STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds I

by Dean Wesley Smith (Editor)

  Chakotay found it quite disconcerting. He grasped the scanner assembly next to the bed with white knuckles to keep from floating away. “Any ideas, Doc?” he said.

  The Emergency Medical Hologram scratched his bald pate. “There doesn’t appear to be any damage to the pack,” he said, a trace of irritation in his computer-generated voice. “It should be working.”

  “Any trace of contaminants or infectious organisms?”

  The Doctor shook his head. “Nothing. The electro-neural pathways are clear, the ODN interface microtendrils are all operating properly, and the ...” The Doctor suddenly opened his mouth wide, sucked in a deep breath, and then released it slowly and with apparent relish.

  It was a moment before Chakotay realized the incongruity of the action. “Doctor, did you just ... yawn?” he asked.

  [282] The Doctor looked slightly guilty. “Pardon me,” he said. “I am not quite clear on the proper etiquette for such involuntary actions,” he professed. “I will cover my mouth next time.”

  “No, that’s okay,” said Chakotay. “It’s not the fact that you neglected to cover your mouth, it’s the fact that you ... yawned.”

  “Ah, yes,” said the Doctor. “You’re wondering why a holographic simulation feels fatigue. It’s an experiment I am running. I am attempting to better understand the effects of fatigue on the human body. It is a part of my ongoing research into humanoid physiological ...”

  “I suggest that you suspend your experiment for the duration of this emergency,” interrupted Chakotay. “We need you operating at one hundred percent efficiency.”

  “Of course,” said the Doctor. “I will cease at once.” The Doctor paused for a moment and stared out into space. “Hmm, that’s odd,” he said. “I don’t seem to be able to disengage the fatigue subroutine. How disconcerting!”

  “Can you run an internal self-diagnostic of your systems?” asked Kes.

  The Doctor looked worried. “Already under way,” he said. “It’ll take a few minutes.”

  Fusion Reactor Bay 1

  Torres grunted at the strain, then backed away from the reactor mount. Sweat stained her uniform, and she breathed in short, shallow gasps. “It’s not moving,” she said. “Scan it again and see if there’s a mount we missed.”

  Ensign Vorik punched at the face of his tricorder. Unlike [283] Torres, the young Vulcan seemed impervious to the scorching heat. He nodded. “Yes, it appears as if there is one more on the underside. You should be able to get to it from the rear of the housing.”

  Torres nodded, too hot and tired to respond verbally. She pulled herself from underneath the spherical reactor housing and worked her way around the back. “Damn, it’s hot,” she muttered. The reactor casing itself was far too hot to touch, and had heated the stale air in the small compartment to a point where it was barely breathable. “One last mount,” she muttered to herself. One final mount. She’d already disconnected the piping and wiring connections and severed the remaining mounts with her phaser. One more to go.

  There was no way to reach it. “I can’t get to it,” she said. “There’s no way to get to it without squeezing under the reactor shell. It’s just too hot.”

  “Can you see the mount?” asked Chief Thompson, the third member of the team crowded into the tiny reactor compartment. “Maybe if you’re careful you can phaser it from a distance.”

  Torres shook her head. “Can’t see it,” she replied. “It’s too far underneath. And I don’t think it’s a very good idea to fire a phaser blindly at a thermonuclear reactor mount. If I missed ...”

  She didn’t need to finish. They all knew what would happen if the phaser beam cut into the reactor housing—instant immolation in nuclear fire.

  “Why don’t you let me try?” suggested Thompson. “I’m a lot smaller than either of you, and I might be able to fit.”

  Torres eyed the reactor dubiously. “You can try, but I don’t think it’ll make any difference,” she said. She moved [284] carefully from behind the reactor to allow the diminutive Thompson to pass. Without gravity, it was difficult to operate in such close quarters.

  Thompson nodded to Vorik, who held the tricorder. “Guide me,” she said.

