Chapter Six: Forced Illness
A week after first giving Trystmar the vaccine, Bashir smiled as he studied the results of his latest blood test. "Your blood is producing antibodies; it looks like you're ready for the next stage of the treatment." He sobered. "It won't be pleasant," he warned Trystmar again, "and I can't guarantee some of the symptoms won't be the same as the last two times."
Trystmar winced, his face paling, but said nothing.
Bashir regarded him steadily. "If you promise me you won't attempt to take the easy way out, I won't put you on suicide watch."
Trystmar's head jerked up, a light of defiance in his eyes as his cheeks flamed red. "I'm not a sissy!" he declared hotly.
"Yet you told me…" Bashir reminded him quietly.
Trystmar sighed. "That I'd rather die quickly; I know," he admitted. "But the first stages aren't all that bad; I can stand it if I know it's eventually going to get better, not worse."
Bashir looked at him steadily for a moment, then nodded, choosing not to remind him that he had given him no guarantee that the treatment wouldn't kill him.
"This is the active virus, taken from Shan," Bashir explained quietly, producing a hypospray. "I'm going to inject it in your arm; when your immune response is at its height I'll take the white blood cells from your body and inject them into Shan."
Trystmar smiled a little weakly. "You realize that makes as little sense to me as legalese means to you?"
Bashir gave him a lopsided grin. "I actually think I understand legal terms a little better than most laymen."
"No offense," Trystmar said quickly.
"None taken," Bashir assured him.
"Just do what you have to do; I don't need to know the details."
"Fair enough," Bashir agreed. He pressed the hypospray to Trystmar's arm and injected the contents. Trystmar winced slightly, more from the thought of being injected with live virus than from any discomfort.
"It should be a day or two before you start feeling symptoms," Bashir told him in a businesslike tone. "You can go back to your quarters or anywhere you please on the station, provided you don't do anything too strenuous. You may be mildly contagious, but I've already vaccinated the only other Trill currently on board, so that isn't a concern. As soon as you start feeling ill, however mild, I want you to either come in to the infirmary, or call me on the combadge I gave you. Do you have any questions?"
Trystmar shook his head. "I don't think so. Thank you, Doctor."
Bashir merely nodded, walking him to the door before returning to his office to once more go over every detail of the treatment he had devised.
oOo
Two nights later Trystmar woke in the middle of the night, sure the environmental controls in his quarters must somehow have been set about twenty degrees higher than was comfortable. Yet strangely, despite the feeling of excessive heat, he felt more inclined to cuddle down under the blankets than to throw them off.
He lay there for several minutes before it occurred dimly to his sleepy, fevered brain that perhaps this was the first symptom of the illness. He wondered if he should wait until morning to contact Bashir; surely it wasn't an emergency that necessitated disturbing the doctor in the middle of the night.
He did not so much decide to wait as lack the energy to move, but as he lay there he caught his breath as his heart gave a strange thump. Perhaps, after all, he did require immediate care…
His limbs were strangely heavy, and it was a struggle to reach across and tap the combadge Bashir had given him. "Trystmar to Bashir," he gasped, utterly worn out and sweating from the small exertion.
"Bashir here," came the doctor's response in a surprisingly short time; had he been asleep at all?
"I — need you…" Trystmar managed, his voice so faint he wondered if the doctor could even hear him.
"On my way. Bashir out."
Trystmar flopped back against the pillow, panting, trying to will his heart to slow down.
oOo
Bashir had not bothered to undress that night, whether because some sixth sense had told him he would be needed, or simply because he had known his insomnia would not allow him to sleep. Grabbing the medkit, he slung it over his shoulder and left his quarters at a run. He had recognized from the sound of Trystmar's voice that this was a true emergency, and for a moment considered asking for transport. But Trystmar's quarters were near enough to his own he could get there in very nearly the same amount of time as would be spent requesting transport.
He did not waste time waiting for permission to enter but immediately entered his medical override code on the keypad lock. The lock beeped and the door slid open, and Bashir dashed in as soon as the opening was wide enough.
"Doc," Trystmar gasped as Bashir entered his sleeping quarters. "Heart…pounding…" He was nearly hyperventilating as he gasped for breath.
"All right," Bashir said gently, his tricorder already in his hand with Trystmar's heart rate spiking across the screen. He shrugged off the medkit and snapped it open, his movements so smooth that his manner seemed completely calm and reassuring despite his haste as he reached for a hypospray. Pressing the tip to Trystmar's neck, he deftly injected the sedative. Then he took out the portable respirator, one hand thumbing it to the appropriate settings even as the other fit the mask over Trystmar's mouth and nose.
"I want you to breathe slow and deep," he instructed, his voice nearly hypnotic in its calmness. "In…and out… In…and out…"
Trystmar relaxed slightly as his heart and breathing steadied and slowed, and Bashir once more checked his vitals with the tricorder. "That's better," he said with a smile. "Can you tell me if there are any other symptoms?"
"Room…too hot," Trystmar said, his voice muffled by the mask but easily understandable to the doctor's keen ears.
Bashir glanced across the room at the environmental controls. "It's sixty-seven degrees in here; you feel overheated?"
"Yes…cold at the same time."
Bashir glanced again at the tricorder screen. "You are running a fairly high fever," he admitted. "Anything else?"
"Arms…so heavy…barely move…" He sighed, closing his eyes, and Bashir understood the list of symptoms was complete.
"All right. Let's get you to the infirmary now." He tapped his combadge. "Bashir to infirmary; I need a stretcher in guest quarters 402, stat."
"Right away, sir."
Bashir smiled slightly, laying a hand on the side of Trystmar's face. "I apologize," he said quietly. "I had no idea this would come on so suddenly or I would have had you under observation in the infirmary."
"That'sh all right."
Next chapter coming next week!
I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!
Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie
