The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 52


Malcolm Reed woke with a gasp, still tormented by the dreams that would not let him rest, somewhat relieved to find the disturbing images were not part of the real world. He was still in Sickbay. Beyond the curtains he could hear the soft sounds of females whispering, but he could not make out the words; the thick fog still enveloped his senses. His chest still hurt, but the pain in his throat had eased. The itch on the skin covered by bandages grew in intensity and he gingerly tried to peel back his dressings to relieve the insistent torment, going so far as to peel up the edge of the wrap.

"I wouldn't," spoke a welcome voice to his left. Although soft, it was familiar. "Doc'll tie you down if you play with your bandages." The curtains had been drawn back between the bed next to Reed's and a familiar blond head was tilted in his direction.

Reed felt unaccountably cheerful that Trip remained with him. If he had to be in a hospital, it was better not to be alone. "Glad to see you're still here, Commander," he greeted his friend. "I was worried you might be gone already."

"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. The doctors want me to stay here a while longer. I don't know why." Trip shook his head. "I feel pretty well rested, like I just got up from a long nap." He yawned widely. His skin lesions were disappearing quickly although a few pink spots still remained.

"It was no nap, Commander. You're quite lucky." The new voice preceded the hand that pushed aside the privacy curtain. A pretty Denobulan female entered with a smile for the engineer. "I'm Dr. Ezme of the Denobulan Medical Guild ship Zhorya." she announced herself. "You're looking well, Commander. Quite well, in fact," her grin widened. "My mother will be pleased."

"Your mother?" Trip repeated, puzzled by her familiarity. He remembered every Denobulan he ever met and she was not among them.

"Feezal is my mother," Ezme grinned again. "She sends her warmest regards." Her deep blue eyes twinkled. Feezal was Phlox's second wife, and she'd been rather fond of Trip when she'd come aboard almost two years ago to install a neutron microscope.

Too fond, Trip remembered with a suppressed shudder. He hoped it was just coincidence that Feezal's daughter's medical examination required her hand on his thigh at that particular moment, but he was afraid to ask. He also wasn't sure how to make her take it away, especially with Reed watching. Trip was so focused on the new doctor that he didn't notice the strange expression that began drifting across the tactical officer's face.

Andie's gone! Reed reminded himself. He didn't know why he was so disappointed; she warned him it might happen. He'd just been so sure that she'd be here when he woke, instead of this parade of alien medical workers.

"I'd really be happier with m'own doctor, if you don't mind," Trip tried a diplomatic approach.

"I assure you, I am well qualified to treat whatever your ailments, Commander," Ezme announced with amusement. Now he could see the resemblance. Feezal loved to tease him too.

"Still I'd like Andie to take a quick gander at me," Trip insisted.

"Where is she?" Reed demanded harshly. The force it put on his throat made his eyes water as he fought back the urge to cough, but he never dropped his eyes from the Denobulan who refused to answer his questions without any diversion.

"She's resting," Ezme repeated what Dr. Azu had already told them.

"I'm done resting and I suggest we switch patients." The curtain billowed to allow Dr. Andie to step inside the white cocoon, and the force with which Reed exhaled in relief nearly caused him to drop back on his pillows hacking loudly. Andie continued speaking as though Reed had not made a sound. "Truax would like to speak to you about the leech therapy we talked about, and Trip seems anxious to revisit my bedside manner." She offered a smile to the engineer and noted Ezme's hand, still resting on his leg, with amusement before continuing. "One of the first things I was told in medical school was that I was not allowed to fondle the patient in his sickbed." Andie arched an eyebrow at Ezme, who only grinned wider. Andie dipped her attention to the data pad she was studying too intently in her hands, giving Trip the impression that she was trying to appear as though she wasn't laughing at his misery. "You're supposed to wait until they're back on their feet," she finished.

"Of course," Ezme agreed easily. "I wouldn't want to over-exert my patient before he's working at…optimum efficiency." She wrinkled her nose flirtatiously.

The two doctors turned to grin at Trip. He returned their amused glances with a good-natured frown. It seemed Denobulan females weren't the only ones who liked to tease him.

"Is there any good news for the day?" he retorted sarcastically.

