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Chapter 5

Trip sprawled on his back on a biobed. There were only a few other crewmembers in the room—Malcolm had gone through the room quickly, dispersing people to their quarters or stations based on their conditions. He was now in parts unknown of the ship, continuing his work.

Crewman Cutler was in the back of the lab with T'Pol, assisting her with her research. Cutler had been only slightly affected by the illness and was employing the Captain's caffeine approach to stay alert. At the moment, she was preparing hyposprays that would help the least affected fight their drowsiness, while T'Pol sought a cause and cure.

Trip stared at the ceiling. He had tried to help T'Pol with her research, only to discover that he no longer had the ability to decipher even the simplest written words—he'd forgotten how to read. Now he waited, just trying to think clearly. "Doesn't this just suck?" he asked no one in particular.

Still sitting on the biobed with Hoshi, Travis looked in his general direction and laughed. The Ensign now had his back against the wall. Hoshi was sleeping beside him, turned so that her head rested in his lap.

"At least some of us can take advantage," Travis told Trip. "This'll be the first quiet night she's had since she came onboard."

Trip finally grinned a little, turning his head towards Travis. "You're takin' this awful well. How come you aren't freakin' out like the rest of us?"

Travis shrugged. "Not much point. My panicking isn't going to get us cured any faster—it would only slow the process down, really."

Trip sat up slowly. "You know, Travis, we haven't worked together that much yet, but when we do, you never fail to impress me."

"Thank you, sir." Travis said, pleased.

"Call me Trip. We're off duty—and we will be for a while, it looks like."

Travis smiled but anything he might have said was interrupted by the sounds of the sickbay doors. Before he had to ask, Trip said, "It's Malcolm."

Data PADD in hand, Malcolm hurried in. "Hello," he greeted, but walked past them to T'Pol.

"What have you learned?" T'Pol asked immediately.

"Well, the majority of the crew is exhibiting only mild symptoms, much like the Captain. Lethargy, difficulty concentrating. Only two crewmembers are completely unaffected. You and me."

"The only two who had no contact with the Mr'Lar," T'Pol commented.

Malocolm nodded, face serious. "Exactly. Also, eleven crewmembers are suffering from a much more extreme variety of the disease. The symptoms vary from person to person—loss of fine motor skills, hearing, sight…"

"Ability to read," Trip said tiredly. He came up behind Malcolm and rested against a counter. "I wanna hear what's goin' on," he informed T'Pol before she could send him back to bed.

She simply looked back at Malcolm. After glancing between them, he continued. "I have found something else interesting. It seems that the eleven all managed to catch and hold the attention of the Mr'lar for extended periods of time. I'm not sure what it means, but the more time a crewmember spent with a Mr'lar, the more ill he or she is now."

Trip rubbed a hand over his bleary eyes. "It's only a few hours, he said. Just give him a little tour, he said. Next time I'm stickin' to Engineering and lettin' somebody else play diplomat."

Malcolm smiled a little. T'Pol said, "There was no way to anticipate the repercussions of the Mr'lar's visit. All of the guests were scanned for illness before they joined us."

Trip just waved a hand.

"If that's true, than what is going on?" Malcolm asked.

"I do not know."

Malcolm sighed. "Well, I don't know if it will help, but I compiled a list of everyone's symptoms. Perhaps these, combined with physical examinations, will lead us to something. In the meantime, I've already contacted the Captain and suggested that we look up our old friends, the Mr'lar. I suspect they'll have some answers for us—whether or not they're eager to part with them."

"For once, ol' buddy, I think you're paranoia might be right on track," Trip said. Malcolm tossed him an ironic look.

Trip added, "I'll be over here if you need me. Think I might lie down for a little while…" He turned and shuffled back to his bed.

Malcolm exchanged glances with T'Pol. In a low voice, she said, "Lieutenant, tell the Captain that haste may be in the best interest of our crew."

The armory officer nodded and hurried off to speak with Archer.

Trip had heard the conversation and recognized the worried undertones. Unable to stir up the energy to be concerned, he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.

**

Malcolm walked back on to the bridge, still surprised to see the Captain in Travis's seat at the helm. Archer was still sipping on coffee but seemed more alert. The bridge was nearly empty; a skeleton crew was posted at only the most necessary stations around the ship.

"Have you found anything, Captain?" Malcolm asked.

Archer swung around in his seat.

"I picked up a trail about ten minutes ago that appears to be the Mr'lar ship. I set a course heading in that direction. Ensign Miller is sending out hails to try and get their attention."

Archer glanced around the bridge, then stood and motioned for Malcolm to follow him. They walked back to the situation room.

"How are they doing?" Jon asked, looking worried.

"Understandably upset. Ensign Sato is sleeping; Ensign Mayweather is holding his own. I sent most of the eleven to their quarters to rest while Subcommander T'Pol looks for a cure. Most of the crew seems to be recovering on their own, while the eleven get worse." Malcolm paused. "Sir, Mister Tucker is not faring well. He appears to be getting weaker."

Jon looked away and then back at Malcolm.

"We need to step up our efforts. I'm increasing warp speed." Jon started to walk back up front; Malcolm followed.

"Agreed. I will return to sickbay now. Perhaps I can assist the Subcommander." Malcolm started to leave.

"Malcolm," Jon said.

Malcolm turned back around, smiling at him.

"I'll keep an eye on Commander Tucker, sir. At the first sign of trouble I will contact you."

Jon nodded and headed back to his seat.

Malcolm stepped onto the lift and hit the button for the sickbay deck. As the doors closed, he heard Ensign Miller say, "Sir! I'm receiving a hail from the Mr'lar!"

