Pathways - Jeri Taylor [167]
“Seven,” he said breathlessly, “you’ve got to come quickly. Something’s wrong with Chakotay.”
This sinister statement alarmed them all. “What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Neelix.
“He’s sick or something. We don’t exactly know.”
“Why would you ask for me?” inquired Seven. “I don’t possess medical expertise.”
“He keeps asking for you. I think we have to risk it.”
Seven looked toward Tuvok, who nodded acquiescence. “Go to him,” said the Vulcan. “Later we will send Vorik to take a report.”
Seven and Harry immediately departed, leaving behind the others, whose mood had changed abruptly from expectation to apprehension.
Vorik had reported to Tuvok’s group the story of Captain Janeway’s unusual visit, which had heartened them all. But now it seemed that her blow to Chakotay might have unexpected and disastrous results.
“I think the cut in his cheek is infected,” Harry speculated as they walked back through the fetid air to Chakotay’s shelter, trying to appear nonchalant so as not to draw attention to them. “First he said he was sick to his stomach; then the cut started to get inflamed. A little while later he said his head felt like it was caught in a vise. And finally he collapsed, moaning . . . kept saying your name. I don’t know if he’s just delirious or if he thinks there’s something you can do.”
Seven made no comment, but seemed to be musing on what he said. They walked in silence until they reached the shelter, eyes straight ahead, shutting out the misery of the beings that surrounded them.
When they entered, Harry saw that Chakotay’s infection was worse. His cheek was swollen, and red striations streaked under the skin like angry snakes. The commander was twisting on the ground in agony, trying to muffle his groans, fists clenching and unclenching as he struggled. Noah Mannick was sitting next to him, putting a wet compress on his forehead, looking frustrated by his helplessness to do anything more.
Seven went immediately to him and knelt down. “Commander, how can I help you?” she said.
At this, Chakotay’s eyes flickered open, and Harry saw they were dull with pain. “Seven,” he breathed, clearly with difficulty, and pointed to the wound on his cheek. “What is this?”
Seven frowned and looked carefully at the distorted flesh. Then a strange look came over her face and she glanced up at Harry. “Did you say the captain struck Chakotay on the face?”
“Right. Backhanded him. She had a bunch of rings on her fingers and one of them slashed him.”
A small smile played on Seven’s lips, much to Harry’s surprise. “Why? What is it?”
“If I’m correct, the captain has implanted a Borg nodule in him.”
This was astonishing to Harry. “A Borg implant? Why?”
“I do not know. But I recognize the pattern of the striations. I would estimate that it will fully erupt within minutes.”
And so it did. With Chakotay writhing in anguish, biting the back of his hand to keep from screaming, a gray metallic node distended the skin until it burst through and spread over his cheek with tentacles like an octopus. Then the tips embedded themselves back in his flesh. Harry, Brad, and Noah watched in horrified fascination.
“He’ll feel better now,” said Seven, and she was right. In a few minutes the commander seemed to relax somewhat, stopped his agonized writhing, and opened his eyes. He drew several breaths and then sat up.
“What happened?” he asked, voice still weak from his ordeal.
Harry was so relieved he felt his knees go weak. He hadn’t realized how frightened he was until the crisis was over. Or at least he hoped it was.
“You have something in common with Seven now,” he said. “You’ve grown a Borg implant.”
Chakotay touched his cheek gingerly, confirming that there was in fact a strange metallic object there.
“I suspect the captain has found a way to send us a message,” said Seven, but then Chakotay suddenly fell back on the ground, arms upraised, eyes wide in terror.
“Falling . . .” he yelled, and