archiev: Your hope is not unfounded. The story continues here:)
Master of the Boot: The master mind behind this scheme, as you call it, will be eventually revealed.
Gaby: Why do you think Kirk is under Shadow control? He cannot be independent?
USS Majestic
"Oh no—" Azleya was pointing at the cargo bay doors. "Commander!"
Three red worms were crawling through the middle seam of the doors.
"Stay back!" cautioned Colton.
Colton trained his phaser rifle on the door leading into the cargo bay. Azleya and Chekov likewise trained their own phasers on the door. Each announcement from Peter Tiefen about the number of bloodworms behind the doors made them more and more tense. The Majestic's 12 survivors watched silently from behind their barrier, unable to help.
Chekov spoke into his open communicator. "Keptin…?" He felt he should be sweating. "Mr. Ford, are you sure you locked the door?"
"Yes, Commander," replied Colton through gritted teeth. "How the hell—?"
"It won't hold them." Saavik's voice was now taut with tension. "Clearly, they are still mutating."
There were pinpoint holes in the doors. As they watched, another and another of the scarlet worms came burrowing through the door surface. Somehow, the bloodworms had developed similar capabilities to those of the Horta.
"Keptin!" prompted Chekov anxiously.
More bloodworms appeared in the doors, enough to create a stream dripping down its surface. The first trickle of a scarlet waterfall. Colton fired his phaser rifle. The bloodworms stiffened and shivered, trilling angrily. Then they seemed to shake off the phaser effect and continued to slither down the doors. Soon, a veritable lake of bloodworms formed at the bottom of the doors, writhing and sniffing at the air. It had a disturbing resemblance to a lake of red fire.
"Keptin!" Chekov was now screaming.
More bloodworms burrowed through the doors. The landing party began firing their phasers at them, but there were too many and the phasers were having little effect on them. More were coming from all over the ship, joining the attack on the living humanoids.
A tingling feeling overtook the party. They were relieved to recognize the transporter effect. Almost immediately, they found themselves behind the energy barrier with the survivors.
Captain Sulu's voice came through the communicator. It was full of heart-stopping worry. "Pavel? Are you all right?"
"Uhh, as all right as I can be with my frayed nerves. That was a damned close call, Keptin." Chekov glanced at the bloodworms which were now flooding the entire cargo bay outside the force field.
"Sorry. The transporter operator had some difficulties with the rematerialization subroutines. She was being careful about you not materializing on the transporter pad."
"Much obliged," said Tiefen sarcastically, watching the bloodworms poke and probe at the force field. The field held but glittered at each touch. Meanwhile, more were pouring through the now porous doors.
"Thank you, Keptin." With that, Chekov shut off his communicator.
"Will the field hold?" Colton nodded at the force field which was now a constant glitter holding back the scarlet flood.
Saavik said, "It will. But by constantly testing the field, the bloodworms are draining the power. It won't remain energized for long."
Chekov peered around at the survivors in the gloom. He was surprised to recognize a few of the survivors.
"Winston Kyle? Paul Beach?"
The named men wearily smiled at the commander. "Hey, long time no see!" said Beach.
Kyle nodded. "We sometimes talk about our days on the Reliant. That was a good ship, sir."
"Yes, it was." Chekov wasn't in the mood to reminisce about those days. Captain Clark Terrell was his friend, and he didn't like to think about Khan Singh. "What's going on here?"
Out of the gloom came two people—a middle-aged man and a young thin handsome blonde woman.
"I'm Captain David Jefferson," said the man. "I'm the leader of this expedition." He turned to the woman. "And this is my yeoman, Ensign Alynna Nechayev."
The willowy Russian blonde woman gave a short curt nod. "Sir." She didn't seem inclined to be friendly.
Chekov chalked it off to the trauma of her experience and to being obviously new to her post. New ensigns tend to act more militant than the more experienced officers. "What's going on here?"
"Oh, we have the authority to be here," said the captain stiffly. "We're a research vessel sent to study the life forms of this universe."
"Including Regulan bloodworms?" interjected Peter skeptically.
"Ah, yes. It wasn't our intention."
Chekov looked to Saavik for confirmation. She didn't look back at him. He said, "Okay, if you're here only for research, then what are you doing at the edge of Vorlon space?"
"Ah well." Jefferson shrugged as if it was an insignificant matter. "Starfleet Command was concerned about the reports of the Shadows and the Vorlons. Of course, we know about the Shadows' military capabilities. Mostly, anyway. We don't know much about the Vorlon military capabilities. Command needs to know."
"So you are on a spy mission as well?" put in Azleya, disgusted.
Nechayev interjected, "Not a spy mission. We're merely…gathering much needed intelligence."
