The following presentation is rated G.
The galley of the starship Voyager appeared at first glance the
very model of still and quiet. The evening meal had come and gone, and in
similar fashion so did the stalwart, if hapless crewmen that drove the
Intrepid class vessel through the inky black of unknown space. With the
sterile white lights and the chairs tucked neatly under the dining tables,
the room bore an uncanny resemblance to the austere spaces of Sickbay. Had
anyone actually been in the room, they would have marvelled at the absolute
silence. That is, until the calamitous explosion of clattering burst forth
from the kitchen.
Neelix chided himself for his carelessness, despite the cumbersome
number of containers he carried in. It was just an excuse to alleviate
himself of frustration, garnered by the day's events. Once again there
were complaints about the quality of the food he'd prepared; many a tray
had been left behind practically untouched or unceremoniously dumped into
the reclamator unit. He felt aggrieved in response to their rudeness and
cruel humour about his abilities to cook. Their problem was that their
palates had grown too soft, unused to anything that didn't come from a
replicator. They reminded him too much of the neighbour's children he grew
up with on Talax - the fussiest, most spoiled brats he ever knew.
For a brief moment, Neelix contemplated hanging up his apron for
good, and let them discover for themselves how much they needed his
erstwhile contribution. But Kes' image visited him like a spectre of
conscience, speaking of how ashamed he should be for turning his back on
those who had given them a reprieve in life. In his heart, Neelix knew his
conscience was right; Captain Janeway had been more than gracious in
allowing them to stay, when he and the Ocampa girl would have otherwise
most certainly ended up doddering through space like a pair of galactic
vagabonds, scavenging a meagre and troubled existence. No, he owed the
captain too much to start behaving inconsiderate now.
By a sudden flash of inspiration he thought of the perfect course
of action. A mere four days ago they had stopped by an uninhabited yet
fertile planet to investigate Ensign Kim's long-range scans of trace
dilithium deposits. What they found was less than encouraging: the samples
mined out were too unrefined to be of much use, even after running it
through Lt. Torres' makeshift processor. However, the stop did not prove
to be altogether unproductive; they were able to farm out some useful metal
ores, and Neelix managed to augment their food supply with a variety of new
produce and roughage. He hadn't planned on dipping into the new stock just
yet, as he preferred to use up the older supplies before they spoiled, but
at the moment he felt it necessary, so as to improve the crew's morale, to
prepare a menu that everyone would truly appreciate.
Taking a quick trip down to the cargo bay, Neelix sorted through
the large selection of newly acquired foods to experiment with: swamp
lettuce, valley tomatoes, spiny mushrooms, Polbog spring moss, mocret, wild
stem-weeds, various tubers and roots. He also gathered a garvola plant, a
real bonus acquisition from the excursion. Garvola was known to be one of
the more sought after herbs in the quadrant, reputed for its unique bouquet
and flavour. If anything could turn the officers back into his favour, the
garvola would be the vehicle.
Thus it had come to be that Neelix trotted back from the cargo bay
to the mess hall, clearly carrying too many containers to handle securely.
Picking up the fallen vessel and rebuffing the reflective metal surface,
Neelix stacked it with the others and decided to call it an evening. The
sooner he retired, the quicker morning would arrive, and he was anxious to
try out the many recipes that were spinning about in his head.
By now the scene was familiar to those who wandered in for the
morning course: a plethora of unknown dishes either sizzling in pans or
simmering in pots, dispersing a cacophonous combination of aromas
throughout the mess hall. In the centre of it all was the bustling, bubbly
Talaxian dispensing hot meals and pleasant conversation amid his
ministrations in the kitchen.
Neelix had been up and at work since four in the morning, nearly
too anxious to have obtained any sleep during the night. The nervous
energy had been put to good use, however; in addition to preparing the
breakfast menu, he busied himself by getting a head start on the new
recipes. A few strands of mocret, a few handfuls of spiny mushrooms and
Sorbosian eel meat, a few other ingredients and some spices - the makings
of an exotic Sorbosian gumbo. He could toss up a salad using the lettuce,
tomatoes, a few radishes and the spring moss. The garvola herbs were being
dried out under a filament and wouldn't be ready for use until lunch, but
they would be the perfect seasoning for the salad dressing. Today's lunch
was going to blow them all away.
Neelix was just about done mixing the garvola salad dressing when
the first signs of the lunch crowd began to trickle into the mess hall.
The Sorbosian gumbo was simmering contentedly away on a hot plate, casting
off a thick musky odour. "Ah, Mr. Carey! A pleasure to see you, as always!"
"Hello, Neelix," the engineer replied politely. He sniffed the air
with interest. "Something back there smells good; what's on the menu?"
The chef grinned from ear to ear. "I'm so glad you asked, Mr. Carey. Come on back here and let me show you."
Carey hesitated. An invitation into Neelix's kitchen was a clear
indication that something was up, but it would be rude to reject his
request.
Neelix led him over to the simmering pot. "Oh, I think you're
going to enjoy this, lieutenant. I've prepared a few new dishes I'm
confident that the crew will
absolutely love, but just to be sure I was hoping you could try them out
and give me your opinion on them."
A spark of fear flashed in the lieutenant's eyes for a moment.
Fortunately, Neelix wasn't looking at him at the time; Carey managed to
cover up the expression. One always had to be wary when Neelix came up
with something new. He was getting better, mind you, but there was always
a sense of dread when it came to being Neelix's culinary guinea pig.
Neelix held up a big spoon in front of him, pointing out the new entree.
"This is the Sorbosian gumbo, made with my choicest cuts of Sorbosian eel.
I think the spiny mushrooms and the mocret compliment the black tubers very
well, and the spik basil and sea salt add a bit of character."
Carey swirled the spoon around in the gumbo and scooped out a
portion. He wasn't sure quite what to make of it when he shoved the spoon
into his mouth: the meat definitely had a woody flavour to it, but it was
offset well by the other ingredients. The tubers had a faintly sweet
savour, and the seasonings added a bit of spice to the mix, but somehow it
didn't seem quite right. "It's not bad," he said at last. "Maybe a little
bland, though - I thought gumbos were supposed to be very spicy dishes."
Neelix filed that note away for future reference and directed the
engineer to the salad. "Now you can't go wrong with a salad, as my mother
used to say. This salad is made up of fresh swamp lettuce, Polbog spring
moss, and stem-weeds, garnished with diced valley tomatoes and radishes for
texture. And for dressing, a light solution made with garvola herbs,
tessok egg yolks, Ollan brine water, and a few other secret ingredients."
The engineer lifted the fork with trepidation. However, he was
shocked by the incredible burst of flavour that greeted his taste buds.
"This - this is unbelievable, Neelix! I mean, it's absolutely wonderful!
I've never tasted anything quite like this before. I can't quite put my
finger on it, though."
The Talaxian grinned mirthfully. "Ah - that would probably be the
garvola. I feel very fortunate that we even managed to find some. It's a
herb widely known for it's unique and tantalizing savour, but it's not a
common find in this sector. Garvola plants are also an extremely valuable
commodity in the trade markets, so we can use them for barter if we're in
need for other supplies or materials."
"I can see why," said a euphoric Lt. Carey, a slightly glassy look
in his eyes. "It seems to make the food come alive in my mouth - there's
really no adequate way to describe what I'm experiencing."
