Mike Nelson the unfortunate, reluctant and defiant test subject of Dr. Clayton Forrester's experiment was trapped aboard the Satellite of Love. He wasn't alone. Joel Robinson, Dr. Forrester's first test subject managed to create four robot companions to keep him company in the years before his escape from the Satellite of Love. The robots were unable to escape along with Joel and were still trapped aboard the orbiting satellite.

Fortunately when Mike arrived the robots were willing to accept Mike as their new companion, and the five passengers aboard the Satellite of Love had been good friends ever since.

On this day, however, Mike had come down with the flu and was resting in his private quarters. It started early that morning with a simple sneeze, which turned into a sneezing attack and was shortly followed by fever, nausea and a headache.

After initially grossing out the robots Mike wanted to be alone in his misery, but the bots wouldn't have any of it. With the exception of Cambot, the robots all took turns stopping in and visiting Mike during his slow recovery.

Tom Servo abruptly entered Mike's room balancing a silver platter with a large bowl of soup on the top of his head.

"C'mon Mike, you gotta eat something!" Tom perched on the edge of the nightstand next to Mike's bunk. The small bowl of soup now sitting next to him, growing ever colder by the minute. "Joel was never this stubborn or difficult when he got sick!"

"Well, I'm not Joel..." Mike replied flatly. He looked up at Tom with his bloodshot blue eyes, then spied to bowl of soup. "And I'm not hungry."

"Hungry or not you have to eat. You need to keep your strength up."

Mike looked back at Tom for a moment then looked away, silently staring at the ceiling of his quarters feeling absolutely horrid.

"Geez, humans are so stubborn!" Tom griped. "Do I have to feed you?"

Mike didn't respond or even look at Tom.

"Come on Mike. Eat!" Tom urged playfully. He hovered off the table and onto Mike's chest. "Try some! Do it! For me, honey?" He then begged.

Sighing Mike closed his eyes and draped his arm over his eyes to shut out as much light at possible.

"Mike?" Tom leaned down closer to Mike's hidden face. "Will you please try to eat?"

Sighing heavily Mike let out a low response. "I can't."

"Nauseous, huh?"

"Uh-huh." Mike confirmed. "And a headache."

"My scanner's are registering you have a high temperature, too."

"How high?"

"Higher than Tommy Chong!"

"Not possible. How high really?"

"I'm reading a temperature of 102.6 degrees Fahrenheit."

"That is high." Mike commented. "I need to rest. So go away."

"You need a doctor!"

"Don't have one."

"But you have-" Tom was cut off when Mike picked him up and held him in the air.

"I need to rest." Mike repeated with authority. "Please let me alone for a while."

"Fine!" Tom accepted Mike's plea. "I'll be back in an hour to check on you, so, you know, don't die!"

"No promises."

Tom left Mike's quarters and returned to the bridge of the ship. Crow was working on a coloring book when he noticed his robot companion arrive. "Hey Servo. How's Mike doing?"

"He won't eat! That stubborn blonde is going to be the death of me, I swear!"

"No he won't. I will." Crow corrected.

"Oh, well, will you at least make I sure I die with dignity, or go out in a really interesting way?"

"I guarantee it!"

"Great."

"Think I'll go check on Mike now." Crow set aside his crayons and casually strode toward the doorway leading from the bridge. "Wonder if there's any soup left..."

"Uh, Crow, he's trying to sleep. He has a high temperature, you know, one of those 'fever' things."

"How high?" Crow asked over his shoulder.

"Higher than Cheech Marin."

"Not possible."

"That's what he said!" Tom reminisced.

"If he's still quipping reality then he's not that sick." Crow continued on his way down the corridor and into Mike's quarters.

The gold bot spied his human friend laying on his back on the bunk, his arm still draped over his eyes. "Mike?" Crow asked quietly as he approached the bunk. Upon closer inspection Crow could see that Mike was already asleep and looked very pale and kind of sweaty. Mike had unzipped his blue jumpsuit exposing the white t-shirt beneath, which was now soaked through with sweat stains around his neck, across his chest and under his arms.

"Mike?" Crow asked again climbing onto the edge of the bunk. "Can I eat your soup?"

Mike didn't respond, even if he had been awake he wouldn't have heard Crow whispering.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. Thanks Mike." Crow pulled the bowl of soup off the table and sat on the floor.

As Crow began to eat the soup Mike sat up slowly and clumsily got off his bunk. He made his way to the adjoined bathroom, shut the door and proceeded to be sick. After hearing the distinct and disgusting sound Crow pushed the bowl of soup away from him. "Suddenly I'm not hungry... Thanks again Mike!"

Gypsy let herself into the room and looked around confused. "Where's Mike?"

"Follow the puke! You'll find him."

"Oh, poor guy." Gypsy felt sorry for Mike. "I hope he gets better soon."

