10
Chip sat in front of the Communications console on the Bridge. Transferring to this department had been good for him – he was a natural-born gabber and liked the challenge of translations. Working with Hoshi was good, too, even though he mainly just worked overnight and didn't interact with her as much as he'd like. Overnight was usually quiet, but for some reason his tonsils were a little swollen. Nothing much, nothing to get worked up about, just a little sore. A little less conversation, a little more action, he thought to himself, and dismissed his concerns as nothing.
=/\=
For her part, Hoshi was getting ready for shift. Her PADD chimed.
It was another note from An. Hmm. It said, "I know we didn't spend a lot of time together before, but I hope we can now. I've gotten ahead in the class so I'll have the time, if you're still willing. See you at breakfast."
=/\=
Phlox was fit to be tied. The Nereid Medical Academy students filed in after breakfast, all but Pamela. She finally ran in, a little late.
He cleared his throat, "I am, I am disappointed," he began.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said.
"It's not because of that," he stated, "Ladies and gentlemen, the entire Immunology text has been erased. It's a clean erasure, with no traces."
Everyone looked around at each other, but said nothing.
Phlox continued, "I am forced to conclude that one or more of you may be cheating. It is, this is not a pleasant conclusion for me to draw. I don't like this. But I cannot see anyone else with a motive to do such a thing," he paused for a breath, "Since this can be done from outside of Sick Bay, you do not have an alibi if you were not in Sick Bay. And I dislike talk of alibis and motives. I am in Sick Bay by myself a lot. Come to me privately and I will, I will see about having the, the perpetrator fail the class but not lose his or her place at the school. This is my only offer in this matter. If the rotation finishes and the perpetrator has not been found out, your regular instructor will be informed. And I suspect that you will all be suspended. So it would behoove the innocent to implicate the wrongdoer, and for the wrongdoer – if he or she has any sense of justice or fair play – to own up to what they have done. We will only have lab today. I will not be lecturing. This is tiresome and I don't have the time or the taste for such antics. That is all."
The students just looked around at each other.
"Doctor, I'm, I'm sorry that this is happening," Mark said.
Phlox just glared at him and went to tend to his animals, leaving the five of them alone.
"Whoever did this, you are really screwing it up for the rest of us," said An.
"Maybe someone isn't doing so well," Blair said, "You could have come to any of us. C'mon, we're all friends here. It didn't have to come to this."
"This is gonna be harsh, no matter what," Pamela pointed out, "Whoever you are, you can either take less harsh or really harsh, and drag everybody down with you. I know not everyone likes me, but I bet you all like Blair. That's all I'm gonna say about it," She went over to tend to her dish of West Nile virus.
"You think you can trust people," Will said, shaking his head.
"You are not gonna screw up my career," Mark said, opening up his PADD and busying himself with checking notes.
The discussion was, effectively, closed.
=/\=
Deborah Haddon stood at attention on the Bridge. It had been beastly hot there for days. She broke attention for a moment. Security was an easy enough detail intellectually, but there was a lot of physical to go with it. And standing at attention all the time was not necessarily good for one's back. She absently scratched her hand, and then her neck. They both felt a little warm, and had small bumps on them. Allergy, she thought. Maybe there were walnuts in the chicken salad sandwich she'd had for yesterday's lunch. Yeah. That had to be it. A little itchy, a little bumpy. Hardly worth getting riled up about.
=/\=
Dinner.
It was Taco Night.
Malcolm sat with Pamela and Tripp. Hoshi came over and sat with them as well.
"Did you try the guacamole?" Hoshi asked, "It's good, a little more lime-y than usual."
"Limey," Malcolm smiled a little, "Is it made with avocado?"
Pamela looked at him, catching the reference immediately.
"Of course it is," Tripp said, "It's about the only way I'll eat an avocado," he admitted.
Pamela could not contain herself and laughed a little, almost losing her food in the process.
Malcolm coughed a bit. She said, "Are you allergic to avocado, Reed?"
"Maybe a little," he said, chuckling along with her.
"What's so funny about an avocado?" asked Hoshi.
"Oh, uh, nothing," Malcolm said, but he was fighting not to squeeze out tears as he laughed.
"It's a, a funny word," Pamela said, "All words with hard Cs are funny."
"Copper isn't a funny word," Tripp said.
