Chapter Eleven
Three additional days later ...
Astrid Zeller had to admit that the human immune system was a very fragile thing. Three of her patients had finally succumbed to the disease since the discovery that the disease was terrestrial in origin. Ensign Knight had been confined to bed in the mess hall where she had previously acted as a nurse, attesting to the problem of intensive and constant exposure to the virus. Phlox, seeking a temporary stopgap measure, had beamed over some immuno-enhancing medications that came from his folksy way of practicing medicine. Her patients said the stuff tasted like urine, or worse. Though it grated and she longed to snarl a rebuttal to their statement, Astrid merely countered with one of Phlox's own favorite lines.
"I don't care what it tastes like."
The putrid stuff was buying them time, but not much of it. Neither doctor had come up with a remedy for the disease that was by degrees ravaging all of them on the station. Zeller herself had come to rely on a cane. Cutler was beginning to seem drowsy most of the time, and her skin had turned a sickly hue. The others, excluding the shrinking violet called Ensign Knight, were bearing it as well as they could, taking in massive quantities of several medicinal substances to avoid finding themselves flat on their backs.
Phlox claimed to be close to solving the riddle, at least according to Cutler who still acted as go-between for human and alien. He just needed time to finish running some tests on his concoction of hybrid homeopathic-scientific remedy. It wasn't quite ready for use on humans. Doctor Zeller, always uncomfortable with his brand of medicine, urged haste nonetheless. They had many commodities on that station, but time was not one they had in abundance. When Astrid lay upon her cot at night, she could practically hear the clock ticking.
The pressure was not unnoticed by the Denobulan. With the captain's permission, he had every member of the science department helping him to test and prepare his remedy, some of them working ten to twelve hours without a break. Even Sub-commander T'Pol was lending a hand with various analyses. If those working with him had never imagined the cheerful doctor as a grueling taskmaster before, the picture of Phlox running a most efficient sickbay was forever etched in their minds after the first day of assisting him. But it was rewarding work too. The experience was filled with the thrill of doing something that had not been done before, and many of the Enterprise crew lived for just that.
Captain Archer avoided hanging around sickbay, but from time to time he stood in the doorway watching six or seven members of his crew assisting the chief medical officer in his Herculean labor. Occasionally he would see painful worry in the doctor's eyes, especially as he awaited the beeping of his communicator, which was still the favored method of communication for both physician and crewman. Archer knew that he feared that the day would come when she was no longer capable of making her daily progress report. He was aware of the special connection, of the friendship between them, and of how much it had helped both parties during the present crisis.
The captain chuckled softly as he heard the communicator on the doctor's desk begin beeping quietly. Phlox dropped everything, passing the instrument that he was using to a crewman near at hand, who smiled as he accepted the tricorder, seeming to know exactly what was going on. When it came to answering that particular summons, Phlox had become very predictable. Nothing would keep him from it.
"Phlox here." he answered, a pleasant look washing over his features.
"Please tell me you're making progress." said the tired voice of Crewman Cutler.
"Of course we are, crewman. Are you under the false expression that we are all sitting on our hands over here?" he questioned, smiling at his laboratory assistants.
She chuckled and said, "Sorry, Phlox. But seriously, can I have a good word for Doctor Zeller?"
"I doubt Astrid will understand its meaning, but try 'patience', crewman. We are all well aware of the severity of the situation over there." he replied.
"I don't know how much longer she's going to last, Phlox." Cutler finally admitted. "She's using a cane to walk ... and I don't think she has more than a few days before she collapses."
"Doctor Zeller is stronger than you think, crewman." Phlox reassured her, a startled expression coming to his face before he could mask it, conscious that his assistants and the captain were all listening. Then he remembered something that Doctor Lucas had said to him once: "Remember, crewman, meanness never dies."
The comment caught Cutler off-guard, and she laughed aloud, despite her extremely sore throat, and hearing the sound, everyone in sickbay seemed to relax and go back to their appointed tasks without another thought.
"Thanks, Phlox, I needed that." said the young crewman when the laughter had subsided.
"Don't mention it." said Phlox. "Tell Astrid that we are all doing our best over here."
"Not that she would believe it, but I will." answered Cutler.
"Take care, crewman."
"You too, Phlox." she replied as they closed the channel.
The doctor looked at Captain Archer where he leaned unobtrusively in the doorway, watching and listening to everything occurring in sickbay.
