Star Trek: Earth Strike
Episode 18: Of Diagnosis and Debris
�Picard to sickbay: possible casualties beaming in.� The Captain�s voice said over the sickbay intercom.
�Acknowledged, Crusher out.� Doctor Crusher replied before applying her hypospray to Commander Riker�s neck.
The Enterprise�s First officer was all but unrecognisable beneath the ivy-like tendrils that covered his face, emerging from ear, mouth and nostril. Though Crusher had used everything in her huge medical arsenal that she could think of, nothing seemed to be able to stem the tide of infection raging through Riker�s body. �It�s not like we�re busy or anything,� the Doctor muttered crossly. The hectic activity in Sickbay belied her words as the transporter sparkle filled the area left clear for such beam-ins.
All the Sickbay�s assistant MDs and nurses were hard at work tending casualties from the recent battles with the Species 8472 fleet. More casualties waited for attention on the deck and even in the corridor outside. Even the Emergency medical Hologram rushed from patient to patient, though Crusher steadfastly refused to let it to perform triage or critical procedures. The �walking wounded� had been pressed into service as orderlies, helping their worse off comrades, cleaning their wounds, moving them around - and stowing the dead in the ship�s morgue.
The disparate group that materialised stepped forward unsteadily but soon adjusted from the transporter disorientation. A vulcan lowered a groggy young man to the deck. �I am Commander Tuvok of the Starship Voyager,� he introduced himself, �I must contact the bridge.�
�And I�d like to get to engineering,� a young Klingon woman added.
�Mongo, show the Commander the way to the bridge.� Crusher commanded her least useful orderly: though he was strong his obvious distress at his crewmates' injuries was an unnecessary added distraction. �Peter?� Crusher asked a tall arachnoid who had just had two of his hands swathed in bandages, �you�re returning to engineering?�
�Aye, come along lassie,� Lieutenant Paterson said. Torres pursed her lips at the �lassie� but let it go: the Klingons had tangled with the Scot�s before and knew well enough to leave them alone.
As the two unlikely duos of Vulcan and Pakled, Klingon and Arachnoid exited Crusher looked down at the young ensign on the deck.
�He has sustained a light phasar stun,� a tall woman with hair as red as Crusher�s own explained, stepping forward. Unlike the other�s of the group she was not dressed in the out of date Starfleet uniform but in a silver jump-suit.�He should recover on his own.� She looked down at Commander Riker and raised an eyebrow. �This man has been infected by Species 8472.� she stated, matter of factly.
�You�ve seen this before?� Crusher asked.
�No, but I have studied the effects. Please stand aside.� Removing an object about the size of a com-badge she held it up to shoulder height and touched a control. Instantly a familiar form appeared.
�Please state the nature of the medical emergency.� The EMH requested, then, seeing Riker, �Oh, never mind.� Crusher looked across the sickbay to see her �own� EMH tending an Andoran with a damaged antenna. �Did you bring a supply of modified nano-probes?� Voyager�s EMH asked of the tall woman.
�In a manner of speaking,� Seven of Nine replied, �I have inoculated myself with the probes: it seemed like a wise precaution.�
�Hmm; I�m not sure if �wise� is the word I would use,� the EMH said, �but we�ll go into that later - please roll up your sleeve.� The EMH held out a hand towards Crusher. �Hypospray,� he demanded.
�Wait just a minute!� Objected the Enterprise�s Chief Medical Officer. �I�m a Doctor, not a Hologram�s Assistant! Commander Riker is my patient, I�m not about to let...�
�I assure you the Doctor is reasonably adequate.� Seven of Nine said.
�High praise indeed,� the EMH said, rolling his eyes, then, �I�m sorry; I�m the Chief medical officer of the Starship Voyager, not a diplomat - we can argue rights and procedures later, but first allow me to save this patient. Hypospray...please?�
The struggle on Dr Crusher�s face was evident but short before she acceded to the EMH�s request and handed him her own hypospray. �Thank you,� the hologram said, calibrating the device then applying it first to Seven of Nines forearm then pressing it to Riker�s neck. In moments the readings on the bio-bed�s display strengthened. Almost as soon the change in Riker�s condition was visible: a healthier colour returning to his features and the tendrils of infection shrinking and receding.
�Mind if I run a quick diagnostic?� the EMH asked. �Remarkable,� he said, consulting a commandeered medical tricorder. �He must have the constitution of a klingon harrogha. I presume you have been administering stimulants?�
�As much as his system could manage.� Beverley affirmed.
Seven of Nine stepped forward, studying Riker with interest. Although she had studied the records of Harry Kim�s infection by Species 8472, she had not witnessed it personally. As an ex-drone she was fascinated by matters relating to the collective�s nemesis.