Malcolm stuck his hand out just as the door shut and pushed it open again. He moved to the Captain's side quickly. Jon was already instructing Miller to put it on screen.

Jec's fleshy pink face appeared. "Greetings, Captain." His whiny voice irritated Malcolm immediately. "You wish to speak with us?"

Jon stood up from the helm. "Yes, I do. Since your visit with us, my crew has fallen ill…"

"I am sorry to learn of this," Jec interrupted.

Jon gave him an annoyed look. "Thank you. My science officer believes that you can be of assistance. So far, all we know is that the more time a crewmember spent in the company of a Mr'lar, the more ill they are now. Can you explain that?"

"I cannot," Jec assured him. Malcolm snorted. Jec continued, "We will gladly offer any assistance, Captain. Our medical team is extremely capable. Perhaps we should return to Enterprise."

"Our officers haven't recovered from your last visit," Malcolm snapped.

Jec looked at him curiously. "May I ask who you are?"

"Lieutenant Reed. I'm the armory officer."

Jec's interest was piqued. "Then you are an expert in weaponry?"

Malcolm gave the Captain an exasperated look. Jon intervened, saying loudly, "Maybe we could focus on the problem at hand." Jec turned his attention back to the Captain. "If I allow you to come over, how do I know you won't be infecting the rest of my crew?"

"We will limit ourselves to your medical lab and the patients that are already ill. Please, Captain, allow us the opportunity to correct this problem. I feel responsible." Jon motioned to Miller to cut the sound.

"Captain, I do not believe we should trust them," Malcolm insisted.

"Is T'Pol anywhere close to finding a cure?" Jon asked. Malcolm shook his head curtly.

"I don't trust them, but we don't have any other options," Jon decided. "We'll confine them to the medical lab. I want you to put together a security team to stay there in the lab. We'll stick our people in EV suits, just in case." He nodded to Miller.

Looking at the screen, he told Jec, "Put together your team. Let us know when you're ready to board."

**

Two hours later, Jon and Malcolm were suited up and meeting Jec and his crew in the shuttle bay. A newly refreshed security team flanked the officers. Thanks to Cutler's hyposprays, most of the crew was feeling more alert—including the Captain.

When the hatch doors opened, Malcolm noticed the Mr'lar were carrying cameras.

"What the hell are you doing with cameras? You want pictures of our injured crewman?"

"Easy, Mr. Reed," Jon said before turning back to Jec. "I would like to know why you brought them."

He watched the diminutive little alien fidget.

Jec did his impression of a smile.

"We plan to take more pictures for our medical analysis, Captain. And we had not yet met Mr. Reed. We prefer to document every new encounter." He picked up his camera to take a shot but was stopped by Malcolm's hand grabbing the lens.

"I don't think so," Malcolm said, his voice lowered menacingly.

Jec nodded and let the camera drop. He stepped back from Malcolm.

Jon indicated for them to follow and led everyone to sickbay. With a single gesture, Malcolm posted two of his team members outside the doors. Two more followed them inside.

When they entered, they saw Trip, Hoshi, and Travis, all asleep in biobeds. T'Pol stepped into view, also in an EV suit. Jec's eyes widened when he saw the Subcommander.

"You are Vulcan, are you not?"

 T'Pol nodded and said, "Yes. If we could address the problem at hand…"

Jec looked excitedly back at his crew and raised his camera again.

This time Jon stepped in front of him.

"It might be best if we eliminate distractions. I suggest you hand your cameras over to Mr. Reed."

Malcolm motioned to a table behind him. The Mr'lar set down the cameras. Jec took out a scanner. He walked over to the closest biobed, which contained a sleeping Trip, and ran it over the Commander. Another Mr'lar did the same to Hoshi.

In his sleep, Trip moaned. His body cramped up as if in a total body spasm. Hoshi didn't move, but machines around them both began to scream.

"Sir?" Sitting up in bed, Travis turned his head frantically, trying to determine the source of the sound.

Malcolm grabbed Jec and shoved him back. The other Mr'lar jumped away from Hoshi.

"What the hell is going on? T'Pol, what's the matter with them?" Jon rushed over to Trip's side.

"What did you do?" T'Pol said to Jec. She took out her own scanner and moved towards the Commander.

"We have done nothing. I simply ran a scan over him." Jec grabbed a hypospray from his bag and injected first Trip, then Hoshi. The machines became quiet. Their heart rates increased to normal. Trip's body relaxed.

"Can you help them or not?" Jon said, breathing a little easier now. "It's ok, Travis. Just give us a minute," he added. Still looking worried, Travis settled back down.

"We will take these scans back to our ship. We will contact you when we have everything. Now, we would like to return to the shuttle bay," Jec turned around, grabbing cameras.

"That's it? This is how you help?" Jon demanded.

"You haven't even seen the rest of the patients!" Malcolm shouted.

"There is no reason to detain the Mr'lar. Mr. Reed, would you escort them?" T'pol said suddenly.

Looking frustrated, Malcolm nodded. They left sickbay, the security team following.

Jon turned back to T'Pol. "That was out of line, Subcommander. You want to tell me what's going on?"

"I am picking up unusual readings, Captain."

"What kind of readings? Where from?" Jon asked.

"From the camera. It seems Jec… accidentally… left one behind." She extracted a camera from the cubbyhole where she had hidden it.

Jon walked over to a com on the wall. "Lieutenant Hess?"

"Go ahead, sir."

"Our Mr'lar guests are preparing to disembark. Do you think you could arrange for them to stay with us a bit longer?"

"You know those pesky shuttle bay doors, sir. They never have functioned quite right."

Jon smiled. "Great. Archer out." He turned back to T'Pol. "Well, let's crack that puppy open. I want to know what the hell is going on."