"I think you did a good job handling your young colleague." commented Archer with a deferential nod.
"No, captain, she wasn't going to fall apart or anything. She was just expressing her concerns. She would have been remiss not to have done so. Crewman Cutler is what I believe your people refer to as spirited. She has an inner strength that is by no means detectable just by looking at her. She just needs to be reminded that it's there sometimes." Phlox explained to him as the crewman returned his tricorder to him.
"Keep up the good work, doc." said the captain, intending to vacate the sickbay before his presence became intrusive.
"We will all do just that." Phlox assured him before returning the business at hand, no more confident than previously, but motivated by both Cutler and the captain.
The following morning as the captain found himself in his ready room reviewing weapons and engineering reports, which Malcolm and Trip had begun to compile in order to pass the time, a beeping at his door interrupted his reading. For a moment he thought it might be Phlox with good news regarding his quest for a cure, but he quickly realized that Phlox would have simply used the comm system to relay the information.
"Come in." he called, frowning slightly, as though in anticipation for the unpleasant unexpected.
To his surprise it was Sub-commander T'Pol who entered, carrying a rack of about a dozen hyposprays. Her expression, as always, was neutral, betraying nothing that the human countenance might.
"Phlox has asked me to see that all of the bridge crew and senior officers receive the vaccination." she stated, setting the rack on his desk and removing a hypo from it.
"So you've managed to come up with a vaccine against the disease?" he questioned.
"No, it was chiefly Phlox and Crewman Schaffer who developed it. I am merely one of its distributors." she informed him placidly.
"And we are all being given this stuff ... why?" questioned Archer.
"When the medical team is no longer capable of taking care of their charges, they must all be moved here or left to die. It is the doctor's intentions to go with the first option in the event that the choice must be made. Given that we have an effective vaccine, I concur." she explained.
Captain Archer couldn't help but to smile as he gestured toward his neck for her to administer the vaccine.
"I have to ask. Just how much is this going to hurt?"
"The doctor says that unfortunately it will leave something of a small scar, not unlike the early small pox vaccinations in the twentieth century." she answered.
"Well, at least everybody will have one. It's better than a tattoo." chuckled Archer.
" I must administer it to an area with a significant amount of muscle tissue, captain, or it may not be one hundred percent effective." she told him.
Archer looked a bit uncomfortable as he left his seat and said, "Please tell me you're not asking me to drop my pants, sub-commander."
"No, of course not, captain. It should be sufficient if you just roll up your sleeve." she told him rather hastily.
After complying Archer asked, "And what will the side effects be?"
"They should be minimal, according to Doctor Phlox. I have been assured that it is perfectly safe, captain." she said as the a gentle hiss came from the spray.
It was all the captain could do not to flinch. Unlike most hyposprays, this one burned and tingled quite a bit more than usual.
"How many crew members do you have left to do this to?" he questioned, reaching to rub the spot where the hypo had been administered.
"Don't touch it. The itching sensation will only increase." T'Pol warned him. Answering his question, she said, "I have eleven more to go, but there several of others performing this task as well."
"And Phlox is certain that this vaccine will be enough, if worst comes to worst?" questioned the captain as the Vulcan science officer gathered her things and prepared to leave.
"He is." she agreed. T'Pol's expression changed slightly as she said, "I would like to make a statement regarding the crew and the current situation."
At first Archer was puzzled by the formality, then he remembered that it was just her way and he smiled.
"Go right ahead."
"I am aware that some members of the crew previously resented or were uncomfortable with having a Vulcan serving aboard the Enterprise. In the past two weeks that situation has changed somewhat, I suspect due to the presence of Doctor Zeller and her ... illogical beliefs about other species. It is difficult to understand how this has changed the opinions of the crew, but it apparently has. One would think that having a person onboard who also held negative opinions regarding Vulcans and other alien life forms would provide positive reinforcement for their own beliefs. Instead, it has acted in almost the opposite fashion." T'Pol told him, obviously having given the occurrence much thought.
"It sounds almost as though you have a question, sub-commander." chuckled Archer. His science officer's only reply was a slightly raised eyebrow. "Human nature, T'Pol, but in a good way. We were all taught as children that it is wrong to hate people just because they are different. When confronted with someone as ... truly and openly prejudiced as Doctor Zeller, we tend to feel a nagging guilt that may cause us to try and change our own beliefs and opinions, even the smallest traces of prejudice that we may still harbor."
