String Theory_ Cohesion (Book 1) - Jeffrey Lang [54]
But what was the point?
The point was her head hurt. Janeway was certain it would stop hurting if everyone would simply be quiet for thirty seconds and let her collect her wits, but, no, everyone was talking, talking, talking to her, asking her things, pleading, demanding. Why wouldn’t they just do what she wanted?
“Everyone!” she shouted, and everyone turned to look at her. Janeway wanted very, very badly to say simply, “SHUT UP!” But training ground so deeply into her being that it had virtually become part of her genetic code took over and she said, “One at a time.” Turning to Tuvok, she asked, “Shields are down?”
“Yes, Captain.”
Janeway almost yelled at him then, her oldest friend and advisor. She almost shouted at him the same way that she was fairly certain she had shouted at Harry Kim a few minutes earlier, but she stopped herself. Instead, she asked, “How are you feeling, Mr. Tuvok?”
The question caught the Vulcan off guard. He cocked his head to the side, thought for a moment, then replied, “Peculiar, Captain. I do not feel fully in control of myself.”
“Neither do I, Mr. Tuvok.” A chorus of me-eithers ran around the bridge. “No one does. Think about what you need to do to get the shields back up, Tuvok. Remember the sequence?”
Tuvok looked down at the console and laid his hands on the controls. “Yes, Captain.”
“Do it, Tuvok.”
Tuvok pressed a series of controls, and a moment later, the fog that had wreathed Janeway’s mind thinned and the headache eased. She heard audible sighs all around the bridge.
“Better, Tuvok?” she asked.
The Vulcan stretched the muscles in his neck, first one, then the other, then arched an eyebrow at her. “A distinct improvement.”
Janeway turned to Ensign Knowles, who was glancing back over her shoulder every ten seconds, though the expression of panic she had worn twenty seconds earlier was gone. “Hold this heading, Knowles, whatever it is. We’ll try to figure out where we are in a moment.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Bridge to sickbay,” Janeway called, tapping her combadge.
“Sickbay. Paris here.”
“Where’s the Doctor, Tom?”
“I’m not sure you want to know, Captain.”
“Tom!”
“He’s scooping up what’s left of Grench into a tub!”
“Put him on, Tom,” Janeway said. “I need him.”
Thirty seconds later, the Doctor came on. “Captain,” he said in clipped tones. “I’ve placed sickbay in quarantine. There may be a disease agent on the loose that is fatal to Bolians.”
“I don’t like to argue with you, Doctor, especially about medical matters, but I believe we have an entirely different kind of problem. Scan sickbay for radiation, please.”
Over the comm, Janeway heard the distinctive whine of the medical tricorder and the Doctor muttering, “Oh, dear.” Another minute passed.
“Doctor?”
“Another round of hyronalin, Captain. Bolians first. I’ve scanned Ensign Grench’s, uh, remains and it would appear his people are particularly susceptible to the radiation permeating the ship.”
“Understood, Doctor. Please get right on it. After you take care of the Bolians and get the process under way, come to the bridge. Oh, and check on Commander Chakotay in the shuttle hangar. I think he may have injured himself.”
“Understood, Captain. And I will be calling off the quarantine.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Now hurry, please.” Janeway marshaled her resources and turned back to Tuvok. “I’m going to the engine room to see what I can do to give Joe Carey a hand with more power for the shields. You have the bridge.”
Heading for the door, she caught sight of Harry Kim, who was staring intently at his hand. “What’s wrong, Harry? I know you can still feel it, but it’s not as bad now, is it?”
“No, Captain,” Harry said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “But, Captain, a minute ago…” He pointed at the console before him, then reached down beside him and fumbled for his tricorder.
“What is it, Harry?