"No, I, uh, I guess not," Malcolm said, sobering himself for a second, "But avocado just, just is."
"Kids today, eh?" Tripp said, getting back to his taco.
=/\=
"Thank you for the replacement unit," Phlox said to Dr. Keating-Fong.
"Oh, no trouble. Do you know why the unit was wiped?"
"I have ideas," he said.
"As do I," she said, "The implication is fairly clear, assuming there's no interference from elsewhere."
"Yes. I don't care for this part of the teaching experience," he confessed.
"Me neither. But it happens sometimes. This is a pilot program and it was very competitive to get into it. Grades have to remain high for a student to stay. I already had one student drop out due to poor grades. I do wish whoever it was would have come to me! And I agree with your plan of action. I don't want to drum them all out, but we have to take this sort of thing seriously. Thank you for being the point person for that. Keating-Fong out."
Phlox closed the connection and went to his PADD. He clicked on the Medical Database. Crewman Delacroix had complained about back spasms a few weeks previously. Perhaps there was something else he could try, as the Crewman wasn't saying anything but still appeared to be suffering. Phlox clicked and clicked again.
This was not good.
The entire Orthopedics section of the Medical Database was gone, as thoroughly wiped as the Immunology text.
=/\=
"And it's so warm in Sick Bay," Pamela said, "Stifling! I guess the animals like it. Or Phlox does. I don't know."
"The Bridge has been warm, too," Hoshi said.
"Engineering's like an oven," Tripp commiserated.
"Oh, I hadn't noticed," Malcolm said. He leaned over and whispered to Pamela, "I've been close to another heat source."
She just smiled at him, the broadest smile he'd seen so far.
"We should, uh; we should go," he said, "Are you finished?"
She nodded and he escorted her out of the cafeteria. Once they had been walking in the hallway a bit, she said, "Hang on, I need to stop by quarters, get a few things."
He followed her over. Blair and Will were in there already, but they weren't interrupting anything. Blair and Pamela busied themselves in the small bathroom. Will looked at Malcolm, "You're the Armory Officer, right?"
"Yes," Malcolm said.
"Oh."
In the bathroom, Blair said to Pamela, "So, serious, are we?"
"Not telling you."
"Oh, c'mon. Will wants me to meet his mother. Er, Mum. Gawd."
"So are you gonna do it?" asked Pamela, grabbing some toiletries.
"I suppose I will. I guess I have to. You think you'll ever meet the Brit's Mum?"
"Me, ha, no. I'm not the girl they take home to Mother. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get some stuff."
"Pamela," Blair said, serious for a moment, "if you're the cheater, you should really come clean."
"It ain't me, babe," Pamela left the bathroom and went to rummage through her top drawer. She had a colorful handful of stuff when she closed the drawer, and then grabbed her PADD, "Ready?" she asked Malcolm.
"Yes. See you, see you later," he said to Will as they departed.
=/\=
Aidan MacKenzie grabbed a cold shower. He was toweling off, and started sweating again. Rather than dry off, he just went back in and showered again, turning the water on as cold as possible, needles stinging his flesh. It was probably something with the water heating system, he figured.
=/\=
Once in Malcolm's quarters, Pamela presented her treasures, "I was thinking. To put the pedal to the metal a little bit. I have ... toys."
"Toys?" Malcolm gulped.
"Yes. But I can see where they might be of concern to you, at least at the beginning. So I just brought these," She laid out four silk scarves on Malcolm's desk.
"These are toys? I, I saw you wearing the green one two days ago, Sweetheart."
"Oh, they're used for regular purposes, too. Good little multi-taskers, they are. But tonight, we'll use them for something else," she paused, "Hmm. No posts to the bed. I wonder where I could tie these."
"Oh," The light dawned.
"Yes. But this bed of yours has nothing I can tie a scarf to. Not even a headboard."
"It's a good thing there's no headboard, as one of us would be concussed by now," he said.
"That's true," she said, smiling, "Hmm. Well, hands can still be tied together. And so can ankles."
"I see you're talking about my ankles, and not yours," he said.
"Yes. So here's the idea. I can tie your wrists together and then tie your ankles together. Do with you what I like," she said, "Tease you. Make you wait. A lot."