"I have good news, Tucker," Andie chirped. "You'll be heading back to your quarters later this afternoon. You're going to be back on your feet real soon. Of course, then you'll be right back off your feet. It'll be time for bed. And I'm sure you'll be real tired." The innuendo was barely masked. She stifled a grin as Trip blanched. He snuck a quick peek at Ezme's face; the Denobulan beamed even more widely at his attention.

"Perhaps a shared meal would not be out of the question," Ezme teased him further, verbally stepping in on cue. "We could catch up on old times." She removed her hand from his thigh by sliding it slowly down his calf to his ankle. He could feel the heat of her hand through the blanket and tried not to squirm.

"We don't have any old times," he protested weakly.

"Not yet," she smirked warmly, slowly removing her hand from his ankle. "I remain hopeful."

"I am so glad the two of you are getting along so well. It really makes my day to know you're enjoying my pain and misery." Trip glared half-heartedly at them. It was hardly the worst thing in the world when two pretty women enjoyed joshing him. In fact, it did his ego some good. "I thought I'd come back and eat with Malcolm if you don't mind. That is, if he's still going to be here." Trip darted his eyes to face his stoic friend.

Reed had gathered himself together after his coughing fit and was watching the human doctor as though she might be part of his dream. He wanted to say something to express his relief that she had chosen to remain on board. His cheeks flushed as he remembered his behavior toward her most recently. He'd been haunted by a fever that caused unwanted hallucinations. That's all that his phantom visions had been. It was a relief to know that the visions of the dead girl had been a product of a sick and fevered mind. He didn't think anyone else had noticed her and hoped she would remain his secret. Dr. Brainerd certainly didn't need to know about her. Reluctantly he brought his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"I don't mind at all! I love a picnic in bed," Ezme purred with a sweet grin. "It's one of life's…second…best indulgences. It might be nice to get to know Lieutenant Reed as well." Laughter danced in her very blue eyes as she rested a hand on Reed's calf instead. "Perhaps Dr. Andie will join us. I'm sure I can manage to find a bed in Sickbay that is to her liking." Although still smiling, there was a meaningful undercurrent in her remark to the human doctor that carried all the up to her very sober eyes.

Andie smiled curtly at Ezme. "I'm not sleeping in any room that also houses the two of them."

"Well, you ought to rest somewhere," Ezme mentioned pointedly.

"I rested just fine in my own quarters," Andie replied. Her tone might be sugary sweet, but her eyes glittered like ice. "Ask Dr. Zhoki."

"Don't think I won't," Ezme beamed. She picked up the PADD that Andie handed her. "Let me render myself unconscious as we finish up here, then we can look in on your other patient."

"Sure," Andie agreed, stifling another grin. "'Knock yourself out.' " She repeated the human phrase that Ezme had unknowingly butchered.

Trip remained amused at the easy volley between the two doctors. Obviously they'd spent enough time together to mimic certain speech patterns and encounter some personality traits. At least he wasn't the only person in Sickbay that was getting a hard time from the visiting doctors.

"Tell Dr. Andie how you are feeling, Commander Tucker." Ezme returned to her professional demeanor. "Your fever has broken and your dermal outbreak seems to be improving."

"I'm fine," he answered easily. "Like I said, I feel like I just woke up from a nap."

"Azu said you were having dreams?" Andie prompted.

"Yeah, I was in this cabin and I was chopping wood…" He went on to describe his dream, more briefly this time, wondering why all the concern about a few nocturnal movies that only played in his head.

Reed still watched Andie, while she continued ignoring him, hiding her expression by studying a data pad.

The line deepened between Andie's eyes as she studied Trip. "You don't feel weary or worn out?" She finally broke in and cut him off.

"Nope," he answered again. "It was just a dream. I feel great. Why? Is that bad?"

"No, that is very encouraging," Ezme answered, making notes in her data pad. "Perhaps your well-being is what brought you through with flying hues."

"Flying colors," Andie corrected her absently, studying Trip intently. She ran her own instrument over Trip's form, noting the read-outs over his head with another deep frown. "Your recuperation is remarkable." She brought her attention back to his concerned face. "That's good news," she told him with a professional smile. "Let's get another dermal treatment before you head home."

