Cybersong (12 page)

“Can you see us now, Tom?” Kes asked.

“Yes, I see you,” Paris answered. “You’ve got the captain and Harry?”

“Yes,” Kes reassured him. “But what about you? You’re not walking well. Can you get across?”

“Like a stroll in the park,” he answered, that cocky pilot’s attitude returning.

But from the way he traversed the space remaining, Chakotay was not so certain that he was much better off than either of the other members of the away team. He listed heavily to one side and seemed off balance.

If he and Kes hadn’t been holding on to the captain and Kim, Chakotay would have insisted that Paris wait for aid. As it was, that wasn’t possible.

At least without gravity it was easy to transport the injured.

Chakotay cut the line that he had used to tie Kes to himself and used it to secure Kim and the captain to the magnetic line.

Chakotay had never thought he’d actually experience weightlessness in anything other than a controlled situation. He certainly never thought he’d be pleased about the situation. But given the possibilities, they would have had a much harder time in gravity.

The point was brought home trying to get the environmental suits off the captain and Kim. Paris wasn’t going to be much help. He was moving too slowly, and Chakotay was certain that he was injured as well. But he would survive until they got him to sickbay and The Doctor.

The others were in worse shape. Taking off the suits had been harder than he had anticipated. He’d never unsuited someone who was unconscious or unable to help before. And Kes kept telling him not to move this way or not to pull that. Now that they were back in artificial gravity again, they had to follow all the procedures to guard against spinal column or nerve injury.

Or against making such injuries worse.

“Here, hold his shoulders while I get his legs,” Kes directed him.

“And keep him flat, whatever you do.”

Chakotay followed her instructions and somehow they wrestled the suit off Kim without bending him or putting any pressure on his back.

“You two get the captain out of her suit,” Kes directed. “I want to examine Harry.”

This was a little easier. At least the captain was conscious.

She was obviously hurt and unable to do much to help them, but she could move a little on her own, and they didn’t have to worry about paralyzing her. But her eyes weren’t focused and her words were fuzzy.

Chakotay didn’t understand what she was trying to say, and suddenly he was truly worried about her.

Chakotay wanted to do something for her. Now.

The only thing he could do was get her back to sickbay and fast.

The shuttle slammed hard to port. Before he could even yell, Tom Paris asked, “What is this thing secured with? A black hole?”

“We’re tied down,” Chakotay said. “And you’re injured, you’re not fit to fly.”

“It’s my leg that’s hurt, not my head,” Paris shot back. “You used the anchor?”

Chakotay slipped into the seat beside Paris who had taken the pilot’s position. Chakotay didn’t challenge him. Paris was an exceptional pilot. If he had any judgment left.

“Hurry,” Kes said, her voice strained. “If we don’t get Harry to sickbay soon he’ll die.”

“Have you got a fix on the code? B’Elanna Torres snapped at Ensign Mandel.

“I have isolated the problem segments,” Daphne Mandel said softly, more as if she were analyzing the situation for herself rather than reporting to a superior. “I still have to go through all the code by hand and figure out not only what was wrong but how it was wrong and why. And who would have programmed it.”

“Can you figure out who could have done it?” B’Elanna Torres asked, more interested than insistent. She was intrigued. She knew that people who were as good as Mandel could discover amazing things in code.

Ensign Mandel shrugged. “Depends. Different people have signatures writing code. It’s like handwriting. You can tell if you’ve already seen a sample of it. But since there shouldn’t be anything here that wasn’t programmed by the original team, I should be able to figure out whose segment has the bugs.”

B’Elanna Torres sighed. “Lots of people have written code since we left Deep Space Nine,” the chief engineer explained. “The computer wasn’t programmed for a lot of what we’ve encountered in the Delta Quadrant, and several people have had to patch things up fast. It isn’t the best way, but at least we’ve gotten this far.”

“You mean you just threw in quick fixes?” Mandel asked, her voice hushed with horror.

“We didn’t have much choice,” Torres replied curtly. “But each of them is dated and should be signed in the Engineering log. So you should be able to match them up fairly easily.”

