Part 11

Maybe fifteen minutes after Harry left Sickbay, Tuvok commed Sam Wildman. He told her that she should be receiving the untreated injured Maquis within the hour. He sounded perfectly neutral, of course. She'd managed to calm down significantly since Harry left, but heard the hoarseness in her own voice and knew Tuvok would too. She'd thanked him for his quick response, not letting on that she was thanking him for being the only person on board whom she could truly trust to not be seeking further revenge against the Maquis. Moments after Tuvok cut the comm line, O'Donnell from the Brig reopened it. He only spoke a few words, telling her that he was beaming in the injured Maquis one at time. He was curt, speaking sharply like he'd just been chastised.


She turned around to face the bio-bed that she'd cleared, checking the set up of the medical equipment. She hadn't actually treated any conscious Maquis yet. She'd had far more Starfleet patients than Maquis, but the Maquis patients were in far worse condition than the others, and thus far unconscious. Sam picked up the medical tricorder and flipped it open, watching the figure on the bio-bed shimmer into existence.

It was B'Elanna Torres, stretched out on her side, facing away from Sam. Even from the back, Sam diagnosed a grazing phaser blast to the shoulder, which looked to be a few days old. Torres reoriented to the room, sitting up quickly and surveying Sickbay. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing Sam for the first time. She didn't move, just sat there, her lack of reaction making Sam suddenly become nervous. More nervous, anyway. She didn't quite know what she'd been expecting Torres-any Maquis-to do, but to sit quietly and wait for medical treatment was not high on the list.

She circled the bio-bed, running the tricorder over Torres. Another phaser wound, this one to the upper torso. Maybe the Maquis got worse injuries because they didn't stop after being shot once. Torres mutely extended her right hand into the tricorder's path. Sam first stared at the tricorder screen, which said Torres had broken her wrist, rather badly at that. When Sam raised her eyes from the tricorder to the actual injured body part, she saw the massively swollen limb that had to hurt terribly. Forgetting the identity of her patient momentarily, she found herself speaking almost sympathetically.

"How did that happen?"

"Vorik," responded Torres, making direct eye contact for the first time. "And Paris shot me twice."

Sam turned away, reaching for the equipment tray. Over her shoulder, she felt obliged to retort.

"Someone shot Vorik, too," she said, remembering his ugly phaser wound.

"That was Henley," replied Torres, an almost amused innocent tone to her voice. "Not me."

She winced when Sam took hold of her wrist, regenerator in hand. Sam could feel Torres' eyes on her as she held the regenerator over the injured wrist.

"So, where's the EMH?" Torres asked, staring at her outstretched hand.

"That's a good question. If you asked enough of the Maquis, you might find out."

"Oh," said Torres, an inexplicable look of mirth falling over her face.

Torres' apparent amusement at the Doctor's absence irked Sam enough that she was less than gentle in rotating Torres' wrist. If Torres noticed the aggression, she ignored it.

"Is Ken in the Brig?" Sam asked finally, avoiding eye contact.

"No," Torres said smoothly. "He must have left with Chakotay."

Sam continued her ministrations with the regenerator, her mind slowly processing the information. She wasn't sure, actually, how she felt knowing that Ken wasn't on Voyager.

It eliminated the dangerous temptation to go down and see him, which she obviously couldn't do.

And it increased by tenfold the desire to want to know where he was and if he was okay.

As if reading her mind, and if not that certainly reading her face, Torres smirked.

"Don't worry, Janeway's made it clear that's she's going to bring them all back." Torres' lips curled. "You can probably arrange to share a cell."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Having prior knowledge of a mutiny and keeping quiet about it is frowned upon by Starfleet, *Ensign*."

Torres met Sam's eyes, her own wide and knowing.

"I was-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. You helped us out. Thanks."

Sam dropped Torres' arm, backing away.

She returned to the tray of instruments, putting down the regenerator.

"If you take off your uniform and get into a patient gown, I'll treat the other injuries."

Torres obliged to that request without speaking any further. In fact, she remained quiet for the rest of the exam, except for wincing when Sam prodded the sore tissue on her belly. Treating Torres' injuries, running completely on automatic, Sam could barely keep from inflicting more. Torres had all but threatened to tell Janeway. Not that Janeway would believe her, Sam calmed herself by thinking. Janeway hadn't even mentioned Ken when Sam had seen her in Sickbay after first being brought back to Voyager.

Of course, she'd been a little occupied then.

After the exam, as Sam was putting away the equipment, Torres scooted off the bio-bed and wandered across Sickbay. Sam turned to watch her, not putting it past Torres to attack one of the sedated Starfleet patients. Or to snatch something and use it as a weapon.

Torres wove around the bio-beds, heading toward the one on which Gerron lay.

She paused by it, leaning over the side. When she looked up, her expression was serious.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"He was hurt pretty badly," Sam replied, not feeling the desire to assure or comfort Torres in any way.

"Would the EMH be able to treat him better than you can?"

Part 12 | Index page