"Or," he said, taking his shirt off, "You can bind my wrists and my ankles and then," he took the green scarf and put it around her waist while kissing her neck, "hmm, tie the ends of this one to the remaining scarf and we could bind ourselves together, waist to waist. I'd have to, um, pin you down. I'd be your prisoner and you'd, you'd be mine."
"Huh, let's see how that would work," she said, tying the green scarf to a purple one, "Good thing you have a small waist. A six-pack, for gosh sakes. Very nice."
"Well, I work at it," he said, kissing her deeply, "I have a lot of motivation now."
"I guess you do have some," she smiled and then indicated the tied-together scarves, "These will be ... long enough," she flashed her eyes downwards for a second.
"Good," he said.
His breath caught when he saw her completely nude, "That never gets dull."
"That's the idea," she said, "Now give me your wrists, together like this," she demonstrated.
"Not too tight. If there's an emergency, I do have to be able to, uh, spring into action immediately."
"I see," she said, "Sit down; I'll get your ankles."
He did as asked, "This is, I never thought of such things as thrilling. I never, I never thought of them at all, to be perfectly frank."
"Well, they are lots and lots of fun. Now, scootch back a bit. There, that's good," She leaned over him and pushed his bound hands up above his head so that he couldn't use them. He made contact with whatever she gave him – scar, waist, anything. It hurt a bit to keep his arms up for that long, but he was so busy, he barely noticed.
Then she grabbed the two tied-together scarves and bound their waists together.
All semblance of coherence was gone; he just made a sound, kind of an animal sound.
It was not easy, but it was still thrilling, to be restricted. He kept kissing her over and over again. He was just about ready to start again in earnest when he heard a communications chime.
He shook himself out of his reverie, "I, Pamela, that's an emergency chime, Darling."
"Oh, yeah. I guess it is. Here, let me help you," she unbound his wrists. He untied his ankles.
He sat up, "Huh. It's not mine. It's yours," he said.
"Hmm," she checked, "Visual message."
He got a tee shirt out of his top drawer. She put it on, "I'm gonna stretch this out," she said. She opened the message.
It was Dr. Keating-Fong, "Pamela, I'm sorry to be calling you in the middle of the night."
"That's okay. What's up?"
"I got news from Vermont. Your father is in late stage renal failure. He probably won't survive the week. If you wish to go back to Earth, the Ti'Mur can pick you up."
"No, that's okay," Pamela said, "I'd, I'd rather work."
"Work?"
"Yes. I want to keep my mind off things."
"But Pamela, this is your father I'm talking about!" Dr. Keating-Fong exclaimed.
"It's better this way. Really. My family will, will understand. And thanks for letting me know. Hudson out," She turned off the PADD and turned to Malcolm, "Do you have any alcohol?"
"Uh, no. And I hardly think that medicating your grief with alcohol is such a good idea, Sweetheart."
"No, no, it's not grief."
"Not grief?"
"No. It's celebrating."
=/\=
Porthos shivered in the chilly air as Jonathan rolled over in bed. The dog jumped on the bed and Jonathan ordered him off, "Too hot tonight, Buddy."
=/\=
"Celebrating his life?"
"No. His death," She looked far away.
"Tell, tell me only what you, what you wish to," Malcolm said, sitting next to her on the bed and rubbing his shoulder a little. It ached a bit.
She smiled wanly, "I didn't want to mention this at all, but circumstances are kinda forcing my hand, I guess."
"Well, only share what's comfortable. It's, it's all right if it's not everything. I can, I can wait."
"Thanks. I, uh, well, what was your childhood like?"
"My childhood? Regular, I suppose," Malcolm said, "I was an Eagle Scout. Thought I'd be a naval officer but the water and me, we don't mix together too well."
"I mean more personal stuff."
"Oh, well, my sister and I didn't always get on, but that's how siblings are. My parents were removed, somewhat hands off in a lot of ways. I suppose that's made me a bit standoffish. Except with you," he said, taking her hand.
"Mine was different," she said, and had that faraway look in her eyes again.
"How, how so?"
"My parents were, were very hands on. Too hands on," she stopped and dropped his hand; "I don't know how to continue. I, I haven't told anyone this."
"Don't force out any more than you wish to say."
"I should say it," she replied, "I have to say it to someone."
"I'd like to think I'm not just someone."
"No," she said, a little distractedly, "Remember you said that I'm afraid of people who love me?"
"Yes. I was not being fair and hit you a bit below the belt there. Please forgive me."