Neelix folded his arms over his chest in a fait accompli, the smile
on his face growing broader by the moment. It was the reaction he was
anticipating since last night, and he fully expected it to be a precursor
of things to come. There would be only one thing left to do before the
lunch rush hit: grabbing the jar of herbs, Neelix dispensed three heaping
teaspoons into the big pot of gumbo, hoping that would be enough to really
spice up the works.
If it were possible, it could be said that his expectations were
exceeded. Every person that came in raved about lunch, and not one person
complained about either the salad or the gumbo.
Probably for the first time since he became the ship's cook, there were no leftovers to be found.
The officers left the mess hall feeling energized. Everything
around them appeared more vibrant and colourful. Life was good; things
were finally starting to turn for the better on this little lost vessel.
Gone were the territorial Kazon and the Vidiian forayers. Behind them were
the arrogant and pretentious Voth. And now Neelix had produced a truly
appreciable meal , which was something everybody had to know about. Word
about Neelix's lunch was passed on to every person encountered in the
passageways between the mess hall and their destinations. Work resumed
with a new vigour.
Tom Paris practically bounced in his seat for four solid hours,
checking sensors, plotting course corrections with enthusiasm, and
responding to orders in a bright cheerful manner. His behaviour certainly
was not lost on Captain Janeway. She wondered what could have been
responsible for the pilot's zealousness.
Her opportunity to question him came at the end of the shift. She
followed him into the turbolift. "Well, Mr. Paris, you've certainly been
full of spit and vinegar this afternoon." If she didn't know any better,
she'd sworn that he was startled, as if he hadn't noticed her presence in
the lift before now.
"I suppose you could say that." His hands fidgeted. "I guess
Neelix's lunch had plenty of vitamins in it today. I felt quite
invigorated by it."
"Really?" Janeway remarked. "I've heard a few others talk about it
as well. It must have been one heck of a lunch."
Tom seemed to light up like a filament. "Oh, you really missed
something fantastic, captain! I mean, this Sorbosian gumbo is like nothing
you've ever had before. I don't know how he did it, but Neelix finally
came up with something good. You have to try it."
The captain was intrigued by the lieutenant's accolades; Tom Paris
wasn't exactly the biggest fan of Neelix's cooking. If he gave the
Talaxian's food a good review, then it had to be really good. She'd have
to find out if Neelix had any leftover Sorbosian gumbo to sample.
"I'm terribly sorry, captain, the gumbo was really popular this
afternoon." The Talaxian was insufferably apologetic over not anticipating
this occurrence. "However, I think you'd enjoy the Tyssic ghoti just as
much. If you'll allow me...." He sliced off a corner and dipped it into a
thin wine-coloured sauce, and handed the fork to Janeway.
Her eyes widened with surprise as she processed the morsel. "This
is marvellous!"
"The secret's in the Havian red sauce. I substituted ground
powdered garvola herb for the Cazzian dill. I never thought the Cazzian
dill was right for that sauce anyway."
"Well, it looks like your intuition paid off, Neelix," she
complimented, sopping up a bit of the sauce with a pinkie finger and
licking it clean. "It really is extraordinary."
As the captain left the counter with her tray, B'Elanna Torres
entered the room with Lt. Carey in tow. B'Elanna appeared slightly edgy;
Carey looked haggard.
"I can't believe how hungry I am. I wonder if Neelix has any of
that gumbo left?" the half-Klingon questioned.
Carey sniffed the air, catching the aroma of the Havian red sauce.
"Well, whatever he's cooking, it sure smells good. Ah, for the love of God." He pressed his hand up against his temple.
She turned to face Carey. "Carey, what's wrong? You look
terrible."
"Ah, I've got a slight headache. Probably just stress, trying too
hard to figure out how to increase the efficiency of the shield generators
with a minimal impact on power consumption. I'll probably feel better once
I get something to eat."
She frowned with concern. "Well, perhaps you should visit the
doctor later anyway."
"I said I'll be fine." he argued, a bit more emphatically.
The chief engineer started. "Okay, fine, whatever."
In the meantime, Captain Janeway decided to dine in the company of
Tuvok. It had been a while since she last visited with her good dear
friend. "Hello, Tuvok. Mind if I join you?"
Tuvok nodded and indicated a spot facing him. "By all means,
captain."
"Thank you." She made herself comfortable and spread out the
dishes on her tray. "So, Tuvok, what have you been up to lately?"
"I have been engaged in many tasks. Currently I am attempting to
cross-pollinate Vulcan orchids with Fennellite fire-dancers, which is
proving to be quite a challenge."
"That's sounds fascinating. I'd love to see them when you're done."
"Certainly, captain. I would be honoured to show them to you."
Janeway savoured another morsel of the Tyssic ghoti. "I still
can't get over how wonderful this tastes. Have you tried it yet, Tuvok?"
"Indeed I have," the Vulcan answered. "I must admit, the
sensations it produces is rather remarkable."
Thus was the scenario at many tables that evening; the dramatic
change in opinion over Neelix's cooking was a hot topic of conversation as
people summarily cleaned up every last scrap of food in the galley.
Everyone seemed to leave on an endorphin high, none more so than Neelix
himself. He trotted off to the airponics bay in phenomenally good spirits
to gather more of the garvola plant. With the herb as popular as it was,
he had a lot of preparation ahead of him to make sure he didn't run out as
quickly as he had today.
However, unlike Neelix, a lot of people were having a great of
difficulty getting a good night's sleep at 2200 hours. In many a cabin
people were suffering from restlessness and headaches - what you might
expect when ingesting caffeine before going to bed. When the next morning
arrived, there were a lot of irritable, hungry crewmen stumbling their way
to breakfast.
"Harry," groaned Lt. Paris. "I'd say 'good morning' but I'm having
trouble finding what's good about it."
"I know what you mean - you look about as good as I feel. You have
trouble getting to sleep too?"
"Are you kidding? I slept like a baby," he retorted. "Of course,
you know how babies sleep - they wake up every two hours screaming."
"You must not be feeling that bad after all, if you can still make
jokes," the ensign shot back.
The turbolift doors popped open and they piled in. B'Elanna Torres
was leaning against the wall, appearing in a similar condition to the rest
of the passengers.
"Gee, looks like we weren't the only ones to lose our fight with
the sandman last night," Tom observed.
"Shut up, Paris," she grumbled. "I'm in no mood for your
bantering. My head hurts, I can't see clearly, and I feel like I'm going
to die of hunger."
Tom remained silent for the remainder of the trip and clutched his
stomach. Her remark made him contemplate how hollow he himself felt. He
never felt this hungry in the morning.
As they poured out into the corridor on Deck 2 the morning aromas
greeted them. Just the smell of the food seemed to perk them up. "Mmm,
that smells good," Harry commented.
There were a greater number of people in the mess hall than usual
at this time of the morning, which was a bit unusual. There was also a
considerable line-up of people - Tom noted - looking in a familiar state of
disrepair. It was enough to get his attention.
"So, what have you got for us this morning, Neelix?" Torres asked
when they reached the head of the line.
"Just your traditional breakfast this morning, lieutenant:
scrambled eggs, Pellian sausage and toast. Enjoy!" the Talaxian cheered,
handing her a plate.