Will Riker�s eyes flicked open and closed then opened again, slower. Looking up from his bio-bed Seven of Nine�s face swam into focus. His attention was caught by the lights reflecting off the metallic surface of the implant that curved over the ex-drone�s brow. He reached up to touch it with trembling fingertips.�Jewellery?� he asked in a whispered croak.
�Implant,� Seven corrected, �I am... was... Borg.�
Riker�s eyes searched hers then slid down to take in the rest of her statuesque form. �Maybe assimilation wouldn�t be such a bad idea after all,� he speculated.
�And maybe all those stimulants weren�t such a good idea either,� Dr Crusher said, applying her hypospray to Riker and easing him into a healing sleep.
* * *
�...acle.� Janeway finished, not realising that contact had been lost with the Enterprise until Picard didn�t answer.
�Some back up systems are coming on-line.� Chakote reported.
Janeway coughed and rubbed her eyes, smarting from the thickening smoke. �Fire suppression systems?� she asked, hopefully.
�Uh... no.� Chakote grimaced. �We could blow all the hatches: open her to vacuum, that�d put the fires out,� he suggested.
�And we�d lose most of the nano-probes we�ve replicated - blown out into space in the explosive decompression.� Janeway observed.
A shiver shook the deck accompanied by the muffled �crump� of a distant explosion somewhere in the ship. Janeway and Chakote shared a glance, their eyes catching and holding each other�s in a look that spoke volumes.
* * *
�Scott to bridge,� said an accented voice over the intercom.
�Yes, Mr Scott?� Replied Picard.
�Geordi and I have come up with a way we may be able tae generate some of the power we need. We couldnae neutralise the dampening field, we canna even figure out how they�re making it.� Janeway had informed Picard about their supposition that it was Voyager�s Borg enhanced shields - which had taken weeks to set up - that had enabled the intrepid class ship to operate, dashing the Enterprise�s Captain�s hopes. �So instead we�ve tried to make it work for us. Ye see the field inhibits or suppresses certain sub-atomic reactions including the mutual annihilation of anti-particles. That being so we figured we could maybe collect and harvest some half-pairs of virtual particles in open space - kinda like the Romulan�s do, but without the event horizon of the artificial singularity. We hope tae be able to produce enough to get us up tae half impulse.�
�Ingenious,� said Data, �theoretically it is possible sir, but...�
�Yes Data?�
�Mr Scott: how do you intend to collect these half pairs of virtual particles?�
�Aye, well, there�s the rub: well have tae use the main deflector dish, there�s nae other way.�
Hawke groaned in exasperation. Picard sympathised but didn�t join him in his expression of frustration. �Of what use is half impulse without deflector screens?� the Captain asked rhetorically, �With all the debris in this system we�d be lucky to get a thousand kilometres before we�d be torn to shreds, even at a quarter impulse.�
�Aye, well, ye�ll have tae work that one out for yourselves,� Scott said, �if we�re going to get this thing working we�ll have tae start to reconfigure the dish right now...�
�Understood, Mr Scott,� Picard said decisively, �make it so.�
�Eh? What�s that?� Scott asked.
�He means get to work.� Geordi�s voice said in the background.
�Well why didnae he sae so then? Och, well, Scott out.�
�Remarkable.� Data commented. Picard gave him a questioning look. �Working under battlefield conditions, in the tightest of time restraints, Geordi and Captain Scott have developed an entirely new energy source: in effect they have done the equivalent of discovering fire!�
Hawke nodded. �Perhaps necessity really is the mother of invention,� he speculated.
�Perhaps,� Picard added, and perhaps the only thing more useful than having one miracle worker in your engine room is having two.� Data cocked his head as he considered this then returned to his sensor readings.
�However brilliant our engineers are,� Picard said, �their efforts will be useless if we can�t find some way to clear our path. Suggestions, Gentlemen?� he invited.
�Why not just use our defence shields?� Frosty asked.
�The forward shields are projected through the main deflector dish.� Data reminded him.
�Oh, yes, right,� the young Breen ensign said, �well, why not just go in reverse: use our aft shields?�
�The Enterprise�s propulsion systems are not designed for reverse at impulse,� Data explained, �when we �back up� we do so on thrusters only - for all other purposes we simply steer the ship to face in the direction we need.�
�Maybe we could use the phasars on wide beam to punch our way through the debris.� Hawke suggested.
�As the phasar spread widens it�s intensity decreases; at the spread we would need they wouldn�t have the power to destroy the potential hazards.� Worf observed. Hawke grimaced: he wasn�t about to argue weapons with the Klingon.
�Well, torpedoes to blast...� Frosty began.
�The torpedoes depend on fusion power for motive force: they are useless to us in this matter.� Data said, matter of factly.
A minute passed in silence, then another. Picard rose and began to pace back and forth. �We�re running out of time - we all are!� he said, �There must be some way!�
There was a quiet clearing of a throat from the rear of the bridge. All eyes turned to the Vulcan. Spock waited until he had their attention before he spoke.
