Chakotay motioned impatiently at the padd. “The report, Doctor.”
“Oh, yes. Well ...” The Doctor stared intently at the report. “The level of cellular activity of the gel pack is far below normal. Electrolyte levels and the percentage of free ... hold on, now, what’s this?”
Chakotay leaned forward. “What is it?”
The Doctor pointed at a line on the report. “Look at this. Right there. Elevated synthotonin levels.”
Chakotay waited for the Doctor to elucidate. No explanation seemed forthcoming. “Well?” Chakotay prompted.
“Oh, yes, excuse me.” The Doctor rubbed his eyes. “The explanation is quite simple, really. This gel pack is asleep.”
“What? You’re kidding me!”
Chakotay turned to the examination table. The gel pack lay there, a brownish mass of goo in a clear, flexible pack, with a hard ODN connector running the length of one side. [294] He turned back to the Doctor. “How can a gel pack be asleep?”
The Doctor’s only response was a soft snore.
Cargo Bay 1
Janeway’s team was making headway. Most of the bio-neural network controlling the environmental systems for the deck had been bypassed, leaving only a few finishing touches before life support could be restored to the cargo bay.
Janeway closed the panel where she’d been working. Her back hurt. She pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and turned to assess the activities of the other members of her team.
Her communicator warbled. “Chakotay to Captain Janeway.”
“Janeway here. Go ahead, Commander.”
“The Doctor has completed his preliminary biological analysis of the gel packs,” he said. “He’s come to the conclusion that the gel packs are, well, that Voyager is, um, asleep, Captain.”
She started to reply, but no words came to mind. “Asleep?” she finally managed.
“Asleep,” confirmed Chakotay.
Janeway felt her eyebrows climb to the top of her forehead. “Well now, that’s ... that’s ... extraordinary.”
“And that’s not all,” continued Chakotay. “The Doctor’s asleep, too.”
Janeway reached out and steadied herself against the bulkhead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said.
[295] “Me neither,” said Chakotay. “I’ve already contacted Lieutenant Torres. I think you’d better get up here, too.”
“On my way,” she replied.
Sickbay
Chakotay and Kes were waiting. The Doctor, free from the awkwardness of zero-G, was nonetheless swaying slightly. Torres was also there, waving a tricorder at the Doctor.
“Okay, report,” Janeway said.
Chakotay shook the woozy hologram. “Doctor?”
“Uh, yes, Captain. The, ah, gel packs we analyzed all exhibited decreased cellular activity and lowered operating temperature. It was the same in every gel pack we tested. Further scans indicated the presence of synthotonin, an artificial substance designed to depress the activity of the bio-neural circuitry for regenerative purposes.”
“Regenerative purposes? Explain.”
Torres cut in. “The biological components of the gel pack are based on living cellular material. Just like the cells that make up our bodies, the cells in each bio-neural circuit require periodic states of reduced activity in order to regenerate cellular energy levels.”
The Doctor nodded, stifling another yawn. “These periods of reduced energy are achieved by introducing synthotonin into the organic media that make up the gel pack. This usually occurs about once a month for each gel pack, depending on its level of activity. The gel pack, in effect, takes a short nap.”
“Bio-neural network downtime is avoided by staggering the regenerative cycles so that no two packs are inactive at [296] the same time,” said Torres. “At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“So what you’re saying is that the entire bio-neural network, all of the gel packs, decided to take a nap at the same time?”
The Doctor nodded. Janeway couldn’t tell if he was signaling the affirmative or simply nodding off to sleep. Chakotay shook him. “Yes, yes,” he replied.
Janeway looked at Torres. “Could the Doctor’s ... condition ... be related to this problem?”
“I don’t see how,” said Torres. “The EMH environment operates independently from the main bio-neural network.” She stared at the Doctor. “But it is too much of a coincidence to ignore.”
“Agreed,” said Janeway. “Let’s assume that they are related, and figure out how to wake up the Doctor ... and Voyager.”
