summary:

Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 7:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R

disclaimer:

TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.

warnings:

Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.

Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.

text:

Sickbay

The EMH was completely overwhelmed and if an emergency medical hologram could suffer from burnout then he would have had to retire to the holo-rest-home for clapped-out holoprograms two days ago.

There were drones everywhere in various stages of reverse assimilation. Numerous crewmen had been drafted in to sick bay to help with the operation:the techniques learnt on Seven of Nine being applied in an industrial de-assimilation production line.

Some of the assimilated crew who had passed through part one of the process were already sitting up talking to visiting friends. Many would be in and out of sick bay for months for limb replacements and deep implant removals.

The slightly hellish scene jarred B'Elanna. Limbs and sections of Borg armour were piled on the floor. The EMH had even rigged up a servo-arm from a Borg medical drone to assist in some of the operations. It moved over the prone figure on the operating table with mechanical precision slicing through the armour fixings. Process completed, the body was lifted onto the next table for further processing and another took its place.

She spotted the EMH bent over a figure on an operating table. Approaching she realised the figure on the table was Harry Kim.

"How's he doing Doc?"

"Mr Kim will require some re-constructive surgery but he is not too badly affected. The Borg did not have time or the resources to fully adapt many of the crew. Only four have suffered major reconfiguration." Seeing the ill-concealed anxiety on her face the EMH was reassuring. "Don't worry B'Elanna I can put them all back together again. Although it may take some time."

"That's not going to help the dead though is it Captain?" said an angry female voice. B'Elanna turned to look up into the furious face of very good-looking tall ensign, whom she recognised as an old friend of Tom. With a sickening lurch B'Elanna remembered that she was married to one of the dead crew.

"Nik I am very sorry for your loss. Helena was a fine officer."

"No," said the woman balling her fists, "she was only an average officer but she was a fine person Torres. The best." Nik's voice cracked a little. "But I hear we are going to get home in ten years so that's all right then isn't it Captain Torres? Worth the sacrifice of a few red-shirts?"

Junior Starfleet ensigns no longer wore red shirts and hadn't done so for over a hundred years but the phrase remained part of Starfleet slang meaning expendable cannon fodder. A reputation as a Captain who didn't care about your red-shirts was a great insult. B'Elanna felt a surge of anger.

"Wade you're relieved from duty. From now you start an immediate one month compassionate leave. Go back to your quarters."

"I do not wish to be relieved Captain Torres" said the ensign and stepped closer until she was only inches away.

B'Elanna pushed Wade back and set her jaw. "Ensign do you have a problem with me?" she asked, knowing that this was not the right time or place for argument. Someone less angry and in less agony than Ensign Wade would have backed off. The stormy look on the Captain's face more than enough incentive. But Ensign Wade was not going to back down.

"Oh I think quite a few of us have problems with you, at least as captain, Captain." The next moment B'Elanna was staring at the wrong end of a hand phaser held by the distraught Nik Wade. At least she was until Seven of Nine appeared silently behind the woman and grabbed her arm, taking the phaser so quickly that the ensign did not even have time to turn her head.

Seven crushed the phaser in her enhanced hand. Despairing, the ensign threw herself at B'Elanna screaming. B'Elanna had difficulty holding off the raging human without hurting her. Seven had no such qualms. She gripped the woman's arms from behind and pulled her away from B'Elanna holding her fast.

"You will desist" stated the ex-Borg. "I will not permit you to attack Captain Torres. Is that clear?"

Wade just cursed and tried to break free.

B'Elanna looked at the half-mad woman struggling in Seven's arms and felt a weird mixture of human compassion for her grief and Klingon admiration for her passionate attempt at revenge. The security guards summoned by the EMH arrived and relieved Seven of her prisoner, holding her steady as the EMH pressed a hypospray sedative into her neck. Wade sagged against her captors still fighting and mumbling abuse and then she passed into unconsciousness.

"Take her to her quarters and keep her there. Someone is to remain with her at all times is that understood. Call the Doctor when she recovers consciousness." The security guards carried the ensign away.

B'Elanna tapped her comm badge. "Captain to Tom Paris, Tom could you visit Nik Wade ..."

"Of course B'Elanna" interrupted the helmsman. "It's very sad about Helena, but I will do what I can for her."

