Malcolm and Hoshi: The Missing Scenes

“Now, you’re absolutely sure you understand the procedure?”

 

“You’ve explained it six or seven times, Lieutenant.  It doesn’t seem all that complicated.  And besides, we’ve already decided that the ship won’t be going to warp.”  Phlox tried not to sound waspish.

 

“You’re absolutely sure there’s nothing you can give me to withstand this radiation?  I just ....”

 

“Lieutenant!  I have had variations on this theme from every member of the bridge staff already, and I’m only just starting putting the crew to sleep!”

 

Time was running out if they were all to be safely comatose before the ship entered the anomaly, and he knew from bitter experience that his most contentious patient could, if necessary, dredge up new arguments for avoiding medical procedures almost ad infinitum.

 

“The captain has already agreed that this is the only way to make this journey safely.  I have been briefed on everything I may possibly need to do while you are all safely asleep.  Kindly allow me to do my job.”

 

A rebellious gray glare indicated a certain amount of disinclination to do so, but Reed lay back on his bunk and submitted.

 

“Please make yourself comfortable.  You’ll be asleep for four days, remember.”

 

“It’s going to be one hell of a rush for the bathroom when I wake up.”

 

“If you don’t be quiet and let me do what I have to do, I’ll leave you till last to revive.”

 

Evidently cowed into submission by this threat, the patient stretched out on his back and relaxed.  Or, to be more precise, lay still, as tense as a strung bow, waiting for oblivion.  Unlike most of the crew whom the doctor had already treated, he did not look as though he was looking forward to the rest.  He could hardly have appeared less resigned if he’d been about to be euthanized. He gave the hypospray a last look of loathing as it passed out of his field of vision.

 

The little machine delivered its payload painlessly and efficiently into the bare neck.  The sedative was very powerful and very quick-acting.  The lieutenant’s dark lashes fluttered shut.  He would not have felt the soft tap of the monitor being placed on his forehead; a quick glance at the scanner showed that the brain activity in the neocortex was shutting down just as it should.

The speed of the sedation would allow almost no time for the brain to experience REM sleep.  It would be unsafe to allow any of the sleepers to enter a normal sleep state until they were back in normal space; even in dreams the neocortex could become stimulated and therefore vulnerable.  Like everyone else on the ship, Malcolm Reed would lie immobile and dreamless for the next four days, in a state close to hibernation.

 

But in the second it took for his brain to plunge from awareness to oblivion, some fragment of dream must have touched him.  He rolled on to his side and threw out an arm as though wrapping it around someone beside him.  His head tilted forward just a fraction.

The four words were all but inaudible, slurring off into nothing.  Nevertheless Phlox caught them.

 

“I love you, Hoshi.”