Ezme concurred then moved on to the other man. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" Ezme asked the quiet man. She turned her very blue eyes in his direction and Reed forced his attention to her queries.

"I'm very well, thank you," he answered politely.

"You feel well rested also?"

"Yes, of course," he lied agreeably, feeling the back of his eyes scratch with weariness every time he closed them. "I'm fine."

Andie hadn't moved closer. She remained at the foot of Tucker's bed. "You didn't have any disturbing dreams?" she inquired. He seemed to be much steadier now than he had been a few hours ago. She didn't really need to ask about his dreams; he'd moaned and murmured his way through several nightmares before the Denobulans had arrived. He didn't seem inclined to share that information though. There was no need to confirm his restless sleep; the dark circles under his eyes gave him away.

"No, not really," he denied the dark and crazy images that had plagued him in the land of dreams.

"How's Phlox?" Trip cut in, leaning so far out of bed that Andie feared he might fall out as he tried to get a better look at Reed's charts, as though he'd understand what all the medical information meant.

"He'll be all right," Ezme answered with a practiced smile. "My colleagues Zhoki and Azu are with him right now. They seem to believe that he will make a full recovery in time."

"In time?" Trip repeated tactlessly. "In time for what?"

"We'll know more when the Denobulans finish their examination," Andie broke in smoothly. It was the same non-response they'd be getting since the beginning, but she had no way of knowing that it would only further their concerns rather than allay them. She put her medical machines back in the pocket of her blue lab coat, which she'd presumably brought out for the benefit of the visiting doctors. "Right now, we're going to leave you gentlemen in peace. You'll be in Ezme's capable hands. If you're very good I'll see that Chef puts extra gelatin on your lunch tray."

"You're not going to take care of us?" Trip asked, with a concerned look at Ezme's delight. Although he was fairly certain she was just teasing him, she still made him squirm with her warm looks, and the memory of her mother chasing him around the ship.

"I have some other duties to tend to," Andie answered cryptically. A device beeped from deep inside another of her pockets.

"What could be more important than your patients?" Reed asked with irritation. It was the first time he'd spoken to her directly.

"I have seventy-four other patients," she muttered as she pulled the beeping device from her pocket and wandered off, concentrating on the data, ignoring Ezme's huff of exasperated air.

"You're supposed to be resting!" Ezme called out after the departing female, who waved a lazy hand in acknowledgment even as she entered the doctor's office rather than exiting the ward through the double doors. The Denobulan turned back to her current patients with a frustrated sigh. "Her work on the condition of the humans has been remarkable, although I am concerned with her lack of care for her own well-being. I suppose it is not a surprise that physicians of many species exhibit this same trait. She's worked very hard to return her crewmates to their health."

For the first time Reed's eye wandered to the captain's former bio-bed. It was empty.

Ezme followed his gaze. "Captain Archer and several others were returned to their own quarters to continue their recuperation," she explained.

"She came up with a cure?" Reed questioned slowly. He couldn't believe she was still here.

"In the pinch of time," Ezme answered with a smile. "A few more hours and you would still be sleeping, were it not for her antiviral treatment."

"Nick of time," Malcolm corrected absently. "I thought it was a sulfate treatment."

"No," Ezme rechecked her PADD just to make certain. "It was an antiviral that occurs naturally in Denobulans. She was able to harvest some from Phlox and calculate for human consumption."

"Commander T'Pol was released?" Trip inquired casually, tearing his eyes away from her former bed with difficulty. He wasn't certain why he expected her to be here when he woke, but her absence was disheartening. In spite of the many bodies that still inhabited the ward, he suddenly felt a bit lonely.

"Yes, as was Ensign Nichols," Ezme answered. "They responded very quickly to treatment. Lieutenant Truax and Ensign Mazaro remain, due to their emergency surgical procedures." She pulled back the curtains and pointed to the beds that had been inhabited by those she spoke of. That's how they caught sight of yet another Denobulan.

"She's not eating. She'll probably die before we return," the alien muttered to himself. Ezme pulled back the curtain further and all three heads spied the doleful Denobulan studying the Pyrhithian bat through the confines of her cage without much enthusiasm.

