Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [115]
“Try to maneuver the probe away. Maintain scans.”
But it proved useless. The outer edge of the ion storm caught the probe, scrambling its transmissions just moments before the Voth ship leapt away into transwarp. Harry worked his console frantically, only to shake his head and report, “No good, Captain. Nothing but static.”
“Damn. All right. Retrieve the probe.”
A beat. “It’s not responding.”
“Tom, take us to transporter range. We’ll beam it out.”
“There’s too much interference,” Harry said.
“Let me go get it with a shuttle,” B’Elanna requested from engineering. “It may have gotten some useful data after all. And it’s our only multispatial probe-I don’t want to lose it.”
Janeway weighed the risks. Any other probe could be replaced, but the multispatial probe incorporated unique components, results of the technological alchemy which had created the “twenty-ninth-century” Borg drone called One. (Seven had actually recycled them from his body, citing the inefficiency of waste, though Janeway suspected it had been more about wanting a part of him to live on.) It was an irreplaceable tool in the search for spatial anomalies which might shorten Voyager’s journey home, or end it if they weren’t detected. “All right. But if it gets much deeper into the storm, I want you to abort. It’s not worth your life to get it back.”
“I’ll be careful, Captain.”
The look Tom threw the captain showed what he thought of the likelihood of that.
Captain’s Log, Supplemental. We recovered Lieutenant Torres’s shuttle from the trailing edge of the storm, but it was badly damaged. Its life-support had failed and Torres was in a coma. We transported her to sickbay, and the Doctor was able to treat her injuries and awaken her. He reports that she suffered disorientation and mild hallucinations, but assures me this is normal under these conditions and that B’Elanna will be fine after a night’s rest. I’ll recommend a reduced duty schedule for the next few days, but knowing the lieutenant I doubt she’ll accept it.
As for the multispatial probe, sensors detect no sign of it. I can only conclude it was destroyed in the ion storm, taking any useful transwarp data with it.
“Excellent!” the EMH said as he waved his tricorder over Marika. “You’re continuing to heal very nicely. I’d say you’re ready to start back on solid food now.”
“Thank the Prophets,” Marika sighed. “I tell you, Doctor, delayed gratification is not my cup of tea these days.”
“Yes,” the holographic healer said with careful neutrality. “However, your serotonin levels seem a little low. Are you under much stress? Is there anything you’d like to talk about? I’ve upgraded my programming to include counseling subroutines-although,” he added with a scowl, “the crew seems oddly reluctant to take advantage of them.”
“No, that’s all right, Doctor,” she said with a smile.
“If you say so, but- “
Just then the door opened and Lieutenant Torres came in, looking determined. “Doctor, can I have a word with you?”
The Doctor looked to Marika, but she nodded her assent. “Very well,” he told her. “You can get dressed now.”
As the EMH led Torres into his office, Marika wondered if she should take him up on his offer to talk. She wasn’t really finding the answers on her own. Okay, so Harry had turned her down. Why waste precious time moping over that, when there were dozens of other men aboard Voyager? But good prospects were hard to find. The Maquis were all too preoccupied with her past in the camps, with treating her as a symbol of Cardassian brutality even though she’d rarely met a Cardassian. And of the Starfleet men, what were the options? Paris was involved, Tuvok and Vorik were Vulcans, Carey and others had wives back home… and frankly a lot of them were rather boring. And Neelix… she didn’t even want to go