“Captain, you think that someone onboard is interested in picking a fight with Species 8472?” Paris asked.
“I think it’s possible, and I want to know who you think might be most likely to harbor such an agenda,” Eden replied.
“No one,” Paris said immediately.
“Really?” Kim asked dismissively.
“Come on, Harry,” Paris went on, “anyone who’s ever met those guys wouldn’t willingly come within a light-year of them. They’re not exactly known for their hospitality.”
“Obviously not,” Kim said, directing himself toward Eden.
“What about Seven?” the captain asked evenly.
Both paused to consider it.
“I ask, not because I doubt her intentions, but given that she has been under such tremendous stress of late,” Eden added quickly.
“No way,” Paris insisted.
After a moment, Kim said, “I’d have to agree. Of everyone that comes to mind, she’d be the least likely to underestimate the risks involved in contacting Species 8472 again.”
Eden nodded, then asked, “And Chakotay?”
Tense silence descended between them.
Paris was the first to break it. “Absolutely not.”
Kim refused to meet Eden’s eyes and suddenly looked like he wished he’d never been called into the meeting.
“Lieutenant?” Eden asked.
“I don’t know,” Kim finally admitted.
“What are you talking about?” Paris demanded, his voice rising.
“I’m saying I don’t know,” Kim replied forcefully. “I mean, the last time we served with him, he was in pretty bad shape. Then he resigns his commission.”
“To help Seven,” Paris interjected.
“Maybe,” Kim said. “But I can understand why Captain Eden might not be as quick as you are to dismiss him as a suspect.”
“Now he’s a suspect?” Paris was very close to shouting.
“Look, I’m in charge of security and I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t consider every possibility, even the ones I don’t like,” Kim argued.
Paris rose from his chair, his face flushed. “I know Chakotay. I’ve been through good and bad with him and there is no way the man who helped lead us home and who had our backs for years after that would ever intentionally do anything to put this crew at risk. He has my full confidence, Captain,” Paris insisted. “If he says he came here to help Seven, then that’s why he’s here.”
“Maybe he’s trying to help Seven,” Kim suggested. “Maybe he thinks that Species 8472 has an answer we don’t. He did get pretty close to some of them when we discovered that simulation of Starfleet Command.”
“That was his job,” Paris fired back. “He was an undercover operative. And he worked as hard as any of us to create the peace accord we established then. He’s not going to break it, not when it would run the risk of war between the Federation and Species 8472.”
“Calm down, both of you,” Eden snapped. After a subdued pause she went on, “I want you to work together to review the personnel roster of Voyager, Hawking, and Galen, and bring me a list of anyone present who might have reason and opportunity to sabotage this ship. I’ll expect your report by the end of the day, tomorrow.”
Kim rose to stand at attention beside Paris.
“Aye, Captain,” he said with a nod.
They both turned briskly to exit. Before they reached the door, Eden added, “Gentlemen, I don’t know what personal difficulties you might be experiencing right now, but I need you to set them aside and get this done. You know this ship and crew better than most, and your insight is absolutely required. That said, I’ll buck you both back to crewmen and you can spend the next few years scrubbing waste reclamation conduits if you don’t find a way to pull yourselves together. Frankly, I’m surprised at both of you right now.” She paused to allow her words to sink in. “Solve this,” she finished. “Or I will.”
“Yes, Captain,” they replied in near unison.
B’Elanna was elbow-deep replicating the section of the deflector dish that would replace the portion Hawking had destroyed. Having been the one to suggest firing, she felt honor-bound to provide Nancy with a replacement as soon as possible. She’d already spoken with Tom and he had agreed to look in on Miral while working on his own project. B’Elanna didn’t know the details—only that he didn’t sound happy.
She stood back, pleased to see that those who she had once commanded were performing their repairs both diligently and cheerfully. For them, a crisis in the Delta quadrant was nothing new. Warmed by the fact that many of the engineers had taken a moment to greet her, B’Elanna realized how right it felt. She hadn’t expected this.
Nancy Conlon ran her engine room with a quiet resolve. She was tough when she needed to be, generous with praise, and always ready with healthy doses of gallows humor. More important, she was decisive. Many engineers tended to get lost in the details. Nancy was as practical as B’Elanna had always prided herself in being. If B’Elanna had ever wondered if Voyager was in good hands, those doubts vanished in an afternoon of hard, but purposeful, work.
These thoughts were momentarily disturbed by the sound of raised voices coming from Conlon’s office on the second level. Glancing up, B’Elanna caught sight of the engineer arguing with Admiral Batiste. Her stomach tightened further when Batiste looked down toward her and then continued his rant. Moments later he strode briskly from Conlon’s office, descended the utility ladder, and moved straight toward her with Nancy in tow.
She straightened her posture as she said, “Good evening, Admiral.”
“You are relieved, Ms. Torres,” he advised her coldly.
Taken aback by his tone, she stammered, “May I ask why, Admiral?”
“Lieutenant Conlon has just informed me that you were responsible for the damage to our deflector dish.”
