Caretaker - L. A. Graf [74]
The pain in his expression only made Chakotay's glower more fierce.
"Wrong tribe."
"I don't believe you." Paris lifted his back foot, and he was suddenly committed to the rescue. A frantic voice in the back of his head started whispering for him to hurry. He tried to chase the sound of it away with more familiar sarcasm. "I think you'd rather die than let me be the one to rescue you."
Something cracked loudly in the wall at Paris's knee, and the stairs dropped abruptly. They slammed to an uneven stop, as though caught by some invisible hand. Paris did his best to dig his fingers into the wall as he started stiffly down the steps again.
"Fine. Be a fool." But Chakotay's voice sounded as hoarse with pain as Paris's felt. "If I have to die, at least I'll have the pleasure of watching you go with me."
And if I die, Paris thought as he slipped carefully into position beside the big Maquis, I get the pleasure of knowing I was finally doing something right. He planted his feet as firmly as he could on the rocking structure, and hauled Chakotay onto his shoulders with an exaggerated grunt. The Indian's cry of pain was real, Paris knew. He felt an unexpected spasm of guilt for not having the chance to be more careful.
Turning slowly to start his upward climb, he asked glibly, "Isn't there some Indian trick where you can turn yourself into a bird and fly us out of here?"
"You're too heavy."
Well, it had been worth asking.
Paris tried not to pay attention to the stairs' screeching groans, and tried not to notice the long, empty depth of blackness stretching down into infinity just a misstep to his right. He only lifted his foot, placed it, pushed smoothly upward, and lifted his foot again. For some reason, he had this silly idea that if he didn't jolt the stairs, didn't make any jerky movements, he'd be able to float his way up to the top as though he weren't placing two human males' worth of weight on every weakened step. As it was, when he drew near the top of the dangling stair, he was startled to find Janeway leaning down to grab his hand and lead him across the last dizzying gap. His face blazed hot with embarrassment. She's gonna be pissed, he told himself, avoiding her gaze. No way she's gonna like me playing hero just for the sake of my stupid pride. But he let her pull him to safety in dutiful silence, and even pretended his insides didn't go to water when he heard the staircase crash into wreckage behind him.
When she kept her hand locked on his elbow all the way up to the surface, Paris almost thought it was possessive relief he read in her determined features. But maybe that was just his imagination.
Chapter 19
No decision track existed to deal with inappropriate overcrowding of the sickbay facilities by nondamaged ship's personnel. The holographic medical interface had attempted 7,837 different paths since the away team's return to the ship and returned to the same conclusion. Primary Function Control circuits logged this as an unacceptable programming contingency, and the Self-Maintenance Routine established a new priority in its restructure queue.
Before 0800 the next morning, there would be a decision tree allowing the medical program access to activities designed to bypass the ship's organic control device in matters concerning crew health and safety.
When that collection of Decision Tracks had been instated, the holographic interface would be capable of banishing all fully functional organic life from its sickbay so that it could effect more efficient repairs on damaged members of the crew. It flagged an automatic reminder to order everyone now present to leave as soon as the system made it capable.
Sensors indicated acceptable reduction in oncological reproduction in the cellular structures of Patients #2 and #4.
Patient #1--Visual Recognition Matrix 521, "Lieutenant