AN: Thanks to Reedie, Exploded Pen and Ocean for reviewing Chapter 2.

Chapter 3

Personal log, Subcommander T'Pol:

It is now two days ago that the first crewmember has fallen ill, and conditions have been deteriorating ever since. With the exception of me and Dr. Phlox who is still hibernating there are now only few people on this ship who are not suffering from the symptoms the unknown virus seems to be causing. Worst affected are by far Captain Archer, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. It is quite difficult for me to take adequate care of my sick collegues with most of the nurses on light duties and Dr. Phlox still asleep. Fortunately Ensign Sato has remained unaffected by the virus except for a light case of headcold and is able to assist me in this task which can prove quite... taxing sometimes."

Hoshi Sato pressed the button to open the door to Lieutenant Reed's quarters and entered. It was quite dark in here, the lamp on the nightstand emitting only a faint glow. As she stepped closer to the bed, she noticed a few strands of dark hair sticking out from under the covers, saw the heap of blankets rising and falling evenly and sighed in relief. At least he had been able to get some sleep in the meantime. She didn't really want to disturb him now, but she knew they had to keep the schedule T'Pol had set up or they would never manage to take care of all the people who had fallen ill. They were working 24 hours a day as it was, T'Pol and a few biologists holed up in the lab trying to find out what had caused the epidemy, the rest of them fully occupied with their nursing job.

By a strange coincidence (or maybe it wasn't coincidence, after all) it were mostly the women who stayed more or less unaffected by the virus. Hoshi thought this to be quite an unfortunate turn of events since men were definitely the worst of patients, some feeling the need to prove they were real tough guys by refusing to go bed, others whining and complaining about every little headache like it was going to kill them, and most of them doing both at the same time.

Still, Hoshi felt quite sorry for Lieutenant Reed as she carefully lifted the blankets he had buried himself under and her eyes fell on his exhausted, feverish face. He scrunched his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of light and blindly groped around to retrieve his covers. Hoshi put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

"Malcolm."

He still wouldn't open his eyes. "Whassup?"

"You need to sit up and eat something. I brought you some soup..."

He shook his head, eyes still closed. "Not hungry, thank you."

Hoshi sighed, trying not to think of how many times she had gone through this conversation during the last forty-eight hours.

"Malcolm, you need to eat something."

"I'm really not hungry, thanks, Hoshi."

"I know, but it's been almost two days since you last had something to eat. Look, I even found you some pineapple upside-down cake that was left over. Come on now, don't be stupid."

Finally he pried open his swollen eyelids, giving her a weary look.

"No sleep until I do what you say, right, Ensign?"

She couldn't help but smile at his expression. "You got it, Lieutenant. Now sit up so I can give you that soup and the cake."

Slowly, awkwardly he got himself into a sitting position, wiping his hands on the covers before he took the soup bowl she handed him.

"I hope you like chicken soup," she said, watching as he carefully dipped the spoon into the hot liquid and took a sip. He swallowed quickly and nodded.

"Oh yes, it's fine, thank you."

Hoshi watched as he took another sip, grimacing slightly as he swallowed.

"You sure you like it? Not too salty?"

He raised his eyes in confusion, then smiled.

"It's really fine, thank you. It's just that my throat's quite sore and I seem to have trouble swallowing."

"I brought you some tea, maybe that'll help." She glanced at the tray she'd brought with her. "Maybe pineapple cake isn't such a good idea if you got a sore throat."

Malcolm hastily finished with his soup and put down the bowl.

"Well, since you already went to the trouble of carrying that cake all the way from the mess hall to my quarters, I might just as well eat it."

Hoshi bit back a grin at the hopeful expression on his face. She picked up the plate with the cake and held it up, well out of his reach, pretending to study it worriedly.

"I don't know... are you sure? Pineapple's got quite a lot of fruit acid; I don't want to be responsible for giving you a throat ache."

Glancing down at the Lieutenant, she wondered if Reed knew his ears turned a bright, glowing red at occasions like this.

"I'm sure I'll be just fine," he said, never taking his eyes off the cake. "Can I have it now?"

Hoshi still held up the plate, fighting with all might to keep a straight face.

"I think I'd better ask Liz Cutler first if it's okay for people with a sore throat to - "

"Hoshi." Malcolm sounded quite desperate. "Can I please have that cake now?"

"Pretty please with a torpedo on top?"

Malcolm closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Pretty please with a torpedo on top."

That moment the door swished open and spoiled her fun. Hoshi quickly put down the plate in front of Malcolm who looked immensely relieved, grabbing hold of it before she could snatch it away again.