Mandel sighed deeply. “You know, it could be those patches that are creating the problem,” she told the chief engineer. “Code that runs fine could trip up something farther down the line in another program when it gets put on-line. This could be something a programmer who wasn’t careful enough created, trying to do a quick fix that would just get us through. Too many quick fixes just trip all over each other, and then you end up with a problem.”

B’Elanna Torres paused for a moment and studied the ensign.

Mandel was not being belligerent, she realized. The programmer appeared calm and rational and just a little bit tired. They were all tired.

“I hadn’t considered that. You might be right,” Torres agreed briskly.

“If that’s the problem, at least we’ll know how to attack it from now on.” Then the chief engineer smiled slowly.

“If you’re that good, we’re going to have to get you transferred.

Stellar Cartography is all very nice, but we can’t afford this kind of problem even once. You’d probably make a great head programmer, and we could use one.”

Daphne Mandel turned white. “Oh no, please, no,” she whispered.

But B’Elanna Torres had already walked away.

***

“Transporter, get a lock on the team and beam them directly to sickbay,” Chakotay ordered.

“We can’t tell who is who,” the operator said.

“Then send everyone except the pilot to sickbay,” Chakotay barked. He was angry. He was also worried. Kim’s breathing had become ragged and uneven and his skin was cool. And he hadn’t regained consciousness.

They were close enough to Voyager that the tachyon interference was not a problem. Signals didn’t break up over such short distances.

“Can’t you bring them in, sir?” the transport operator asked nervously. “I can’t tell who the pilot is. And, uh …”

Chakotay remained calm, but it took all his self-control. The operator was pure Starfleet. In the Maquis they had to be able to determine position and transport immediately with the wounded.

He wished B’Elanna or even Tuvok were on the board now. Tuvok had served with his ship, albeit as a spy and for only a short time. But the Vulcan would have been able to transport the wounded and still leave someone flying the shuttle.

“How is he?” Chakotay asked Kes.

“It’s very bad,” Kes admitted.

If they weren’t so close, he’d transport them all and abandon the shuttle. But now that wasn’t an option. A wild shuttle could easily ram straight into Voyager.

There were no good solutions. Just try to get there faster.

“Prepare an emergency respirator unit and ten cc’s of impreferen and have them ready when we arrive,” Kes added through her commbadge.

Paris pulled a perfect turn, arcing the shuttle so that it headed directly for the bay opening. There was not a wasted moment, not a single nanosecond that could be shaved off his flying. Even wounded, he was perfect. The commander’s reverie was interrupted by a harsh choking sound.

Chakotay had heard that sound before. It was death. His body went ice cold. Harry Kim, young, innocent, dedicated Harry was dying.

“Come on, Harry, we’re almost home,” Kes said. Then she turned to Chakotay and Paris. “He’s young and strong, and if the impreferen works, he’ll recover,” she reassured them.

“And what if it doesn’t work?” Paris muttered through clenched teeth.

“Then The Doctor will know what to do,” Kes said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Sweat ran down Tom Paris’s brow. Chakotay knew that he and Kim were good friends. Paris was doing everything he could and then some to save Harry and the captain. But Tom had also been hurt, and the strain was starting to show.

Ahead of them the bay doors gaped black against Voyager’s silver skin.

If pure will could move them faster, they would have hit warp. As it was, the shuttle glided seamlessly through the open portals and came to rest on the deck so gently that Chakotay couldn’t feel the transition.

As soon as the Away Team materialized in sickbay, Captain Janeway staggered toward Harry Kim’s bed. “How is he?” she asked, her own voice shaking with pain.

“He’ll be fine,” The Doctor reassured them. “If Kes hadn’t acted promptly, it would have been much worse. But he’s stabilized now, and in a few days he’ll be as good as new.”

Then The Doctor looked at the captain. “Which is not equally true of you. Up, up, here,” he said, patting an examining table.

The captain sighed and sat gingerly. The Doctor made some noises as he looked at the medical tricorder readings. Then he turned to Kes.

“Excellent. Your first diagnosis, absolutely flawless.”