The three found a table after a moment of searching and sat down to
eat. Tom scooped up an amount of the eggs and popped it into his mouth.
His brows creased with uncertainty as he chewed; there was a certain
bitterness that he thought he was familiar to him, but he couldn't place
it. At any rate, he was already feeling much better than he had a minute
ago; his headache slowly ebbed away and he felt refreshed and alert.
Harry noticed the quizzical expression. "Something wrong with your
breakfast, Tom?" He sounded and looked stronger than before as well.
"I don't know," he said after a moment's pause. "Do your eggs
taste kind of funny to you?"
Ensign Kim gave him an odd look and tried another bite of the eggs. "No, not really."
"They seem okay to me," Torres added. "You know, I think my
headache's going away."
Tom shrugged it off and continued eating, but the flavour still
nagged at him. When they had finished, he'd made up his mind. "You two go
on ahead, I have something to take care of first." He broke off and
strolled back up to the galley window, where Neelix was still serving
breakfast. "Hey, Neelix, exactly what kind of eggs did you use to make
breakfast. I thought they tasted familiar."
"They should be familiar," he answered, slightly confounded by the
question. "They're Jibbalian eggs. I use them all the time."
Jibbalian eggs! That's why they seemed so familiar Tom clued in. But I usually can't eat them unless I smother them with ketchup, yet
today I didn't use any condiments. "If I may ask, Neelix, how did you
make them today?"
Neelix grinned sheepishly and delivered a surrendering gesture.
"Okay, you found me out. I seasoned the eggs with some garvola. Everyone
seems to like it so much, I thought it wouldn't hurt. I didn't hear anyone
complaining about the eggs - until you, that is."
Tom looked surprised. "What? Neelix - no, I'm not complaining. I
was just curious." But now his suspicions were raised. Could it be a
coincidence, how Harry, B'Elanna and I all feel like hell one minute and
the cat's meow the next after eating Neelix's breakfast? I'd better keep
watch on this. Something just doesn't sit right in my gut, and it's more
than the eggs.
He could feel the hum of electricity across the surface of his
skin, that fuzzy warm feeling tickling at the edges of his awareness.
Somehow he managed to keep it from overtaking him completely, concentrating
his efforts on his vigil of the rest of the bridge crew. One thing was for
certain, though: he didn't like what he was seeing, not one bit.
Throughout the course of the morning, it was evident that a large
majority of the bridge was behaving abnormally. The captain, when she
wasn't pacing around the bridge pestering the other officers, sat in her
chair wringing her hands constantly or chatted up the quality of Neelix's
meals in her hushed conversations with Chakotay. Harry, like many other
officers on the bridge, fussed at his station with even more enthusiasm
than normal, seemingly oblivious to other things around him. It was harder
to tell if Chakotay and Tuvok were affected or if their normally calm
collected behaviours suppressed the overt mannerisms - the only sign that
might indicate that Tuvok was affected was the facial tick that he
occasionally observed.
Everything reminded him of the Addies back at the penal colony - or
rather, it was the stories he remembered most more than anything, as he
hadn't actually become closely acquainted with them. Addies were inmates
who had become dependent on stimulant drugs to remain physically
functional. Their dependencies became crucial to the point that they would
commit crimes to satisfy their cravings. They would be sent to the minimal
security penal colonies to be treated, but the stories were that the
inmates never fully overcame the effects of their habits, by no fault of
the rehabilitation staff; even with current medical technology, some drug
dependencies still couldn't be completely eradicated. Addies would slink
around the compound exhibiting trace withdrawal symptoms such as muscle
tremors, gauntness and loss of appetite, or inflamed nasal passages. He
could recall a time during lunch when he sat by some scrawny guy who kept
rubbing his nose and snuffling constantly. While at the time he thought
the guy just didn't know how to use a handkerchief, it might have possible
that he was an Addie.
It was quite possible that the crew was being affected by this
garvola as some kind of stimulant. He didn't have any advanced medical
training to make that discernment, but he was aware that some plants and
herbs could be used for medicinal purposes. It stood to reason that if
synthetic drugs administered incorrectly could cause deleterious reactions
in patients, these plants could produce similar reactions. Sometime
between 1100 and 1130 hours Tom began to notice a decline in mood on the
bridge. People became more subdued in behaviour - less cheerful, sluggish,
tired and stressed. He also became aware of his own emotional state
dropping, along with the reoccurrence of physiological symptoms: headaches,
blurred vision, jittery hands. It couldn't be just a coincidence - and it
was definitely something of which the captain should be made aware.
"Captain, request permission to speak to you in private."
"Hm? Oh, certainly, lieutenant. You have the bridge, commander,"
she replied sullenly, escorting the pilot to her stateroom. He could see
how her stiff professional manner had already been eroded; it made him
worry about every member on board and the situation they were all faced
with.
Janeway slid lazily into the chair behind her desk. "Okay, Tom,
what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Captain, I've noticed some odd behaviour from some of the other
officers, including most of the bridge staff. Since the start of my shift,
people have gone from acting animated and obsessive to ill and defunct in a
matter of hours. I'm concerned that Neelix's cooking may be involved in
some way to these behaviours."
"I find that hard to believe, lieutenant," she countered. "We've
been eating Neelix's concoctions for almost three years now and we haven't
had any seriously adverse reactions to it."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it quite that way, captain. It's only been
occurring in the last day or two, since Neelix started putting garvola into
everything he makes."
Janeway continued to fight his reasoning. "Even if I did consider
that a possibility, we check all of our food supplies to make sure they're
safe to eat. Our scans would tell us if anything we collect is poisonous
or harmful to our systems."
"Well, maybe our scans weren't specific enough to identify the
problem or we simply aren't scanning for the right things. All I know is
that people are acting strange, including myself and you, captain."
"Me?" she sounded genuinely surprised.
Tom leaned further into the desk. "Captain, I saw how wired you
were earlier this morning, and now you look like you could use a nap or a
couple of aspirin."
Janeway smiled crookedly at the controller. "I look tired, Mr.
Paris, because I stayed up all last night to catch up on my paperwork. I
admit I shouldn't neglect that part of my duties as a Starfleet captain so
frequently, even if I do detest it. To keep myself awake I had Neelix brew
up some extra-strong coffee, which would probably then explain why I was so
wired this morning. What you think you're perceiving as a problem is
probably just a coincidence."
Tom had to insist. "But, captain, it's not -"
"Tom, as far as I'm concerned this discussion is closed. I thank
you for sharing your opinion but I really think you're looking for trouble
that doesn't exist. I am well aware of the tenuous relationship you have
with Neelix regarding his cooking ability - believe me, you're not the only
one. But he has improved over the last several months. It's time you
adjusted to it because, frankly, we might have live with it for a long time
yet. Now, since we're on the subject of food, I think it's about time for
lunch - I'm really hungry all of a sudden."
The growling in the pit of his stomach made Tom aware of how hungry
he was as well. Somehow, though, he didn't have much of an appetite.
The mess hall was starting to get crowded. Tom guessed that if
Neelix was using garvola in all of his cooking, chances were fairly good
the entire crew had been subjected to its side-effects. Between the
increasing pressure of his headache and the fierce rumblings of his
stomach, it was becoming more difficult to concentrate on a plan to remove
the garvola from Neelix's repertoire as his body fought to obtain the herb.