T'Pol strode into the room, taking a short, irritated glance at Lieutenant Reed who was consuming cake at an almost incredible speed, then looking at Hoshi.

"Ensign, I need to talk to you for a minute."

"What is it?" Hoshi waited for Malcolm to finish his cake (he looked quite embarassed as he handed her the empty plate) and picked up the tray.

"Hope you'll be able to get some rest," she said sweetly, glancing over her shoulder at the Lieutenant who had slumped back against his pillow, looking quite exhausted. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Yeah, to torture me some more," he muttered darkly, and T'Pol raised an eyebrow at Hoshi. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, Hoshi quickly put a hand on the Vulcan's arm and led her towards the door.

"I think Lieutenant Reed really needs to get some sleep now," she said firmly, trying to ignore T'Pol's surprised look and the muffled snort that came from the direction of the bed. As the door had slid shut behind them, Hoshi turned to T'Pol.

"Bad news?"

The Subcommander clasped her hands behind her back. "Ensign Hall and I have been able to locate the source of the virus."

"Where did it come from?"

T'Pol began to walk down the corridor and Hoshi had to hurry to catch up with her.

"Do you remember the artefact we collected two weeks ago when Captain Archer sent down an away team to the Min-Shara planet we came across shortly after we passed the nebula?"

Hoshi nodded. "Yes, of course. Some kind of ancient probe, wasn't it? Trip and Malcolm were holed up in Engineering for days, taking it apart to find out how it worked. And you're saying it was contaminated?"

"Yes. Apparently the virus was able to withstand decontamination." T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I admit this strikes me as odd. Decontamination is supposed to eliminate all organic micro-organisms. I cannot understand how this virus was able to survive."

Hoshi sighed. "Suppose it's just our bad luck. Did you find out whether it's..."

T'Pol glanced at her and although the Vulcan would never have admitted it, something like compassion tinged her voice as she answered Hoshi's unspoken question.

"The virus does not seem to be of a lethal kind. Of course we do not know for sure," she hastened to add, but Hoshi still felt a great weight being lifted off her shoulders. If T'Pol believed the virus not to be of a lethal kind, then that was good enough for her.

"Well," she said, feeling a smile begin to spread over her face, "that's at least something."

They passed another door and Hoshi suddenly stopped in her tracks, almost upsetting the bowls on her tray.

"Oh-I almost forgot! Trip hasn't gotten his lunch yet!"

She turned around and to her surprise she noticed T'Pol following her.

"Subcommander?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "You seemed to have some... difficulties with Lieutenant Reed. Commander Tucker can be very stubborn on occasions as well, so my assistance may prove beneficial."

Hoshi could have sworn she had seen an evil glint of anticipation in T'Pol's eyes, but told herself she must have been mistaken. T'Pol was Vulcan, after all, and the chance to make certain people suffer a little held no temptation for her.

In the meantime they had reached Commander Tucker's quarters and T'Pol pressed the button to open the door. Obediently, the bulkhead slid aside and revealed a scene of chaos. The floor was littered with crumpled-up hankies, clothes, towels, dirty socks and what not else. In front of the bed there was a stack of engineering manuals, another one of what Hoshi recognized as Calvin and Hobbes comic-books and a big box with photos Trip had apparently been trying to bring into some kind of order. As Hoshi carefully approached the bed, she almost stepped onto a plate of half-eaten pecan pie that was standing on the floor beside the nightstand. Sighing, she picked it up and looked for a place to put it down. As she found none, she just set it down onto the stack of comic-books, stepped over the Engineering manuals and came to stand beside the bed.

Just like Lieutenant Reed, Commander Tucker had buried himself under a heap of blankets and was hardly visible at all except for his feet sticking out from under the covers.

Hoshi shook her head. "Look at that, he didn't even take off his socks! His feet are going to get all sweaty like that."

T'Pol cast a glance at Tucker's feet and wrinkled her nose ever so slightly. "I believe that has already happened."

Hoshi hid a grin and bent down to pull back the covers. First she thought Trip was asleep, but then she noted the earplugs and the walkman, half-hidden under his pillow. T'Pol picked up a small plastic case from the nightstand and raised an eyebrow as she read the text on the handwritten cover.

"Aerosmith - The Feel-Good-Remix - what is Aerosmith?"

"Some people call it music." Hoshi tried to find out where to shut off the ancient walkman, then gave up and simply pulled the plugs out of Trip's ears. His eyes flew open and he stared at her with a startled expression on his face.

"What-"

Hoshi smiled sweetly. "Hello, Commander. Time for your lunch."

