He cast a wary look toward the outer office. “I’ll stick around for a while just in case.”
“Really, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Besides, here’s Ensign Kim.
He’ll be here.”
Neelix wasn’t reassured, as he suddenly realized Kes was wearing one of her nicest outfits. She always looked beautiful, but he’d told her many times that this dress brought out the blue of her eyes and the blush of her cheek. Why had she chosen to wear it today? She had been spending quite a bit of time lately with that young officer….
Ensign Kim glanced into the examining room. “I’m here to pick up your chemical requests.”
“I just finished gathering the latest readings,” Kes told him with a smile, putting away the regenerator. Neelix was even more convinced he ought to stay for a bit. He trusted Kes to the ends of everything, but even nice young men could start to get ideas around such a gorgeous creature.
“Are you going?” Kim asked him.
Neelix narrowed his eyes, sliding off the table. “No. I won’t be in the way.”
Kim shrugged as he turned to the doctor. “According to my latest report, the erratic impulses are continuing, and we’re still experiencing major system malfunctions.”
“The anesthetic doesn’t seem to be having effect,” the doctor agreed, preoccupied with the data Kes had given him. “Except for starving the neural tissue.”
Kim whistled when he saw the numbers. “If we adjust the nutrient any more, we won’t have a problem—we also won’t have an optical data network.”
“This is quite perplexing,” the doctor agreed.
Neelix frowned as Kim shifted closer to Kes, pointing something out on the monitor. “Look at that. What if this is latent addition?
Supposedly, a subthreshold shock can affect the core conduits without causing a direct impulse. But if subthreshold shocks are repeatedly applied, the cumulative affect is shock artifact—indistinguishable from a stimulating impulse.”
“What’s providing the energy for these subthreshold shocks?” Kes asked.
“Maybe it’s the inherent energy flowing through the ODN. It could be stimulating the neural tissue until it builds into one these shock artifacts.”
“Maybe you should stick to technical manuals,” the doctor advised dryly. “And leave the diagnosis to me.”
Kim shut his mouth, his brows drawing together at the doctor’s preemptory tone. Neelix wondered if the placid ensign was finally going to give someone a piece of his mind, even if it was only a holograph.
But Kes quickly drew their attention to another part of the analysis.
“According to this, the transmissions are no longer polarized, allowing impulses to travel both ways through the conduits.”
Kim nodded. “That must be one reason we’re getting delays. When an echo meets an opposing signal, they cancel each other out.”
Zimmerman sharply brought his hands together, making Neelix jump.
“Echoes! That sounds like phantom pain.”
“What’s that?” Kim asked.
“Basically,” the doctor told him, “it’s an illusion experienced by amputees involving sensations in limbs that are actually missing.”
Neelix stared at the doctor. “What are you talking about? What amputees?”
Kes was nodding. “Phantom pain occurs when the severed ends of the nerves continue to be stimulated, just as the ODN continues to react as if it’s receiving impulses from the processor.”
“How?” Kim asked, finally getting a word in edgewise.
“The phenomenon occurs in the sympathetic nervous system… I mean to say, there’s a reflexively activated cell in the spinal cord…”
Zimmerman trailed off, shaking his head. “What was I saying?”
“You were explaining phantom pain,” Kes reminded him.
“Oh, yes, phantom pain… one of the mysteries of the medical world for centuries. Paskallon did an entire series on nerve tissue response in 2246.”
Neelix shook his head. “Is there another medical program you can call up?”
“Don’t I wish,” Kim told him. “This is the only one.”
“This a complicated biophysical phenomenon!” Zimmerman snapped at both of them.
“The point is,” Kes said patiently. “We can try an effector inhibitor, which will destroy the impulse during transmission.”
“I get it—just like the enzymes in the bionutrient,” Kim agreed.
“They destroy the chemical compound that transmits the impulse, keeping the effect localized. Perhaps we can enhance one of those.”
“I don’t get it,” Neelix said, but the others ignored him.
The doctor was consulting his monitor as if nothing untoward had happened. “There are biogenic amines, such as noradrenaline, adrenaline, isoprenaline, and dopamine. Their chemical base is very similar to the nerve gas that was used against the crew.”
