Star Trek: Voyager - The Neverending Night
Chapter 4
13 Sep 2021“Administer twenty miligrams hyronalin, ten miligrams lectrazine, stat!” The Doctor ordered, hovering over his patient with a medical tricorder.
“Doc, we’re out of hyronalin!” Tom Paris shouted back from across the room.
“Then start administering arithrazine, two cc’s each!” The Doctor shouted back.
Voyager’s sickbay, designed to handle no more than a handful of patients at a time, was now inundated with Voyager crew members. The Doctor was Voyager’s Emergency Medical Holographic program who had been running nearly continuously for the past four years, ever since Voyager’s original chief medical officer had been killed in the encounter with the Caretaker. The Doctor, being a computer program, was able to recall the entire medical database of cases and calculate proper medical treatment within fractions of a second. Oftentimes, the limiting factor wasn’t whether or not the Doctor could perform a particular treatment, but rather when a large number of patients overwhelmed the sickbay’s capacity to treat them. Times like this.
Whatever happened to Voyager had knocked all of its systems offline. When that happened, the Doctor only had moments to spare before the sickbay holo-emitter array went offline and him along with it. He had snatched up the mobile emitter, a piece of twenty-ninth century technology Voyager had come across, and slapped it to his arm, thus allowing him to exist independently of Voyager’s systems. Yet, even with his existence secured, there was only so much he could do in the current circumstance. Within minutes, sickbay had become flooded with patients, each of them suffering from acute theta radiation exposure. The Doctor knew that Voyager had been traveling through increasing levels of radiation. He had been administering small doses of medication to the crew prophylactically, but that would only do so much. Even in small amounts, theta radiation was deadly to humans. Without Voyager’s shields to protect the crew, they would all begin to die within minutes.
Lieutenant Tom Paris, who doubled as Voyager’s helmsman and medic, assisted where he could. He began to load doses of arithrazine into his hypospray and administered the drug directly into the carotid artery of each patient. Theta radiation was destructive to all human tissue, but nerve cells and fibers were particularly sensitive to damage. Of all the treatments used to combat the effects of theta radiation poisoning, arithrazine had the worst side effects.
Arithrazine worked by binding directly to the protective layer of myelin present in all nerve cells. This would block the radiation from penetrating deeper into the delicate axon fibers, but it would also interfere with the reuptake of ions necessary to generate action potentials within the nerve. In small doses common side effects included lightheadedness, headache, dizziness, nausea, tingling or twitching in the extremities, and temporary paralysis. At higher dosages, the risk of widespread damage to the nerve bundles increased. Heart arrhythmia and tachycardia were common, loss of voluntary muscle control, muscle death, hallucinations, paralysis, temperature sensitivity, and neuropathic pain followed. In the most extreme cases, arithrazine had the potential to completely depolarize the nervous system, sending the patient into a rapidly deteriorating spiral of delirium, grand mal seizures, uncontrollably high fever and agonizingly painful death as the body boiled itself alive.
But at this point the Doctor had no choice. It was either a potentially difficult and painful recovery or certain death. As he moved from patient to patient, the Doctor kept note of which ones were in worse condition. In situations such as this, personally tailored treatments were out of the question. He had to switch to triage. His holographic fingers were precise in their movements. Switching from scanning with the tricorder to administering various medications via hypospray with pinpoint accuracy. Yet the number of patients kept increasing; at this point sickbay had become completely filled and the overflow had spilled out into the hallway.
Suddenly, the lights in sickbay began to flicker back on. The biobed monitors snapped online and in moments were displaying critical information about each patient’s vital signs.
“Mr. Paris.” The Doctor said, turning to give a direct order to the Lieutenant. “Access the environmental control systems. Start dispersing hyronalin to all decks, ten parts per million.”
“You got it, Doc.” Tom Paris set down his hypospray and ran to the main sickbay computer console.