  Shuttlecraft Hangar Deck

  Harry Kim powered up the shuttlecraft and considered the best course of action. Normally, the annular confinement field would allow him to leave the shuttlebay without depressurizing the hangar. Without power, there was no annular confinement beam. There was also no way to decompress the bay. When he blew the doors, hundreds of cubic meters of atmosphere would rush out into space with the force of a hurricane, carrying every loose object in the hangar with it. “Including the shuttle, if I’m not careful,” he muttered to himself.

  He activated the exterior speakers. “Preparing to fire phasers. Clear the shuttlebay.”

  He scanned the sensor panel to verify that the hangar was indeed empty, then reconfigured the panel for weapons fire.

  “Warning,” said the shuttlecraft computer. “Minimal safe distance from U.S.S. Voyager not achieved. Weapons fire at this range may result in damage to U.S.S. Voyager.”

  Harry chuckled humorlessly. “You got that right,” he said.

  The clamshell hangar doors appeared in the targeting display. He plotted the beam path to cut away the portside space door, minimizing damage to the starboard door. Next, to [285] avoid tumbling out into space, he activated the maneuvering thrusters and set them to station-keeping mode.

  The computer didn’t like that, either. “Warning,” it said. “The use of reaction control thrusters in the shuttlebay is prohibited.”

  “Shut up,” said Harry, and fired the phasers.

  Fusion Reactor Bay 1

  Torres looked over Vorik’s shoulder as he punched up scanning mode on the tricorder and pointed the sensor array at the reactor housing. The EM interference from the collapsing containment field hindered the readings, but there was still a clear enough image of Thompson to help guide her to the recalcitrant mount. “Stop there,” Vorik said. “You are right above it. Look underneath and you may be able to see the mount.”

  The tricorder screen traced her movements. “Can you see it?” Vorik asked. He spoke loudly to be heard over the rumble of the reactor. There was no answer. The figure on the tricorder screen moved lower. “Be careful,” he warned. Again, there was no answer. Then they heard the warble of a phaser, and saw the heat imprint on the tricorder screen.

  “Did you get it?” Torres called.

  “Yeah, I got it. I’m coming out.”

  “Great job, Chief!” congratulated Torres. “I didn’t think that ...” A muffled explosion drowned out her praise. The entire compartment shuddered. Freed from its moorings, the reactor housing shifted slightly. There was a short, staccato scream. “Thompson?” she called. There was no answer.

  Torres pushed her way behind the housing, burning her [286] shoulder when she lost her handhold and floated into the casing. Thompson’s boots were jutting from beneath the reactor. “Gina!” Torres cried, and tried to reach her, but there was no way; the heat was far too severe.

  Then Vorik was behind her, pulling her away. He pushed the tricorder into her hands and squeezed behind the reactor.

  Torres punched the tricorder’s controls, changing from deep scan mode to lifescan. Thompson was not breathing, but she was still alive. Barely. “Vorik, can you get to her?” she cried.

  Vorik did not answer. He was busy trying to reach the motionless form without touching the scorching reactor casing. If he could just get his hand on her boot, he might be able to pull her out, revive her.

  The flesh on his chest seared painfully as it came into contact with the red-hot reactor housing. He recoiled from the unexpected intensity of the pain, a movement that sent him spinning back across the room. Hands flailing, he bounced off the ceiling before he managed to grab the edge of a control panel and stop his motion.

  Torres stared at the tricorder. Thompson’s lifesigns were fading rapidly.
“Help,” Torres cried, pounding her communicator. “Medic! I need a medic in the fusion reactor compartment!”

  Cargo Bay 1

  There was a sound like thunder and the entire ship vibrated. Janeway clutched at the edge of the open ODN access panel and waited for Kim to report. She was about to call him when his exuberant voice came through her communicator. [287] “Whew, I made it,” he said. “I underestimated the force of the atmosphere evacuation. The power of the wind almost smashed me into the starboard space door.”

  Janeway heard Tuvok’s voice. “Then I take it, Ensign Kim, that you have safely exited the ship?”

  “Yes, sir,” came the response. “I’m moving into position now. Let me know when the reactor chamber is clear so I can begin cutting away the reactor ejection hatch.”

  Janeway smiled and let loose a small, private sigh of relief. Kim was young, inexperienced. This will be a great confidence-building exercise, she thought, if only he manages to keep from blowing us up.