The captain cleared her throat. When that brought no response from The Doctor she spoke. “What diagnosis?” The Doctor looked at her and hesitated. “Well? Get this treatment under way. I can’t spend all afternoon here.” she snapped.

“I’m afraid you will have to spend slightly more than the afternoon, Captain,” he said slowly. “You have a serious compression near the medulla oblongata and bleeding at at least three major junctures in the brain. The treatment for this will not take more than a day, but you will be required to stay absolutely still while the machines do their work.”

“What?” the captain demanded, outraged. “You mean we can heal near death, we can force bones to knit in days, but you can’t make a headache go away?”

“It isn’t a headache,” The Doctor began in his most pedantic manner.

“You have several severe injuries that led to bleeding in the brain.

Two hundred years ago this would have killed you in the next week or so. A hundred years ago you would have been crippled for life. I fail to see how a few hours under treatment to correct the situation is insufficient use of technology.”

“I am the captain, we are in an emergency situation, and I cannot take a day to vegetate,” Janeway said, furious.

“Captain, if you do not submit to treatment immediately, you will be unfit for duty. And as senior medical officer aboard, I will declare you unfit and relieve you of command. The choice is yours.”

A look of absolute incredulity passed over Captain Janeway’s face.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“Oh, I definitely will, Captain,” The Doctor said. “At the moment you are a danger to yourself and your judgment is impaired. You will be confined to sickbay until I approve your transfer.”

The captain looked around. Even though her vision was fuzzy, she could not avoid acknowledging the scene. Around her, Chakotay, The Doctor, and Kes stood like guards, stone-faced and unyielding.

Only Tom Paris showed any sympathy. “Docs,” he muttered to her.

“They always want to keep you from having any fun. Made me stay out a whole week when I twisted my ankle once. They just don’t understand.”

The captain was obviously not amused. Nor was anyone else.

“It won’t be long, Captain,” Kes said. Under the soft, kind tone there was inflexibility. “Maybe not even a whole day if the affected areas are limited to what we found in the preliminary scans.”

“Don’t worry about the ship, Captain,” Chakotay added. “We’re under control here. I’ve got Mandel working with Torres on the code. We’ll have the computer problem solved by the time you wake up.”

“And the aliens?” Janeway asked weakly.

“They’re less important than our own computer,” Chakotay said.

“And we’ve had enough casualties from that ship.”

Janeway tried to nod and then pressed her hands to her ears. Her face went stark white.

The Doctor came around and put a supporting arm across her shoulders.

“Some problem with balance is not unexpected at this point,” he said, easing her down.

The hypospray appeared in his hand as if by magic. He injected the captain before she realized anything had happened. “What?” she started to ask. But then she fell asleep before she could finish her question.

“A few hours of sleep with that, and you’ll be good as new,” The Doctor promised her sleeping form. “Well, maybe not as new, but at least functional.”

He turned away, satisfaction glowing from his face.

“You know, you could get written up for insubordination, Doc,” Paris said.

“When the captain is better, I think she will agree that The Doctor had no choice,” Chakotay intervened. “Now let’s let the sick get better and the rest of us get to work.”

“You’re fit for duty, Lieutenant Paris,” The Doctor said. “Just don’t do anything stupid, like that skiing program.”

“It is not stupid,” Paris said as Chakotay escorted him out of sickbay.

“Skiing is a great sport.”

He was already gone and the door closed behind him before The Doctor shook his head in negation. The he turned to Kes, who stood next to Harry Kim’s bed. “You did an excellent job here, Kes,” he said. “It was fortunate that you went. He might not have survived otherwise.”

Kes smiled softly.

“Shouldn’t we check on Harry?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer but turned away and studied the readings on the display.

“I said it was very fortunate that you went,” The Doctor said, joining her. “But how did you decide to go? How did you even know that the commander was leaving the ship? I find this rather uncanny.”

Kes looked at her hands. “I don’t know how I knew. Or why. I only felt that I should go, and there was Chakotay with the shuttle. Like it had been set up.”

“Set up,” The Doctor repeated. “Hmmmm. Now if you were Betazoid, I would know there was some empathic being behind this.