"I fail to see the logic in the whole affair, captain, but I cannot say that I am displeased with the results." answered T'Pol.
"You know, me neither." agreed Captain Archer, leaning against his desk.
"I should be on my way." she said after an awkward pause. "Phlox will require assistance in sickbay soon, and I have other things that must be done first." she added.
A few of the crew members groused just a bit at the idea of being given a vaccination, but not one, being well apprised of the effects of the disease and the situation on the science station, objected to the very necessary precaution. Phlox had one regret concerning the affair, of course. It required technicians that were very much needed in the search for some feasible way to destroy the virus, which naturally excluded the early suggestions of high levels of radiation or radical cryogenic processes. The first few brainstorming sessions had come up with ideas that were mostly bizarre and unworkable, but some had had potential, including those that pushed them in the direction of traditional Denobulan medicine.
The willingness of his helpers to consider such measures made the good doctor feel quite proud of both their creativity and their openness to new ideas. Most of them were still wary of his menagerie, but at least they were not hostile to the ideas represented by the keeping of alien life forms for medicinal purposes. Even some of his most respected colleagues in the medical exchange had balked at that until they had had a chance to see some of his remedies at work.
The sickbay was empty as he labored at a microscope, watching the destructive microorganism die a horrible death at the hands of a compound that Phlox and his team had begun developing. The human cells surrounding the viral cells were taking a beating as well, but there was a good chance that they would survive and heal under the right conditions. It was so close to readiness, and yet still in need so much testing. He sighed as he observed the processes occurring beneath the instrument.
Then the communicator on his desk began beeping. It always sounded so urgent, so important. He had not anticipated hearing anything from Cutler for almost twelve hours. Phlox left his observation and dashed across sickbay.
"Cutler?" he questioned anxiously as he replied to the summons.
"Phlox, Doctor Zeller has had a seizure." she informed him, her breath coming in apprehensive gasps, betraying her metal state despite her calm, even voice.
"Take a deep breath, crewman." Phlox ordered. "What is her body temperature? Were there any other obvious contributing factors?" he began to questioned her.
"Approximately forty-one degrees Celsius. I ... I don't think so." replied Cutler, responding to his rapid fire questions.
"Is she still taking all the appropriate medications?" he queried.
"Yes, all of them."
"Give her another spray of Anaprovalin. Her brain is literally beginning to fry." Phlox informed her.
"Dammit, Phlox, that's a nice, descriptive expression. And I thought I was the one exposing them to the harshness of reality." said a mostly coherent Doctor Zeller.
"Astrid, are you going to be all right?" asked Phlox, relieved to hear the sound of her voice, despite her biting tone.
"It wasn't all that serious. I'm made of sterner stuff than my young assistant likes to admit." she answered. "Cutler, give me that thing and get out of here. I'm beginning to feel ... confined." Zeller ordered the young crewman, taking the communicator from her. "Don't worry. I'll give it back." she assured her with something of an audible sneer.
Doctor Zeller was anything but pleased when she came around to the sound of her assistant chattering with Phlox about her of all things. By her own estimation she had blacked out for only a few seconds. But if anything, the mild seizure had gotten her attention. She gave herself another hypospray of Anaprovalin while she attempted to manage a civil conversation with the alien CMO of the Enterprise, no easy task in and of itself.
"What do you mean you developed a vaccine, Phlox? There has been a perfectly good one on earth for centuries." she snapped, measuring her own pulse and taking a furtive glance at the door to make certain that the crewman had really left.
"We did not have access to that particular substance over here. It is in the process of being administered right now, which means that in a minimum of thirty-six hours ..." he explained.
"Yes, you can dash over here and save us all." she said caustically, finishing his sentence. It was the first time they had spoken directly since Astrid had slapped him in sickbay. He had nearly forgotten how irritating she could be.
"Astrid ..." he sighed softly, rubbing his eyes as he leaned over the communicator.
"I know, I know. And I'm ... sorry." she replied.
His heart nearly stopped when she said those words. The edge momentarily left her voice and to him she seemed to be merely an exhausted doctor with dying patients and responsibility heavy upon her weary shoulders.
"I know it has been difficult over there, but it will all be over soon." he said, struggling to comfort her.