  Janeway turned back to her work, but only for a moment.

  “Medic! I need a medic in the fusion reactor compartment!” Lieutenant Torres’s shrill call came through all their communicators—an all-channels emergency broadcast.

  “Stand by, Ensign Kim,” came Tuvok’s voice over the communicator. “There appear to be injuries in the reactor compartment. I will signal you and let you know when it is safe to continue.”

  The Bridge

  Tom Paris tapped his fingers on the dead helm console, listened to the comm traffic, and tried to ignore the dark, silent bridge around him.

  That should be me out there, not Harry, he thought anxiously. The poor kid’s probably breaking out in hives about now. I hope he can handle it.

  Something floated by in his peripheral vision. He jumped, startled, and the combination of abrupt movement [288] and zero-G almost sent him spinning away from the console.

  It was a tricorder. He clutched at the edge of his chair to steady himself, then angrily snatched the floating tricorder from the air.

  “What am I doing here?” he moaned, and waited for his heartbeat to return to normal.

  The sudden jolt and thunderous noise did nothing to calm him. Oh no, thought Paris. Images of Kim’s shuttle crashing into the hangar deck flashed through his mind. He was reaching for his combadge when Kim reported his successful egress from the hangar. He let his hand drop to his lap. “I knew you could do it, buddy,” he said aloud.

  Then came the frantic all-hands call from B’Elanna Torres. “Medic! I need a medic ...”

  Cargo Bay 1

  Janeway furrowed her brow. Injuries? Damn! She tapped her combadge. “Janeway to Torres. What’s the status in the reactor chamber?”

  Torres’s voice was frantic. “Torres here, Captain. We freed the reactor from its mounts. There was some kind of explosion and the reactor housing broke away and ...” Her voice cracked and she paused. “... and Thompson was crushed. She’s dead.” Her grief was evident, even through the distortion of the combadge. “Vorik was also injured, burned. What happened. Captain? What was the blast?”

  “It was the shuttlecraft Faraday blowing the space doors open,” she replied.

  “Ah, damn it to hell,” Torres replied. “I should have thought of that, been prepared. If there had only been [289] more time ...” Her voice crumbled into a shuddering sigh.

  Janeway closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Lieutenant,” she said sternly, “I need you to clear the reactor chamber. Ensign Kim is prepared to remove the ejection hatch with the shuttlecraft phasers. I understand your grief at the loss of Chief Thompson, but remember that her actions probably saved us all. She will be remembered, but in the meantime, you’ve got to finish your job. Get that reactor ready to be jettisoned and clear the reactor chamber!”

  “But, Captain, her body is trapped beneath the reactor. It’ll take a few more minutes to free her and ...”

  “Negative, Lieutenant,” Janeway said. “You will concentrate your actions on preparing the reactor for jettison and clearing the reactor chamber. Is that clear?”

  “But, Captain ...”

  “That’s an order,” she said, hating her responsibility. She waited for the response.

  “Aye, Captain,” Torres replied quietly. “Torres out.”

  Janeway sighed heavily and tried to concentrate on her task at hand, bypassing the bio-neural life support controls for the cargo bay. I must have a talk with Harry Kim once this is over, she thought. He’s going to blame himself for Thompson’s death. The loss of Chief Thompson was a terrible tragedy, but they’d be lucky if any of them survived. She sighed again and reached inside the access panel to reroute an ODN junction.

  Sickbay

  Chakotay pulled the isolinear chip from the console and half-floated, half-dragged himself into the Doctor’s office. [290] The Doctor was seated at his desk, arms crossed, head down, snoring lightly. Chakotay frowned.

  “Doctor!” he called, shaking the Doctor as vigorously as possible considering the lack of gravity and his lack of solid purchase. The Doctor looked up, dazed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice slurred.

  “You fell asleep again,” said Chakotay.

  “Extraordinary,” replied the Doctor, wiping the holographic drool from the side of his mouth with his uniform sleeve. “I was analyzing the data from the gel sample and I closed my eyes for a moment and ...”