The fragrances coming from Neelix's kitchen were in his opinion sickening,
yet strangely compelling. He couldn't be sure what the Talaxian had made
but he surmised that the garvola was the reason why he was salivating.
"Neelix, what is that smell?" he choked out when he got close
enough to the head of the line. He could see a gray sludgy mass burping
noisily on the heating element. "You don't expect me to eat that, do you?
I feel bad enough already."
The cook eyed the lieutenant testily. "For your information, Mr.
Paris, that Golgoth broth was prepared for that very reason. There have
been a number of people coming in today complaining of illnesses of one
kind or another. My broth is chock full of nutritional and remedial needs;
I suppose you could call my version of your chicken soup."
Tom couldn't picture that oil-coloured goo being anything close to
chicken soup. He also didn't want to take the chance that the cook had
added the herb to the broth - it certainly wouldn't be helping many people
if he had. "Thanks anyway, Neelix, but I think I'll pass. Come to think
of it, I'm haven't got much of an appetite right now," he lied. "Have you
got any fruit or something simple I could munch on?"
"Well, I suppose I could toss up another swamp salad for you. I
still have some of that salad dressing left over -"
"Dressing won't be necessary, Neelix," Tom cut him short.
"Oh," he quipped with surprise. "Are you sure? The salad won't
have much character without the dressing."
"A plain salad will be just fine."
Neelix shrugged and fetched out the containers to prepare the
salad. Tom breathed a quiet sigh of relief, knowing he'd just made a
narrow escape.
He ate his lunch quietly, ignoring the odd looks from Harry,
B'Elanna and the others. The salad seemed incredibly bland to his palette,
but he wasn't sure if that was another side-effect of the garvola. His
body wasn't appreciating being denied its needs; his stomach groaned and
churned in an unsettling manner. Tom thought more than once as he chewed
on the leafy greens that he would become ill. Three quarters of the way
through his hands began to shake so much he could barely lift the fork to
his mouth safely.
"Tom, are you feeling all right?," a suddenly worried Ensign Kim
asked. "You just turned white as a sheet."
"I've felt better," he quipped, feeling his stomach turn
somersaults.
"Come on, let's get him to Sickbay," Torres instructed. "If he's
coming down with something, I sure don't want to catch it." Tom refrained
from making a comment for fear of making an unpleasant mess on the floor.
"Doctor, we have a patient here for you," B'Elanna announced as the
trio entered Sickbay.
"How fortunate for me, then," he remarked caustically. "Please
tell me it's not just a headache. I've already had fifty-four officers
come in today complaining of headaches. My talents as an expert physician
are being severely under-utilized."
"See for yourself," she grunted, ignoring the hologram's grousing
and hoisting the pilot onto a biobed. "Let us know if you find anything we
should be worried about." She strutted out of the medical bay to return to
duty, dragging a reluctant Harry Kim with her.
Tom was laid out on the biobed, his hands still twitching
involuntarily. His face was paste-white and moist with perspiration. The
Doctor began a routine scan, analysing the incoming data on his medical
tricorder. Unfortunately, the information he was receiving was
incongruous; there was no indication of viral infection and his white blood
cell count was normal, yet he was definitely exhibiting signs of illness.
"Mr. Paris, could you tell me what symptoms you're experiencing at
the moment?"
"Queasy stomach...headache...hands shaking...can't see
clearly...feel weak, tired," he panted out.
Kes returned from lunch to continue her role as medical assistant.
"Hello, Doctor," she announced placidly. "I'll be running those sequencer
tests you asked for."
"If you don't mind, I'd like you to assist me with Mr. Paris
first," he replied, motioning her to the biobed.
She finally noticed the lieutenant lying there. "What happened?
Is he okay?"
"Frankly, I don't have sufficient information to answer either of
those questions."
Their discussion was abruptly halted by the snarling of Tom's
stomach. "Uh...I don't mean to break up the party...but could one of
you...get me to the head...before I do something we'll all regret?"
Kes calmly rushed him to the lavatory where he could expel the
partially digested remains of his lunch. It was a horrible experience;
Tom's entire upper body trembled as he leaned over the bowl. He hadn't
even had hangovers this bad. Once spent, he shakily got to his feet,
freshened himself up at the sink and shuffled back to the biobed, Kes
guiding him at his side. The Doctor performed another scan for safe
measure.
"This is quite unusual," the hologram uttered. "Mr. Paris appears
to be suffering from Angosian flu, but there's no sign of the virus in his
system. However, I am detecting an imbalance of neurochemicals in the
thalamic and hypothalamic regions of his brain."
"If there's something interfering with the normal functions of
those areas, that certainly would account for the symptoms of Angosian
flu." Kes diagnosed.
"Yes, my thoughts exactly. Unfortunately, there's no indication of
what's causing that imbalance."
Tom moaned feebly. "Hungry...so hungry...need food...."
"What? Fifteen minutes ago you were complaining of an upset
stomach," The Doctor argued.
"I'll take care of him, Doctor," Kes placated, smiling. The
hologram had been making great strides in his efforts to be regarded as an
equal member of the crew, but he still had difficulty with the subtleties
and nuances of human behaviour. "Tom, would you like me to get something
for you from Neelix's kitchen? He might still have some leftovers from
lunch."
The lieutenant suddenly became agitated. "No! No leftovers...no
garvola..."
Both observers exchanged a look of alarm. "Kes, what do you know
of this garvola?"
"It's a herb plant we harvested a couple of weeks ago, but Neelix
only started using it in his cooking the other day. He thought the crew
would appreciate a new change, and everyone does seem to enjoy it. I think
it's added a new dimension to his recipes."
The hologram cocked an interested eyebrow at her comment. "You've
ingested it as well?"
"I doubt there isn't anyone left on the ship who hasn't, except
you." She seemed to realize a little too late what she had said. "I'm
sorry, Doctor, I didn't mean to say it that way."
"Don't worry, Kes," he assured her. "After all, I'm just a
hologram; I don't require nutritional supplements. However," he added,
pointing to the patient, "I'm afraid that Mr. Paris does. Please prepare a
hypospray to include an appetite suppressant as well. After that, I'd like
to run a scan on you as well to see if we can isolate this garvola."
Kes moved to prepare the hypospray. "But I feel fine, Doctor."
"If you've recently consumed any of Mr. Neelix's tainted dishes
there's a possibility I can identify it and how it reacts with the
digestive process. Besides, we don't know exactly how this herb influences
a person when ingested - it may simply substitute itself with the
neurotransmitters without altering overt behaviour. You may feel fine, but
when the garvola wears off you may feel as Mr. Paris does now."
"I hadn't thought of that," she admitted.
"Don't fault yourself; we can't all be incredibly gifted doctors,"
the hologram reasoned, training his tricorder on the Ocampan. "Sickbay to
Neelix."
"Neelix here. What can I do for you?" The Talaxian's voice
sounded harried and distracted.
"Mr. Neelix, I require an item from your menu that contains
garvola. Please prepare a sample and deliver it to Sickbay at your
earliest convenience."
On the bridge, Captain Janeway noticed the feeling of hunger slowly
rising in the pit of her stomach. Considering lunch was only two hours
ago, the sensation puzzled her - after all, she thought she had eaten a
fairly hearty meal. Well, I don't suppose it would hurt to get a snack.