"Good morning, Dr. Ymo," Ezme greeted him with humor in her voice. "How is the treatment of Phlox progressing?"

"They say he's fine," the morbid little man answered with a heavy sigh. "He probably won't die today at any rate. Dr. Zhoki thinks Dr. Phlox ought to be treated by Denobulans at the Prime Medical Guild, as though they don't have enough to do. They're preparing him for transport. It's going to be a very long journey. I offered to update the human captain myself, but Dr. Azu thought I might prove more useful in here, studying the animal life. I'm surprised any of them are still alive at this point. It's a wonder we all haven't succumbed to misery and death."

Reed and Trip exchanged glances and refrained from smirking. This was their first gloomy Denobulan. He was somewhat refreshing. And they would never forget that his name was Ymo.

A gray feline hopped up onto the foot of the bed and stared hard at Trip's forehead. She turned around in a circle before settling down to knead his leg with a loud purr.

"Hey ,Jojo!" Trip smiled with genuine pleasure at the shy little feline. "How are you feeling?"

She purred her response, twitching her tail three times before stretching out on her side within easy reach of his fondling fingers. The cat squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to exude contentment and ease. It was going to be a good day.


Phlox's office was a small room off the main medical ward, complete with a comfortable sofa and a large wall monitor. Rather than work in her quarters, barren now that everything she owned had been tossed into a variety of cargo containers, Andie chose to work here. When she dropped into the chair behind the desk and perused the medical files on the computer screen, Leon curled up on the corner of the worktable. Absently she scratched his head, which caused the cat to purr. The medical information was automatically updated as reports were filed around the ship. There was something odd that she just couldn't put her finger on and the data pad she'd been studying lay forgotten in her hand.

Ezme entered the room and stopped short when she saw it was occupied. "You are supposed to be resting," she accused gently. "We had a rather spirited discussion about this earlier?"

"I'm lying down!" Andie pointed out, indicating the pillow propped on one end of the sofa. "Well, I'm about to lie down. There's just one thing I want to do first."

Ezme raised an eyebrow. "You're working," she pointed out with amusement.

"Only a little bit," Andie protested. She stood up and moved around to the front of the desk, ceasing the caresses to her cat, much to Leon's displeasure. He removed himself to the sofa, licking the base of his tail while she began to arrange medical charts on the large screen. "This doesn't make sense, does it?"

Three files took up the whole monitor with the recent records of two men and a female. Clearly the doctor would not rest until her work was done. Ezme sighed and took up a position next to Andie. They both rested their backsides against Phlox's desk and studied the large screen in front of them.

"What do you find puzzling?" Ezme asked resignedly.

"Coma patients all exhibit reduced neural activity," Andie began. "In all three of these cases, the subjects experienced elevated activity, indicating that they were not in a true coma. Everyone else but these three report the same symptoms. These three are different. It's odd."

"The female is Vulcan," Ezme pointed out. "Their blood is high in copper content. The Denobulan enzyme does not flourish in a copper rich environment. It should have kept the Sleeping Sickness at bay."

"So if she's got a natural immunity, why did she get sick in the first place?" Andie asked. "She was one of the first to fall victim to the sleeping sickness, but she should have been the last. And she never developed the rash. She only fell asleep."

"Maybe the copper kept the rash away," Ezme murmured. "Asleep is certainly the right word; her neural wave pattern resembles REM wave patterns found in sleeping humans." She pointed to the icon on the bottom of the screen.

One eyebrow arched. "To my knowledge, Vulcans don't dream," Andie pointed out. "That looks like a human dream state."

"We don't know that this is a dream," Ezme pointed out.

"Do you have another explanation?" Andie wondered.

The Denobulan didn't. "No," she denied as she chewed her lip. Stepping forward she pointed to the second chart, belonging to a human male. "But the neural wave pattern here is very similar to the Vulcan female."

Andie hit a few buttons, causing the two wave patters to overlap. "Actually it's identical," she murmured in surprise. It wasn't just a similar pattern; the two shapes were identical in rise and fall except that the Vulcan female's reached higher peaks and lower valleys than the human male. The odds of that occurring normally were astronomically high. Nobody had the same neural patters; not even twins.