"I made my bed, Phlox, and now I'm lying in it. I started this thing with ... thirty or so patients and a medical team. Now I have twenty-eight patients and no medical team." she said.
"Twenty-nine." he reminded her, knowing the she could not easily count herself as just a patient.
"And I thought I could fix this myself."
"No one blames you for that, I'm sure. You are, after all, the best in your field."
"Are you trying to cheer me up, Phlox? You don't have to, you know."
"I certainly do not, but I ... want to, Astrid. You are ... all they have over there to hold onto until ... either we find a cure ... or we are able to relocate the lot of you."
"Are you close?"
"Very much so."
"I'm going to lose one ... possibly two patients in the next twelve to fourteen hours. Will it be ready before it's too late for them?"
"I ... No, I don't think so." he answered, knowing the Astrid didn't like her bad news sugar coated to say the least.
"I thought it might be worth a shot." she chuckled wearily. "I was going to ask Cutler to tell you, but we are running out of ... Anaprovalin and your immuno-enhancing concoction over here. Can you see to it that some more is beamed over soon?" Zeller inquired, her demeanor slowly returning to normal.
"I will see to it myself." Phlox assured her. "In the meantime take care of yourself, Astrid." he added.
"Myself and twenty-eight other people."
"Yes."
"And thank you, Phlox, for sending your best people over here with me."
The experience had humbled, possibly broken her. Of that he had absolutely no doubt. She was not the head-tossing, smugly sneering, hardened and unreachable Doctor Astrid Zeller that had walked angrily from sickbay at the beginning of the crisis. More than ever Phlox hoped that she would survive the illness and hoped that she would take something positive and lasting from it. Human optimism was beginning to rub off, it seemed.
But the fact of the matter was that the clock was still ticking on both science station three and on the Enterprise.
Crewman Cutler had doubted that Zeller would return her communicator. In fact she imagined that she would keep it out of spite, but she was wrong. The doctor returned the device without comment the next time their paths crossed, which happened to be late in the afternoon. It wasn't as though Cutler could not have transmitted her daily report without it, but she would have missed Phlox's reassurances and polite suggestions. To contact him any other way would not have been the same.
That evening she could tell by the background noise in the sickbay that everyone was still working around the clock and that the hustle and bustle had increased. She hoped that they were very close to finding what they were all looking for, because if they were not, then many of them on the station were doomed. Of all the patients, only a few seemed to be making even the slightest improvement, despite the fact that the fever should have almost finished running its course.
"Give me the head count." said Phlox, recalling Astrid's warning earlier that day.
"Twenty-one and six." she said, referring to the station crew and medical team by separate numbers to avoid confusion.
"She was right. Two dead in about twelve hours." he thought unpleasantly. "Were the supplies sufficient?" he asked, not commenting aloud on the mortality rate.
"Yes, they were. I take it that the two of you are on speaking terms."
"Necessity, crewman, probably nothing more." Phlox replied.
There was an uncomfortable pause before Cutler spoke again. She voice trembled just slightly as she did so, but Phlox knew that it was with great effort.
"I have an entirely unfair request to make of you, doctor." she prefaced quietly.
"Now, crewman, you know that I would do almost anything for you." he said, knowing what she was going to say. Phlox had not heard it often, but he had heard it before.
"If I don't make it and it isn't too much trouble, could you see that my things are shipped back to my family on earth?" Cutler requested.
"I never thought I would see the day when Astrid Zeller has more faith in my skill as a physician than you, but, of course, I will see to it, if it becomes necessary." he told her, glancing over his shoulder at the crew in sickbay. Most of them were too busy to listen to the conversation. One or two looked away awkwardly as they overheard.
"I didn't mean to question ..." she started to say.
"Now, now, crewman, you've been under a lot of stress. I understand that perfectly well. Just keep taking your medication and be strong, all right?"
"Thanks, doctor."
"Don't mention it." he chuckled, not especially wanting to let her go, but needing to get back to his work. When no other words came to mind, he closed the comm channel and returned to a piece of counter top where Sub-commander T'Pol was working.
"Anything of merit to report, doctor?" inquired the Vulcan passively.
"I don't believe so."
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A/N: Thanks to technetium and smiley for the technical advice and reviews. I looked into the web sites, but ... I'm never quite sure if everything sounds right. Oh, well.