"No. You're, you're right. Do you remember I told you that I know why I am the way I am?"
"Yes, of course."
"It's all related."
"How?" he asked.
She put two fingers into the inner corners of her eyes and he could see her flick away the tiniest of tears.
"Oh, Darling," he said, and put his arm around her, "Don't say any more than you wish."
She got up and tossed off the tee shirt, "It's, it's this," she began pacing and working herself up, "I have to, I have to shout this, because, well, because this has been quiet for too long and it needs to be shouted."
"These walls are soundproof. Shout all you like. I'll shout with you if it helps," he got up, too.
"Hands on isn't the half of it," her voice was rising and she was starting to cry a bit. He moved closer but she pushed him back, "It's not even one tenth of it."
"What is it?" he called to her, loudly.
"I told you my first encounter was when I was fifteen. That's not strictly true."
"Then what is the truth?" he yelled.
"It was before. It was long before. It ... was ... my father."
Malcolm snapped his neck back, "What?" he asked, much more quietly.
"Yes," she was shaking and crying and screaming, "My father. He beat me and he raped me and he did it for years. It started when I was, I was five years old."
"And your, your mother?" Malcolm tried to touch her but she eluded him again.
"My mother watched," she said, spitting out the last word as if it were poison, "And, and, and I have no idea why, but they didn't do it to my sister, Lisa. Why did they, why did they do it to me? Why?"
This time she let him hold her, but only for a minute, "It's so damned hot in here," she sobbed out, "And you don't, you don't know. And you don't, you don't, you don't deserve this."
"Pamela," he said very softly, barely audibly, "I am in for a penny, in for a pound. The, the knave is here."
"I'm no Queen."
"You are to me."
11
"Ensign Mayweather, you're early," T'Pol said. It was very early.
"I couldn't sleep, Commander. Too hot."
"The ambient temperature is 10 C," she shivered a little.
He sneezed, then again.
"Ensign, I suspect you're coming down with something. You should go to Sick Bay," she suggested.
"No, I'm, I'm, atchoo! I'm all right," Travis sneezed six more times.
"Ensign, go to Sick Bay. That's an order."
=/\=
"Reed, I, I told you that I say things too quickly. And you do, too," Pamela said.
"I suppose I do," he admitted, "I just, I feel so much with you. And I don't mean the physicality of it although that is certainly a part of it. It's everything. Come, come here, Sweetheart," he shivered a little in the chill.
"It's, it's too hot."
"You're always hot, my dear."
"No, I'm really hot," she complained, "Can you turn the temperature down a little?"
"Sure. But I'll need to put something on. This is far too chilly for me."
"Something that isn't a part of a uniform," she said, "Those uniforms don't show anything off. Something casual. You do have casual clothing, don't you, Malcolm?"
"Of course," he put on a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved tee, "How's this?" he asked, smiling at her a little.
"It's good," she said, "And you say you're not a good-looking man, but you are, Malcolm Reed."
"Thank you, love."
"There you go again."
"Well, I just, I think, given what we've said to one another, particularly this evening ..." his voice trailed off.
img id="Malcolm in civilian clothes" src=. title= "Malcolm in civilian clothes" alt = "Malcolm in civilian clothes" /img
[img] .[/img]
"And? And isn't it, well, wishful thinking?"
"Perhaps. But, well, these are the kinds of things that people who love each other say, and these are the kinds of things that they, that they do."
"You want very badly for it to happen, don't you?"
"Yes. Do you want it to be, to be love? Do you want that at all, Pamela?"
"I don't know. It's all wrapped up in terror for me. And you already know how my sexuality played out, all bound up with, with what started up almost thirty years ago. The two are wedded now, and I can't break them apart," she admitted, "I also know that I shouldn't be treating you like a therapist. I never should have told you that. I feel naked."
"You are naked, Darling."
"You know what I mean, Reed."
"I know. Maybe it is too quick. We leapt into bed as if the world were ending. And it's not. I should have, should have courted you. More than just a sonnet or two. Spent time with you, got to know you well."
"And now you know too much about me. You've got steps one and two and eighty-seven of the formula, and they don't all fit together properly."
"That's true," he said.
=/\=
Chip stared at the Communications console, "Commander?"
"Yes, Mr. Masterson?"
"I don't think we have long-range communications."