"You said this human male was especially susceptible to the Sleeping Sickness. His illness progressed at a stupendous rate before leveling off. Is that right?" Ezme wondered. She too stepped away from the desk to peer more intently at the three reports.

"Yes, without explanation to the leveling off part," Andie confirmed. "The medications were not showing any signs of working. He just stopped getting worse."

Ezme punched a few more buttons showing a much longer diagram of the neural wave pattern, occurring over several hours. "The wave patterns synchronized at the same time," she noted. "They were dissimilar before this point."

"They started dreaming at the same time?" Andie wondered dubiously. "Do you suppose it was the same dream?"

"We don't know that this is a dream pattern," Ezme pointed out again. "More study would be necessary before making that pronouncement."

"But it's possible," Andie insisted slowly.

"Two patients dreaming the same dream is one probable explanation for the wave patterns, but does not address why similar dream states might prevent the furthering in one patient of a disease that has affected both patients."

"It might if one patient has a high copper content in her blood and is therefore less susceptible to the disease in the first place," Andie referred back to the female Vulcan.

"Then she should not have fallen ill in the first place," Ezme pointed out. "They are both recovered now."

Andie pondered both files silently. "See? I don't like mysteries like this," she decided with a sigh.

"What of your third case?" Ezme pointed at the third file. It was another human male, the last to contract the disease with any significant symptoms.

"He also presents with elevated rather than decreased neural activity," Andie murmured quietly, still pondering the first two files. A person could not pass immunity through one's dreams, could they?

"But he resisted the disease for a significant portion of time," Ezme pointed out. "It's possible that his neural activity did not decrease significantly before the medication began to work."

"He may have been hallucinating before his capitulation to the disease," Andie stated quietly, as though there was anyone else in the room to overhear. Even the door was shut between the office and the medical ward.

"Humans often hallucinate when their internal temperatures reach a certain degree," Ezme pointed out. "Denobulans have been known to hallucinate during times of great crisis; it's considered a healthy response." Her mouth twitched. "Perhaps this male has Denobulan DNA."

Andie looked at Ezme and realized she was being teased. "You think I'm projecting my own frustrations on the medical results of three patients out of seventy-four that fell ill with dissimilar symptoms?" she mused ruefully.

"You've been under a great deal of strain, being one of the few on board that did not fall ill," Ezme pointed out. "There may be some issues of emotional strain lingering. Unless you have reason to believe that this third patient has some underlying psychological issue that you'd like to present? Was this his first command situation?"

"No," Andie answered uncertainly. "I'm pretty certain he's had command experience before."

"Was he in command during a life or death determining situation?"

"Yes, but I think this was his first medical crisis. It's something he can't fight on his own," Andie answered, forming her own opinions about his underlying psychological strain that she was reluctant to offer to Ezme. "Perhaps I'm worrying for nothing," she finished, although the frown lingered on her face.

"Perhaps you're suffering from lack of rest, insufficient nutrition and an excess of artificial stimulants?" Ezme pointed out, making visual contact with the steaming thermos that still rested on the desk where Andie persisted in working.

Andie opened her mouth to protest then gave up and looked at the alien with a smirk. "Do you think I'm curable, Doc?"

"Plenty of bed rest and a good meal should put you to rights," Ezme smiled. "Zhoki and Azu are retro-fitting the Zhorya to accommodate Phlox's transport to Denobula Prime where he is expected to make a full recovery. It should take them several hours. Ymo and I can handle the medical ward now that most of the crew has been returned to their normal health and the ship has returned to its normal decontaminated state. You should take this opportunity to rest. In your own quarters," she added pointedly.

The human forced a smile. Her quarters weren't going to be hers much longer. "I have one…no, two minor details to see to before I head off to rest," she announced stubbornly. "Then it's off to bed. I promise." She scooped up the orange cat and headed out of the room. "Truax would like to talk to you about leech therapy and Mazaro would like to return to his own quarters. I guess that's just three things…no, maybe four things…before I head off to bed."

Ezme was relieved that Andie left the thermos behind. She didn't relish the idea of wrestling the container out of the doctor's hands. She had a feeling that fight would be dirty.