“Kim to sickbay.” Harry Kim’s voice sounded flat, and not just due to the audio filtering. Janeway nodded to Kes.
“Kes here.”
“I’ve returned to the shuttlebay. I have ... a casualty.”
Janeway closed her eyes and tapped her combadge. Thompson, she thought. Harry has her body. “Harry, secure the shuttlecraft,” she said gently. “When you’re ready, use the shuttle’s transporter to beam directly to sickbay.”
“Aye, Captain.”
No one spoke for a long moment. Janeway took a deep breath. “Let’s get to work,” she said.
Main Engineering
“Okay, let’s put all the pieces together,” said Torres to the group. “The Doctor activated his fatigue subroutine when?”
[297] Most of the command crew, along with Kes and Neelix, were gathered around the emergency manual monitor in engineering.
“Yesterday,” replied Kes.
“But the bio-neural network failed this morning,” observed Chakotay. “Nearly eighteen hours later.”
“You’ve also got to keep in mind that the Doctor’s EMH program uses a dedicated subprocessor that has no ties to bio-neural circuits,” said Torres. “None whatsoever. There’s no way his fatigue subroutine could have contaminated the bio-neural network.”
“But isn’t the Doctor’s program backed up daily to the main computer core?” asked Tuvok. “And isn’t the main core part of the bio-neural network?”
“Yes, but that’s simply an automated batch process that takes a static image of the EMH at the given time and downloads the image to the core storage,” replied Torres. “There’s no programmatic interaction between the two systems.”
“When was the Doctor’s last scheduled backup?” asked Janeway.
Torres flipped open her tricorder. “Oh eight hundred hours this morning.” She looked up. “Three and a half minutes before the systems failure.”
“It can’t be a coincidence,” said Chakotay.
“I agree,” said Tuvok. “There must be some element of the Doctor’s so-called fatigue subroutine that affected the entire bio-neural network, causing the system shutdown. I recommend that we go to the computer core, isolate the subroutine, and delete it. Doing so will likely restore the network to normal functionality.”
Janeway nodded. “If this works, and I have every [298] confidence that it will, I think I’ll have a little talk with the Doctor about his sleeping habits.”
Smiles spread through the group. Janeway started toward the open gangway. “Follow me,” she said. “I think it’s time we gave our ship a wake-up call.”
The Bridge
Tom Paris watched as the bridge came to life, one station at a time. He tapped his combadge. “Whatever it is you guys are doing,” he said, “it’s working.” Within minutes, Paris could feel his weight starting to return, as the artificial gravity generators began to operate. All systems were back online when he heard the turbolift doors open.
“Ah, Harry, glad to see you!” he said. “Actually, I’m glad to see anybody. I was getting lonely up here all by myself.”
Kim nodded. “Good to see you too, Tom.”
Tom stood up and stuck out his hand. Kim looked at it cautiously. “What’s that for?” he asked.
“I just want to shake your hand,” Paris replied. “I was monitoring the progress reports. You did a damn fine job piloting the shuttlecraft. Couldn�
��t have done better myself. Saved us all, you did.”
Kim looked down. “No, not all of us.”
Paris cocked his head to one side. “Now Harry, you did what you had to do. So did Gina Thompson. She died saving the ship—doing her duty. Just like you were doing yours.”
“I know, Tom, it’s just that ...”
“Just that what?”
The bridge doors opened, admitting Captain Janeway, Tuvok, and several relief crew members. Paris pulled Kim to [299] one side, away from the others. “Just that what?” he prompted again.
Kim shook his head. “I could have warned them before I depressurized the hangar. Given them time to prepare ...”
Paris stopped him. “How were you supposed to know what would happen?” he whispered. “As far as I know, no one’s ever blasted their way out of a shuttlecraft hangar. What you did, Harry, was heroic.”
“But ...”