In a few moments Voyager’s ventilation systems began disseminating the drug which, while not as effective when inhaled, would still provide the crew with enough of a buffer to resist the worst of the radiation poisoning. The Doctor quickly calculated the expected odds of survival given the average dosage of radiation exposure. The majority of the crew would recover within a few days, it would be a slow process, but they would survive. Just as the Doctor was about to breathe a simulated sigh of relief, the sickbay doors parted once more.
“Doctor.” Came the strained voice of Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. He was accompanied by an entourage containing Lieutenant Torres, Commander Chakotay and several other crew members. Between Tuvok and Chakotay though, they carried the limp body of Captain Janeway.
The Doctor rushed over to meet them. “Get her onto the biobed.” He ordered. Sickbay was equipped with four biobeds. One in particular situated in its own circular alcove, was equipped with advanced sensor and medical equipment, used to treat the most severe cases. The crewman who previously occupied the bed quickly removed himself when he saw the Captain. The Doctor immediately went to work scanning Janeway with his medical tricorder hand scanner, a tiny flashing metal cylinder which he held between his index finger and thumb. The readouts on the tricorder painted a disturbing picture of the Captain’s condition, which was all summed up by the words that flashed in alert at the top of the display “SEVERE RADIATION POISONING - LIFE SIGNS CRITICAL”.
“Mr. Paris!” The Doctor shouted. “Administer three cc’s: arithrazine, and twenty milligrams: lectrazine.”
Lieutenant Paris rushed to load the medication into his hypospray while the Doctor fetched a cortical stimulator. As Tuvok and Chakotay got Janeway onto the bed, the Doctor attached the small circular device to the Captain’s left temple. He then switched on the bio monitors. Two large black semicircular protrusions rose up from the sides of the table, which joined together to form a ring above the Captain. Her vital signs flashed onto the monitor beside the bed, again confirming the critical state she was in. Paris handed the Doctor a hypospray which he then used to inject the Captain.
“Cortical stimulator, now!” The Doctor barked.
Paris entered the control command into the sickbay computer. A small zapping sound came from the device attached to the Captain’s temple. The Doctor observed the graphs and numbers on the biomonitor screen. They did not improve.
“Again!” He shouted.
Paris activated the stimulator once more. It had little effect.
“Ten milligrams cordrazine!” The Doctor ordered.
As Paris went to fetch the drug, the Doctor suddenly noticed that the entire room had grown silent. Everyone, the crew on the beds, those in the hall, or scattered on the floor, those barely able to stand, those barely clinging to life, Chakotay, Tuvok, Torres, all of them were totally silent. All eyes were directed toward Captain Janeway. Shock, horror, anticipation, frustration, fear, he saw all of these emotions in their faces. They all stood and watched while their Captain fought for life before their very eyes.
“Come on Kathryn.” Chakotay pleaded softly into her ear. “You can do it.”
Paris came back and the Doctor saw the look of irrepressible dread in his eyes as he administered the hypospray.
“Cortical stimulator.” The Doctor said dimly, at the end of his rope. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know what would.
Tom Paris moved over to the panel once again and depressed the control. Another zap sounded from the table. The Doctor watched Janeway’s lifesigns. For a moment, that seemed to drag on for a lifetime, the monitors did not react. But just then, the various graphs began to shift from the alert red status to the stable blue status. One by one, the indicators climbed their way up from dangerously low levels to the higher, stronger ones.
“Doc?” Chakotay asked.
The Doctor observed the display for another moment to be sure of what he was about to say. “She’s stabilizing.”
The entire room let out a collective sigh of relief. The Doctor gave them all a moment to relax and then began to usher everyone away from the Captain. “She’ll need more time to recover. If you’re not in critical condition, please leave the area.”
“Lieutenant Torres and myself were exposed to high levels of radiation.” Tuvok said.
“Mr. Paris will see to your needs.” The Doctor replied, beckoning Paris to take over as he went back to treating the more critically injured patients.