“Good, then at least we know there’s supplies readily available.”
Kim considered the long list of possible compounds. “Which one should we use?”
“Which…” The doctor scrolled through, seemingly at a loss.
“Drugs that produce synaptic and effector blockade. Ammonium compounds, as well as ether, nicotine in high concentration.
Reserpine, inhibits monoamine oxidase. Guanethidine, combats high blood pressure and prevents the release of transmitter.
Ergot alkaloids block the alpha receptor directly at the sites, as well as thymoxamine. Also Pranolol…”
“Which one?” Kim asked again, more insistent.
The doctor froze, his eyes fixed and his mouth curled as if ready to speak.
“I think you overloaded him,” Neelix offered.
“That keeps happening,” Kes said. “He’ll snap out of it in a moment.”
The holograph flickered, disappearing from the chair, and appearing in the middle of the room as if his program had just been activated.
“Please state the nature of the medical emergency!” Zimmerman demanded. It reminded Neelix of the way he used to act, before Kes had talked him into being more human.
Kes touched his arm. “We were working on an effector inhibitor for the computer.”
“I am not a technician,” the doctor instantly replied. “For computer repair, please consult the engineering department.”
“He’s a goner,” Neelix told them. “Better get someone else to help you.”
“Access your special memory file,” Kim suggested. “We’ve explained this situation to you already.”
The doctor was starting to look confused again.
Kes patted his arm. “Relax, there’s been computer malfunctions and they’re interfering with your systems—” “We don’t have time for this!”
Kim exclaimed. He pushed himself up, almost knocking over the chair.
“Hey, don’t talk that way to Kes.” Neelix shifted as if to protect her.
“It’s important to reassure concussion victims,” Kes tried to tell Kim, shifting to see past Neelix. “Their mental confusion can aggravate the situation.”
“Frankly, his situation isn’t the priority here!” Kim almost shouted.
“That’s enough—” Neelix started to say.
But Kes interrupted him. “Wait, dear.” She turned to Kim.
“Something else is the matter, isn’t it?”
Kim stopped and stared at Kes. “How did you know?”
“You don’t usually get this upset about things,” Kes told him.
Neelix wondered just how well Kes knew this man.
“You’re right,” Kim sighed. “I’ve been analyzing the information I got from the Cartel computer, and I’m afraid the captain and B’Elanna are in trouble. I’ve found evidence that links Andross to every one of the other computer thefts—for some reason, he’s been disabling ships for the past year.”
“Why would he do that?” Neelix asked.
“I’m not sure,” Kim said, with an edge of irritation. “That’s why I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to see Chakotay and finish my analysis—except that the chemical supplier is going to return any minute, and we have to know what compounds we need.”
Kes nodded, sitting down at the monitor. “These are the ones the doctor was considering. Let me see which might work best with our system.” After a few moments, she picked up a tricorder, entering one of the chemical formulas. “Reserpine. It inhibits monoamine oxidase, but it’s a less brutal drug than the others.
We don’t want to completely stop the transmission of impulses.”
“Reserpine it is, then.” Kim seemed relieved, taking the tricorder.
“I’m off to see the commander now.”
Neelix wasn’t sure he liked the way Kim smiled at Kes on his way out.
“Are you sure he’s as innocent as he looks?”
The doctor snapped to attention, turning uncomprehending eyes their way. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency!”
Neelix threw up his hands. “Has everyone gone crazy, or is it just me?”
Kes patted his arm sympathetically. “It’s just you, dear.”
“How far is it? Janeway asked, leaning over Andross’s shoulder as he piloted the aircar. Several of the moons cast a silvery glow across the sky, but the lights of the Seat were much more brilliant, sprawling as far as the eye could see in every direction. Only the hilltops and crevices of the vast plain were left dark and untouched by the interlinking complexes.
“There, in the communications tower,” Andross pointed. “Your computer was being installed as an auxiliary processor for the network control of the Seat.”
The tower rose on the horizon, its bulbous top ringed by a series of purple lights. The long, slender neck flared at the base, with the structural framework exposed in cleanly functional lines, reminding Janeway of a starship.
