String Theory_ Cohesion (Book 1) - Jeffrey Lang [46]
“Your corneas were damaged by g forces,” Seven replied crisply, “but the drugs I have administered will deal with the worst of that effect. Your organs may also be bruised, but that will not be fatal. Merely painful.”
“Yeah,” B’Elanna said as she tried to sit up. “Painful. Yes.” After struggling into a seated position, she felt so exhausted she wanted to lie back down again. “This has been another awful day.”
“Really?” Seven asked. “I cannot say that I have noticed it is any worse than most of your days.” The comment confused B’Elanna. Is she saying that all my days are bad or that this one hasn’t been worse than most of them?
“What do you mean?” B’Elanna asked as she surveyed the shuttle’s interior. The lights were on—a good sign—but the bulkheads were extensively charred and supplies had tumbled out of every cabinet onto the deck, a bad sign. Rough landing, she thought. Glad I missed it.
Seven was checking the supplies in the emergency medical kit. “I have observed that you complain a great deal, Lieutenant, so my assumption is that all your days are bad.”
“Shut the hell up!” B’Elanna exclaimed much too loudly. “OW!” Her ears rang and her eyes throbbed. “I thought you gave me some kind of analgesic.”
“I did,” Seven said. “But not very much. We must ration supplies as we cannot be certain how much longer we will be here.”
“What time is it now?” B’Elanna asked, wrestling the chair back into an upright position. “And how long has it been since we left the ship? Have they contacted us yet? I was surprised when there was no emergency beam-out. Maybe it’s better that we didn’t because, yow, Clemens is not gonna be happy.” She squinted at the navigation console. “I’m having trouble focusing. Is that supposed to happen?”
Seven inhaled deeply, then sighed heavily and answered in rapid, clipped tones. “It is seventeen hundred hours and forty-two minutes. No, Voyager has not attempted to contact us and I have been preoccupied with other matters, so before you ask, no, I have not attempted to contact them. I, too, was surprised when there was no beam-out, but perhaps that speaks to the situation with regard to Voyager; that they were affected by the shock wave, too. Yes, Mr. Clemens will no doubt be angry, but his anticipation of trouble is what motivated him to install the emergency restart software packages, which saved our lives. And, last, yes, I am not surprised you are having trouble focusing; the damage to your corneas was extensive. It may take a few hours until they are fully repaired.” She inhaled again, then said more softly, “If you think you are feeling slightly…hyperactive…it may be a result of the mild stimulant I added to the hypo. I thought you might be feeling sluggish after the accident.”
B’Elanna had wondered why the top of her scalp had been tingling. “Ah,” she said, but decided not to make an issue of it. Too many other things to do. “What’s our status? Do we have power? Sensors?”
“Yes and yes. The engines are functional, though I fear the shuttle may have taken damage during reentry.”
Another thought suddenly presented itself. “How are you, Seven? I seem to have taken the worst of it.”
“Several of my ribs are broken, Lieutenant, and one of them pierced my left lung,” Seven said calmly. “Also, I strained my wrist and my hand was burned when I attempted to put out a small electrical fire.”
B’Elanna squinted at her. Though fuzzy, Seven appeared more or less as she always did: composed, unflappable, serene in a cranky