Three additional days later ...
Astrid Zeller had to admit that the human immune system was a very fragile thing. Three of her patients had finally succumbed to the disease since the discovery that the disease was terrestrial in origin. Ensign Knight had been confined to bed in the mess hall where she had previously acted as a nurse, attesting to the problem of intensive and constant exposure to the virus. Phlox, seeking a temporary stopgap measure, had beamed over some immuno-enhancing medications that came from his folksy way of practicing medicine. Her patients said the stuff tasted like urine, or worse. Though it grated and she longed to snarl a rebuttal to their statement, Astrid merely countered with one of Phlox's own favorite lines.
"I don't care what it tastes like."
The putrid stuff was buying them time, but not much of it. Neither doctor had come up with a remedy for the disease that was by degrees ravaging all of them on the station. Zeller herself had come to rely on a cane. Cutler was beginning to seem drowsy most of the time, and her skin had turned a sickly hue. The others, excluding the shrinking violet called Ensign Knight, were bearing it as well as they could, taking in massive quantities of several medicinal substances to avoid finding themselves flat on their backs.
Phlox claimed to be close to solving the riddle, at least according to Cutler who still acted as go-between for human and alien. He just needed time to finish running some tests on his concoction of hybrid homeopathic-scientific remedy. It wasn't quite ready for use on humans. Doctor Zeller, always uncomfortable with his brand of medicine, urged haste nonetheless. They had many commodities on that station, but time was not one they had in abundance. When Astrid lay upon her cot at night, she could practically hear the clock ticking.
The pressure was not unnoticed by the Denobulan. With the captain's permission, he had every member of the science department helping him to test and prepare his remedy, some of them working ten to twelve hours without a break. Even Sub-commander T'Pol was lending a hand with various analyses. If those working with him had never imagined the cheerful doctor as a grueling taskmaster before, the picture of Phlox running a most efficient sickbay was forever etched in their minds after the first day of assisting him. But it was rewarding work too. The experience was filled with the thrill of doing something that had not been done before, and many of the Enterprise crew lived for just that.
Captain Archer avoided hanging around sickbay, but from time to time he stood in the doorway watching six or seven members of his crew assisting the chief medical officer in his Herculean labor. Occasionally he would see painful worry in the doctor's eyes, especially as he awaited the beeping of his communicator, which was still the favored method of communication for both physician and crewman. Archer knew that he feared that the day would come when she was no longer capable of making her daily progress report. He was aware of the special connection, of the friendship between them, and of how much it had helped both parties during the present crisis.
The captain chuckled softly as he heard the communicator on the doctor's desk begin beeping quietly. Phlox dropped everything, passing the instrument that he was using to a crewman near at hand, who smiled as he accepted the tricorder, seeming to know exactly what was going on. When it came to answering that particular summons, Phlox had become very predictable. Nothing would keep him from it.
"Phlox here." he answered, a pleasant look washing over his features.
"Please tell me you're making progress." said the tired voice of Crewman Cutler.
"Of course we are, crewman. Are you under the false expression that we are all sitting on our hands over here?" he questioned, smiling at his laboratory assistants.
She chuckled and said, "Sorry, Phlox. But seriously, can I have a good word for Doctor Zeller?"
"I doubt Astrid will understand its meaning, but try 'patience', crewman. We are all well aware of the severity of the situation over there." he replied.
"I don't know how much longer she's going to last, Phlox." Cutler finally admitted. "She's using a cane to walk ... and I don't think she has more than a few days before she collapses."
"Doctor Zeller is stronger than you think, crewman." Phlox reassured her, a startled expression coming to his face before he could mask it, conscious that his assistants and the captain were all listening. Then he remembered something that Doctor Lucas had said to him once: "Remember, crewman, meanness never dies."
The comment caught Cutler off-guard, and she laughed aloud, despite her extremely sore throat, and hearing the sound, everyone in sickbay seemed to relax and go back to their appointed tasks without another thought.
"Thanks, Phlox, I needed that." said the young crewman when the laughter had subsided.
"Don't mention it." said Phlox. "Tell Astrid that we are all doing our best over here."
"Not that she would believe it, but I will." answered Cutler.
"Take care, crewman."
"You too, Phlox." she replied as they closed the channel.
The doctor looked at Captain Archer where he leaned unobtrusively in the doorway, watching and listening to everything occurring in sickbay.