Getting there seemed to take an agonizing amount of time, yet she could tell that Andross was finally in a hurry from the way he was piloting the aircar. She was well aware that once again she’d been prevented from speaking with Fee. She could only hope that Andross was indeed taking them to Voyager’s processor, but she wouldn’t know that until she’d actually touched it with her own hands.
Andross had enough authority to get them immediately admitted into the tower. As the lift carried them to the upper levels, Janeway was almost on her toes from anticipation. Torres was chewing on a thumbnail, her other arm wrapped around her stomach in an effort to keep still.
When the door opened onto a round room, Janeway first noticed the main computer control terminal with a series of interactive panels. A woman was working frantically over the monitors, and she hardly acknowledged their arrival except to cast an urgent look at Andross. Without a word, the agent gave her a cautioning gesture, before moving on.
As they circled the computer network facility, Torres kept bumping her tool case into the back of Janeway’s legs in her haste.
“There it is.”
The familiar gray casing of Voyager’s computer was wedged between two unfamiliar processing units. Their processor looked smaller than Janeway remembered—hardly bigger than the table in Voyager’s conference room—yet it was responsible for coordinating all the activity within the three levels of the main computer core. Right now, it rested on half a dozen hydraulic pillars with readouts at their base.
“It looks intact.” Yet Janeway’s hands clenched at that sight of the ragged metal edges where it had been cut from the bulkheads.
“What idiot thought this up?” Torres demanded, pushing past Janeway.
“You can’t integrate these systems!”
The Tutopan straightened up from the main control terminal. She was a spare, no-nonsense sort of woman, well into middle age.
“As a network analyzer, that unit is compatible.”
Torres knelt down next to the readouts in the hydraulic support.
“I don’t know who you are, but according to your own interface, this unit isn’t compatible.”
Andross waved a hand at the technician. “This is Prog. She’s been supervising the installation.”
Torres unclamped the maintenance panel, checking the clusters of registers and operational circuits through the containment field.
“None of the hardware seems to have been tampered with. Subspace field generators are on-line, and the nanoprocessor units are engaged. But all functions are locked.”
“Obviously, our processor isn’t suitable for your needs,” Janeway told Andross as evenly as she could. “Disconnect it immediately.”
“Impossible,” Prog said for him. “The translation program is currently loading. To interrupt would confirm systems failure in that unit, and it might initiate a cascade failure throughout the communications network. We’ll have to wait until the program has completed its routines.”
Janeway drew in her breath. “Where is the converter? Or have you created a direct interface?”
“The translation is carried through the assemblers supporting the unit, it’s not a conversion function.” Prog hardly looked up from her monitors.
Janeway moved in next to Torres. “That means the operating system was left intact.”
“That’s one thing we don’t have to worry about.” Torres quickly opened the tool case. In one corner was a portable interface normally used for subprocessor maintenance. “Will it work on the main processor?
There’s no access port.”
“You’ll need to manually splice into an input line.”
Andross stepped forward. “What are you planning to do?”
“We’ll try to use this unit to access the operating system of the processor.”
Andross checked with Prog. When she nodded, clearly desperate for any help she could get, he agreed. “Give it a try.”
“I almost didn’t bring it,” Torres said, preparing the interface unit.
“I didn’t expect anyone to try to install the processor.”
She glared up at Andross who was hovering over her shoulder.
“Would you back off? You’re making me nervous.”
Janeway could understand why she felt that way. Both Andross and Prog were as jittery as she’d ever seen Tutopans, but then again, if the processor was capable of causing a failure of the Seat communications network, that could be reason enough for them to panic.
“Maybe we can tap the main input line,” Janeway suggested, moving around to the rear of the module. “We’ll have to take the casing off so we can see what we’ve got to work with. Do you have a cutting tool we can use?”
Andross fetched a laser himself, handling it gingerly, as if he was afraid it might go off accidentally. Janeway found the tool so simple to operate that she concluded Andross was one of those beings who was not mechanically inclined. She remembered what Hamilt had said about Andross’s mismanagement of his “holdings,” and wondered if he was a member of the Tutopan version of aristocracy. Whatever he was, he apparently wasn’t living up to his society’s expectations. She still didn’t trust him, but she had to admire his courage.