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The ship blasted up and away at Warp 7. "Tom?" called the Captain. "Massive spatial anamolies!" called Tuvok from the rear, square tactical station. Tom's manuver had not worked. Well, not as well as he had wished. The ship was shaken like a toy in a dog's mouth, the gravity went off with a crackle and the last thing Tom saw was the viewscreen heading straight for his face. "Don't move, I'm treating your concussion." came the even, measured tones of the doctor. His secondary training floated around his head like a soap bubble. "Two cc's of hydroafataramine." "That's correct, Mr. Paris. I'm glad to see you've been studying. I'm going to leave a few things up here and once the hydroafataramine kicks in, treat the rest of the bumps and bruises you wild people got. Okay?" "I like being a nurse." "Well, I see it's going to take a bit longer then expected before everything kicks in. Tuvok, keep him seated until his pupils are normal." "Understood." replied the calm Vulcan. Paris finished closing the inch long gash on Captain Janeway's forehead. "So we still don't know what happened?" "Not a clue, Mr. Paris. The sensors won't be online for another twenty minutes. I had Kim go to the windows with a tricorder and the only good news in this whole mess is that we're a couple weeks closer to the Alpha Quadrant." Paris re-packed the med bag and sat at his station. "My panel is completely dead."
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6/7/2003 7:02:27 AM
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