Chekov nodded as if he understood the motives, and then turned away to hide his frown. If they were just investigating this universe, why the Regulan bloodworms? Were there counterparts of the bloodworms in this universe? "Lieutenant Azleya? Opinion on the force field's status?"
"Like Saavik said, it will hold. But not for long. Maybe thirty hours."
Peter sidled up to Saavik. He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by Captain Jefferson. "Are these Regulan bloodworms native to this universe? Are you studying them?"
A little contritely, she replied, "I am one of the scientists responsible on this ship. I cannot say any more. I'm under orders." Her eyes discretely flicked over at Jefferson.
Peter gazed at the Vulcan woman silently for a while, trying to figure her out. And then: "All right. What can you tell me about the bloodworms?"
"We have learned that the plasmasites are attracted to certain oxygen-bearing enzymes in the blood. We have attempted to create plasmasite-inhibitors. As yet, we have not succeeded."
"Okay. I can get the Excelsior to look for one, too. I won't accept that this is the end for us."
Saavik only looked up at Peter. He was surprised to see shame, sadness and guilt in her eyes.
USS Excelsior
Captain's log, supplemental. We have established a remote computer link with the Majestic and are downloading the research information gathered on the plasmasites. I recognize the fact that it's only a delaying tactic before I must give the order to destroy the Majestic. Even then, I am concerned about the strength of the Regulan bloodworms. Time is valuable here: the force field protecting the survivors wouldn't hold for more than thirty hours; the survivors are infected themselves and it's only a matter of time before the pathogen develops new bloodworms in their bodies; we do not know how long we have before the Vorlons notice us and send a response. If they haven't already. All accounts point to ships vanishing, never to be heard from again. Of course, I want Babylon 5 and the Federation to hear from us again.
Needless to say, I am still disturbed about the whole thing.
Sulu, Akaar and Doctor Christine Chapel were in the captain's office. The Chief of Security was still trying to adhere to the standing Starfleet orders.
"The orders still stand, Captain. The Regulan bloodworms have mutated. So what? Destroy the ship and let's get out of here before we alert the Vorlons."
Doctor Chapel gave the Capellan man a pained look. "Akaar, you heard what they said. If we destroy the ship, the explosion might just attract the Vorlons' attention. Any ship they send would be infected by the bloodworms. Then we'd be responsible for infecting the Vorlon Empire. That's not acceptable. We need alternatives."
"There is no alternative," said Akaar. "The orders are specific. Stay, and the Vorlons attack, which will likely mean a war between the Federation and the Vorlon Empire. Destroy the Majestic, leave, and the Vorlons might, might, come and get infected which would happen only if they come. I know which action I would take."
Sulu's expression tightened as if he was reminding himself not to kill the bearer of bad news. He turned to an intercom unit on the wall. "Security to Captain's office. On the double."
He looked to Akaar. His voice was now hard-edged. "I know the orders, Mr. Akaar. I know why they were written. I know what I am required to do. That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to consult with other officers. I will not be pressured into any action—not by you, not by Starfleet Command."
The door slid open to admit two armored and helmeted security officers. Sulu continued talking.
"If you make any attempt to relieve me of my command, Mr. Akaar, you will be charged with mutiny. Are we clear?"
The Capellan stared back at the captain with a hard expression.
Sulu turned to Chapel. "All right, Doctor. Go ahead."
"There's not a lot to say. Lieutenant Tiefen reported that they found out that the plasmasites are attracted to oxygen-bearing enzymes in the blood. The Majestic looked for a cure. If we looked at the records we're downloading, we might, might, find something like a cure." She sighed. "Captain, we're grasping at straws here. They're my friends, too, but we can't risk exposing ourselves."
"Just answer me this, Doctor: if I ordered you to analyze the Majestic's records and find something we can use against the bloodworms, can I depend on you?"
"Yes," was all that Chapel could say with a glance at Akaar.
"All right. Let's do this."
"Captain," Chapel didn't appear to want to pursue this subject any further but her professionalism forced her to. "I'm not comfortable with this."
"None of us are."
"If they were experimenting with plasmasite-inhibitors, I'll need to know all about it. I need time here, Captain."
"Time is what we don't have, Dr. Chapel. We've got less than thirty hours of force field power aboard the Majestic and who knows how long before the Vorlons come."
"Yes, sir. If we could, we might be able to get our people off that ship. There's still the matter of the ship itself."
"We'll get there when we get there," replied Sulu tersely.
"And then what?" demanded Akaar. "Then we have an infection aboard this starship, in violation of a standing order."
"Mr. Akaar," Hikaru Sulu faced the Capellan coldly. "Do I have to put you under arrest and throw you in the brig?"
"No, sir," he said.
"Thank you, Commander. Let's hop to it."
/\
In the starship's sickbay, Doctors Altos Viger and Christine Chapel stood close together to study the information downloaded from the Majestic. The Bolian and the human looked up at each other, simultaneously getting an idea.