"Have you performed a diagnostic?"
"Two."
"I'll contact the captain," she did.
=/\=
"Pamela?"
"Yes?"
"Can we, can we set step eighty-seven aside? Warp factor ten, as it were. And perhaps not revisit five KPH but still go back a bit?"
"Well ..."
"I still want to be with you. I still want to talk to you and kiss you, make love to you and share my breakfast with you. And I still want to see you after, after you leave. If that's at all possible."
"That's not step two, yanno."
"I know. Perhaps it is irrevocably altered. It's a new path. Can't we tread it together?"
"Don't push it."
"I'm sorry."
"No, I'm not being fair. Let me, let me mull it over," she said, then changed the subject, "Yanno, we are – the class – we're gonna cook dinner tonight. It's a special surprise for the crew."
"Oh?"
"I make cheesecake. The cheesecake makes the cheesecake."
"Oh."
"You don't like cheesecake?"
"I'll, uh, I'll be all right with it," he said.
"It's the only thing I know how to make. Blair's the domestic one. She's making pot roast. Don't tell anyone."
"My lips are sealed. Pamela?"
"Hmm?"
"About the other thing?"
"I'm mulling. You are ... you're a good person. And I am riddled with imperfections, through and through."
"They don't scare me, any more than you having a scar – or my knowing how you got it – scares me."
"We wouldn't see each other much."
"I know."
"I don't do good with distance," she said, "Or loyalty. I get tempted way too easily if I'm not careful."
"I, we'll, we'll cross those bridges when we get to them."
"You're being very submissive, Reed. You've mostly been submissive. When are you, when are you going to be, to be dominant?"
=/\=
Phlox looked at the records again. There were cascade failures throughout the Medical Database. He barely had the chemical formula for aspirin any more.
=/\=
"Dominant?"
"Yes. You've even set yourself up as the knave, with me as the Queen. That's complete submission on your part. Is that how you want things to be? I can, I can do that. But I've told you I prefer the trading."
"Then I wish to be dominant right now."
"Now?"
"Yes," he said, approaching her, "I want to call the shots, for the remainder of tonight."
"Oh?" she said, getting interested and meeting him halfway.
"I want to make love to you. Not have hot sex, but make love. And not with scarves or toys or your fingernails raking my back. No teasing, no hair pulling. No clothes on, no odd positions. Facing each other, so that we can kiss and look and breathe together as one," He put his hand on her face, "Soft, but also hard," He smiled a little, "Gentle. Careful. With sweet kisses and caressing hands. That is what I want – it's what I demandof you. Can you do that?" He looked deep into her eyes. She looked fearful.
"Y-yes. I think I can remember how to do that."
He kissed her softly on her mouth, "Good," He kissed her deeply, hands lightly holding her waist.
She led him over to the bed, "First this," She came closer.
"You, you want to do that?" he asked, "Most, most women I've been with, they don't like doing that unless it's, it's reciprocal."
"It's a, a gentle way for you to dominate," she said.
Malcolm was jolted. It was quick but very intense. She definitely knew what she was doing.
"Would you kiss me?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, doing just that.
She smiled at him, a freer smile than he'd seen before, "Not every guy likes that."
"The whole thing is, I think it was a generous act. You can, you are capable of generosity, you know."
"I guess I am a little bit," she said, "Doesn't mean I don't like when you do it to me."
"Your wish isn't my command," he said, "But it would be my pleasure."
=/\=
Hoshi was up early. Her PADD was flashing. Another note from An.
"No breakfast today, sorry. I don't have an appetite," It said.
She coughed a little. Damn.
=/\=
When they finally got together, it was as he'd wanted. Slow. Careful. Deliberate. She was hotly sweating while he was coolly caressing and kissing, but he still felt every catch of her breath, every change. He kissed her smiles, meeting her laughter with his movements, mouth on her shoulder, then back to her mouth. She took her hands away from his waist and put them onto his face, kissing him, breathing into his mouth.
=/\=
Brian Delacroix walked out into the hallway, making his way along the wall. He was dizzy. The ship was moving too fast. He put his hands up to his face. Felt bumpy. A little like the skin of an avocado. Ensign Crossman saw him. He knew her. He approached her. She took one look at his face and screamed.
=/\=
Malcolm smiled at her, "Now that was Warp Factor Ten," he said.