“No, sir,” Conlon interrupted calmly. “I told you that it was B’Elanna’s idea, but that I agreed with it fully. I gave the order,” she said with emphasis.
“Be that as it may, your solution was ill-considered, and I do not believe that without Ms. Torres’s instigation, it would have occurred to you. This is a Starfleet vessel and we don’t damage it intentionally.”
“It was a last resort,” Conlon argued.
“No,” B’Elanna said firmly. “He’s right. It was my idea and I take full responsibility for it.”
“You are not to report to engineering unless I authorize it,” Admiral Batiste went on. “Understood?”
“Of course, Admiral.”
With a grim nod he stalked off.
“I’m sorry,” Conlon said immediately.
“Don’t worry about it,” B’Elanna replied, her heart sinking. “I had no business being here in the first place.”
“If I don’t have a problem with it, I can’t understand why he does.”
“It doesn’t matter,” B’Elanna said, attempting to summon a smile. “The new section is almost done. I’ll just go back to working on those matrix designs. I’ll forward them to you for review when they’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Conlon said sadly.
“No, thank you,” B’Elanna replied. “You should be proud of your team. I was proud to be a part of it. And I’ll continue to help in any way I can.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Conlon promised.
“Anytime,” B’Elanna said with a nod.
She took a moment to wipe her hands, slick with lubricant, and cast a long, last look around. Refusing to give in to regret, B’Elanna departed, anxious to see Miral and Tom, and saddened only by the thought that she wouldn’t be allowed to be of further use to Voyager.
Meegan sat complacently on the edge of the biobed. The Doctor had completed his examination and she had suffered no serious damage from the Indign possession. She remembered nothing of the event. An engrammatic scan had revealed several alterations to her prior brain patterns and those alterations had yet to return to normal. Pri
vately the Doctor had hoped that Meegan might have been able to access some clue to the Indign during the incident. He supposed he should just be grateful that Meegan had been physically unharmed.
She had always struck the Doctor as enthusiastic. He had ordered forty-eight-hour bedrest but this morning Meegan had begged to be allowed to resume her duties. He had observed her carefully since then, and though she seemed pensive, she did her work with ease. However, Meegan had made errors she never would have made in the past.
The Doctor knew well the pain of feeling useless and would not willingly inflict it on anyone else.
“Your electrolyte levels remain a little low,” he said, scanning her test results. “Has your appetite returned to normal?”
“For the most part,” Meegan replied, a little evasively. “Meegan?” the Doctor prodded gently.
Sighing, she said, “It’s not that I’m not hungry. It’s that nothing really tastes good to me once I’ve replicated it.”
“Hm,” the Doctor said. “If you’d like I could provide you with a list of appropriately balanced meals which should restore your normal chemical balance.”
“Don’t we have anything fresh onboard?” Meegan asked.
The Doctor studied her briefly.
“Or perhaps we picked up something from the Indign homeworld? They produce vast quantities of delicious fruits and vegetables, don’t they?”
“As far as I know, our efforts to establish trade with the Indign have failed. But take heart. We’ll be regrouping with the Demeter in a few weeks, and I’m sure we can find you something from their airponics bay when we do. Meantime, I must insist that you overcome your disdain for replicated fare and nourish your body appropriately. You’ve been through a trying ordeal and you will need fuel if you are to regain your full strength.”
“I promise,” Meegan said with a demure smile.
“Any other complaints?” the Doctor asked.
She paused and the Doctor could tell she was debating mentioning whatever was on her mind.
“Come now,” he encouraged her. “I’m your doctor. You can tell me anything.”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, refusing to meet his eyes.
Sensing her reluctance, the Doctor set aside his tricorder and stepped closer to give her his full attention.
“What is it?” he asked kindly.
Her large blue eyes met and held his. Quite suddenly he detected increased blood flow to her facial capillaries. Even without his scanner he could easily see that her heart rate was accelerating.
“Meegan?”
Without warning she placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled his lips to hers.
The sensation was sweet, and it sent his memory buffers spinning with many pleasurable recollections, but he was too shocked to return the gesture.
After a moment, the Doctor gently extricated himself and took an involuntary step back.
“Meegan … I …” he stammered.
“I’m sorry,” she said in anxious embarrassment. She quickly jumped down from the biobed and stepped toward the exam room door.
He moved to block her path and replied, “Please, don’t go. You have nothing to apologize for. I was just taken by surprise.”
Soft, lambent eyes held his. “I have offended you.”
“No,” he quickly corrected her. “You absolutely have not.”
“You encouraged Reg to act on his feelings, no matter what happened. I just felt like I had to do the same.”
The Doctor was stunned. “You have … feelings for me?” he asked.
“Since the first day I met you,” she admitted. “You are an amazing man. I know I’m not halfway good enough for you. Of course you prefer more worldly and experienced women. But that doesn’t make these feelings any less real or any easier for me to ignore. I understand if you can’t return them. You barely know me. But I spent months preparing for this mission, immersing myself in studies of your experience and your scholarly articles. I felt like I knew you before we’d ever met. And once we did, you were so much more than I even imagined.”
