Today's Special by Darrel W. Beach May, 1997 Chapter 5 People left the mess hall happy and refreshed, having no idea of the mounting problems they all faced. The crews now on duty bustled off to work with anticipation and purpose, while the others made plans to visit the holodecks or elsewhere to burn off the raw energy coursing through their bloodstream. "You know, it's strange," Janeway commented. "I was really beat at the end of my shift, but now I feel like I could run a few laps around the ship. I should probably try harder not to skip meals so often." Commander Chakotay grinned. "I know what you mean. I guess there really is no substitute for getting a person going than a good home-cooked meal." The captain chuckled. "I guess not. I was thinking of commandeering one of the holodecks to take those laps. Care to join me, Commander?" "Well, it has been a while since I last did any running, but I'd love to join you." "What about you, Tuvok? Are you up for a little exercise?" "I appreciate the invitation, captain, but I have already made other plans for the evening." She could read from his expression that it was a personal matter. "I understand. Good night, lieutenant." The Vulcan officer nodded an unspoken note of gratitude. "Until tomorrow, captain. Commander." They watched as he departed down the corridor. "Well, commander, shall we go?" "Lead on, captain." "Well, it seems my original hypothesis was correct." Kes looked up at the Doctor's remark. With her current assignments completed and nothing else left to do, she had maintained a vigil at Tom's bedside, trying to comfort him when he was awake, monitoring his condition when he slept and administering additional hyposprays when required. It pained her to see such a dear friend suffering needlessly. "What have you found, Doctor?" He beckoned her over to his terminal. "On a hunch I decided to run additional analyses on the medical information on other life-forms native to the Delta Quadrant, based on previous medical reports and transporter logs. It appears that all species known to us so far all have a particular enzyme that effectively blocks the absorption of garvola into the bloodstream. Also, this enzyme is not present in Humans, Vulcans, Bajorans, and the other races of people on board. My results just might be clear evidence of evolutionary environmental adaptation. This would make a fascinating paper." "Would it possible to produce a synthetic enzyme to inoculate the crew?" she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation back on track. "It should be possible," the hologram replied uncertainly. "However, even if it is possible, it won't counteract the garvola already ingested - it will only prevent people from absorbing more of it. What we need to do is find an agent that will bring their neurochemicals back into equilibrium. I'm not even sure if we can do that." "I have faith in you to find a cure, Doctor. You've proven yourself before to have the ability of finding solutions to difficult problems, and you can do it again." The young Ocampa's words bolstered his confidence. "Let's see what we can uncover with the simulation, shall we?" Kes smiled. "Right away, Doctor. Computer, access simulation model Gamma Three Zero and display on this terminal." A wire-frame schematic of a humanoid body appeared on the computer terminal. The Doctor immediately took over. "Computer, based on the mass amount of garvola extracted from biological sample 7431-Alpha, display a record of physiological reactions on the simulation model across an eighteen hour period, in thirty minute intervals. Limit to central nervous system and brain activity only." "Working." The computer silently churned through the numbers and equations. Several minutes later the results spewed out on the display. The Doctor carefully scrutinized the long list of data generated, scrolling down page after page of information. "Using the standard humanoid biological template as a baseline, extrapolate curves from the collected data representing neurotransmitter levels. Tag set time-data points with possible observable physiological reactions." "Working." Again, after several minutes of number crunching the display flickered. Several graphs were drawn showing irregularly shaped, damped sinusoidal curves, each graph representing a different neurotransmitter. At various points throughout each graph were labelled points. "Ah, this is interesting," The Doctor commented. "Computer, narrow display parameters to graphs with significant deviation from baseline, minimum 15% deviation." Several of the graphs disappeared. The remaining graphs expanded to fill the unoccupied space. "So far this appear to follow what we are seeing with Lieutenant Paris; the absorbed garvola is altering the production of acetylcholine, serotonin, dopamine and endorphins. The subject first experiences feelings of euphoria and heightened sensitivity and awareness. However, when the garvola starts to dissipate, here," he said, pointing to an intersection marker, "the subject experiences withdrawal symptoms - fatigue, irrationality and increased appetite. Fortunately, the subject appears to make a complete recovery with prolonged absence to the herb." "All that, based on one exposure," Kes pointed out with fascination and concern. "What happens if the subject ingests more of the garvola?" "We'll soon find out," the hologram answered. "Computer, reset simulation to time zero, then repeat previous test for a sixty hour period. Chart physiological reactions to garvola ingested repeatedly at eight hour intervals. Display curves according to current parameters." "Working. Requested computations will take twenty minutes to complete." Kes took the opportunity to check up on Tom's condition and to grab a bit of dinner. The Doctor moved