"Commander, you have the bridge." She strode to the turbolift with a
slight smirk creasing her profile. There were times when she really
enjoyed having the captain's prerogative.
Ensign Kim fought hard to keep his concentration at Ops. For the
last half hour he attempted to ignore the pangs of hunger, much as he did
the entire hour before lunch this afternoon. He so badly wanted to trek
down to the mess hall for a nosh, but he couldn't leave his station without
a legitimate reason. Briefly he thought about going to Sickbay to get
something for his headache, but after hearing the gripes of The Doctor he
didn't want to upset him further. Still, he could just say he needed to
go to Sickbay - would it really hurt anyone if he didn't actually go?
"Sir, permission to leave the bridge to go to Sickbay."
"Nothing too serious I hope," Chakotay prodded.
"No, sir, just a headache, but I sure could use something for it."
Chakotay considered the request for a moment. A headache wasn't
exactly the direst of emergencies, but business was a little slow on the
bridge for the time being. "All right, go ahead, Mr. Kim, but be quick
about it."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," the ensign chattered, breaking for the
turbolift. Maybe Tom was right after all; a little white lie, placed at
the appropriate times, were absolutely harmless to all parties involved.
Tuvok was aware of the empty feeling in his stomach as well, but he
stayed his post. It was illogical to be experiencing such a condition: he
had fulfilled his nutritional requirements for the afternoon and he had
more than adequately satiated his hunger as well.
Neelix was growing befuddled over the peculiar activity passing
through the mess hall that afternoon. The lunch crowd had been steady and
heavy for nearly two hours. The entire menu had been cleaned out after
ninety minutes, leaving him to scramble to find a replacement menu.
Ultimately he was forced to make up another swamp lettuce salad, using up
the remainder of the garvola salad dressing in the process. The awaiting
diners were enervated but nonetheless cranky about having to wait in line
for longer than was necessary for a mere salad, particularly when there was
the one portion the Doctor had requested sitting out in plain sight - a
request that was bizarre in itself, since he was sure that holograms didn't
eat real food. Protests over who should be entitled to the reserved meal
ensued. In the end, the disgruntled diners grudgingly accepted his
profoundest apologies at being unable to provide a timely meal.
He barely had time to clean up the galley before officers began
drifting in for a mid-afternoon snack. That was unusual in itself, as they
rarely bothered to do so before despite his encouragement at the onset of
his tenure on Voyager. Almost everyone who came in seemed rather
uncomfortable, casting furtive glances about the room to check that no one
there would recognize the fact that they weren't working. Only Captain
Janeway was forthright enough in her inquiries, but it only stood to reason
that by being the highest ranked authority on the ship, she didn't have to
explain her actions to anyone.
Even more unusual was the nature of the snacks they requested. It
didn't matter what he found for them as long as it had garvola in it. They
didn't outright say it, of course - it was usually hidden by remarks like
"there's something missing" or "it doesn't taste quite right" - but
ultimately it always led to the herb. He figured that the crew would
eventually seek for a new experience now that they had been saturated with
garvola, but obviously he had made an error in judgement. His biggest
concern now was the supply situation: the heavy use of the herb was
depleting the stock more rapidly than he had anticipated. At the current
rate of consumption the garvola plants would be completely exhausted in
less than three weeks.
The Doctor's sour expression spoke volumes about his success. "As
far as I can tell, you're not being affected in any way. Unfortunately, I
haven't yet determined the reason why not, or why it seems to affected Mr.
Paris. I hope to know more once Mr. Neelix arrives with our analysis
sample."
As if on cue, the Talaxian trudged his way into the infirmary with
less than his usual vibrancy. In his hands bore the main entree of that
afternoon's meal. "Sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but it seemed like
every time I tried to leave someone else would come in looking for something to
nibble on."
"I'm sure it must have been a nice change of pace for you," the
hologram replied indifferently as he snatched the food from Neelix's grasp.
He immediately set it down on the med-table and activated the scanners.
"Oh dear, what happened to Lieutenant Paris?" he queried, noticing
Tom's prone form. Tom appeared to be sleeping, albeit fitfully.
"Tom is ill, Neelix," Kes soothed her friend. "The Doctor and I
are trying to find out if the garvola is what's making him sick."
"The - the garvola?" the astounded Talaxian stammered.
"That's correct, Mr. Neelix," the Doctor interceded. "It is quite
possible that this herb you're using to supplement the crew's diet is
responsible for Mr. Paris' neurophysiological imbalance. I trust that you
too have consumed the garvola?"
"Well, it would be hard not to. Being the ship's cook means I have
to personally test all my recipes to ensure the crew will get the maximum
satisfaction of each one."
"In that case, I'll have to scan you to see if you're being
affected by it."
Neelix looked anxiously at the man lying semi-unconscious on the
biobed. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Doctor."
The Doctor pointed his tricorder at the Talaxian and ran yet
another scan. For a second time, however, the preliminary results were
negative. "Well, whatever it is, it appears that neither you nor Kes are
subject to its effects. I'll have to perform some microcellular analyses
on all three sets of data to get a better understanding of why Mr. Paris
has been susceptible to its influence. That sample of garvola should also
prove useful in determining its reaction to the human body. However, until
I can isolate the nature of the garvola's effects and synthesize a
counteragent, it might be best to continue your duties as normal, Mr.
Neelix. I am not prepared to deal with a sudden epidemic just yet."
Neelix thought the hologram's suggestion was ill-planned. "But if
the garvola is making the rest of the crew sick, then I'll just be making
them sicker. Are you sure that's a wise thing to do, Doctor?"
"To be honest, Mr. Neelix, I don't know. Being a medical
facilitator requires having to make a lot of difficult choices, yet
sometimes it is necessary to take risks to achieve the desired results. At
least by catering to their current needs the crew will not become
negatively affected like Mr. Paris - and it might give me enough time to
find a cure."
The explanation just didn't sit right with Neelix for some reason;
it was kind of like stepping on a person's toes to distract them from the
pain in their arm. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no experience in
medicine, so he had to accept that The Doctor's plan would be the correct
course of action. "I guess I'd better make a trip to the cargo bay to get
some more garvola, then." He made his exit quietly, pondering the fate of
the crew if the Doctor couldn't find a cure before the supplies ran out.
The Doctor, however, totally focused on the task at hand. "Kes,
run a decomposition scan on the specimen and match all items with the food
supplies currently in storage. Then I want you to set up a simulation
model showing a time-lapse reaction of garvola on a human body. Do you
think you can handle that?" The question was not patronizing.
"Yes, I believe so, Doctor," Kes reassured the medical program. An
impish smile played on her lips. If only the rest of the crew could see as
she did how caring and concerned the computer-generated entity could be.
"Good. I'll be busy with the microcellular analyses if you require
any assistance."
Lt. Paris wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming. His head was
swimming. His senses seemed to be scrambled: he could see smells, taste
sounds, hear colours and textures. He tried to walk around the room
(whatever room it was) but his legs were numb. He reached out to feel his
surroundings but couldn't seem to get a firm grasp of anything; however, he
was aware of the intermittent tingling sensations along the length of his
forearms and legs. He felt almost as if he were spinning helplessly in a
strange void. His mouth was dry, yet he had no thirst; his brain cried out
for sustenance, yet he had no hunger.
Kes was entering the parameters for the computer model when she
heard the buzz and hum of a forcefield. She looked up and around her
shoulder to see Tom lying awake on the biobed, his arms and legs bouncing
about as they were repelled by the energy field. "Doctor?"
"Hm?" He looked away from his work, first at Kes, then at where
she was looking. "Oh. Pay no mind to him, Kes. The analysis on Mr.
Paris' neurochemical imbalance suggested the possibility of hallucinations
and involuntary muscle contractions, so I activated a restraining field
around the bed so we wouldn't cause injury to himself. How are you coming
with the simulation model?"
"It's almost ready, Doctor."
"Excellent. We'll start on it as soon as I'm done here."
"Have you been able to find anything yet, Doctor?"
"Nothing significant, however I have managed to identify a few
variations in body chemistry that are common to both Ocampa and Talaxians
but not shared with Humans. It's possible that one or a combination of
these variations provides a sort of immunity for you and Mr. Neelix that
Mr. Paris doesn't have. Unfortunately, it's still a matter of speculation
at this point."
It was nearing the end of the alpha shift and everyone looked to be
on edge. Captain Janeway couldn't believe that after making a recess to
the galley in mid-afternoon that she could so ravenously hungry again.
Just thinking of tonight's entree adorned with the succulent flavour of
garvola made her salivate. It didn't matter that she had a pounding
headache or that she couldn't focus her vision clearly.
Elsewhere on the bridge it was a similar story. Harry Kim appeared
to be suffering from a state of shock, with shaking limbs and a sheen of
sweat covering his face. The officers operating the Conn and Science
stations also appeared jittery. Tuvok seemed to be making a concerted
effort not to exhibit the unsteadiness he felt in his extremities but one
could see the increased tension in his facial muscles. Only Chakotay
seemed to be in control of himself. There was one commonality between them
all however: an intense craving for garvola-laden food. When the shift
ended it was all anyone could do from not rushing headlong to the
turbolifts.
Neelix was very uncomfortable with the situation as soon as the
first officers scrambled into the mess hall to get in line. Not one of
them was looking too well, yet they pushed their way to make it to the head
of the line. Only given roughly two hours to prepare dinner, Neelix had to
resort to one of less popular but traditional main courses, so it was
worrisome to see the crewmen compliment him on how wonderful it smelled.
The situation grew worse only minutes after the first few were
served. They complained that it wasn't strong enough.
At the captain's table, this issue was also being discussed.
 "Is it just me, or does this vegetable stew taste bland to you
too?" Janeway quizzed, discontentedly sampling her dinner.
"I admit, it is milder than what Mr. Neelix has prepared of late,"
the Vulcan replied. "Nonetheless, it is satisfactory on a nutritional
standpoint."
"I don't see anything wrong with it," the first officer answered.
"Well I definitely think it needs something more. Excuse me,
gentlemen." The captain got up and walked back to Neelix's counter, where
a complaint line had formed.
"There's no flavour to it. I thought you said there was garvola in
it." she heard one of the engineering staff gripe.
Neelix almost panicked. He had already doubled the amount of
garvola he normally used in his recipes. At this rate the supply of the
herb would be used up in less than a week. As he doled out extra teaspoons
of the herb to his angry patrons, he prayed the Doctor could find the cure,
and fast.
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 0217.
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."
Tom awoke feeling much more himself, except for the incredible
aching in the pit of his stomach and the awful, gluey film lining his mouth.
"Ah, you're awake. Feeling better, Mr. Paris?" The Doctor sounded
almost cheerful.
"Bleaugh, maybe with a glass of water I would," he answered, his
voice still rough-edged.
Out of nowhere Kes appeared with a glass. The Doctor ran his
tricorder over the lieutenant. "Well, the good news is that you appear to
have made a complete recovery."
"Yeah? What's the bad news?"
"You get to help us look after 147 soon-to-be garvola addicts
suffering withdrawals ten times worse than what you experienced."
Startled, Tom propped himself up on the bed. "Garvola addicts?"
"Yes, Tom - addicts," Kes explained. "We found out that the crew
is experiencing a physiological dependency on the herb. If it hadn't been
for you the ship would be facing a major crisis right now."
The memory of the Addie he encountered in prison flashed through
his mind again. Shaking it off, he sat up and saw Commander Chakotay lying
on a biobed across the room. "Hey, what's he doing here?"
"Commander Chakotay activated my program earlier this morning
concerned for his health, so it was necessary to inform him of the
situation. He agreed to stay here to overcome the withdrawal symptoms as
you did. Fortunately he should make a quick recovery, enough that he can
assist us as well."
"Great, we could use all the help we can get. So, when does rush
hour begin?"
Neelix stared out at the huge line-up stretching out past the mess
hall entrance. It was a pretty ugly sight. Everyone looked like they had
picked a fight with a shuttlecraft and lost, and their tempers seemed to
match their appearance. People bumped and jostled to get a better position
in line, then started pushing and shoving each other as tempers flared.
Several fist fights were narrowly avoided. It didn't help that most of
them had shown up for breakfast ten minutes early, each hoping to get a
jump on the competition.
He wasn't looking forward to their reactions when they discovered
the garvola was all gone. He had prepared his famous Jibbalian seven-spice
omelette, but if what the Doctor said was true, his shipmates would care
less if he had used seven spices or seven hundred - what they really wanted
was garvola. He began sweating bullets as he watched the first few patrons
dig in. The reaction was almost identical.
Lt. Carey's face screwed up in disgust as he chewed before he
grabbed his napkin and spit them out. Infuriated, he grabbed his tray and
stalked back to the counter, followed closely from behind by the other
diners. "Neelix, this is utter garbage."
"Hey, back of the line, buddy," cussed one the officers waiting to
be served.
"But it's the same seven-spice omelette I always make," the
Talaxian placated.
"Well, obviously you need to change your recipe. Why don't you put
some of that garvola in it?"
"I - I can't," Neelix withered. "I'm all out. Our entire supply
was used up. I'm sorry."
Everyone within earshot of the remark turned white. "What - what
do you mean you're out? That's not possible."
"I assure you it is possible, Mr. Carey. There's not a speck of
garvola remaining."
"No, it can't be true," he cried desperately. "You just want to
keep it all to yourself."
Neelix grew excited as the engineer and several others started
making their way into the kitchen. "No, I swear to you, we are all out of
garvola. I wouldn't lie to you!" His words went unheeded as the crewmen
began ransacking the galley.
Carey was visibly upset when he couldn't find Neelix's stash; his
hands were shaking even harder as he grabbed the Talaxian by the collar.
"Where'd you hide it, Neelix? Tell me!"
"Lieutenant Carey! What on earth are you doing?"
Carey froze at the admonishing tone of the captain's voice, then
just as suddenly he released his grip on the Talaxian and stood at
attention. "Captain, this isn't what it seems."
"Really? Unless you were assisting Neelix in straightening his
shirt, I suggest you tell me exactly what it was you were doing."
"Well, you see, captain, Neelix claims that he's completely run out
of garvola."
Janeway looked alarmed. "That can't be right. Neelix, you assured
me that we stocked up on enough garvola to last us at least six weeks.
What happened?"
Neelix shrugged helplessly. "I miscalculated?"
Janeway was about as convinced of the lie as Neelix himself was.
"I think we should take a trip to the cargo bay, what do you think, Neelix?"
"You're just wasting your time, Captain. You won't find anything
there."
Janeway suddenly smiled sweetly. "Neelix, where are you keeping
the garvola?"
"I'm sorry, captain. As I've already explained, it's all gone."
The sweet smile disappeared. "Neelix, I don't want to have to do
this, but if you won't tell me where you're storing the garvola voluntarily
I'll have to resort to other measures to get you to talk. Now, where are
you keeping the garvola."
Neelix only shook his head sadly at the captain.
"Fine," she bit off, angered by his response. "Let's see how you
like Vulcan mind-melds. Lieutenant Tuvok, please report to the mess hall
at once." She waited for his acknowledgement, but was rewarded only with
silence. She tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to Tuvok, please respond."
When he failed to answer, she grew irritated. "Computer, locate Lieutenant
Tuvok."
"Lieutenant Tuvok is in his quarters," the computer blandly replied.
"Come on, Neelix; we're going to make a house call," she stated,
seizing the Talaxian by the cuff of his jacket. First she would get the
information she needed, then she would reprimand the chief security officer
for his negligent behaviour. He'd have to be dying to justify ignoring
her, even more so now that her headache was getting worse.
Reaching the entrance to Tuvok's quarters, the captain angrily
slapped at the door panel. When the doors did not open she used her
command code to override the door lock. This time the doors offered no
resistance. She roughly shoved Neelix through the open doorway and
followed him in.
The room was unoccupied, leaving Janeway with two possible
scenarios. "Computer, did Lieutenant Tuvok leave his quarters since I last
asked for his location?"
"Negative."
The remaining option made Janeway even more irritable - the
computer's response meant that the Vulcan was most likely still in his bed
chamber. The thought of her chief security officer still asleep made her
head pound so hard her eyes lost focus. With a full head of steam she
tramped into his bedroom. "Lieutenant, you'd better have a good
explanation for -"
The unmoving form on the bed greeted her with peaceful silence.
Unfortunately it only bolstered her anger, the captain now convinced that
the Vulcan was sleeping on the job. "Mr. Tuvok!" Her shout bounced off of
the bulkhead but the Vulcan didn't even stir. She walked up to his bedside
and tried to shake him awake. "Mr. Tuvok, wake up." There was still no
response.
The captain was no longer upset: she was afraid. "Tuvok?" She
pressed her fingers up against his carotid artery to check his pulse but
she couldn't find any. The true horror of what was before her slowly
surfaced in her consciousness. "Oh my god. He's dead." Her legs buckled
and she collapsed to the floor. She blacked out before she was even aware
of it.
For the next four days Voyager hung dead in space - Commander
Chakotay thought it best to shut down the ship's main power and propulsion
systems to minimize power consumption. It also seemed prudent considering
that there was no one able to run the ship at the time either. Shortly
after the captain's black out the rest of the crew began to succumb to the
effects of withdrawal. Within the span of two hours every single officer
still affected by the garvola was physically incapacitated.
An internal sensor sweep easily located the stricken crewmen. Most
of them were assembled in the mess hall or along a passage headed for the
food storage cargo bay; of the rest, many were localized in the main duty
areas like the bridge. The Vulcan officers, however, were found
unconscious in their own quarters. The Doctor hypothesized that the
Vulcans had either consciously or unconsciously realized the poisonous
effects of the herb and had taken self-corrective actions to counter them.
Subsequent tricorder scans confirmed his hypothesis and predicted their
return to health in the following forty-eight to seventy-two hours.
While The Doctor replicated an appropriate quantity of sedative to
administer to the afflicted crewmen, the holodecks were programmed to
recreate medical infirmaries large enough to accommodate them. It would be
a close measure trying to fit nearly fifty people per holodeck, but the
Doctor could easily visit each area without worrying about his mobile
holographic emitter. It would also be easier to keep the crew from hurting
themselves. Chakotay, Paris, Neelix and Kes then spent the next several
hours manually transporting the addicts to the infirmaries.
It wound up being a very rough four days for everyone involved.
Chakotay had some experience as a medical technician - he occasionally
found himself in emergency medical situations as a member of the Maquis -
but he felt overwhelmed by the current circumstances. Tom struggled with
his emotions and his past as he looked after his sick shipmates. Neelix
constantly agonized over the whole ordeal, feeling completely responsible
for nearly killing the whole crew even though he couldn't have anticipated
it. Kes empathized with the stricken crew as her Ocampa heritage dictated
and with the others as well, sensing how difficult it was for each of them.
The Doctor, being the busiest of all, demonstrated an intense strength
and determination to work the crew back into health. And then there were
the patients themselves.
The four crewmen were not prepared for what they witnessed. The
recovering addicts experienced an assortment of symptoms: severe stomach
and muscle cramps, convulsions, pains in limb joints, headaches, pupil
dilation, high fever, intense hallucinations, delirium tremens, and
paranoia. It would have been possible to relieve many of the symptoms if
the population had been fairly small, but with 147 people there was just
too much demand on the raw stock material. The most they could afford were
the nutrition supplements and appetite suppressants. It was a decision the
Doctor found very difficult to accept. It was a difficult decision for all
of them when they heard the screams of fear and the sobs of pain.
Captain Janeway gradually awoke, not familiar with the room she
found herself in. She hadn't really been sure of anything, only that she
had been through hell a hundred times over for God knows how long. She'd
had horrible nightmares: of the Vidiians capturing her crew and subjecting
them to unspeakable experiments despite her efforts to fight and escape; of
watching helplessly as Cyssperia destroyed her ship one piece at a time; of
drifting through a soundless void; of watching idly as her friends around
her withered and died, and many others. The light stung her eyes and she
blinked hard, trying to focus.
She tried to sit up and noticed right away how weak she felt, but
with another effort she managed to get up. Her surroundings resembled a
large medical chamber with several occupied beds, those occupants she
recognized as members of her crew. The room's architecture definitely
resembled the Federation style, so she was unsure if they had been
abducted. She tried to speak but couldn't manage more than a coughing fit.
This caught the attention of someone at the other side of the room.
It was Commander Chakotay. Immediately he reached for his
commbadge and signalled someone. A few seconds later the Doctor appeared
at her side.
"Captain, I'm glad to see you're finally awake. Please lie down
and don't try to talk yet." He looked over at Chakotay. "Commander,
please bring the captain some water to drink." The Doctor grabbed a
tricorder and passed it over the Captain while they waited for the water.
"By the looks of it, captain, you've completely recovered.
Congratulations."
The first officer arrived with the water. Janeway took the glass
and took a few cautious sips. Once her throat felt normal she attempted to
speak. "What happened?" she croaked.
"It's a very long story," the commander replied. "But to give you
the short version, the crew literally got hooked on Neelix's garvola. If
it hadn't been for Lieutenant Paris we might not be talking right now."
"I look forward to hearing the long version, commander."
"Captain, you're free to leave at any time," the Doctor instructed.
"Please try to keep your activity light for the next few days, get plenty
of rest and maintain a regular diet three times a day. I suggest you go
directly to the mess hall; I understand Mr. Neelix has prepared a get-well
meal."