"I think you did a good job handling your young colleague." commented Archer with a deferential nod.
"No, captain, she wasn't going to fall apart or anything. She was just expressing her concerns. She would have been remiss not to have done so. Crewman Cutler is what I believe your people refer to as spirited. She has an inner strength that is by no means detectable just by looking at her. She just needs to be reminded that it's there sometimes." Phlox explained to him as the crewman returned his tricorder to him.
"Keep up the good work, doc." said the captain, intending to vacate the sickbay before his presence became intrusive.
"We will all do just that." Phlox assured him before returning the business at hand, no more confident than previously, but motivated by both Cutler and the captain.
The following morning as the captain found himself in his ready room reviewing weapons and engineering reports, which Malcolm and Trip had begun to compile in order to pass the time, a beeping at his door interrupted his reading. For a moment he thought it might be Phlox with good news regarding his quest for a cure, but he quickly realized that Phlox would have simply used the comm system to relay the information.
"Come in." he called, frowning slightly, as though in anticipation for the unpleasant unexpected.
To his surprise it was Sub-commander T'Pol who entered, carrying a rack of about a dozen hyposprays. Her expression, as always, was neutral, betraying nothing that the human countenance might.
"Phlox has asked me to see that all of the bridge crew and senior officers receive the vaccination." she stated, setting the rack on his desk and removing a hypo from it.
"So you've managed to come up with a vaccine against the disease?" he questioned.
"No, it was chiefly Phlox and Crewman Schaffer who developed it. I am merely one of its distributors." she informed him placidly.
"And we are all being given this stuff ... why?" questioned Archer.
"When the medical team is no longer capable of taking care of their charges, they must all be moved here or left to die. It is the doctor's intentions to go with the first option in the event that the choice must be made. Given that we have an effective vaccine, I concur." she explained.
Captain Archer couldn't help but to smile as he gestured toward his neck for her to administer the vaccine.
"I have to ask. Just how much is this going to hurt?"
"The doctor says that unfortunately it will leave something of a small scar, not unlike the early small pox vaccinations in the twentieth century." she answered.
"Well, at least everybody will have one. It's better than a tattoo." chuckled Archer.
" I must administer it to an area with a significant amount of muscle tissue, captain, or it may not be one hundred percent effective." she told him.
Archer looked a bit uncomfortable as he left his seat and said, "Please tell me you're not asking me to drop my pants, sub-commander."
"No, of course not, captain. It should be sufficient if you just roll up your sleeve." she told him rather hastily.
After complying Archer asked, "And what will the side effects be?"
"They should be minimal, according to Doctor Phlox. I have been assured that it is perfectly safe, captain." she said as the a gentle hiss came from the spray.
It was all the captain could do not to flinch. Unlike most hyposprays, this one burned and tingled quite a bit more than usual.
"How many crew members do you have left to do this to?" he questioned, reaching to rub the spot where the hypo had been administered.
"Don't touch it. The itching sensation will only increase." T'Pol warned him. Answering his question, she said, "I have eleven more to go, but there several of others performing this task as well."
"And Phlox is certain that this vaccine will be enough, if worst comes to worst?" questioned the captain as the Vulcan science officer gathered her things and prepared to leave.
"He is." she agreed. T'Pol's expression changed slightly as she said, "I would like to make a statement regarding the crew and the current situation."
At first Archer was puzzled by the formality, then he remembered that it was just her way and he smiled.
"Go right ahead."
"I am aware that some members of the crew previously resented or were uncomfortable with having a Vulcan serving aboard the Enterprise. In the past two weeks that situation has changed somewhat, I suspect due to the presence of Doctor Zeller and her ... illogical beliefs about other species. It is difficult to understand how this has changed the opinions of the crew, but it apparently has. One would think that having a person onboard who also held negative opinions regarding Vulcans and other alien life forms would provide positive reinforcement for their own beliefs. Instead, it has acted in almost the opposite fashion." T'Pol told him, obviously having given the occurrence much thought.
"It sounds almost as though you have a question, sub-commander." chuckled Archer. His science officer's only reply was a slightly raised eyebrow. "Human nature, T'Pol, but in a good way. We were all taught as children that it is wrong to hate people just because they are different. When confronted with someone as ... truly and openly prejudiced as Doctor Zeller, we tend to feel a nagging guilt that may cause us to try and change our own beliefs and opinions, even the smallest traces of prejudice that we may still harbor."