to another terminal to begin work on a remedy. When Kes returned he was back at the simulation model studying the results of the test. He looked even more solemn than normal. "What did you find, Doctor?" "Bad news, I'm afraid," he replied, not bothering to turn his attention away from the screen. "It seems that Mr. Neelix has unintentionally subjected the crew to an addictive substance. The new graphs show that the subject's body builds up a tolerance to the garvola; each time the subject ingests the herb, its effects are less potent and diminish more rapidly. To maintain the strength and duration of their emotional 'high' the subject will increase the amount of garvola ingested, which the garvola accomplishes by triggering an intense hunger sensation the subject is compelled to satiate. Unfortunately, increased dosage leads to more severe withdrawal symptoms once the body's tolerance adjusts, which the subject counters by increasing the dosage, which leads to more severe withdrawals, and so on. The cycle continues until the brain literally burns itself out, killing the subject." "That's terrible," exclaimed the shocked assistant. "That's not the half of it," the hologram continued. "According to these graphs the subject's tolerance increases exponentially with the amount of garvola consumed. If the rate of consumption continues according to the simulation, the entire crew will be dead within the next forty-eight hours. I'm afraid there's only one thing we can do to help them." He punched his commbadge. "Sickbay to Neelix." "Neelix here." "Mr. Neelix, it is imperative that you dispose of all garvola supplies immediately." "Understood, Doctor. Neelix out." Neelix closed the channel, an immense feeling of relief washing over him. He had already gone back to the cargo bay to get more of the garvola. Now it was simply taking the entire supply back to the galley. He had been considering the issue of getting rid of it all evening; the only idea that would have the highest rate of success and the least chance of raising suspicions was to incinerate the plants in the oven. The fire safeties had been disengaged in his kitchen - it was just a matter of cranking up the plasma flow. Chakotay found himself waking up in the middle of the night from stomach cramps. It was unusual for something like this to happen, normally being such a sound sleeper. Perhaps he was coming down with a virus, the only question being how he contracted it. He felt his forehead to find a temperature but couldn't tell. Shakily he sat up and checked the chronometer. It was 0247. He certainly didn't feel ill; if anything, he was just really hungry. Yet somehow that bothered him - he did know of alien viruses that caused even more bizarre symptoms. A trip to Sickbay would probably be a wise precaution. He slipped on a robe and staggered out of his room. He squinted and rubbed his eyes as he walked to the turbolift; he couldn't tell if his fuzzy vision was a result of the brighter light of the corridor or his lingering sleepiness. Stepping out onto Deck 2, Chakotay headed straight for Sickbay. However, as he approached the mess hall his pace slowly dwindled to a stop. It was hard to say why he stopped - he seemed to be hooked by something in the air. It took him a moment to register the bouquet of scorched garvola. His stomach rumbled as if indicating it recognized the smell also and reminding him how hungry he felt. He couldn't see the harm of taking a quick peek into the galley's pantry before reporting to Sickbay, so he entered. The garvola perfume was definitely heavier in the galley, mixed with the burnt smell. Chakotay coughed reflexively at first but quickly adapted to the particulate atmosphere. He searched through the countertops and storage spaces looking for something to stave his hunger, but anything he found didn't appeal to him. After a five minute search he gave up - and oddly enough he didn't feel quite as hungry as before. He left the galley and resumed his trip to Sickbay. All he saw when he entered was Lt. Paris asleep on one the biobeds, and he remembered hearing about Tom's near collapse in the mess hall that afternoon. By the looks of it, though, he wasn't as sick as the claims made him out to be. "Computer, activate the emergency medical hologram." The EMH shimmered into existence. "Commander, what brings you here at such an unusual hour?" "I was woken up by my stomach - for some strange reason I had this incredible urge to get something to eat. It's possible I might be infected with some sort of virus." The Doctor trained his tricorder on the first officer as if uninterested by the conjecture. "I wouldn't get your hopes up, Commander." His eyes widened with surprise as he read the information from the tricorder. "I'm showing traces of garvola in your bloodstream!" If he hadn't been rattled by his earlier remark, Chakotay was now totally stumped by this last remark. "I, uh, suppose so. I just stopped by the mess hall before coming here. I was looking for something to eat but I couldn't find anything." The expression of shock and panic on The Doctor's face made Chakotay think he might have a heart attack, if holograms had the capacity to have heart attacks. "You found garvola in the mess hall?" "Actually, no, I couldn't find a trace of it, but the air was pretty heavily scented with it." Chakotay explained. The Doctor relaxed visibly. "If I may be so bold, Doctor, what is going on here?" "I suppose you have a right to know," he relented. "With thanks to Lieutenant Paris, I discovered that the crew has become physiologically addicted to the garvola Mr. Neelix has been serving you." Chakotay couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?" The Doctor sighed. "Come, commander, sit down. This is going to take some explaining."