"Yes," she said, "Very hot."
He shivered a little, despite their closeness. He kissed her. She was very sweaty, and coughed a little, "Darling, you're warmer than usual."
"Yes," she said, "I – Reed, feel my forehead. And the back of my neck," He complied, "How hot?"
"Very. More hot than you normally feel."
"I – dammit. I've got a fever," she said, breaking apart from him, "Feels like it's climbing."
"Let's get you to Sick Bay," he said.
"I can go by myself."
"I know. But I would not be a very good, uh, boyfriend, if I didn't take you, now, would I?"
"Boyfriend," she said, putting her skirt back on, "Makes it sound like you're fifteen."
"Maybe this time 'round, fifteen will turn out a bit differently," He said, putting on his uniform this time.
He looked at her with concern.
img id=" Concerned Malcolm " src=" " title=" Concerned Malcolm " alt="Concerned Malcolm"/img
[img] .[/img]
"I'll be all right. It's probably nothing," she said.
=/\=
Jonathan got up. There was a communications chime but he could barely hear it. His head was pounding. Porthos was whining, "Not now, boy," He said, leaving the dog in his quarters and heading out. The Bridge would have to wait. He had a date with Sick Bay.
=/\=
Malcolm took Pamela by the hand and led her into B Deck's hall. The hallway was already crowded with people, all moving slowly. They all seemed to be going in the same direction. MacKenzie was leaning against a wall, stopped. Blair looked red-faced. Will, next to her, was sneezing. Mark Stone was scratching his arms, his hands covered with bumps.
"Let's go more quickly," Malcolm said, pulling Pamela along.
"Not so fast. I'm kinda nauseous," she said.
As if on cue, Crewman Shapiro vomited in front of them.
Malcolm blinked a few times and steered her around the mess, "We need to go faster, Pamela. I will help you," He put his arm around her and she was pretty much a dead weight, stepping down only a little bit as he walked as quickly as he could.
=/\=
Crewman Haddon left her post. She got into the lift and somehow got herself back to C Deck and her quarters. She took one look at herself in her bathroom mirror, and shrieked.
=/\=
Sick Bay was already crowded. Phlox already had Hoshi, An and Travis on beds when Pamela and Malcolm arrived.
"Put her, uh, there," Phlox said, indicating an empty bed. He was a whirling dervish.
"There are others, doctor. You'll be out of beds soon," Malcolm said.
"Get in ten more. We'll double them up," Phlox said.
"All right," Malcolm said. He turned to Pamela, lying on a bed, "I love you," he said.
She smiled at him weakly, "See what happens when you get demanding?" she whispered.
He kissed her forehead, "Still nauseous?"
"Yes. And you shouldn't kiss me. You'll catch whatever the hell this is."
"I think I've already been exposed."
"We've both been exposed," she said.
"You'll be all right. I'll have your cheesecake yet."
"Don't count on it."
He took one last look and left to bring in more patients.
=/\=
Jonathan staggered along the wall, hugging it. That seemed to help a little bit, but why was it so damned hot?
=/\=
Malcolm brought along Blair next, and set her on the bed next to Pamela.
"Strap them in," Phlox said, "Don't want anyone falling off a narrow bed."
Malcolm did as requested.
"Henry!" Pamela said weakly, "I told you not to do that."
"It's not Henry, Darling," he said.
"Oh. Well, um," she said.
Blair just stared at him as he adjusted a strap.
"Reed," Pamela said.
"Yes, Sweetheart?"
"Avocado."
=/\=
By the time the beds were filled, and Malcolm had gotten a chance to take a breath, a good hour or so had gone by.
Phlox looked at him, "You seem to be unaffected so far. Perhaps there are others," He went back to tending patients.
Malcolm clicked open his communicator, "Reed to, to, well, to anyone. Anyone at all."
"Go ahead," It was Commander T'Pol.
"Oh, thank God. Commander, is there, is everything all right on the Bridge?"
"No, it isn't," T'Pol's voice had a very slight edge to it; "The crew have either abandoned their posts or collapsed."
"We don't have enough beds," Phlox said.
"There are quarters on this deck. And, and on C Deck. We – I suppose I – can put people in there. Double them up like in here. Would that be acceptable?"
"It'll have to do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll need to prepare a solution of potassium carbonite."