"Thank you, Doctor." With the commander's help she got up and
stretched her legs while he explained in full exactly what occurred. She
felt foolish for not heeding Lt. Paris' warning before, now that they had
fully realized the terrible consequences of the garvola. The herb had
clouded her judgement but she still felt responsible for not taking full
precautions, and for that she owed him an apology.
Tom rushed about Holodeck 1 to greet his patients as they woke up
from their long rest. It was such a rewarding feeling to see them
recovered, knowing he had done his part to save them. Miraculously the
scans showed a 100% recovery; there would be no outward signs of their
addiction, as if they had never been introduced to garvola only a week ago.
"Mr. Paris, I need a word with you." Seeing the captain walking in
with her usual sense of purpose and confidence was a welcome sight.
"Captain, I'm glad to see you're feeling better." He wanted to
give her a warm reassuring hug but knew she wouldn't approve of such
behaviour.
"The feeling is definitely mutual," she replied smiling. "Tom, I
want to apologize for not listening to you when you tried to warn me about
the garvola. I know I wasn't myself at the time, but I still had the
responsibility of protecting my crew, whether I thought there's a risk or
not. I'm sorry."
He was at a loss for words. "Uh, thank you, captain."
"Mr. Paris, you are needed over here."
The familiar deep voice made Janeway's hair stand on end. It
couldn't be him, could it?
Glancing around the lieutenant, Captain Janeway saw the Vulcan
security officer standing over a groggy Ensign Kim. "Tuvok."
The Vulcan, upon hearing his name, looked straight at her.
"Captain."
She walked over to him, a wide-eyed expression on her face. "How
can this be? Tuvok, I - I thought you were dead."
"An illogical assumption, captain: I did not ingest a large enough
quantity of garvola to cause death."
"But I saw you, Tuvok. I couldn't find a pulse."
"Mr. Neelix informed me of what transpired five days ago when you
attempted to confront me in my quarters. When I discovered I was ill I put
myself into a hypnotic state to fight off the garvola sickness, resulting
in a slowing down of my autonomic functions. Even despite your
garvola-induced condition, your perceptions could have led you to believe
that I was deceased."
She stood there before him in silence. Of course, she knew and
understood Vulcan physiology and the process of the healing trance. Why
hadn't she thought of that when she was in Tuvok's quarters? "Well, I'm
glad it was just a figment of my imagination. I don't know how I'd get by
without your counsel." Her stomach growled, breaking up the intimacy of
the moment. Janeway turned red with embarrassment.
"Perhaps you should visit the mess hall, captain," the Vulcan
politely suggested.
"Perhaps I will. Thank you, Lieutenant." She slunk out of the
holodeck, still embarrassed.
A subdued silence filled the mess hall when Janeway entered,
obviously a result of the crew's uncertainty to what had happened, still
trying to sort everything out. Janeway quietly paced over to Neelix, who
busied himself behind a long table spread with several fruit juices and
bowls filled with Jell-O and applesauce.
"Captain! It's so good to see you up and about again!" cheered the
Talaxian. Everyone in the room turned their attention to them - seeing the
captain was like drawing from a well of confidence.
"It's good to see you too, Neelix. I hope you haven't been too
hard on yourself through all of this. From what I understand, there was no
way you could have known how it would have affected us."
The Talaxian squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, I've been trying not
to let it get to me, captain. It hasn't been easy."
"It's going to be an adjustment for all of us, but we'll find a way
to deal with it. Now, where is this get-well meal the Doctor mentioned?"
"You're standing in front of it, actually. The Doctor specifically
stated that it will take your digestive systems a little while to right
themselves and so to make a few selections that will be easier on your
stomachs. Lieutenant Paris helped me with the menu," he remarked, picking
up a green mass. "Lime Jell-O, captain?"
Captain's log, supplemental: After five days adrift, the Voyager has resumed her course back home. Most of the crew is still shaken by the recent garvola incident but operations are slowly returning to normal. The Doctor has already filed an official medical report on this incident outlining the exact nature of the herb plant and its effects on the crew, but as commanding officer I feel obligated to comment on the social impact the garvola has had. The ramifications concerning the consumption of garvola are at the least very disturbing. While under its influence, I allowed my impaired judgement to sway my decision to address the concerns brought to me by Lieutenant Paris. If left unchecked the consequences for my crew would have been fatal. In this regard I cannot dispute the decision of our chief medical officer to not inform me of his solution to the problem, as I probably would not have permitted him to continue in my impaired state. As such, I have made note in the service records of Lieutenant Paris, Mr. Neelix and the Emergency Medical Holographic program for exemplary performance under adverse conditions.
The captain discontinued the log and sat back in her chair, angrily
reflecting upon her words and the decisions that had resulted in this
crisis. She was angry at herself for not recognizing Tuvok's healing
trance, for not considering that he could have been in trouble when she
first tried to contact him in the mess hall, for even dismissing Lt. Paris'
explanation of a potential threat to her vessel and crew that very first
day. She had failed in her responsibilities as commanding officer of
Voyager to protect her ship from harm.
Or had she? She stopped and really thought about it for a moment.
As a starship captain, one strives to impress the values of loyalty, duty,
dedication and teamwork upon her subordinate officers. To put the security
of the ship and the lives of your fellow crewmates before your own life is
a goal sought by all captains. So shouldn't the actions by Tom Paris,
Neelix, and the Doctor be a sufficient demonstration of this? They
protected the ship from harm when the captain was physically and mentally
incapable of doing so. Perhaps she shouldn't be so hard on herself after
all.
Tom strolled into the mess hall in good spirits. "Hi, Neelix."
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," Neelix chirped from behind the
kitchen counter. "Isn't it a most wonderful day today?"
"Well, we haven't been faced with any life-threatening situations
yet, so I suppose I'd have to agree with you," Tom returned. "What about
you, Neelix; how are you holding up?"
"Oh, I'm getting by just fine now," he chatted. "Kes has really
been helping me through this, bless her kind heart. Plus I've been working
on some new recipes to get myself going again, only this time I've checked
with the Doctor to make sure all of the ingredients are safe. Would it be
all right if I asked you for an unbiased opinion?"
"I, uh -" Uh-oh. I need to find an excuse, fast. Out of the
corner of his eye he noticed Harry walking into the mess hall and right
toward him. "Normally I'd love to, Neelix, but I just came in for a quick
bite. Harry and I have pressing matters to attend to," he lied, raising
his voice so Harry would hear. He hoped the ensign would catch on. "Isn't
that right, Harry?"
"What? I'm came here to eat lunch, Tom." So much for that. The
pilot wanted to strangle him right then.
"Good for you, Mr. Kim; there's nothing so important that you can't
enjoy a hot, home-made meal. Now I can get your opinion, too. Don't
worry, Mr. Paris, it won't take up too much of your time."
Harry just then realized what his friend was trying to communicate.
All he could do was smile lamely as Tom glared coldly at him while walking
into the galley.
"Don't be afraid to give me your honest evaluation," the Talaxian
issued as he handed each of them a big serving spoon filled with a thick
greenish sauce speckled with orange and yellow flecks.
Tentatively Tom raised the spoon to his mouth and sampled. The
only thought that occurred to him was that the garvola must have dulled his
taste buds. That had to be it - it was the only explanation he wanted to
accept.