To his surprise, the Doctor was genuinely touched by her confession. Of course he’d never given her a second thought as a potential romantic partner. But as he quickly reviewed Meegan’s behavior in light of this stunning admission, he suddenly realized that he’d been as blind to her intentions as Commander Glenn was to Reg’s.
Even more surprising was the fact that though there was nothing resembling a relationship yet to speak of between them, he could not deny the potential for one. He had wisdom and experience where she had youth and passion. They shared a love of medicine, and she had already expressed an interest in music and art.
Finding himself suddenly unsure, the Doctor reached tentatively for her hand. She responded eagerly, squeezing his tenderly as her smile brightened.
“I’m glad you told me,” he said sincerely. “And I would definitely enjoy the opportunity to get to know you as well as you think you know me. Perhaps tonight we could …”
Meegan lifted her free hand to silence his lips. She then rose up and stood on tiptoes to embrace him in a hug and a soft kiss.
This time, the Doctor found himself responding in earnest as he released himself to possibility.
“Computer, where is the Doctor?” Barclay asked as he entered the sickbay to find it empty.
“The Doctor is in exam room one.”
Reg hesitated briefly. He hadn’t slept since he’d learned that Meegan had been temporarily possessed by an alien consciousness. He’d studied the problem using every tool at his disposal but one and still found no suitable explanation. He could no longer avoid his last option, but didn’t want to alarm the Doctor. He had to proceed carefully.
Anxious and irritated with himself, Barclay stepped around the corner to the hall that led to the exam rooms and noted that the door to room one was open. Reg caught a brief glimpse of the Doctor engaged in a passionate embrace with Meegan. Flushing in embarrassment, he quickly stepped back into the main sickbay.
A moment later, the Doctor emerged, followed by Meegan. The ensign refused to look at Barclay as she hurried from the room. The Doctor seemed less flustered.
“I’m sorry, Reg, was there something you needed?”
“I … uh … I …”
“Reg …”
“I didn’t mean to see,” he began. “I just wanted to show you …”
“Reg, it’s all right,” the Doctor said, approaching his stricken friend sympathetically.
“No it isn’t!” Reg shocked both of them by shouting.
“I beg your pardon?”
Barclay struggled to get a hold of himself, his mind humming with chaotic thoughts.
This should be happening. But not yet. It’s too soon. He doesn’t even know her. And it’s not as if she could …
“Reg, I don’t understand your reaction to this. I have a personal life. I follow where my heart leads. It’s much too soon to say where it will take me and Ensign McDonnell, but I would have hoped that at least you might be happy for me.”
“No, you misunderstand,” Reg spluttered, finally reining in his horses a little tighter. “I am happy for you. I’m just surprised. I didn’t even think you knew Meegan that well.”
“I didn’t. I don’t. But I think it’s time to take the advice I keep giving you and seize the moment. I tend to think of myself as immortal, but the truth is, I face the same hazards we all do in service to Starfleet. This ship could be blown into oblivion at a moment’s notice and all that isn’t stored in Doctor Zimmerman’s backup modules would be gone.” His face fell at this realization. “It’s actually very unpleasant to contemplate.”
As the Doctor continued his existential struggle, Barclay’s thoughts returned to the only important matter at hand. He had come here with a job to do and now, more than ever, he needed to focus. Steadying himself, he said, “Doctor, you have been running without interruption for the last several weeks. I’ve had to make
a few alterations to the ship’s power systems and I’d like to take you offline briefly and run a simple diagnostic.”
“Reg, I hardly think …” the Doctor began.
“Please,” Barclay said. “This has absolutely nothing to do with the gross invasion of your privacy in which I was just discovered. I apologize profusely for interrupting you and Meegan. It will not happen again.”
“Oh,” the Doctor replied, seemingly mollified. “Well, if you really believe it is important …”
“It is. I do.”
“Very well. We are scheduled for a briefing with Commander Glenn at eighteen hundred hours. Will the diagnostic be complete by then?”
“You have my word,” Reg promised.
With a faint nod, the Doctor called out, “Computer, deactivate Chief Medical Officer.”
As soon as he had vanished, Barclay went immediately to the main data interface and instead of initiating the diagnostic he had promised—a diagnostic he had no intention of running—he opened Meegan’s medical file and within minutes had thoroughly digested them. He then programmed the computer to reinitialize the Doctor at seventeen hundred and ten hours. Barclay then hurried to his cabin where he composed and dispatched an urgent message to Doctor Zimmerman.
Given the fact that the relay network was not complete, it would be at least a week before he could expect a reply from the EMH’s creator.
And Meegan’s .
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Seven of Nine was quickly losing patience with Captain Eden. She wanted the captain to accept her recommendation. She forced herself not to fidget as Eden continued to review her presentation. She and Chakotay had requested this meeting with the captain. They had patiently explained their desire to visit the fourth planet of the Indign system to trace the mysterious communication. Seven’s interaction with her catoms was barely understood, so she could forgive Eden’s wariness.
Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy Page 21
