Captain Harry Kim, late of the Questor has kindly given me permission to publish selections from his logs.
It was a simple problem, my station was converting all the fours to sixes. Really nothing. Yet it had to be fixed. I wish now I had just closed it down and moved. The problem should have been easily fixed. After a slight struggle to expose the wires and boards of the station, I ran several diagnostics, to determine exactly what needed to be repaired or replaced. Commander Chakotay offered to help. It had been a slow day, and it was as good as time as any to repair that damn contraption.
I don't think I've ever seen that much blood, that much damage to a person. I can't wipe my memory of the moment: something exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere--especially into the Commander. I remember, I can still hear the sound he made when the explosion occurred, the sound of him not being able to breath, the sight. Oh god, the sight.
The Captain rushed over, somehow managed to engage the emergency transport--I think it was her. Funny what I do remember crystal clear and what is fuzzy. There was blood everywhere.
I felt dizzy, and the next thing I remember is Tom wrapping my hand and taking me to sick-bay. I don't remember my hand being injured. I don't remember much except the sight of the commander in pieces, his blood everywhere.
He was on life support when we arrived. The Captain somehow managed to watch, but it was obvious she was under tight control. Kes treated my hand, I felt guilty distracting her for something so unimportant. Tom later told me, that my injury while nothing compared to the Commander's, was serious. Kes stopped the bleeding, and repaired some of the tissue and neural damage. I said I would return later to complete treatment. Kes nodded. The Captain asked how I was doing. It was hard to answer. How do you tell a woman who might be losing the man she loves, that you are OK. We left soon afterwards.
We sat in the mess hall for hours. B'Elanna joined us--she was pretty shaken. She had just examined the remains of my station. She mentioned it might have been a contaminated gel-pack. She wouldn't know for sure for a couple of weeks, put she has teams out examining every single gel-pack on the ship. She stayed until Tuvok called her to the bridge.
Neelix would stop by, his usual cheeriness much subdued--nonexistent. The whole ship was subdued.
We didn't talk much. I think we all prayed in our unique ways. I was tired, Kes had said that I should get some sleep--she'd said something similar to Tom. I knew the nightmares would be worse than not sleeping, I suspected Tom felt the same.
We've been through hell so many times, and it doesn't get easier. Each injury, each death is not a simple statistic. Voyager is a small community. Everybody knows everybody else. We know everybody's secrets. I suspect this is the reason that a ship's crew compliment is regularly rotated--to avoid the incredible closeness, almost like family--that has developed on Voyager during the past several years.
The bond that has developed between the Captain and Commander is special. For them and for the crew. They have managed to continue to work together, their professional and private relationships have both survived their disagreements. I know, that goes against everything that has been written about command. On duty they are all business--but Tom keeps pointing out little things that aren't--and to be honest I've started to see those things myself. The looks in particular. The way their eyes would slowly caress the other... Would...
The fatalism of the word brings me back to realty.
We sat in the mess hall for hours. Drinking Neelix's coffee, not talking much, looking up nervously every time someone new entered.
After an agonizing 6 hour wait, Kes came--she looked exhausted, she wasn't smiling--but somehow she still managed to convey without speaking the news. The Commander would live.
It's hard to describe the feeling that spread through the ship, through my own being. But a resounding cheer went up. Tom and I hugged each other. It was then that I noticed my hand was throbbing. We smiled, relieved.
I know I was not willing to try to get some sleep. I knew the nightmares were there--waiting to be remembered. Tom and I spent the night in the mess hall playing gin and poker. B'Elanna stayed with us for a while. But she left, others would stay for several hands and then leave. I don't remember how long we were there, but Kes came by and ordered both of us to leave and get some sleep. She had a hypospray for both of us--something to help us sleep, and a message from Mr. Tuvok. Tom would be in command of the bridge in 6 hours, and I was to take the day off and have my hand treated.
It must have worked, I don't remember anything after I fell asleep.
Kes firmly escorted from sick-bay back to my quarters where I was told no work for 24 hours. Or she would find an armed guard to prevent me. For the first time in I don't know how many hours, I smiled.
It has been a long, hellish day, and I am exhausted.
One moment he was helping Harry, the next he was on the floor. I reacted quickly, Star Fleet emergency first aide training helped. It was rote, assess the situation--worse than dreadful; respond--I asked for emergency transport. I know I gave several other orders, I think. I don't even remember if I turned command of the bridge over to Tuvok, or if he just knew that I meant to.
It's after the orders are given, the waiting, the prolonged agony of not knowing. I don't think I'd ever felt as alone as I did at that moment in sick-bay. There was nothing I could do. Except watch. I wanted to cry, it hurt. I tried so hard to be the steadfast Star Fleet Captain--to fool me. I didn't fool anybody. The Doc talked to me, he was uncertain. I just nodded my head. We both knew that if... If the Commander...
Oh gods, why did I have to go and fall in love with him.
The feelings of hopelessness, despair. Even Tom saw them. Being Captain distances oneself from the crew, even those you consider friends. I needed a friend, and there was no one. Both Tom and Harry looked like they might offer the comfort I needed. But both backed off. I am their Captain after all. Perhaps it was just as well. I would probably have broken down completely.
editor's note--there was a break in recording at this point}
****
It's been a day since the accident, it looks like he is going to make a complete recovery. I'm finally able to continue with this the log.
The Doctor completed his examination. The Commander needed extensive reconstructive surgery, most could be done with synthetics, but he would need a lung transplant. The Doc didn't dare use one of his left lobes to replace the damaged right ones.
Dr. Denara Pel. A remarkable young woman, she'd saved us once and was about to again. During her stay on Voyager, she had left us information on Vidiian medical procedures, including transplants. It would be the Doc's first attempt at such a transplant--previously he had only watched. There was never any question in my mind who would be the donor. Protocol be damned. Tuvok was more than capable of being acting Captain for 24 hours. I made the necessary arrangements, there wasn't time to tell the crew, I figured there was no reason to get their hopes up, until we knew for sure...
It was a long process, Kes later told me it went fine. I came to about four hours later, and Kes quietly escorted me to another bed, away from the surgery. "He is doing well," she whispered to me as I started to fall asleep again. For the first time since the accident, I actually let a bit of hope enter my thoughts.
Since the accident, I had been prepared for the worse. I'd even said good-bye.
Kes shook my shoulders to wake me. "He's out of surgery, prognosis is good." She had whispered excitedly.
"Can I see him?"
She nodded and helped me out of the bio-bed.
He looked ghastly, very pale, so still. I remember I looked at Kes in alarm. "Don't worry, Kathryn, he'll be fine. He's still anemic and the new lungs are not yet working at full capacity. Doc says he'll be unconscious a day, maybe two." Kes smiled--she looked exhausted. Then she escorted me to my cabin.
****
I spent most of the next day by his side. He looked better, the transplant had worked. By mid afternoon the Doc removed him from life-support. That's when I finally broke down.
****
I returned to duty this morning: the station had been replaced, the bridge cleaned. There was no reminder of the accident anywhere. Except in the faces of the crew. We spent the day gathering data on a ternary star system--the main star was a red giant. About half-way into the shift, Doc contacted me. The Commander was coming around. This time I know I turned the bridge over to Tuvok.
He doesn't remember much about the accident--nothing after kneeling down to look at the wires. I wish I didn't. He's not as pale--he almost looks *real*. His sense of humor hasn't improved though. He'd quietly said, 'That being on his back is not as interesting as he remembers."
He's going to be fine.