Star Trek Voyager: The Loving Game

Star Trek Voyager: The Loving Game (Chapter 13)

The first thing Seven was aware of as her eyes fluttered open was immediate, sharp pain which took her breath away but all she gulped in were acrid gases which made her choke and wracked her chest with congested coughs. Disorientated, she lifted her head up from the floor, out of the heaviest smoke and her sense came back to her as her eyes adjusted to the complete darkness, only eased by tiny and malfunctioning strips of emergency lighting. What happened? An explosion…the ship hit a mine… The baby! That panicky, horrified thought was enough to force her on to her knees, though her right arm collapsed as she struggled up, she could see that the wrist was snapped back, broken and probably one of the main causes of her pain. Her functional cybernetic hand went to her abdomen but she couldn’t tell if anything drastic had happened. The hallway was constantly heating up from somewhere behind her and she was now certain that she could hear the sinister crackling and sizzling of flames, as she turned to look she saw an unmoving shape  lying just behind her, fallen bits of ceiling surrounding it. A gut twisting sensation hit her as she realised what it was and gasping in panic she shuffled towards it and knelt over, saying as loudly as her burning throat could allow, “Chakotay!” No response. “Chakotay…please…” she pleaded, whispering now as she felt for a pulse and almost sobbed in relief when it thudded against her fingers. His head was bleeding profusely, she could remember now that he’d pushed her out of the way of a falling object as the explosion hit… A weak groan of agony from him both reassured and tortured her as she stood up in desperation and looked for an escape route frantically. There was a turbo lift ahead wasn’t there? That was if it was still operational after such an event, if it was wouldn’t there be rescue teams here by now? Irrelevant. Staying where they were was impossible; she had to make an attempt.

Having made her decision, her attention flew to Chakotay again. What if moving him injured him further? She had no way to assess what his injuries… Her hand found her comm. badge and tapped it hard. “Seven of Nine to the Doctor…” There was no response, not even static. “Seven of Nine to anyone…” Silence. An obviously futile exercise. As gently as she could, she tried to lift Chakotay into a standing position but not even her Borg assisted strength succeeded easily with only one functioning arm. It took her three attempts, by the third he had even stopped groaning in pain as her legs half buckled and the edges of her field of vision turned black but she somehow managed to drag and heave him the three metres to the turbo lift and in through the half open doors. She allowed him to sink to the floor then as she semi collapsed against the control panel and had to force her Borg injectors into it before the lift came to life with a splutter and began to move. As it stopped with a jolt and the doors reluctantly opened the panicky looking young crewman who first met her dim eyes only heard, “Chakotay…injured…” before she went completely limp.

The Doctor ran the tricorder over his protégé again to check he’d properly healed the fracture and smiled down at her as he saw her coming back round. Her eyes shot open, not truly registering him as her whole body tensed. “My baby…” she gasped out raggedly, panic stricken.

“Is fine.” He assured her, glad that every other patient around them was unconscious or else Seven would have had some explaining to do. He waited until that calming remark had set in before continuing, “You had a severely broken wrist which I’ve corrected and you have a serious concussion but you’re still pregnant.”

Seven sat up abruptly, for once in her life relieved to feel nauseous as she did so. “What happened? The crew? We hit a mine…”

“We hit three mines actually.” He corrected before his face took on a sober, saddened expression. “Four dead. Twenty five injured, including Chakotay and yourself.”

“And Chakotay…” She gulped and corrected herself, mindful of her position. “…the Commander…how is he?” She couldn’t help anxiously scanning the faces that littered Sickbay for his.