"No, wait! Just five little things!" the other woman called from the main medical ward.

The Denobulan just sighed.


The chime rang and Archer barked an order to enter. Porthos wiggled around until Dr. Andie set him down upon the bed with a flourish. Happy to have solid matter under his paws again, Porthos set about washing Archer's face with his tongue.

"I thought you might like your roommate back before I'm banished to bed rest myself," she smiled. Lines were beginning to spread at the edge of her shadowed eyes. When Ezme had finally tossed her out of the medical ward, Andie had fought to be allowed to return the mutt to his owner on her way to her own quarters. She had a few questions she wanted to ask him.

"Is it safe?" Jon asked, running his hands over his beagle as though searching for bumps or bruises. "Is he okay?"

"I've given him a special blend of the medication and doused him with a dermaline bath. He wasn't too fond of that, but he acquitted himself admirably." She looked down at her own damp shirt ruefully.

"Thanks, Doc," Archer agreed. He felt sore and a little dehydrated, but other than those, his symptoms seemed to have disappeared. "I guess I should be getting back to work." He started to rise from his bunk, but a quick movement of Andie's hand brought forth the hypo-spray from her pocket.

"You're confined to bed rest until tomorrow morning," she challenged, lifting her chin. "If you object, you'll find yourself napping until I say so." She waggled the instrument, presumably filled with sedative.

He should be annoyed at her high-handed attitude, but the idea of peaceful sleep actually sounded pretty good at the moment. The ship was at a standstill, docked with the Denobulan vessel, and there were several medical professionals on board to lend Andie a hand, not to mention all the members of the crew who were waking up and getting back to work. Life was looking pretty good. "I guess I'll stay in bed," he conceded, lying back on his pillows.

She didn't leave.

"Was there something else, Doc?" he asked, when she remained in place, shifting restlessly.

Andie lifted her head and stared at him, making Jon feel like a mouse targeted by a hungry hawk. "You know, I've only studied the disease from the outside," she began cautiously. "But I don't know what it felt like. I don't know what you experienced while you were sleeping. Can you tell me anything?"

She paced slowly at the foot of his bed. She'd pause at the window, peering sightlessly out at the stars before retracing her steps. For the most part, Andie didn't look at him at all; she just looked over her shoulder in his direction. He could see the question wasn't just about medical curiosity.

Jon answered slowly; stroking Porthos' back in long, smooth motions, as though he might offer the worried woman a little comfort by his movements. "I feel a little sore now, but during the coma I felt…asleep. It was just a deep sleep."

"Did you experience any images or sensations?" she asked intently.

Jon considered it. "I didn't dream at all," he decided. There was a feeling of lethargy, but not of reverie. "I hope that's helpful."

Still she didn't move. There was something more she wanted to say.

"I haven't had a chance to make inquiries of everyone who experienced a deep sleep cycle, but I've asked a few people. They all have the same experience as you; asleep but not really dreaming. With the exception of two," she added, staring out at the stars again.

"Commander Tucker dreamed an intensely vivid dream. He was on vacation in the mountains. He can tell me about chopping wood and tending animals and sitting by the fire. He feels like he's been on vacation for three days."

"Hunh," Archer grunted.

Again she looked up sharply; her gray eyes met his green ones. "What?"

"I just…expected Trip to vacation on the beach," he explained.

Andie tried not to purse her lips with frustration. She wasn't certain if anything she said was really getting through to him, or if she should be saying anything at all.

"What about the second person?" Archer prompted her.

"The second person…" she went on automatically, as though she was so tired she was waiting to be prodded into action, "…the second person dreamed in nightmares. This person spent his infected hours in nervous fidgeting and conversations with an unseen person. I have reason to believe that these nightmares are more than just a symptom of a high fever. I believe that this patient would benefit from more professional counseling than I can administer."

Jon leaned back against his pillows, wishing he was holding his yellow polo ball. "Are you making a formal recommendation?" Psychiatric instability would not look good on anyone's record.

"Not at this time," she denied, looking at her hands and pacing again. "It may just be an odd reaction to the fungal spores. I wanted to consult with you first. You know him well enough."

"Who is it?"

Here she cringed. She knew what was coming. "Lieutenant Reed," she answered firmly.