"I fail to see the logic in the whole affair, captain, but I cannot say that I am displeased with the results." answered T'Pol.
"You know, me neither." agreed Captain Archer, leaning against his desk.
"I should be on my way." she said after an awkward pause. "Phlox will require assistance in sickbay soon, and I have other things that must be done first." she added.
A few of the crew members groused just a bit at the idea of being given a vaccination, but not one, being well apprised of the effects of the disease and the situation on the science station, objected to the very necessary precaution. Phlox had one regret concerning the affair, of course. It required technicians that were very much needed in the search for some feasible way to destroy the virus, which naturally excluded the early suggestions of high levels of radiation or radical cryogenic processes. The first few brainstorming sessions had come up with ideas that were mostly bizarre and unworkable, but some had had potential, including those that pushed them in the direction of traditional Denobulan medicine.
The willingness of his helpers to consider such measures made the good doctor feel quite proud of both their creativity and their openness to new ideas. Most of them were still wary of his menagerie, but at least they were not hostile to the ideas represented by the keeping of alien life forms for medicinal purposes. Even some of his most respected colleagues in the medical exchange had balked at that until they had had a chance to see some of his remedies at work.
The sickbay was empty as he labored at a microscope, watching the destructive microorganism die a horrible death at the hands of a compound that Phlox and his team had begun developing. The human cells surrounding the viral cells were taking a beating as well, but there was a good chance that they would survive and heal under the right conditions. It was so close to readiness, and yet still in need so much testing. He sighed as he observed the processes occurring beneath the instrument.
Then the communicator on his desk began beeping. It always sounded so urgent, so important. He had not anticipated hearing anything from Cutler for almost twelve hours. Phlox left his observation and dashed across sickbay.
"Cutler?" he questioned anxiously as he replied to the summons.
"Phlox, Doctor Zeller has had a seizure." she informed him, her breath coming in apprehensive gasps, betraying her metal state despite her calm, even voice.
"Take a deep breath, crewman." Phlox ordered. "What is her body temperature? Were there any other obvious contributing factors?" he began to questioned her.
"Approximately forty-one degrees Celsius. I ... I don't think so." replied Cutler, responding to his rapid fire questions.
"Is she still taking all the appropriate medications?" he queried.
"Yes, all of them."
"Give her another spray of Anaprovalin. Her brain is literally beginning to fry." Phlox informed her.
"Dammit, Phlox, that's a nice, descriptive expression. And I thought I was the one exposing them to the harshness of reality." said a mostly coherent Doctor Zeller.
"Astrid, are you going to be all right?" asked Phlox, relieved to hear the sound of her voice, despite her biting tone.
"It wasn't all that serious. I'm made of sterner stuff than my young assistant likes to admit." she answered. "Cutler, give me that thing and get out of here. I'm beginning to feel ... confined." Zeller ordered the young crewman, taking the communicator from her. "Don't worry. I'll give it back." she assured her with something of an audible sneer.
Doctor Zeller was anything but pleased when she came around to the sound of her assistant chattering with Phlox about her of all things. By her own estimation she had blacked out for only a few seconds. But if anything, the mild seizure had gotten her attention. She gave herself another hypospray of Anaprovalin while she attempted to manage a civil conversation with the alien CMO of the Enterprise, no easy task in and of itself.
"What do you mean you developed a vaccine, Phlox? There has been a perfectly good one on earth for centuries." she snapped, measuring her own pulse and taking a furtive glance at the door to make certain that the crewman had really left.
"We did not have access to that particular substance over here. It is in the process of being administered right now, which means that in a minimum of thirty-six hours ..." he explained.
"Yes, you can dash over here and save us all." she said caustically, finishing his sentence. It was the first time they had spoken directly since Astrid had slapped him in sickbay. He had nearly forgotten how irritating she could be.
"Astrid ..." he sighed softly, rubbing his eyes as he leaned over the communicator.
"I know, I know. And I'm ... sorry." she replied.
His heart nearly stopped when she said those words. The edge momentarily left her voice and to him she seemed to be merely an exhausted doctor with dying patients and responsibility heavy upon her weary shoulders.
"I know it has been difficult over there, but it will all be over soon." he said, struggling to comfort her.