"Is it a cure?" Malcolm asked.
"No. It's to put everyone into stasis while I figure this out. I'll make a dose for you as well, when you need it. Your delayed onset is interesting but I cannot pursue it now," He went back to what he'd been doing.
Malcolm spoke into the communicator again, "Commander, can you stop the ship and put it adrift for a bit?"
"I have already had to do that," she replied.
"Good. Then, please, come here. I'll need your help. We need to move a lot of people, and quickly."
"On my way."
12
Phlox gave them each twenty shots' worth of potassium carbonite to carry with them in bags, "We should indicate, somehow, as to which member of the crew is in which room," T'Pol said.
"A list," Malcolm said, "But it would be better if the rooms were somehow marked as well."
"Over there," Phlox said, giving An a shot of potassium carbonite, "Take that box with you."
"Chalk," Malcolm said, "I think they did this in the Middle Ages when there were plagues. Some small memory of hist'ry."
"Come back when you're out of shots and I'll give you refills," Phlox said, "Act quickly. And be sure to indicate if any are more advanced. Crewman Melissa Madden over there seems to be particularly affected," She had dark bumps all over her face and arms and was sharing a surgical bed that had been pressed into service. Her bedmate, Ensign MacKenzie, seemed less afflicted.
Malcolm and T'Pol left.
"Let's leave the closest room open," Malcolm suggested, "For the captain."
"And for you, Mr. Reed," she replied, "Here, help me with Mr. Masterson."
Then Crossman. Malcolm marked on the door: Masterson, Crossman.
They moved on.
Shapiro, Donnelly.
Pike, Delacroix (A). It was 'A' for Advanced. T'Pol tapped out notes as they proceeded.
"I'm out of inoculations," Malcolm said, "How many have we got so far?"
"Eighteen women. Twenty-two men," T'Pol said, "Plus in Sick Bay there are six men and four women. Keep in mind that there are three male medical students and two females. Plus you."
"So," Reed did a quick calculation in his head, "Sixteen human women remain, and, and thirty-two men. We'll have to go back for more inoculations twice. This deck is nearly full. We'll need to move to C Deck soon."
"Agreed," she said. They ran back to Sick Bay together.
"Have you located Captain Archer yet?" Phlox asked, preparing more shots.
"No," T'Pol said, "We've only been clearing this deck so far."
"Proceed," Dr. Phlox said, "Right now, I don't know what's a priority. Just, just do what you can."
"Understood," Malcolm said as they departed.
They found Captain Archer collapsed in front of the lift, "Come along, Captain," Malcolm said, throwing his arm around Jonathan's waist, "T'Pol, other side, if you please."
They slowly walked the captain over but he was dead weight.
"Wait, let's try it this way," Malcolm said, "Lie him down, then we'll take arms and legs."
"This is a little ... undignified," Jonathan managed to gasp out as they carried him.
"You should see the other guy," Malcolm said, "Ah, here we are."
They laid Jonathan down. He looked pasty pale, "T'Pol," he gasped weakly, "Take command."
"Yes, Captain," she said, injecting him.
"Onward to C Deck," Malcolm said.
They found Crewman Haddon in her own quarters, quivering and mumbling incoherently, her face and hands covered with dark blotchy bumps. She weakly tried to fight them off. They ended up injecting her before even getting her into bed. It was just easier. Corporal Amanda Cole ended up as her bunkmate.
Cole, Haddon (A).
They kept going, gathered another round of shots when needed and continued.
They moved on until they'd cleared C Deck.
"How far along are we?" Malcolm asked T'Pol, straightening up and rubbing his own back. Fireman's carries, over and over again, were not doing his back and shoulders any favors. He remembered for a second the initial reason why his shoulders were bothering him. Too much worry, thinking about Pamela, knocked out in Sick Bay. He compartmentalized it, saving the emotions for later. Best to concentrate on what he was doing.
"I said, Lieutenant, fifty-eight men and thirty-six women. We are done with the women," T'Pol said, "Are you feeling well enough to continue?"
"Yes. Just, just worried. I imagine the last three men are still at their posts."
"Tucker. Torres," she read off the remaining names, "And Crewman Miller."
"So two are probably in Engineering, and the other in the Bio Lab," Malcolm deduced, "Let's go to Engineering first."
"That is a logical course of action."
