By pure luck – or pure misfortune – Sara was on the bridge during the last crises of the gel packs, instead of in the cargo bay with Tuvok and the band of merry Maquis that she had originally been assigned to.
Originally.
Thought to be in need of remediation along with Dalby, Chell, Jerron, and Henley, she had reported to him on the first day for a uniform inspection. He had circled her twice before admitting that nothing was wrong.
On the second day, she outdistanced everyone on a multi-deck, over 10k run, the ‘actual’ ten kilometers on Deck 13 with the gravity turned up to 10 times its norm. Other than having a pack on her back that caused her to fall over backwards in the middle of the mess hall due to the weight (Dalby had had a wonderful laugh, Tuvok had found it necessary to lighten it so as to avoid injury), she showed exemplary agility and speed.
The last day, she recited not only the Prime Directive word for word but also the 47 sub-orders of it.
Tuvok dismissed her with instructions to tell Commander Chakotay that the next time she needed ‘remedial’ help, to wait until they were within communication range of Starfleet Command, or at least a correspondence course.
B’Elanna assigned her to the bridge mostly because she didn’t want to step on her. Sara knew as much as she would have liked to think it was because she was valuable in that position, it was mostly for quick reflexes in time of need. She would have prefferred to have B’Elanna there beside her (even with the last three months of strange and unending dictates from the half-Klingon, the two really were the best team due to Sara’s telepathy), but that was not the case, and for the most part Sara was just glad to have the order rescinded (if temporarily) and be allowed on the bridge.
She was tempted to crack a comment at the dead silence that pervaded her presence.
Ironically the gelpacks were ‘healing’ after a high-energy plasma burst erradiated the virus that had infected them; it was everyone else that was having a problem. Life support was failing faster than it could be put up. Conduits were exploding everywhere, the sparks and flashes of light illuminating a bridge darkened by red alert. The hardest part was waiting for everything to be restored.
The air was getting thinner; everyone was sweating beyond belief as temperatures rose inexorably. A quick look around revealed Tom Paris slumped over the helm, Harry Kim resting his head on his arm, panting at the ops station. The Captain and Chakotay were in their chairs, Chakotay’s head back against his and the Captain bent almost double. Their thoughts ranged anywhere from complete panic (though the didn’t show it) to uneasy hope. Sara was finding it hard to breathe in her sweat-soaked turtleneck that had no enclosure to unzip a jacket, as normal uniforms did, and her concentration was rapt for staying awake.
She was staring hard at her hands on the controls, first they seemed to be very far away, as if her arms had grown by meters, then they seemed to be on the verge of slapping her in the face. The swimming feeling in her head, as though she had gone underwater and opened her eyes, did not help matters. She felt sleepy.
For a moment she was fine, alert and comprehending, feeling almost normal, and then another wave of dizziness hit. The colors of the panel seemed to swirl, mixing and blending into ucomprehendable shapes. A buzzing sound filled her ears. Tingles, prickles mirroring that of a transporter entreated on her eyelids, blocking out her sight.
And then the deck rushed to meet her very quickly.
*************
“The virus has been eliminated, Captain!” The holographic doctor’s voice chirped excitedly over the comm link. “There is no further chance of infection.”
“Start…restoring…ship’s…systems, Mr. Kim,” Janeway gasped out, fighting to stay conscious long enough to rip her jacket open and loosen her turtleneck.
Minutes later the air grew noticeably more breathable, and everyone took in long, deep gulps, feeling the dizziness that came with oxygen deprivation but too happy that the crisis was over to care much about it.
“That feels much better,” Tom remarked, rubbing at the stray sweat on the back of his neck where his hair still dripped. “Systems coming back on Captain…life support at…Captain!”
They were all jolted to full awareness wheher they liked it or not, in time to see Tom staring in horror at the Engineering console.
Rather, he was staring at the body beside it – Sara, who still lay crumpled on the deck. He was out of his seat in a flash and ran to turn her over.
Kathryn didn’t think she’d seen Chakotay move that fast in the three months he’d been on board. He was beside Tom before she knew he’d left his post, and his expression of horror matched Tom’s at the ashen complexion, her lips turning slightly purple and ringed with blue.
“She’s not breathing,” Tom was urgent, checking for a pulse, which he didn’t have to tell anyone that he couldn’t find.
“Mr. Kim, get a lock on her! Beam her to sickbay!” the Captain virtually shouted, something she was not known for except in times of distress.
“Negative, Captain,” the Ensign’s hands splayed across his console. “Transporter function has not yet been restored.”
“Never mind the damn transporters.” Chakotay scooped his hands under Sara’s lifeless body and lifted her into his arms.
He was gone before Janeway could issue another order.
****************
The doctor was just treating the last of the injured from Mr. Tuvok’s class of misfits when the doors to sickbay whooshed open and Chakotay ran in, Sara cradled in his arms. “Doctor!”
“What happened?” he asked, as she was deposited on a biobed.
“She lost consciousness during the last crisis with the gel packs,” Chakotay was panting, not from carrying her weight but with fear and his rather fast run from the bridge. He almost thought he had set a record, if he was in the mood to care about such things.
“How long has she been this way?”
“I have no idea. We were all pretty lightheaded up there…”
The scanning arch slid up over Sara, who lay cold and still on the biobed. The doctor stabbed at a few buttons, then turned to Kes, who stood shocked at his side. “Oxygen deprivation. 1 cc cordrazine.”
“Is she dead?” Dalby asked in shock, the ragtags still in exercise suits moving toward her bed.
“She has no pulse…and she’s not breathing,” The doctor reported tersely, as if they couldn’t hear the monitor displaying the classic flatline monotone associated with death. He administered the drug and stared down bleakly.
It had the desired effect. After a long, long moment of silence the monitor changed its tone, showing a regular heartbeat, pulse, breathing pattern and brainwave. Everyone heaved a general sigh of relief as Sara stirred weakly, moaned, and fell back to sleep again.
“She was lucky,” Kes remarked softly, snapping down the arch and covering her warmly with a blanket, despite repeated sweating. “She couldn’t have been out for that long, or she wouldn’t have been able to find her way back.”
Chakotay felt his knees go weak, and only by sheer force of will was he able to remain standing. It wouldn’t do to collapse in front of everyone, Tuvok especially, and the damned excuse for a doctor – even a damned good excuse – would find a way to keep him there. The fist that had been squeezing his heart relaxed, and blood pounded through his body and head, causing a slight tingle.
“Will she be all right?” Jerron asked, concern in his voice and face touching everyone. The man wasn’t known for having many friends.
“Judging by these readings, she should be,” the hologram remarked, “but I’ll have to run some more tests to be sure. The rest of you, out. You’re all fine, although you’ll need 24 hours of rest – and I do mean rest – before returning to duty.”
They complied. Chakotay stayed long enough to issue a last set of instructions. “Call me when she wakes up,” were his final words, as he followed his band of used-to-be merry men (and woman) out the door.