"He won't."

"Crow!"

"What? He won't eat and there isn't any medicine laying around. It's going to be a slow recovery period, we have to face facts."

"Hm, maybe I can help..."

"Doubt it."

The bathroom door opened slowly and Mike stumbled out. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and shielded his eyes with the other. As he tried to return to his bunk he lost his balance and fell to one knee.

"Mike!" Gypsy moved to his side. "Take it easy, you need to rest."

"Gypsy?" Mike looked at the purple bot confused. "What're you doing here?"

"Checking on you. Here, let's get you back to bed." Using her head she pushed Mike up from the ground back to his feet. "Lean on me."

Gypsy escorted Mike back to his bunk and helped him to lay on his back. "Thanks Gypsy..." He slurred a little.

"Don't move." Gypsy commanded as she entered the bathroom.

Crow climbed up on the bunk and looked at Mike. "Wow, you look really white!"

Mike didn't reply, he just stared at the ceiling with his glazed over blue eyes.

Gypsy returned to Mike's bunk with a cold washcloth in her mouth. She draped it over his forehead. "There. This should help."

Again Mike didn't respond, he didn't even react to the cold cloth being placed on his hot skin.

"Mike?" Gypsy tried to get him to look at her, but he his remained fix on the ceiling. "Uh-oh..."

"What?" Crow didn't like it when Gypsy said 'uh-oh'. "What's going on?"

"Crow, scan his body and give me a temperature reading."

"Okay." With a quick glance Crow was able to gauge a temperature on Mike. "Wow! His temperature is high!"

"How high?"

"Higher than Willie Nelson!"

"Not possible. What is it really?"

"He's at 103.4 degrees."

"That's bad."

"How bad?"

"Very." Gypsy looked at Mike's face. "If he doesn't get cooled down he'll overheat and die!"

"Oh. That bad."

"C'mon, we need to get some ice!"

"Roger!"

The two robots left Mike's quarters and made their way to the galley. Crow pulled open the large industrial freezer and started pulling out the ice trays. Gypsy grabbed the largest bowl the had on the ship and started putting the ice cubes inside.

Meanwhile Tom had gotten bored being alone on the bridge and decided to check in on Mike. As he entered the room he was surprised to see Mike alone and even more surprised to see him so pale and out of it. "Mike? You still there buddy?" He hovered up onto the nightstand again. "Hey... How'd you get the soup on the floor?"

Mike didn't answer. His eyes were now shut and he was starting to fidget in his sleep.

"Huh, must be an 'active sleeper'." Tom commented dryly. "How does one get a good night's rest when they're constantly flailing about?"

Gypsy and Crow returned to Mike's room with their bowl of ice. "Servo!" Gypsy didn't like Tom disturbing Mike. "What're you doing?"

"Checking on Mike. What're YOU doing?"

"Helping Mike!" Gypsy replied firmly as she proceeded to pull the large blanket that had been tossed off the end of the bad back over Mike's body. She then poured the ice onto the blanket and watched as Mike began to calm under the cooling sensation. "There! That should help!"

Mike stopped flailing so much and he became calm.

Crow leaned over Mike and stared at his face. "Huh, I never thought I'd see him so pale. I wonder if... if..." Crow snorted once.

"Crow?" Tom looked at his gilded companion. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm... AH-CHOO!" Crow suddenly sneezed and knocked himself off the bunk and onto the floor.

"Bless you!" Tom commented. "You sure you're alright?"

Crow sniffled and wiped his nose. "Uh-huh..." He stood up. "Don't know where it... AH-CHOO!"

"Eww!" Tom backed away from the sneezing bot. "Crow, you caught Mike's flu! Stay away from me!"

"I did not!" Crow defended through his stuffy nose. "It's allergies..."

"Gypsy?" Tom turned his attention to the purple bot. "What do you think?"

"Hmm..." Gypsy looked at Mike and then at Crow. "Tom, scan Crow and give me a reading."

"Right!" After a brief pause Tom had his answer. "Yup, he's running a high temperature too!"

"Hey, what do you know about my body temperature?"

"Joel told me that he designed our internal vital functions to mirror that of a humans. You have a higher than normal temperature, too."

Gypsy took control. "How high?"

"Higher than Keith Richards."

"Not possible. How high really?"

"He's at 100.9 and climbing."

Gypsy shook her head. "Bed!"

"What?"

"I said 'bed'!" Gypsy repeated. "You're sick and need to rest. Get to bed."

"But... but..."

"Move, mister!"

"Awww..." Crow whined but obeyed Gypsy's order. He left the room with his head hung low at a slow, whimpering pace.

"And stay in bed until I say its okay to get up!"

"Awww..." Crow could be heard whining in the hallway.

Tom chuckled a little. "Good, keeps him away from me for a while!"