Trip groaned, turning over and groping for his covers. "Ah'm not hungry."

She grabbed the blanket he'd just been pulling over his face.

"Trip. You need to eat something. I brought you some chicken soup, look."

Ignoring the bowl she held right in front of his face Trip looked up at her, giving her his best puppy-eyes.

"Hoshi, please, I jus' wanna go back ta sleep."

"If your intention was to sleep, Commander, then why did you listen to this noise?"

Both Trip and Hoshi turned their heads. T'Pol was holding one of the earplugs to her ear and listened with growing confusion on her face. Hoshi grinned, but Trip's voice sounded genuinely hurt as he answered.

"That's not a 'noise', that's ma own personal Feel-Good-Remix. Arranged it maself too."

"This might be an explanation," T'Pol stated cryptically and Trip snatched the walkman from her hand, a lot less sleepy than he had been only a minute ago.

"Look here, lady, if ya don' like it don' listen to it."

She raised an eyebrow, surveying the stacks of books and photos in front of his bed.

"I see you were trying to occupy yourself," she said, picking up one of the photos. "Fascinating. I did not know you were in the habit of putting on make-up."

Hoshi tried to get a look at the picture too, but Trip had already grabbed it and stuffed it into his pajama pocket, blushing furiously.

"I'm not! That was at a party at the Academy, alright? I fell asleep and the guys, well, I guess they thought it funny."

Still quite red in the face he looked back at Hoshi who was still holding the bowl, trying not to spill any of the soup as she was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Well, what about lunch?" he asked in one of his obvious attempts at changing the subject. Hoshi handed him the bowl, glancing at her tray.

"I brought you some dessert too, but I don't know if you'll like it. It's just some fruit salad."

"Oh, that's just fine. Didn't even finish the pie you brought me this mornin', I wasn't that hungry somehow." He glared at T'Pol. "Probably missed your charmin' dinner company."

She raised an eyebrow. "I found myself experiencing a decrease of appetite as well. I think with you absent I miss the usual background noise of your food consumation."

Trip looked ready to jump out of the bed and strangle her.

"Criticisin' ma table manners, are ya?? Well, at least I don' live off rabbit food like some people I could mention. Must be the ears, come to think of it."

"Interesting hypothesis. Your nose somewhat resembles the snout of an anteater; according to your theory this should lead to quite fascinating conclusions concerning your eating habits, should it not?"

Hoshi bit down on her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud. Trip stared at T'Pol, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. Finally he decided it beneath him to answer, finished his soup with one last swig and handed the bowl back to Hoshi.

"Thanks."

Stuffing the earplugs back into his ears he plopped down on his pillow, gave T'Pol one last deadly glare, then turned his back on them and pulled the covers up to his chin, obviously sulking. T'Pol gave Hoshi the ghost of a smile and turned to go. Hoshi followed her and couldn't help but grin at the other woman as soon as the door had slit shut behind them.

"That was mean. It worked all right, but it was really mean." Thinking of Lieutenant Reed, her smile broadened. "Seems like we've got something in common, Subcommander."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at that and Hoshi wondered how she ever could have thought the Vulcan had no sense of humour.

"I only did what seemed the most logical course of action. We needed to convince Commander Tucker to eat and my method was probably the most effective."

Hoshi, of course, saw right through her, and she knew that T'Pol knew she did, but neither of them said another word about it as they walked down the corridor together.

Finally Hoshi broke the silence.

"So if you found the source of the virus, were you also able to come up with a possible cure yet?"

"The virus seems to be quite unique in its resistency against all known toxins, but we were able to develope a formula that should prove lethal to its organism."

Hoshi had already opened her mouth to ask T'Pol why on earth she hadn't said so earlier, when she saw the Vulcan holding up a hand.

"There is a problem, though. The formula contains Ptera-ox, a rare vegetable poison produced by certain species of succulents which grow mainly on desert planets. Ptera-ox is a substance which cannot be synthesized, so..."

Hoshi could see where this was leading, and experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach. "So we have to fly to the next desert planet available and dig for some of these succulents?"

"We are already en route to Mura Prime, a desert planet the Vulcan explorers have categorized as Min-Shara class and where according to the Vulcan Database we will find plenty of Ptera-ox-producing succulents. We will reach the planet in three days."

"Well, that's great, isn't it?" But T'Pol's expression - or rather not-expression - told Hoshi that she hadn't finished yet.

"I am afraid it is not quite as easy as it sounds. Mura Prime is an inhabited planet, so we cannot simply land there and "dig up" a few plants. And this is why I need to talk to you, Ensign."

