Here is an attempt at a crossover of two of my favorite shows, House, M. D., and Star Trek: Voyager. In this story, The Doctor recruits the help of House to cure a strange illness. Soon, he wonders which is worse. The sickness, or House!
Chapter One: The Sickness
Captain's log, star date 51501.4. We have entered a section of space which we are told may contain a wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant. A ship of friendly aliens called the Uvari have told us that ships transversing this sector have sensed strange readings synonymous with wormholes. This move will take us slightly off course, but it will be worth it if we can find a shortcut home. All the crew is, understandably, excited yet cautious. We have been disappointed many times before. Our excitement is marred, however, by one of our crewmates falling ill.
"You have absolutely NO bedside manner," said B'Elanna. "I feel like crap and you can't seem to do anything about it!" "I assure you," said the Doctor, "I am doing everything in my power to help you. I am puzzled that none of my treatments seem to be working." Puzzled wasn't exactly how the Doctor felt. In fact, he was worried. B'Elanna had been sick for two days now, with what could only be called a cold. That in itself was disturbing, since the Rhino virus had long been exterminated from Earth, and its equivalents on the Klingon homeworld and the rest of the Alpha Quadrant had been eradicated as well. The Doctor had to actually look up the symptoms in his archives to figure out what was going on. "You have all the symptoms of a cold, but the therapies I've used should have gotten rid of it," said the doctor. "Well, they haven't," screamed a stuffy nosed B'Elanna. "I'm dying, damnit! I can't breath, my whole body hurts, and if I produce anymore snot I'll be able to fill an entire cargo bay! Do something!" "Please, Lieutenant," said the Doctor calmly, "I can assure you that I will find a solution."
At that moment, the Captain entered sickbay. She was also concerned that B'Elanna had been sick so long, and she wanted an update. "How do you feel," said Captain Janeway. "Like crap," replied B'Elanna. "This has to be the worst feeling ever. I'm weak, cold, stuffed up and miserable, and this damn doctor doesn't have a clue!" "I'm sure the Doctor is doing everything he can," said Janeway. "Any update Doctor?" "I'm afraid not. She has every symptom of a severe 20th century cold, but that shouldn't be. I've done a scan, and simply cannot locate the virus causing the problem. All scans show that she is virus free." "It must be alien," said Janeway. "Is it absolutely necessary to keep B'Elanna in sickbay? I know that, ahem, Klingons don't like being locked up." B'Elanna was about to snap at the Captain, but Janeway gave her a little sideways wink and B'Elanna smiled. "Until I can determine if this is contagious, I think it would be prudent to keep her here," the Doctor said. "Very well," said the Captain. "Even though the symptoms don't seem too serious, I'd rather not have an epidemic on this ship, especially now when we might have found a way back. We're six weeks from this possible wormhole, and I need everyone on their toes. Keep me updated. Feel better B'Elanna." "Thank you, Captain," said Torres. "I just hope I don't lose my mind in here!"
As the Captain left, Neelix came through the door to sickbay. He had a steaming pot in his hands. "Well now, how's the patient," said Neelix in his cheery, sometimes irritating way. "The patient is out for blood," quipped the Doctor. "But, she's in no immediate danger Mr. Neelix. What on Earth is that concoction you have there?" "Well," began Neelix. "I read somewhere that humans used to treat colds with something called chicken soup. So, I found an old recipe and made an attempt of it." B'Elanna frowned. "I can't smell a damned thing, but it doesn't look too tempting," she said. "Oh, come now," said Neelix. "At least try it." Neelix filled a spoon with the noodle laden stuff and approached Torres with it. "If you try that 'here comes the starship in for a landing' stuff with me, I'll rip your arm off," Torres said. "I can feed myself." She grabbed the spoon from Neelix and took a tentative slurp. Then another. "You know," she said, "that's actually not too bad." "I'm glad you like it," Neelix said. "There is no known link between chicken soup and curing colds," said the Doctor. "It was just an old Earth rumor. Besides, this cannot be considered a cold. We are, after all, in the Delta Quadrant. However, if you manage to get my patient to eat anything, then I am grateful Mr. Neelix." "It's really pretty good…" began Torres, but she never got to finish her sentence. Suddenly, Torres clutched at her throat and began to take long, whistling breathes. She coughed and a torrent of blood flew out of her mouth. "MOVE MR. NEELIX," screamed the doctor. "MOVE!" Neelix flew out of the way as the doctor grabbed a medical tricorder and scanned Torres. "Her lungs are filling with blood," said the Doctor. "What is this?" The doctor grabbed a hypo spray. Torres was convulsing on her bed now, and her eyes were terrified. The Doctor injected his hypo spray, but Torres kept twitching. The Doctor grabbed another, and injected her again. Finally, Torres settled down, and began breathing semi-normally again. After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked straight at the Doctor. "Help me," she said weakly. "What's wrong with me? Am I dying?" The Doctor looked at Torres. "Damn whoever programmed me with emotions," thought the Doctor. He held Torres' hand, and Neelix took the other. "I won't let that happen, Lieutenant. I will find out what's wrong with you. Mr. Neelix, would you help me clean her up please?" "Of course, Doctor."