-"

"I am aware of the time constraints, Doctor, and I assure you I am not here to waste either your time, or my own." Tuvok paused for a moment. "One of the reasons I am here is to check on your department's preparations for the coming battle."

The Doctor stiffened as much as a hologram could. "I assure you, Mr. Tuvok," he said in his iciest tones, "that my staff and I are taking all necessary steps toward that end." He broke off, noticing the expression of weariness that flitted across the Vulcan's face. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I am in no need of any rest at the present," Tuvok said.

"Come, come, Commander," chided the Doctor. "Need I remind you of the captain's directive? Despite your attempts to emulate one, you are not a machine, and unless I miss my guess, you've been on duty for too many consecutive hours already."

The Vulcan shook his head, almost impatiently. "I have too many tasks that must be completed first. Among them is ensuring that the medical replicators are working at full capacity, producing the necessary nanovirus."

"That's already being done, and I have people administering hyposprays to the entire crew." Curious, the Doctor turned to look at him once more, "Tell me, Commander, why are you involving yourself in something that is purely a medical matter?"