T'Pol's voice sounded quite grave, as it always did when she had to break some bad news, and tried to do it tactfully without losing her logical Vulcan countenance. Hoshi sighed.

"And the Murans aren't easy to get along with, right?"

T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back. "Essentially yes. The Muran society is quite... different."

Hoshi frowned. "How different?"

"It is a matriarchy, with very strict rules concerning the male-female roles. The Muran women treat their men the same way some Terran societies treated their women several hundred years ago. Their political system is a strict hierarchy, with so-called clan leaders presiding over small countries and states. In dealing with Muran diplomates it is essential not to... offend them by the wrong choice of words, or even gestures. The Universal Translator may prove insufficient in this case." T'Pol gave Hoshi one of her absolutely Vulcan looks. "I am relying on you, Hoshi."

Hoshi took a deep breath. "Do you think they will even talk to us?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "That should not be a problem, as long as you or I or any other female does the talking. They are not a hostile people, they are only quite... opinionated concerning certain matters."

Despite herself, Hoshi felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I bet the Captain really liked this."

T'Pol resolutely did not sigh. "He agreed to change our course in the direction of Mura Prime, but I have not had the chance yet to inform him about the Muran society in greater detail. He... fell asleep."

Hoshi bit her lip. "Poor guy."

"Indeed. But as... strange as we might find the Muran society to be, our main priority must be the acquisition of the necessary substances for the formula, and soon. While there are no lives in danger at the moment, the virus might mutate and prove lethal, after all."

She looked at Hoshi. "We must not waste any time."

Hoshi nodded. Even though she still felt quite worn out, partly due to her headcold and partly to the double shifts she'd been pulling during the last two days, T'Pol's news had given her new energy, like a cup of coffee or three hours of good sound sleep. She'd been able to forget about her worries before, teasing Lieutenant Reed, making the best of their situation just like everyone else (after all there was no use in upsetting their sick collegues even more by acting as if they were all going to die soon). Still, Hoshi had never really been able to get rid of that cold knot of fear which sat persistently in the pit of her stomach, or that treacherous little voice in her head which kept whispering gloomy predictions, telling her to give up hope right away. Not until a few minutes ago. T'Pol seemed quite confident about their chances to convince the Murans to let them do a little gardening in that desert of theirs, and Hoshi could even play an active part in this. It sure felt better than not being able to do anything but giving out chicken soup and talking grumpy officers into taking their cough drops. And they were going to do just fine. If T'Pol took matters in hand, everything would be going just fine.

"Well, with the boys all flat on their backs, it seems like we're going to be on our own this time," she said, smiling at the Vulcan who raised an eyebrow.

"Does this trouble you, Ensign?"

Now it was Hoshi's turn to raise her eyebrows. "No, why do you ask?"

T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back. "Human females sometimes tend to adopt a so-called "helpless manner" when they have to face problems on their own, without male help. Or so I have been told."

Despite her indignation, Hoshi felt a smile spreading on her face.

"Not this one," she said, pressing the button of the turbolift. "Not this one, Subcommander."

"Well, what about the females?"

"What do you mean, Krem?"

"Dr. Leris said the females won't be affected. Or not as much, anyway. What if they find out the artefact was contaminated?"

"Krem, please! Did you ever hear of a female who had enough brains to sign a cheque on the right side, let alone run a computer analysis of a virus organism? Believe me, they won't find out."

"Well, the pointy-eared one sure managed to trick me when I-"

"Krem! No offense intended, but tricking you is fairly easy. You even believed me when I promised I'd sell you the ship for three bars of latinum if you took off my restraints..."

"That was really mean."

"Rule of Acquisition Number 6, remember? Never let your relatives stand in the way of your profit. And what I'm saying is you need not be worried about the females. Don't give me that look. Your precious pointy-ears will probably not be affected, anyway. She told you her body was different, didn't she?"

"-----"

"Krem?"

"What? Oh, excuse me, cousin, I was just... thinking of something."

"I bet you were."

"What?"

"Nothing. Well, isn't it a wonderful feeling to know that with my genius and you doing the work we can achieve almost anything - even giving those blasted hu-mans a real hard time. Now I'll be able to sleep again without having those nightmares... all those bars of latinum I am sure they had hidden somewhere on that ship of theirs... and we didn't even SEE them... oh, thinking of them makes me feel like crying again..."

"Deep breathing, cousin. Try to see the positive side of it... at least you got your revenge."

"Well, that's true. And by the Three Fiscal Saints, they won't forget that one so easily."