A/N: You're probably trying to place the Niril, right? Don't. I made them up.
Chapter 4
The Niril
"Ow," the Doctor whined as the Doctor stuck him with a needle for a blood sample.
"There, there, it's over," replied the other Doctor dryly. The Captain and Tuvok walked into Voyager's sick bay as the doors parted with a hiss.
"Well?"
"The Doctor has graciously donated the last ingredient for our antidote," the EMH reported.
"What was it?"
"Biotic time vortex material. The Doctor can filter out what components we need from a DNA strand in my bloodstream and incorporate it into the antidote."
"Where did you pick up time vortex material," Janeway laughed, "or is that just another perk to being a time lord?"
"No, the Tardis has the whole time vortex welled up inside her, and I live in the Tardis. I've absorbed it over the past few hundred years." Janeway let out a quiet, impressed chuckle. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go down and purge the Tardis."
"Of course," Janeway smiled with a waving gesture of her hand.
"May I remind you of your own force fields," Tuvok put in. "You designed them so that not even a particle of the bacterium could get through, let alone a body."
"As I said before, I'm quite good at teleport." The Doctor reached for his thirty first century teleportation device, and pressed the button after setting the coordinates.
Tuvok raised an eyebrow, and the Doctor rolled his eyes with a sigh of disapproval. He did not care for the recklessness of their guest. Janeway, however, was extremely amused. She couldn't help but grin.
"What do you make of him, Doctor?" Tuvok questioned.
"He is extremely erratic and possibly unstable, but he's quite brilliant. He has a very interesting physiology as well. I believe he's safe enough, for now," the hologram added, knowing what the Vulcan was after. Tuvok nodded in reply, trusting the Doctor's judgment.
"When will the antidote be ready?" Janeway inquired.
"I should have it done in a matter of hours."
"Good. Start working on a way to cleanse the stranded crew without releasing the bacterium," Janeway ordered, taking her leave.
The Doctor woke to a sudden jolt. He was violently thrown out of bed.
"Whoa! Oh," he groaned as he picked himself up. He rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the floor's grating. "That's going to leave a mark." The Doctor slipped on his coat without bothering to change, and dashed out to the engine room. He checked the monitors, trying to figure out what had happened. His Tardis hadn't budged; it was Voyager that had been affected.
Then, a shrill whining emanated from the console.
"Bah!" the Doctor cried, protecting his sensitive ears. With one hand, he spun a few dials and pushed a few buttons until the whining subsided and Captain Janeway's face appeared on the monitor. "A little softer next time please, Captain."
"My apologies, Doctor," she began, though she didn't sound too apologetic, "but we're having a bit of trouble locking onto your call frequency." The Doctor noticed that the image was blurry and breaking up.
"Yes, the time vortex interferes with that. For your ship's technology, the frequency appears to be constantly changing. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for that."
"That appears to be the least of our troubles at the moment, Doctor. Could you see me in my ready room?"
"Of course, Captain."
"It's urgent. Come as soon as possible," she nodded.
The Doctor took only enough time to change his clothes, and teleported strait to sickbay to be dosed with the antidote. As soon as this was done, he took the shortcut by teleport directly to the Captain's office.
The Captain wasn't too pleased with his sudden appearance. The Doctor arrived smiling boldly, expecting one of the Captain's amused greetings. All he received, however, was a dark look and an invitation to sit. The Doctor's smile vanished, realizing that something was seriously wrong, and just about pounced on the chair.
"We came across a new species this morning. They accused us of trespassing in their space and wouldn't allow us to go any further. The hatet we need is in the heart of their territory. We offered to trade with them, but they fired on us."
"That explains the ship rocking," the Doctor realized. Janeway gave a curt nod of confirmation. "This species you ran into. What are they called?"
"They identified themselves as the Niril." The Doctor's face fell.
"Oh, no," he sighed.
"You've encountered them before?"
"Yes, once or twice a long time ago."
"I take it they are hostile?"
"No, no, not usually. Most of the time, they'll just pull a very convincing bluff. They're very territorial, though, and won't trade at all. Especially not the hatet. They spend their whole lives mining and refining the stuff. Their whole civilization is powered off of it, but there's such a need for it on their planet, it's becoming harder to find. They get very touchy when it comes to hatet."
"Is there any way we could convince them to give up just enough?"
"Probably not," he sighed. The Captain sighed. "However," the Doctor continued, "we can't cleanse the ship without it, so we may as well give it a shot."
"What do we have that might get their attention?" the Captain asked.
"Well," the Doctor said, getting up, "let's find out." He jumped through the doors and nudged the stunned Ensign Kim aside at the console. The Doctor fiddled with the controls using the sonic, and finished just as Janeway came out and noticed what he was doing. Sparks shot from it in time for her to see. She let out a disapproving huff, but didn't protest. The view screen flickered on, and the nearest Niril ship came in over the com.
The Doctor looked on in distain at the familiar face of a Niril. He wasn't one to be prejudice, but even he wasn't fond of the Nirils' looks. They had pale, moist skin that always looked slimy to the touch. A short head frill, no more than an inch high at the most rippled along their heads starting just above the eyebrows and stretching down the whole neck. They had only a bump for a nose with two flat nostrils stretched too far apart on males and much too close on females. Their ears were naturally ragged and torn looking, and they were much too long; the loose skin fluttered out behind them like flags when they walked. They had six fingers on each hand with slight webbing in between. Each finger was topped by a pointed, claw like growth that only added to their unpleasant, intimidating appearance.