Paris took Tuvok and Torres to the side of the room and scanned them. “Acute radiation poisoning.” He set the tricorder down and picked up a hypospray which he loaded with a vial of dark red liquid. “We’re giving everyone arithrazine while the hyronalin disperses through the air.” He said as he injected Tuvok. “It’s tough stuff, but it should inoculate you against the effects.” When he went to give Torres her injection he shared a longing look with her. About a year ago, Torres had confessed her love for Paris, who in turn had revealed that the feelings were reciprocated. The two started dating shortly after.
“Take care of the Captain.” Torres said. Even though she and Janeway often butted heads, Torres had come to respect her.
“Don’t worry, I will.” Paris said reassuringly while administering the hypospray.
“B’Elanna.” Chakotay said, beckoning her attention. He and Tuvok were standing in the doorway waiting for her. Torres gave Paris’ hand a quick squeeze before moving to join them while Paris went back to treating patients.
“Status?” Chakotay asked.
“Engineering is a mess.” Torres responded. “After they blasted through the wall, we were forced to evacuate.”
“Was their intention to seize control of the ship?” Tuvok asked.
“I don’t think so.” Torres said. “They looked more like scavengers than anything else. They were more interested in going through our supply lockers and getting into our deuterium stores than actually trying to access our systems.”
“As I suspected.” Tuvok said. “Their choice of deck eleven as point of entry suggests they were attempting to appropriate our supply of food and deuterium.”
“Raiders.” Chakotay concluded bluntly. “Tuvok, I want you to conduct a full inventory of all the things they took. Food, equipment, deuterium, anything.” Chakotay said to Tuvok before turning to Torres. “B’Elanna, I need you to secure engineering and get the ship back up and running again. Start your teams on radiation containment procedures while you’re at it.”
Torres pointed to the crewmen who were confined to sickbay. “With half my staff in here, that’s not going to be easy.”
“I’m giving you full authority to pull whatever personnel you have to to get the job done. Understood?” Chakotay said before Torres nodded in agreement. “Good, get started.”
The trio split up. Torres gathered up whatever staff members she could from sickbay. Then she started pulling crewmembers from other departments, science, tactical, operations. She didn’t care. If they could hold a tricorder in one hand and radiometric scrubber in the other, she put them to work. Torres coordinated repair efforts from main engineering, which was a total mess.
Black charred scorch marks from errant phaser blasts were all over the walls. Every surface in engineering had been contaminated with radiation from the warp core. Even though the protective force field around the core had been reestablished, the lingering radiometric isotopes around the room had forced the engineering staff to don environmental suits. Not exactly designed for ergonomics or comfort, the primarily white colored suits were bulky and awkward to work in. Torres focused on repairing the environmental systems first. Her first priority was filtering out all the radioactive particles that now filled the air.
“Lieutenant Torres, I am in need of your assistance.” A voice sounded over Torres’ internal suit comm system. Even though the voice sounded flat and processed over the speakers, Torres recognized it as Seven of Nine.
Torres paused the repairs she was working on. She stood up and turned to see Seven, who was also encased in her own environmental suit, though Torres could see Seven’s face through the clear hard plastic helmet. “I’m a little busy, Seven.”
Seven ignored Torres’ retort and continued with her thought. “The intruders severed several EPS conduit feeds to the astrometrics lab. I require their repair so that I may continue my scan of the surrounding region.”
When Seven first joined the crew, she and Torres had not gotten off on the right foot. Seven, having been accustomed to the totally rational and unemotional nature of the Borg, had trouble expressing herself socially. She would issue demands of Torres, thinking they were simply requests to be processed without emotional input. Torres, on the other hand, saw the demands as affronts to her authority and loathed having to work with the former drone, even going so far as to announce to Chakotay her complete refusal to work with Seven. However, the two eventually came to understand each other. With Seven seeing the benefit of accommodating Torres’ authority in the social hierarchy and Torres acknowledging Seven’s exceptional technical aptitude.
“I can think of a couple other things that are a little bit more important right now, Seven.” Torres shot back.
“Such as?” Seven inquired.
“Oh I don’t know. Making sure there’s air to breathe?” Torres said.