Tucker was found next to the warp engines. He barely protested when they carried him to a room on C Deck. He bunked with Bernstein.
Bernstein, Tucker.
Torres was harder to find. They finally located him behind some plasma relays. He was uncontrollably coughing. A quick shot stopped that. He was heavy, over two meters tall. After considerable grunting and sweaty work, they got him to a room on C Deck.
One more.
Miller was not in the Bio Lab. They finally found him, passed out, in front of the big freezer in the kitchen, the freezer door wide open. He was lighter than Torres, and Malcolm could lift him by himself. One last pass, one last marker.
Torres, Miller.
They made their way back to Sick Bay. Phlox was sitting on a stool. He looked wan, "We'll need a plan of action," he said, "The injections of potassium carbonite aren't really full stasis. The patients will continue to worsen, albeit more slowly."
Malcolm looked over at Pamela. She looked sweaty, but more like she was sleeping than anything else. A lot like she did when she slept next to him, "Is she dying?" he asked Phlox.
"Lieutenant," Phlox paused for a breath, "they all are."
=/\=
"Doctor T'Par, can you treat her?" asked Ambassador Soval, looking at Dr. Keating-Fong, who was lying in the Ti'Mur's infirmary.
"Yes, although the records are rather sparse," she said, "This is an ancient, eradicated human disease."
"Eradicated? Then surely there is a cure," he said.
"No. It was eradicated with prevention in either the twentieth or the twenty-first century. The records are, as I said, unclear. When the human population was completely protected by preventative injections, the search for a cure was abandoned."
"Still, you can cure Dr. Keating-Fong?"
"Yes. I can. And reverse the skin damage as well, although that's a considerably lower priority."
"Naturally. Is the doctor contagious?"
"Not to Vulcans, or to any species other than human. And, not contagious any more, although she was perhaps a week ago."
"That's when she was still on the Enterprise," said the Ambassador, "We must contact them immediately."
=/\=
"Mr. Reed. Mr. Reed," T'Pol said.
"Yes. Sorry," He couldn't stop looking at Pamela. She seemed peaceful.
img id="Pensive Malcolm" src=" /legacy_ " title=" Pensive Malcolm " alt=" Pensive Malcolm "/img
[img] /legacy_[/img]
"I'll repeat what I just said," Phlox said, "The patients have, perhaps, five days at most. The more advanced ones, more like three or four."
"We'll be rendezvousing with the Ti'Mur in seven days," Malcolm said, "Unless we can get closer. Are engines still working?"
"Spotty," T'Pol said, "Plus with the neutron pulsing in this area, the going may be difficult. A well-trained pilot would be best."
"There's your well-trained pilot, lying over there," Malcolm said, indicating Travis, knocked out with Mark Stone.
"What about Communications?" Phlox asked.
"I managed to get a distress call out but long-range is not working," T'Pol said, "It is difficult to say how far the message traveled."
"I don't have much in the way of medical information," Phlox said, "Foolish student, someone wiped the database. Now that person's cheating ways will get them all killed."
"Doctor, we will have to devise a cure from scratch," T'Pol said.
"Yes. Work 'round the clock," the doctor said.
"Then Mr. Reed," T'Pol said, "I hereby relinquish command to you."
"Me?"
"Yes. I can help Dr. Phlox much better than you can. My place is here."
"Very well," Malcolm said, "But we, we won't stand on ceremony. We'll all make all of the decisions, if that's, if it's appropriate. Everyone's vote will be equal. I will work on Communications, and I'll see if I can move the ship in the direction of the Ti'Mur, and do so as quickly as possible. You both will, well, it's obvious. Medical is top priority. I will assist in any way I can, just tell me. And, and, I'll prepare and bring you your meals. It won't be anything fancy."
"Then we are in agreement," T'Pol said, "And if you find yourself becoming ill, Mr. Reed, you will turn command back over to me."
"Yes, of course."
"Roll up your sleeve," Phlox said.
Malcolm did as asked. Phlox jabbed his arm with a needle, "Ow!"
"A half a liter should do," Phlox said, "But if you become faint, tell me immediately."
Malcolm waited as his blood was drawn, "Do you, do you have any idea why I am unaffected so far?" he asked.
"None. Hopefully, your blood will tell the tale."
=/\=
It was a ship, coming at high warp.
Erratic pathway.
Heading right for them.