Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [26]
Over the next five days, Miral appeared to rally. She remained confined to liquid nutrients. By the end of the sixth day she actually managed to climb out of her crib twice on a young medic’s watch, giving B’Elanna hope that she was on the mend.
However, the seventh night brought those hopes crashing down. The fever returned and an angry rash appeared on her stomach. Miral cried for ten grueling hours as Hestax was still unwilling to risk anything more than a topical cream until he could analyze a skin culture to determine the nature of this new symptom. At B’Elanna’s insistence, he did review the medical references in her shuttle’s database and finally settled on an antiviral injection he was willing to introduce into Miral’s fragile system.
Four days later, Miral had fallen into a terrifying stupor. She was languid and unresponsive; all Hestax could confirm was that her immune system was still fighting off the infectious agent, and he still believed the child would conquer it.
B’Elanna was standing over Miral’s crib, gently caressing her clammy forehead, when Neelix arrived.
“All the diagnostics are complete and it appears that the Home Free is once again space worthy,” he said as cheerfully as possible.
“Thank you, Neelix,” B’Elanna murmured.
“How’s our little warrior?”
“I’ve never seen her like this,” B’Elanna said softly.
“She’s going to be fine,” Neelix assured her.
“You don’t know that,” B’Elanna retorted sharply.
“Yes, I do,” Neelix insisted.
B’Elanna tenderly adjusted Miral’s blanket, then pulled Neelix to the far side of the infirmary so as not to disturb her.
“This isn’t right,” B’Elanna whispered hotly, bathing once again in the familiar waters of righteous indignation that had once been so familiar. “She’s not getting any better, and there’s nothing anybody here can do to help her.”
“Doctor Hestax is doing the very best he can,” Neelix said without a trace of defensiveness.
“His best isn’t good enough!” B’Elanna replied. “Your doctors are so far behind Federation medical technology it’s terrifying.”
This harsh estimation of his people clearly troubled Neelix, but he had the good grace to accept it stoically. He had spoken at great length for days about the wonderful accomplishments of his people as they struggled to survive in one of the harshest environments imaginable. In every respect but this, B’Elanna could agree they were succeeding admirably. Neelix’s obvious chagrin tempered and refocused her rage.
“I’m not blaming you, Neelix,” she added. “You and your people have been incredibly generous. This is my fault. She’s never suffered from anything more serious than colic or a cold … it just never occurred to me … I should have made damn sure I had an EMH with me.”
“Voyager will be here in less than two days,” Neelix offered. “You’ll depart first thing in the morning and before you know it, Miral will be in the most capable medical hands possible.”
“What if they’re delayed?” B’Elanna demanded. “What if my slipstream drive gives out again and I never even make it to the rendezvous coordinates. I don’t know how much time she has left.”
Neelix pulled her into a firm embrace and whispered softly, “Miral is going to survive this, B’Elanna. You’ll see.”
Much as she wanted to, B’Elanna no longer believed it to be true.
Chakotay had never seen anything like the Galen. As a prototype vessel, he wasn’t certain if it had yet been classified, but structurally at least, it appeared to be a cross between a Nova- and Miranda- class science vessel. The main section had six decks. It was constructed in a wide triangular shape and the nacelles were mounted on short pylons extending directly from the drive section.
Commander Glenn, the vessel’s captain, met Seven and Chakotay in the transporter