The doctor’s voice and face were professionally blank as he finished cataloging the results of the latest Kazon attack. After three weeks of such duties, even if he hadn’t been a hologram programmed with the capabilities of accepting loss with detatchment, no doubt it would have overtaken him sooner or later. He walked to Sara and B’Elanna, still staring silently, dejectedly at the body of Bandera, their fallen comrade, covered now that it was.
“Considering the…nature…of this,” he began, trying to exercise his compassion techniques once more, “would one of you care to take this to Commander Chakotay?”
B’Elanna looked at Sara, who extended her hand for the padd. “I only hope he doesn’t believe in shooting the messenger.”
It was always amazing to her that when one wanted something it seemed to take forever for it to arrive, and yet the opposite held true when one did not. The turbolift, damaged as it was, seemed to move faster, the time it took her to walk from sickbay to Chakotay’s office, where the computer had located him, had never seemed so short.
She was admitted immediately, as she usually was after identifying herself. She knew that the Captain had told Chakotay everything about the encounter in the ready room some weeks previous, and also knew that each time she rang the chimes at his door he held the hope that she would tell him herself.
She wished it was news of that nature that she brought him now.
“That the casualty report from the doctor?” He was seated at his desk, going over the systems that needed repairs, trying to find personnel that weren’t injured to cover shifts.
A lump that she silently willed back grew in her throat. She nodded.
“Well, let’s have it.” He extended his hand, then drew it back at the look on her face. “Sara? What is it?”
“There was another fatality.” Her voice was completely devoid of emotion.
To his credit, he managed to keep his face blank, though his jaw set. “Who?”
“Ban -- Bandera.” She finally got out.
His shock and grief washed over her like a wave, the tides and eddies pulling at her, threatening to drown her. Chakotay’s eyes widened, softened and he slumped forward.
“Hell…” was the only word that ripped from his throat, a low growl as the anger flickered, then grew. “Damn it.”
Sara stood silently in front of him. There wasn’t much she could do. She couldn’t bring him back to life, after all, much as she wished she could. She handed him the casualty report, setting it on the upper ledge of his desk, and turned to go, leaving him staring at the consoles that surrounded him.
“Wait.” His voice stopped her as she was almost to the door. “Turn around.”
Sara complied. She did not fear him; he was not now nor would he ever be intent on hurting her. Being able to sense his emotions was in that manner her greatest advantage.
“Were you hurt?” he asked unnecessarily, coming from his seat, squatting down in front of her.
She shook her head, no, gazing at him gravely. She had not really been hurt since the last attack two days previous, and then it was only a minor concussion, not even serious enough to keep her in sickbay.
“Did you see it happen?” Chakotay’s next question was quiet.
“He was working at his console when it exploded, caught him full in the face, and on the upper body. Severe plasma burns, second and third degree. He went into shock,” Sara cataloged dispassionately, her eyes never losing their usual serious, solemn look.
“I see. Are you all right with this? Is there anything you need to talk about?”
Sara blinked, once, then twice, and shook her head, cocking it to the side. He was taking it well, she thought, despite the grief that overwhelmed him, bubbling up from inside. It was two, even three times as hard, for her to be the way she was during times of crises – the tension and grief from the crew could have wracked her senseless.
“You can go back to duty now, Sara.” It was taking effort for Chakotay to keep his voice the way it was, the deathly, whispery calm of one that had reached the end of their fuse and was desperately trying not to blow it. “I have to go and see the Captain about this.”