“But what? What could you have done differently? No, don’t answer that. Hindsight can be unforgiving. Believe me, I know.” Paris lowered his voice and put both hands on Kim’s shoulders. “Remember, I got three officers killed because of sheer arrogance, thinking I was the greatest pilot that ever lived.” Paris stared at Kim until Kim met his gaze. “Harry, today you saved your ship and everyone aboard. That’s something to be proud of. I wish I could say the same.”
Harry nodded slightly; the pain in his eyes lessened somewhat. “Thanks, Tom. Thanks for everything.”
Paris nodded. He released Kim, stepped back, and stretched. “Now, if you don’t mind,” he said in a loud voice. “It’s been a long day, and a long shift. I’m headed to my quarters for a little shut-eye.”
Kim nodded, smiling. “Me too, as soon as I check out ops and my relief gets here.”
“Good night, Harry.”
“Good night, Tom.”
Captain Janeway had watched the hushed interplay between the two junior officers out of the corner of her eye. After Paris left, she wandered back to Kim’s station.
[300] “Well, Harry, it’s good to have the lights back on, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” he replied fervently.
“By the way, that was great work you did today,” she said. “I think a commendation is in order.”
Kim was taken aback. “Uh, Captain, I don’t think I deserve ...”
“Mr. Kim,” she said sternly, “are you questioning my judgment again? That’s twice in one day!”
“No, Captain, of course I’m not!”
She smiled. “Good. I won’t have my junior officers questioning my orders. Now, I have one more order. Get the hell out of here and get some sleep.”
Kim grinned. “Yes, Captain.”
She returned his smile and watched him leave before continuing a slow tour around the bridge. Each station was alive with light and sound, indications of a healthy starship.
And after her little “nap,” a well-rested starship, she mused.
She stopped behind her command chair, rested her arms across its back, and watched as the relief bridge crew took their places around the bridge. “What a day,” she murmured, and stifled a yawn.
Time for rest. “Officer of the Deck, you have the conn,” she said, and turned for the turbolift. “Keep me posted if any more problems arise.” She stepped into the lift.
“Good night, Voyager,” she said as the doors closed.
Ambassador at Large
J. A. Resales
“Mr. Paris, get ready to make a run for it.”
Like chess pieces hung above a star-washed board, the three silvery barbell-shaped assault ships faced the U.S.S. Voyager in a pattern of unmistakable menace. Between the Federation cruiser and the hostile trio of corsairs drifted a tiny ship, barely larger than a runabout and seemingly built of strange, pulsing orbs of red-orange light. The orbs pulsed only dimly now, and their dying light cast a russet pall across the hulls of the four vessels surrounding it. None of the ships moved.
“Still no response from the small ship,” said Mr. Kim, manning the operations station on the bridge of the Voyager. “Just the same automated distress signal.”
Captain Janeway turned away from the screen and faced her first officer. “One guess as to what those coded transmissions were.”
“Calling for reinforcements,” said Chakotay immediately. “It’s exactly what I’d do.”
“It would be inadvisable to be here when they arrive,” said Tuvok, his speech as unhurried and thoughtfully composed as his Vulcan demeanor. “We are, roughly speaking, [302] evenly matched with the Mondasian ships arrayed against us—even at a slight disadvantage. The arrival of even one more ship would considerably change the odds in their favor.”
“And while they can call on reinforcements,” finished Janeway, “we cannot. Time’s not on our side.” She turned to Lieutenant Torres at the engineering station. “But we still have a duty to respond to this distress call,” she said pointedly, “and if at all possible, we have to get that pilot out of there alive.”
“If he’s still alive,” said Torres irritably, stabbing away at the controls in front of her. She spun around to punch at the transporter controls and then back again to check the columns of sensor readings that rushed by in response, then looked up at the captain. I’m still reading lifesigns, but I don’t know why. According to these readings the inside of that ship must be awash with radiation from the engine damage.” Her heavy half-Klingon brow knitted in consternation. “The radiation’s making it hard to get decent readings, and it looks like there’s some other kind of interference.”