"DOCTOR?!" the Niril on the other end of the screen burst. The Doctor recoiled at the forceful sound of his name. He scrunched his eyes, trying to place this Niril's face. His eyes bulged when he finally realized who he was facing.
"SYLRICK?" he exclaimed with equal surprise.
"A friend of yours?" Janeway asked hopefully. Perhaps they could get the hatet after all.
"Not exactly," the Doctor said. He turned to face Janeway with a serious look. The Captain was shocked to pinpoint fear on his face too. Genuine fear!
The Niril on the other end smiled slyly.
"You have been seeking the material of the hatet, I understand."
"That's right," the Captain spoke, instantly preparing to negotiate a trade.
"I have a quantity on my ship. It isn't often that we trade the material, but I'm sure we can come to an agreement."
"What are you up to, Sylrick?" the Doctor demanded.
"Whatever do you mean, Doctor?" the Niril questioned "innocently" with a slight growl.
"I wouldn't put it past you to take advantage of the situation."
"You mean like the last time we met? You remember. You ruined one of my sales."
"Your so called new 'product' was infected with deadly radiation!"
"How was I to know that my customers would have a reaction to the Tsian?"
"Whatever you're planning, I hope you know that I'll have to stop you."
"Tell me, Doctor. Where is your friend, Rose Tyler?" The Doctor froze at the mention of his dear friend's name. She had accompanied him on his last encounter with this sly conman Sylrick. "Now that I've got your attention," he rumbled, "perhaps I can turn back to the Captain and arrange to beam aboard your ship?"
"Of course," the desperate Captain replied.
"Don't trust him," the Doctor roared.
"Captain?"
"I'll have you beamed aboard." Sylrick tipped his head in 'thanks.' "Tuvok," she summoned.
"Captain, I must protest," the Doctor insisted, catching her halfway through the door.
"We will take every precaution," she assured. "You said it yourself, Doctor. We need the hatet to cleanse the ship. I am not willing to complete our journey back to Earth on thrusters alone." The Doctor bit his lip to stop himself from offering to tow them. He knew the Tardis was capable of such a feat, but this was a fixed point in time. He could alter all of history if he interfered now.
Since he could not prevent the Captain from trading with his old foe, he decided to pay a visit to the Doctor and then monitor Sylrick's actions from the safety of the Tardis. He decided not to bother with the teleport; a teleport could be too easily reversed if Sylrick was still holding a grudge and wanted him personally. He hurried down to sick bay and rushed through the sliding doors. The Doctor looked up only long enough to see who it was.
"Oh, it's you again," he stated flatly.
"Doctor, I need your expertise," the Doctor panted. "You're very familiar with this crew, yes?"
"Well, of course. I've travelled with them for quite some time now."
"Tell me, Doctor, does the crew have any major weak points?" The Doctor shot him a look as if to ask, do I really look that stupid to you? "No, no, not like that. The crew may be in real danger here."
"I'm sorry. That is classified information. For all I know, you could be the danger to the crew."
"All right, think, think, think," the Doctor muttered to himself through frustrated, clenched teeth, running a hand through his hair. How could he word it so it didn't sound so suspicious? "Let me just put it this way. There's a criminal coming aboard this ship to negotiate for a portion of hatet. I've dealt with him before. I wouldn't doubt that he has something up his sleeve. Guard your weak spots at all times and don't trust him, whatever he says. Stay on guard."
With that, the Doctor turned and left, taking a dose of the antidote to save for his return trip. He headed through the decks until he came to the force field, where he teleported only to the other side of the wall. If his teleport was undone, he wouldn't have gone far.
For half of an hour, the Doctor looked for something that might give away Sylrick's plans. He checked the shipment of hatet three times over for any unusual substance that might poison the crew. The Niril came and prepared to leave. The Doctor was beginning to think that Sylrick really had been making an honest trade. That still didn't explain why he suddenly changed his mind in trading with the Voyager crew. Twenty minutes later, the Doctor paid him a surprise visit.
"How did you get in?" he squeaked.
"The same way as you. Simple teleportation."
"Fair enough. What do you need, Doctor?"
"You were right about that man, Sylrick."
"What's he done?"
"Come with me." The two Doctors hurried out of the cargo bay and rushed to sick bay. The Doctor explained what had happened along the way.
"Everything was going fine. They only wanted a pure sample of warp plasma in return for the hatet for research they were conducting on new energy sources. We gave them the warp plasma, and they promised to beam aboard the hatet. Just as they were getting on the transporter platform, they shot something at the Captain. It seems to be instantly contagious to the touch. It's getting worse. I've never seen anything like it. Half of the crew has been infected."
The sickbay doors parted with a hiss of protest. The Doctor took a few long bounds to the Captain's side. He was careful not to touch her, but he peered at the injury. The surrounding skin was becoming inflamed and an unnatural shade of green.
"It's Crurttan," he diagnosed, "and it's deadly."