"Thanks Tom. She attacked me and I've confined her to quarters. I couldn't think of anything better at the moment. Whatever you need Tom, Torres out." A wave of exhaustion and guilt swamped her. Looking round sickbay and the remains of several of her comrades she knew Wade was right she should never have been captain. It was ridiculous - everyone must see that.

Seven watched B'Elanna with concern. The half-Klingon was plainly devastated. She stood with her hands hanging loosely by her sides glancing helplessly about the outer ring of hell that sick bay now closely resembled. The Borg was at a loss but she was acutely aware of how much she wanted to comfort the small woman if only she knew how.

The EMH with his usual lack of insight was inappropriately cheerful. "Captain. I think there is someone here who would like to talk to you."

B'Elanna steeled herself for another round of accusations from her crew. Harry Kim was trying to lift himself up, his face half covered in what looked like a helmet but was actually a gel medicap.

"No need to rise Commander," said the Doc. "The Captain can forego the military niceties in the circumstances." Harry relaxed back onto the bed.

What little of Harry's face that was visible was sallow looking and pinched. She could see part of his skull, totally bald, the once thick black hair completely gone. He seemed to have lost some weight and his ribs were visible where the Borg body armour had been stripped from his chest.

"B'Elanna, Seven" he said slowly drawing out the syllables.

"Starfleet."

Thank you" he tried a smile but only some of his face muscles were now operational so it was lopsided. He spoke slowly pausing to get his breath from his labouring human lungs "She's wrong ... not many Captains .... risk ... try to save drones. B'Elanna .... my forty-eight hours ..... is finished." He had to stop, every breath whistling in his throat.

Her tired brain took several seconds to make sense of his words.

"Harry this can wait. There is no need to think about it at the moment."

"I.... must. I might die before I can speak again."

He levered himself up on one arm and half saluted with the other "Captain Torres I must confess ..." He stopped to inhale another tortured mouthful of air, "to the murder of four of my fellow officers." He rushed this out quickly as though uncertain he would be able to start again if he didn't keep going. Those crewmen close enough to hear his admission gasped.

B'Elanna gently pushed him down. "Thank you Commander Kim. Now get some sleep Harry. I'll speak to you tomorrow, Good night Starfleet."

The EMH was, for once, speechless.

"Great work Doc. If you need any help I'll be on the bridge." Torres left sickbay with Seven at her heels.

When they entered the turbolift Seven decided she would try and help the Captain. Although she had some doubts about her own skills in such an emotional situation.

"You do not seem surprised by Commander Kim's confession?" queried the ex-drone.

"It had come to my attention." B'Elanna didn't look at her. "Yeah, just another one of those things that I don't know how to handle. Like how to apologise to my crew for killing their friends in pointless missions. I don't think satisfying the Captain's ego counts as a good explanation."

B'Elanna knew she was being self-pitying as well as sarcastic but couldn't seem to help it. She turned away.

Seven caught her wrist and pulled her round and before B'Elanna could protest she found herself being awkwardly hugged and patted on the back.

"This is comforting is it not?" asked Seven after a moment, trying to confirm that her behaviour was appropriate.

B'Elanna smiled in spite of herself and then couldn't help enjoying the feeling of strong arms and a warm breath on her ear. She was forlorn when Seven released her to speak.

"Captain Janeway would have done the same B'Elanna. She would not have left those children to fend for themselves."

"And I would have been one of the first to criticise her decision" said B'Elanna with cynical self-knowledge.

"Those without the responsibility have that freedom." replied Seven. "You made the decision, you balanced the risk to Voyager against protecting the children and the not insignificant consequences of allowing the Borg to obtain their technology." Seven sounded typically certain. It was funny, thought B'Elanna, that Borg certainty used to annoy her so much. Now she found it reassuring and she wished Seven would hold her again...

The lift doors opened as they arrived at the bridge and B'Elanna stepped out. Seven did not follow her. "I must return to engineering. When do you wish to see me again ..." Seven shifted uncomfortably, ".... to discuss repairs."

Conscious of the bridge crew listening B'Elanna tried to be formal. "That will depend Chief on how soon we find a safe port. I want a report by tonight on all priority repairs." Seven dipped her head in acknowledgement and the lift doors closed. B'Elanna looked at the shut doors for a moment before turning to face the demands of Voyager.