“Incoming message,” said Kim.
“On-screen,” said Janeway, turning back toward the huge viewer that covered the front quarter of the bridge.
The sight of the small globular ship and the three shiny assault vessels was replaced by the frozen silver mask that was the face of the Mondasian commander. Janeway gazed at the immobile metallic visage with outward calm and confidence, but inwardly the sight made her stomach turn. The Mondasians’ speech and appearance had at first seemed to indicate some kind of machine-based intelligence, but this encounter was gradually bringing forth a kind of careless [303] hatred and cruelty that Janeway suspected could come only from a living creature.
“Captain Janeway of U.S.S. Voyager: It has been affirmed that the small alien ship will be returned with us. Interference in this action will not be tolerated. You will now withdraw from Mondasian space.” The Mondasian’s voice was cold and passionless, and when he spoke the thin slit of his mouth did not move.
“I guess those reinforcements are closer than we thought,” said Chakotay quietly.
“Our sensors show that the pilot is still alive,” said Janeway, “and very probably in need of medical attention. We show that his environment is very like our own—”
“That is not your concern.”
“You have not indicated that the pilot will be given the assistance he needs.”
“That is not your concern.”
The captain glared at the soulless silver mask that filled the screen. “The pilot of that ship requested our assistance,” she said dangerously, “and we are here to render it. Removal of that ship without said assistance is unacceptable to us.” The implied threat hung in the air for a moment, but if the Mondasian commander perceived it he gave no indication.
“The disposition of any alien beings aboard is not your concern,” he replied tonelessly. “The ship will now be removed by us for analysis. Withdraw immediately or be destroyed.” The masklike face disappeared, and on-screen the small ship began to move toward the Mondasian formation.
“They have the ship in a tractor beam,” said Tuvok, “and are powering their weapons systems.”
[304] “Reading two more assault ships just entering sensor range,” said Paris. “ETA, two minutes and closing.”
“Got him!” said Torres. Janeway whipped around to face her chief engineer and watched as the half-Klingon’s lip curled around a triumphant grin. “Transpo
rter locked on, Captain.”
“Good work, Lieutenant,” said Janeway, feeling the infectious smile begin to creep across her own face. “Beam him directly to sickbay. Mr. Tuvok, auxiliary power to the shields.” She sat down in the command chair and took a short, unsentimental last look at the three blunt silver ships, squatting possessively over their little prize. “Mr. Paris, get us out of here.”
The Doctor’s voice had taken on a decidedly cheery tone, one he used only when talking about his two favorite subjects: medical innovation and himself. At present he had managed to hit on both at once and was in high spirits as he chattered through his familiar patter.
“Originally, I was programmed to be proficient in over fifty specialties,” he was saying, “but since I assumed the post of Chief Medical Officer, my expertise and knowledge have expanded considerably. Indeed, there are some fields in which I am now proficient that were not even conceived of at the time of my activation—fields which, in all modesty, I can be said to have invented.” He seemed to inflate slightly, and was not in the least disturbed by the hand which was passing through his midsection.
Janeway knew she and Tuvok had walked in near the beginning of this monologue, and hard experience had taught her that the Doctor would spend as much time on his [305] personal history as the listener would allow. She cleared her throat, and his attention snapped toward her.
“Ah, Captain Janeway,” he said brightly. “I was just telling our visitor here about the Emergency Medical Hologram system. He seems quite interested.”
Janeway looked over the man standing in sickbay, who a moment ago had been passing his hand through the Doctor’s holographic form. He was dressed in a tight-fitting jumpsuit made of a white, metallic fabric, with a wide collar on which was set a metal device with a blue stone, and from which hung short robes cut in a vestlike pattern. He was thin with age and taller than Janeway despite his slight stoop, and had a full head of close-cropped white hair that may have once been blond. He grinned a toothy grin and ran a thin finger across his sharp chin, his face buckling into a tracery of tiny lines like finely aged leather.
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds I Page 25