Christine went over to an intercom panel. "Captain, we—"
At that moment, Captain Sulu strode into Sickbay.
"Ah, impeccable timing!" said Altos.
Sulu looked from doctor to doctor. "May I assume you've found something?"
"Oh yes, you may! It was a good thing we had the research notes from the Majestic." Dr. Altos was positively brimming with excitement. "Doctor Chapel, do the honor!"
"Well, I think that it may be possible to save the people trapped on the Majestic. The bloodworms are attracted to oxygen-bearing enzymes in the blood, so if we can suppress the enzymes, the bloodworms will die almost immediately. We'll have to make the enzyme-suppressants here and beam them over to the Majestic for injection." Christine hesitated.
"Don't tell me. There's a catch," said Sulu.
"With most viral or bacterial infections, the risk of disease is determined by the depth of exposure. A few strands, a few cells are not enough to infect a person. For many diseases, the body can flush out even the most toxic material if the exposure is small enough. This is not true for the plasmasites. A single cell in the bloodstream is enough to infect a person entirely. Just treating the infected person isn't enough. If there's any one cell left, he'd be re-infected all over again. Total decontamination is required."
"That's good, isn't it?" Sulu couldn't see what the problem was.
Christine took a deep breath. "The real problem, Captain, is the immediate re-infection of the patient. We'd have to completely replace the patient's blood. If we do it, we will have to beam each of the survivors to the Excelsior for a complete blood replacement in less than three minutes to save their lives. We'll need to collect all of the artificial blood we have. And be quick about the whole thing. Just three minutes to do the transfusion or we start damaging the patient. The whole process will take less than ten minutes." Worry overtook her face. "The human brain can last about six minutes without oxygen. Maybe four or less without blood, but we have to consider other problems such as arterial and venous collapse, pressure changes in the organs."
Dr. Altos said, "We could increase the lymph production to compensate for the loss of blood pressure."
"That might work, Doctor." Christine still looked worried, though. "There's a lot that can go wrong. Organ failures for even those few minutes. Just less than ten minutes and a lot of catastrophic changes in the body can happen."
Altos nodded. "Can you imagine what would happen if the veins in the eyes collapsed even for a couple minutes? Everything is connected."
"Can't we do it fast enough?" wondered Sulu.
Christine gently bit her lower lip in thought. "Maybe. Maybe not. The human heart can pump most blood out of the body in about a minute. We can help it along. Speed is essential, but it's even more important how the body would take the pressure of a forced speed transfusion, how the heart would take it."
"We'll have to do it in an isolation ward," added Dr. Altos. "The simple procedure of beaming the patient to the transporter room and moving him to Sickbay would take too much time. Not to mention risking infection of the transporter room, the intervening corridor and Sickbay, thereby the entire ship. We'll have to set up a temporary isolation ward in one of the cargo bays, using the cargo transporter to beam over the patient. Of course, all personnel in the bay would have to suit up."
"What happens if the procedure fails and the personnel are infected?"
Altos and Chapel became grim and looked at each other. "Open the cargo bay doors and flush everything out to space if that happens."
Sulu stared. That meant anyone in the bay would be sucked out in space. Anyone not properly protected would die. And any suited infected personnel would be left to die alone in space. Either of suffocation, thirst or infection, whichever comes first. "Can't the transporter just use the biofilters to flush out the toxins?"
Both doctors shook their heads. Christine said, "Remember, just one single cell is enough for re-infection. The transporter biofilters won't catch them all." She shook her head in wonder at all the potential problems. "Perhaps it's fortunate that the pathogen somehow just remains in the bloodstream rather than collecting in the arterial, venous walls and in the organs." She now frowned. "That in itself is very unusual."
The Bolian doctor's face brightened with an idea. "Dr. Chapel, what about stasis? We can beam a stasis unit to the Majestic, put the patient into suspended animation and do the whole procedure with much less risk of damage to the patient?"
The human doctor nodded her head slowly. "That could work. We'd have to outfit the unit with a repulsor force field so that the pathogen wouldn't contaminate it."
Sulu didn't feel like a great burden has lifted off of his shoulders. However, he was relieved that he didn't have to order the destruction of the Majestic and kill everyone aboard. Still, the outlook didn't look exactly promising. It was all very risky. One mistake and the Excelsior becomes a plague ship like the Majestic.
"Do it."
"What about Commander Akaar?"
Sulu grimaced at Altos' question. Of course the grape vine wouldn't suspend its service in the middle of a crisis on the ship. "He'll go along with it."
The Bolian doctor nodded, saying nothing about his thoughts of that situation. As long as Akaar didn't interfere with their job, it wasn't his problem.
/\
A beep sounded at the tactical station on the bridge, attracting the attention of the chief security officer and the captain. Akaar reported, "Sir, someone's trying to make an unauthorized transport. I've locked out the transporter."