"I made my bed, Phlox, and now I'm lying in it. I started this thing with ... thirty or so patients and a medical team. Now I have twenty-eight patients and no medical team." she said.
"Twenty-nine." he reminded her, knowing the she could not easily count herself as just a patient.
"And I thought I could fix this myself."
"No one blames you for that, I'm sure. You are, after all, the best in your field."
"Are you trying to cheer me up, Phlox? You don't have to, you know."
"I certainly do not, but I ... want to, Astrid. You are ... all they have over there to hold onto until ... either we find a cure ... or we are able to relocate the lot of you."
"Are you close?"
"Very much so."
"I'm going to lose one ... possibly two patients in the next twelve to fourteen hours. Will it be ready before it's too late for them?"
"I ... No, I don't think so." he answered, knowing the Astrid didn't like her bad news sugar coated to say the least.
"I thought it might be worth a shot." she chuckled wearily. "I was going to ask Cutler to tell you, but we are running out of ... Anaprovalin and your immuno-enhancing concoction over here. Can you see to it that some more is beamed over soon?" Zeller inquired, her demeanor slowly returning to normal.
"I will see to it myself." Phlox assured her. "In the meantime take care of yourself, Astrid." he added.
"Myself and twenty-eight other people."
"Yes."
"And thank you, Phlox, for sending your best people over here with me."
The experience had humbled, possibly broken her. Of that he had absolutely no doubt. She was not the head-tossing, smugly sneering, hardened and unreachable Doctor Astrid Zeller that had walked angrily from sickbay at the beginning of the crisis. More than ever Phlox hoped that she would survive the illness and hoped that she would take something positive and lasting from it. Human optimism was beginning to rub off, it seemed.
But the fact of the matter was that the clock was still ticking on both science station three and on the Enterprise.
Crewman Cutler had doubted that Zeller would return her communicator. In fact she imagined that she would keep it out of spite, but she was wrong. The doctor returned the device without comment the next time their paths crossed, which happened to be late in the afternoon. It wasn't as though Cutler could not have transmitted her daily report without it, but she would have missed Phlox's reassurances and polite suggestions. To contact him any other way would not have been the same.
That evening she could tell by the background noise in the sickbay that everyone was still working around the clock and that the hustle and bustle had increased. She hoped that they were very close to finding what they were all looking for, because if they were not, then many of them on the station were doomed. Of all the patients, only a few seemed to be making even the slightest improvement, despite the fact that the fever should have almost finished running its course.
"Give me the head count." said Phlox, recalling Astrid's warning earlier that day.
"Twenty-one and six." she said, referring to the station crew and medical team by separate numbers to avoid confusion.
"She was right. Two dead in about twelve hours." he thought unpleasantly. "Were the supplies sufficient?" he asked, not commenting aloud on the mortality rate.
"Yes, they were. I take it that the two of you are on speaking terms."
"Necessity, crewman, probably nothing more." Phlox replied.
There was an uncomfortable pause before Cutler spoke again. She voice trembled just slightly as she did so, but Phlox knew that it was with great effort.
"I have an entirely unfair request to make of you, doctor." she prefaced quietly.
"Now, crewman, you know that I would do almost anything for you." he said, knowing what she was going to say. Phlox had not heard it often, but he had heard it before.
"If I don't make it and it isn't too much trouble, could you see that my things are shipped back to my family on earth?" Cutler requested.
"I never thought I would see the day when Astrid Zeller has more faith in my skill as a physician than you, but, of course, I will see to it, if it becomes necessary." he told her, glancing over his shoulder at the crew in sickbay. Most of them were too busy to listen to the conversation. One or two looked away awkwardly as they overheard.
"I didn't mean to question ..." she started to say.
"Now, now, crewman, you've been under a lot of stress. I understand that perfectly well. Just keep taking your medication and be strong, all right?"
"Thanks, doctor."
"Don't mention it." he chuckled, not especially wanting to let her go, but needing to get back to his work. When no other words came to mind, he closed the comm channel and returned to a piece of counter top where Sub-commander T'Pol was working.
"Anything of merit to report, doctor?" inquired the Vulcan passively.
"I don't believe so."
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A/N: Thanks to technetium and smiley for the technical advice and reviews. I looked into the web sites, but ... I'm never quite sure if everything sounds right. Oh, well.