“Suppose while we are preoccupied in repairs, another ship decides to take advantage of our damaged state and attack us. Or suppose the warp trail the intruders left behind dissipates while we wait for you to finish your work?” Seven’s reply was instant, having already thought through the possible avenues the conversation would take.
Torres could feel her blood begin to boil. She did not like being proven wrong.
Seven, to her credit, anticipated Torres’ emotional response and delivered an addendum. “I’ve already identified which conduits need to be repaired. If we work efficiently, it should only divert you for an hour or less.”
Torres knew enough about Seven to know her repair estimate was accurate, and wouldn’t question it. She also thought about the satisfaction she would get by catching those Raiders and strangling one of them with her bare hands for what they did to her engine room. She decided that this was indeed worth an hour or less of her time.
Torres packed up the tool kit that was lying beside her on the floor and then gestured to Seven. “Lead on.”
The pair proceeded to the back of engineering, behind the warp core. The intruders had detonated an explosive device in the wall, which exposed this part of engineering to the corridor beyond. Seven stepped through, followed by Torres. The entire deck was dark and without power, Seven and Torres switched on their SIM’s beacons attached to their wrists. The two ventured into the hallway and eventually found themselves at the site where the intruders’ vessel had breached the hull.
The hole was at least five meters in diameter and spanned across both deck eleven and deck ten above. It looked as if some gargantuan creature had come up and chomped off a mouthful of hull from Voyager’s side. Pieces of bent tritanium blossomed out from the edges of the breach like torn up shreds of wrapping paper. Severed power lines and conduits sparked and flashed as they uselessly expelled their energy into the air. Even though Torres could see directly into space, as if the gap was totally open to the vacuum beyond, she knew that an emergency forcefield was preventing the atmosphere from escaping.
Seven and Torres got to work, rerouting power lines and repairing broken conduits. Just as they were wrapping up, Torres’ Klingon instincts, imbued into her from generations upon generations of her ancestral race waging war against one another, started shouting in her head. She snapped around from the bulkhead she and Seven were working on. Her outstretched arm flicked back and forth, using the cones of light from the SIM’s beacon to scan the hallway.
“Is something the matter?” Seven asked over the comm.
Torres was silent for a moment, observing the empty hallway. “I feel like we’re being watched.”
Seven took out her tricorder and flipped it open. The device lit up in multiple colors, signifying the activation of its various sensors. Seven performed a quick scan of the hallway, but shook her head when she found nothing of note. Torres knew the tricorder was a capable device, but she trusted her instincts more. She began to inch forward into the hallway with Seven following close behind. As they rounded a corner, she saw a lone dark figure emerge from one of the side passageways. It fled at the sight of her.
Seven depressed one of the buttons on her suit’s chestplate. “Seven of Nine to the bridge, intruder alert. Deck eleven, section twelve gamma.”
Ensign Kim’s voice came in reply. “Acknowledged, Seven. Security teams are on the way.”
Torres knew the layout of the ship well and the arrangement of this particular deck like the back of her hand, the intruder had inadvertently put itself into a dead end. The only room it could have gone into was the Airponics Bay. Torres moved up to the door which led into the bay, which she found had been forced open by the raiders.
“Cover the door.” Torres said to Seven while stepping through the opening.
Once on the other side, Torres swept the room with her beacon. The raiders had taken everything that wasn’t bolted to the ground. Where there was once a flourishing ecosystem of plant life, there now only stood empty shelving units dispersed evenly throughout the bay. Torres took one step at a time, inching toward the back of the bay. Once there, she spotted the intruder, who was cowering in a corner.
It was roughly humanoid in appearance. It had dark tan skin and a patch of messy black hair. Its face had ridges around the eyes and on the forehead, which were dotted with what appeared to be a set of extra nasal passageways. The creature looked thin. If Torres didn’t know better, she would have said the creature was emaciated. Torres looked down at it’s leg and found it had been lacerated open and was now oozing orange blood.
“Seven.” Torres started. “I think we better get him to sickbay.”