Coughing caught the two remaining bots' attention. Mike was starting to wake up.

"Mike?" Gypsy gently asked. "You awake?"

"G-gypsy?" Mike stammered a little then coughed again.

"Take it easy." Gypsy tried to speak softly. "You're still pretty sick."

Mike cleared his throat and slowly pushed the icy compress off his body. "Why am I covered in ice cubes?"

"Oh, your fever got really high. We had to cool you down."

"Oh... How high?"

"Higher than Judy Garland."

"Not possible. How high really?"

"Almost to 104."

"That's high."

"And now Crow's sick, too."

Mike sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Aw man, poor guy."

Tom hovered up onto the bunk again. "Don't worry about it. Maybe he'll get a sore throat and lose his voice!"

"Maybe you guys should get out of here before I get you sick, too."

"Nah!" Tom shrugged the suggestion off. "If I haven't gotten sick by now, I never will."

Gypsy sighed a little. "I'm going to check on Crow and make sure he's in bed. I'll be back."

"Bye Gypsy..." Mike weakly responded. "We'll be here."

Tom moved closer to Mike's face. "How you feeling buddy?"

"Pretty lousy."

"How'd you get the flu while trapped in space?"

"I have no idea. Maybe the virus was in that rocket ship that brought me here. You know, laying dormant for a while."

"Maybe. But I still don't get it."

"Neither do I. I just know I HATE being sick!"

"Who doesn't?"

"Munchhausen patients."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it." Mike smirked a little. "Something I read in the waiting room before my last check-up."

"When was that?"

"Two days before I was approved for the temp job at 'Gizmonic Institute'."

"Too bad the doctor's didn't find anything wrong with you. Could've saved your butt from being launched into space!"

"Maybe." He suddenly closed his eyes tight and pressed his hands against his temples.

"Headache?"

"No! Migraine!" He replied through gritted teeth. "This is the LAST thing I need!"

Gypsy returned to Mike's quarters. "Crow is sleeping now. Tom, leave Mike alone so-" She saw the pained look on Mike's face. "Mike? What happened?"

Tom answered in a whisper. "Migraine."

"Oh." Gypsy responded quietly. "Let's go and leave him alone. Be as quiet as possible."

"Right." Tom hovered off the bunk and through the door.

"Mike?" Gypsy quietly made her way over to his bunk. "Can I do anything for you?"

Mike turned onto his side, which sent the remaining ice cubes flying in all directions, curled up into a ball and pulled the blanket over his head. "No..."

"Okay. Feel better soon." Gypsy left Mike's quarters and turned down the lights. "Poor guy."

"Yeah. Wonder how long before he- AH-CHOO!" Tom suddenly sneezed.

"Uh-oh!"

"What?"

"You're sick too!"

"Am not! It's just allergies!"

"Like Crow?"

"Well, maybe. I can't really answer- AH-CHOO!"

"Alright, bedtime mister!"

"Aw, Gypsy! C'mon, I'm not sick. AH-CHOO! Okay, I am sick, But not that sick!"

"Sick is sick! Go to bed! NOW."

"Okay, okay..." Tom submitted to Gypsy's request. "I'm going!"

Sighing Gypsy shook her head and returned to the bridge. She looked around and found it was so odd to see it vacant without 'Movie Sign' going off. She looked out the window to the Earth below. "Joel, what you do with a ship full of sick robots? I have no idea!"

Cambot let out a little chirp and caught Gypsy's attention.

"Thanks Cambot. Glad to know I can count on you!"

For three days Gypsy spent her time roaming back and forth from Mike's quarters, then to Crow's, then to Tom's and back to Mike's quarters...

Mike's flu had begun to clear up but his migraine remained static. Meanwhile Crow and Tom's flu seemed to be getting worse. It was difficult for Gypsy to play doctor to three patients. Three very different and very stubborn patients.

The poor robot was exhausted. It was difficult enough to keep the ship up and running but having to tend to her ill friends was almost too much to bear.

Gypsy took a moment for herself on the bridge. Just as she thought she had nothing left to give Mike appeared on the bridge. "Hi-ya Gypsy! How're you doing?"

"Mike? You're better?!"

"Yup!" He smiled and joined her at the desk. "My migraine finally let up about twenty minutes ago. I'm back baby!"

"Oh good! Maybe you can help me with- AH-CHOO!" Gypsy suddenly sneezed.

Mike held up his hands to shield himself from her sneeze.

"Oh, sorry!"

"It's okay. I'm the one who's sorry!"

"Why?"

"You caught my flu!" He put his hand on her nose. "You have a high temperature."

"How high?" She asked tiredly.

"Higher than John Belushi."

"Not possible."

Mike smiled. "C'mon," he wrapped his arm around her. "Let's get you to bed. It's MY turn to take care of you!"

-The End