Archer nearly rolled his eyes. "Lt. Reed is a fine officer and I don't believe that he's in need of any professional counseling. Whatever your personal grudge against Malcolm, he's a good officer. He's intelligent and polite. He tries not to trouble anyone."

"Smart, nice, keeps to himself; you do realize you've described every serial killer ever documented?" She was just being impudent now.

"He's not a serial killer!" Jon retorted in exasperation.

"That's what they all say until someone finds their neighbor's pet cut up into bits and stored in their cold stasis unit!" She ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Reed doesn't cook," Archer pointed out glibly, pulling Porthos closer to him instinctively. He kept hoping she would drop it. He should have known better.

"Well, that makes him safe then," she ended with sarcasm. There was a brief pause before she began again. "I think your attitude toward a little counseling is something that could use some work. Members of your crew who might feel it prudent to seek an outside opinion from time to time might refuse treatment because of your bias."

"I don't have a bias," he refuted. "I just don't believe in therapy. We can all handle out own problems."

"He was suffering from hallucinations!" she protested feebly.

"He's had a rough time lately!" Jon countered. "Two weeks ago a highly-charged energy ball that was the remnants of a life-force locked in a transporter beam was careening around the ship! It killed a member of his team! Malcolm would take that very personally! And last week a silicon virus spread throughout the ship, nearly killing two of his friends, and then pirates…your friends…tried to take over the ship! This week Phlox's sleep cycle is taking down a large number of crewmen! Considering what he's been through, I think Malcolm is doing just fine!" All that firm conversation made his throat dry and he reached for a glass of water.

"I think…" she started again. "He was having the nightmares before he went to sleep," she tried once more. "I think he might benefit from the counsel of a professional."

"He's not crazy!"

"I never said he was," she replied quietly. "He just seems to suffer from more pressure than the rest of the crew, and I think he could use a little…understanding."

"I won't allow you to mark his record with something that might do damage to his career, just because the two of you don't get along!" Archer settled down, relaxing into his pillows. "I'll talk to him," he decided.

"But, Jon…"

"Are you planning on making this an official medical order?" he demanded. He was getting prickly.

"No," she finally decided.

"Then I'll handle it," he stated with finality. "We're all under a lot of pressure and I think it's best if we take care of each other." Jon found it disconcerting that he couldn't figure out what she was thinking; her expression remained politely inscrutable. "Is there anything else?" he barked gruffly when she continued to stand there.

"I wanted you to know that I'm packed," she forced the words out although her voice was very small.

"Packed?"

"I thought if you had no objections, I could get a ride with the Zhorya. It would save Starfleet the trouble of sending a ship all the way out here. If you'd like I'd be happy to look over your list of candidates and offer suggestions about your temporary medical officer."

"That won't be necessary."

"Of course not," she backtracked. "You have your own criteria, and you don't want my interference."

"No, I just meant that…I thought you might be willing to act as Temporary Chief Medical Officer. Until Phlox returns," he added hastily. "He will return, won't he?"

"In a few weeks," she murmured, considering him through hooded eyes. "You don't like me," she felt compelled to point out. His offer puzzled her.

"I like you fine," he lied. "And you're already here. And you're qualified. I certainly can't complain." He gestured a wide circle with his hands to encompass his bed and his dog in a way that was meant to indicate his pleasure at her medical performance.

That dig about her qualifications gave her a twinge, but she said nothing. "You were going to send me home because I'm a liar. That hasn't changed."

"No, but you can. You can promise me right here that you won't lie to me anymore."

Andie considered that carefully before answering. "I can't do that."

Her answer surprised him. He rather expected her to agree to anything he might have proposed just to keep from being sent home in disgrace, but she was still fighting his authority. She was still questioning his leadership. "Why not?"

"I will always have secrets," she told him bluntly.

"Like what?" He didn't really expect her to tell him, but he was amused at her dour expression all the same. He persisted. "Is it anything to do with my ship or my crew?"

Again she felt that twinge, but she ignored it. "No," she said confidently.

Jon pondered that for a while. "All right then," he nodded as though confirming. "But you will tell me if anything comes up in the future, right?"