Sulu couldn't think of anyone who would try to use the transporter without permission. "Come with me. We'll check it out."
"Yes, sir."
/\
As the captain and the security chief strode through the transporter room door, Sulu halted in his steps, surprised. It was Doctor Christine Chapel in an environment suit working to bypass the lockout in the transporter control console.
"Doctor…?"
"Don't stop me, Captain. Just don't."
"Doctor, the procedure has enough risks in it without you gallivanting over to the Majestic and putting your life on the line. Listen to me, Doctor. The minute we bring anyone over from the Majestic, we're committed. We wouldn't have the option of backing out. The minute that happens, I'm responsible for something that no other ship has ever survived. That's grounds for a court-martial." Sulu resisted rolling his eyes in black humor. "It'd be post-mortem of course if we fail. We cannot tolerate any mistake—"
"Which is why I have to go over there. The cargo bay's all set up. Dr. Altos is there waiting. A professional doctor at both ends of the treatment is better than two doctors stepping on each other's toes on one end and a nurse at the other end."
"And if the procedure fails? That suit you're wearing isn't a guaranteed protection against the bloodworms, you know. You'll die over there."
"You'll have Altos. He's good enough to take over as Chief Medical Officer now."
Sulu couldn't believe that Christine would be that flippant about her life.
"Listen. I know that Pavel is your friend. He's my friend, too. Please do not do this. We're running out of time."
"They're running out of time. Captain, Mr. Tiefen is a talented medtech, but a nurse is no person to handle the procedure and the stress on the Majestic. Mistakes could be made. When mistakes are made in my profession, people die. It's unnecessary. I have to be there. I'm the best person to supervise the treatment."
Sulu looked at her in silence. Professionally and ethically, Christine was right. Still, he'd hate to lose friends. The Enterprise crew has broken up after the death of that starship. The entire task force in this universe came under threat of a court-martial unless that crew conceded to a Command-mandated break up. Another court-martial could very well break up the Excelsior's crew. The death of more than one command-level officer during a violation of standing orders would guarantee it. Even if that didn't happen, Hikaru Sulu and Janice Rand would be the only Enterprise people left in this universe, not counting Montgomery Scott on Minbar. For a person who has been working with the same crew for twenty-five years, loyalty and sentimentality were hard to let go.
When it came down to it, Captain Sulu's objections were more personal than professional.
"All right, Christine. You can go." Nodding to Akaar who had been watching the whole thing, the captain ordered, "Beam her to the Majestic."
"Thank you, sir." With that, Christine picked up her med-kit and stepped onto the transporter pad.
When the light that took the doctor away faded on the transporter pad, Akaar said, "Speaking as a Capellan, I would suggest beating Dr. Chapel for insubordination."
"We don't do that in the Fleet."
"Stupid policy. Corporal punishment slows down repeat offenders."
Sulu wasn't sure whether Akaar was joking or not. Due to their rigid code of honor and ethics against any form of lying, Capellans weren't known for their humor.
As Sulu and Akaar walked down the corridor to a turbolift, a crewman approached them, holding a compadd. The captain expected him to step out of their way, but he didn't.
"Captain, I have a petition here for you." The crewman handed the padd to Sulu who was now annoyed. He didn't look at the list of names.
"Is this official?"
"I'm afraid so. I have to ask you to not proceed with the rescue operation. This petition shows that the crew is concerned—"
"Afraid, you mean?"
The crewman wasn't embarrassed. "Yes, sir. Some of the crew are afraid that the Excelsior will be infected. The Majestic did everything they could to stop the pathogen. Now it is infected. What would prevent us from being infected too?"
"I have every confidence in the doctors."
"One mistake can turn us into a plague ship. We're human. We're not perfect. So mistakes will be made." The crewman looked straight into Sulu's eyes. With this gesture, he was implying that any such mistake would be the captain's fault. "The bloodworms give only bad deaths. We don't want to die."
Acidly, Sulu said, "This is not a democracy. The crew doesn't get a vote. We are not going to abandon our crewmates. And we're not throwing away half the human race because the other half is scared. Go back to your station, crewman. I've already told the doctors to proceed."
The crewman nodded as if he had been expecting this answer. "Yes, sir. We'll be logging a formal protest."
Annoyed, Sulu dismissed the crewman and watched him walk off. He shook his head in wry amazement and said, "A formal protest? Give me a break. If we survive, I may get a court-martial for breaking the standing orders."
The big Capellan's face was carefully blank.
"You know, Commander, you may have a point," Sulu added.
Akaar raised an eyebrow, silently asking what the captain was talking about.
"About policy."
"Oh," said Akaar. "Would you like me to…?"
Captain Sulu sighed. "We're not Capellans."