Resistance - J.M. Dillard [65]
Whoever it was left. The doors closed and Crusher turned around and almost collided with Nave.
“What are you doing up, Sara? I thought I was pretty clear that you weren’t to budge until I came for you. Those ribs are still knitting. If you don’t hold still, they might not heal properly and we’d have to start the process all over again.”
“I have to get to the helm,” Nave insisted. “It’s critical that I monitor the ship’s course—”
“You’re not the only competent helmsperson on this vessel,” Crusher said. “The helm’s being taken good care of. Commander Worf will let you know when you’re needed. Unless you want to go somewhere now—and wind up having to come back to sickbay for twice as long.” She gestured toward Nave’s diagnostic bed. “Now, shall I escort you, or can you find your way back?”
Nave sighed in defeat. “I’ll go…”
Crusher turned back toward the lab. Nave moved toward her bed, but as she did, she caught sight of Counselor T’Lana lying in a nearby surgical alcove.
She’d been quite worried about the Vulcan. When the medics had carried T’Lana to the lift, Nave had overheard one of them mention she was in shock from blood loss.
Careful not to draw Crusher’s attention, Nave moved silently to T’Lana’s side. The Vulcan skin was pale, sallow. With her long lashes and cherubic lips, she seemed very, very young—As young as me, Nave thought, though she had no idea how to gauge a Vulcan’s age. T’Lana’s eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, but when Nave stepped up beside her, her eyes snapped open at once.
“Counselor,” Nave said, a bit startled. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“It is not a disturbance.” T’Lana was sharp, thoroughly alert. She pushed herself up on her elbows, as if she found it unsettling to be lying down in the presence of someone standing. “It is fortunate that you have come. I was aware that, on the bridge, you applied manual pressure in order to stop my bleeding.”
“Yes,” Nave said.
“Doctor Crusher said that the action saved my life. Thank you.”
Nave felt herself flush. “It was nothing. You would have done the same for me.”
T’Lana gave a single grave nod. “Yes. You are a valuable officer. It would be logical.”
Nave shook her head and allowed herself a smile. “Naturally.”
“I’m glad you are well, Lieutenant,” T’Lana said. “What is our course heading? Are we returning to a safe location?”
“I have no idea,” Nave said. “I just got out of bed myself; I haven’t had the chance to talk to anyone. Frankly, I hope we’re returning to the Borg vessel.”
“Why would you wish such a thing? It would put the ship and crew in great danger.”
Nave’s temper flared, and she did not try to keep the heat from her voice. “Because my friend is there. Because the captain is there. Do you think we should just leave them there—to be Borg drones? So that they can fight against us later? So that other Starfleet officers, on some other starship, can come and kill them without even knowing who they are?”
“I would regret losing the captain and a fellow officer,” T’Lana said softly. “But leaving would be the logical thing to do.”
“What is logical about betraying your friends and crewmates to keep yourself safe?” Nave countered. “If that’s logic, then the hell with it. I’ll take loyalty any day.”
She turned on her heel and—ignoring her aching ribs—went back to her bed.
Half an hour later, Worf stepped off the lift onto the bridge. The air had been filtered and brought up to standard oxygen levels, and all systems were back in operation, but there would be no time to repair the damage to the hull.
Worf had seen hull breaches before. This one did not compare to the damage done to the hull during their encounter with Shinzon, but still, it was not a sight he could ever become accustomed to. The great crack overhead, the shimmering force field with stars just beyond, inspired an eerie sensation.
He felt relieved to have made his decision; he was already impatient for action. He nodded briefly to Ensign Allen, who was back at his station,