"To the best of my ability," she hedged. It seemed to be good enough for him.

"There is one more thing," he added, just before her shoulders slumped in relief. "I don't like secrets aboard my ship. I think it's bad for morale. I want you to disclose your situation to a few of my senior officers."

Again she hesitated to agree to anything, choosing instead to scowl and ask "Who?"

"Commander T'Pol," Jon listed.

"Fine."

"Commander Tucker," he added.

Her pause was a little longer. "Okay," she agreed slowly. "I know you think you're doing them a favor by telling them about me, but you're wrong."

"And Lieutenant Reed," he tossed that last out there while watching her closely.

"No," she refused firmly.

"You have to tell him," Jon argued. "He knows you're keeping secrets and by telling him what they are, you'll gain his trust."

"No, absolutely not," she refused again, adding a shaking head to the mix.

"Refusing to tell Reed is a deal breaker," he threatened.

"I'm already packed," she shrugged. "Tell the Denobulans they'll have another passenger." She turned to leave the room.

He waited until she had a foot out the door. "Stop!" She was pretty good at these negotiating tactics, he thought. It's a pity she wasn't around for the first Vulcan-Andorian Treaty. "You will remain on board. You will act as medical officer until Phlox returns. And you will disclose what you know to the three people I have mentioned. There are no other alternatives. That's an order."

Jon wasn't certain if she heard him. The doors remained open until he was done speaking, but she didn't add another word. Already he was regretting his decision to keep her on board.


Andie sat at the desk in her quarters and scowled at the screen. She may be sequestered in her quarters, but she was still working at her computer, having called up the three medical files that concerned her. Putting aside Trip and T'Pol's medical scans for now, she studied Reed's intently. She had instructed the computer to run through his medical file and correlate all accident reports with his medical file. Four years of medical results were a lot to skim through, and she studied them now, knowing that she wouldn't get any sleep until this was resolved.

What kind of stress might have resulted in hallucinations? She chewed on her lip and poured another finger of whiskey into a glass, corking the bottle and storing it in a traveling case when she was done. Two drinks were plenty for now. It wouldn't do well to be caught drinking during the day when the captain had just told her she could remain on board.

Something funny caught the corner of her eye. It was nothing really, just a slight hairline blemish on the patella, which turned out to be a thin fibroid shadow. The thin scar was so fine it looked like a scratch on the medical file, but although she wiped at the screen with a tissue, the barely there line remained. The insoluble fiber causing the scar was usually associated with blood clots, indicating a wound in Reed's knee that would have been serious enough to warrant surgery and a lengthy recovery. She ran a quick scan of Reed's medical file; he'd never had surgery on this knee during the course of his service on this ship. There was reference to a bullet wound in his upper thigh, and a spike that penetrated his EV suit, but nothing that required treatment to his joint.

It was possible he experienced this wound when he was much younger, so she skimmed through his complete medical history. She found what she was looking for; he'd been serving on the construction of Jupiter Station and a notation was made that he fell from a ladder and injured his knee. The medical officer on record had administered a pain reliever and put Reed on bed rest for a few days. Those actions indicated that the injury wasn't nearly bad enough to warrant this small fracture or the build-up of fibroid tissues. Either the medical officer was an idiot or something else happened to his knee. She leaned back in her chair and pondered.

Andie Brainerd had lived for years under an assumed name and with a false childhood history; it made her more proficient in detecting the shortcomings of 'official' records better than most people. She ran another scan of Reed's medical records on Jupiter Station, studying all the injuries sustained during the course of that entire year that Reed was stationed there. His name was not associated with the medical staff at any other time. In fact his medical records on Jupiter Station were more than sparse, they were non-existent. Not once did he report the lab to receive any of the allergy shots that he regularly received on board Enterprise.

Andie sipped her whiskey. Reed served with mercenaries, if Eckta could be believed. There was a part of her that didn't believe he could be involved in anything illegal. The way he clung to his rule book like a shield indicated that he fully believed in every bit of information contained therein. Unless he was making up for something really ugly in his past, she considered thoughtfully. The death of his girlfriend couldn't have been enough to trigger the hallucinations in Sickbay, could it?

She leaned back in her chair and wondered what the answer would be.