  “And you fell asleep,” finished Chakotay grimly. “Doctor, we need you. This conduct of yours is totally unacceptable. I could put you on report for sleeping while on duty.”

  “I know that,” snapped the Doctor. “Believe me, Commander, I don’t cherish being saddled with humanoid weaknesses like fatigue and ... and ...” His sentence was cut off by a tremendous yawn. He looked up guiltily. “Perhaps we should ask Kes to complete the cellular scan.”

  Chakotay nodded at the groggy hologram. The Doctor’s eyes were already closing. “Yes, perhaps we should,” said Chakotay.

  Shuttlecraft Faraday

  With her exterior and running lights extinguished, Voyager was visible only where she obscured the background stars, a ghostly shape against the blackness of interstellar space.

  Harry Kim activated the forward spotlights of the [291] shuttlecraft, illuminating the trailing edge of Voyager’s primary hull. Clearly visible in the circle of light, the emergency ejection hatch for the number-one fusion generator was a deceptively easy target. My first chance at firing shipboard phasers at another vessel, he thought wryly, and it’s my own ship.

  Kim carefully set up a firing solution that would remove the hatch without causing major collateral damage, or worse, hitting the already unstable fusion reactor.

  How would Tom handle this? he wondered. He considered contacting his friend for advice. He raised his hand to tap the combadge on his chest, then slowly lowered it.

  No, he thought. No, I can do this myself.

  He talked to himself as he worked. “Narrow, millimeter-width beam, low power to the emitters. Watch out for the pyrotechnic bolts.” He knew that the explosive bolts that were supposed to blow the hatch during an emergency reactor ejection were now nothing more than a dangerous nuisance. It might take a while to cut the hatch away, but better safe than sorry. Don’t want to blow the ship up, and hitting an explosive bolt or burning through the reactor housing will do just that.

  When he was ready, he thumbed the comm panel. “Kim to Torres. I’m in position. Let me know when the reactor bay is clear.”

  There were casualties, Tuvok had said. Chief Thompson dead, Ensign Vorik injured. While he waited he double-checked the firing solution, his hands flitting nervously over the controls, thinking about all the ways he could screw this up. ...

  The comm panel sprang to life. “Okay, Harry, the bay is [292] clear,” reported Torres. “Uh, Harry, we were unable to retrieve Chief Thompson’s body. She’s still in the compartment. Once you move the reactor to a safe distance ...”

  “You want me to recover
the body,” finished Kim.

  There was a short silence before Torres responded. “Yes.”

  Kim nodded to himself, grimly. “Understood.”

  “I’m sorry, Harry,” the half-Klingon Torres said. Then, “Fire at will. We’re all counting on you.”

  Great. I could’ve gone without that last part, B’Elanna, he thought. I’m much calmer now. ...

  His index finger floated above the “execute” key while his eyes scanned the setting for a final time. He took a deep breath. Well, here goes nothing. ...

  He pressed the key and the phasers lanced out to the Voyager. Slowly, ever so slowly, the beam moved around the periphery of the ejection hatch. A cloud of sparkling crystals formed around the hatch as atmosphere escaped into the cold vacuum of space.

  Seconds before the preprogrammed sequence was to end, the hatch tore loose and spun away from the ship. Harry quickly deactivated the phasers.

  He realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out sharply. “Well then, that wasn’t so hard.”

  The reactor housing slowly drifted out of the hatch, propelled by the last vestiges of air escaping into space. Harry immediately captured it with the shuttle’s tractor beam to help guide it out. Debris floated around the reactor housing like a halo, also caught in the tractor: pieces of bulkhead, clumps of torn ODN conduits, and the body of Chief Gina Thompson.

  Sickbay

  Someone was shaking him.

  “Doctor! Doctor!”

  He opened his eyes. It was Chakotay. He must have fallen asleep again! “I’m awake, I’m awake,” he said groggily. He wiped his eyes to clear his vision.

  Chakotay was handing him a padd. He took it.

  “These are Kes’s results from the cellular scan. What do you make of it?”

  The Doctor squinted at the report. He had trouble focusing his eyes. He was tired, so tired. “How do you people function like this?” he asked grumpily.