13
Malcolm rolled his sleeve back down, "Porthos!" he suddenly cried out, "Poor thing."
"He'll probably be in the captain's quarters," Phlox suggested, "Here," He handed Malcolm a shot, "One-eighth of the human dosage of potassium carbonite. And bring him and his dog bed here. I'll put him somewhere."
Malcolm ran to the captain's quarters.
=/\=
"Let's begin by looking at the students' projects," Phlox said, "In case there's been any contamination. Perhaps that's the cause of all of this."
T'Pol read off the labels, "Mumps. Anthrax. Herpes Simplex. Ebola. West Nile virus," Pamela's little infectious pet, "The seals all appear to be intact."
"Very well. Let's take samples and test them against the Lieutenant's blood. See if there are any antibodies. And also, here, let's take a sample from two patients. One advanced, one not, and see what happens when they're mixed with Reed's blood," Phlox said.
T'Pol moved an IV aside and began to draw blood from Ensign MacKenzie.
=/\=
Malcolm got to the captain's quarters in record time. The door was locked, "Security Override Code." he gasped, "Reed Gamma nine oh nine."
The door slid open.
There was a whine and a bark, and Porthos, all eleven kilos of him, wagging and wiggling and licking in doggie greeting.
Malcolm bent down and petted the dog, "Thank God you're all right, little chap," he said, "Come with me," He remembered at the last minute to take the dog bed with him. Porthos trotted behind him as he walked back to Sick Bay and then changed his mind and changed course. The Bridge made more sense. He clicked open his communicator, "I have him," he said, "And he is all right."
"Interesting," T'Pol said, "Mr. Reed, did you experience any symptoms?"
"Symptoms?"
"Yes. We suspect you had the disease that's afflicting the remainder of the crew. But you somehow recovered from it."
"Hmm. I felt some heat, well, I felt warm at times. But I attributed that to other things," he admitted.
"Thank you. T'Pol out."
Malcolm made his way to the Bridge, Porthos in tow.
=/\=
"Here's where it's becoming difficult," Phlox admitted, "We've tried everything we can think of, but without a database, we're down to almost random guesses."
"The symptoms are flu-like in nature. Except for the dermatological issues that some of the crew are experiencing."
"Any number of human diseases can manifest themselves with what are referred to as flu-like symptoms. It's almost a catchall. Coughing – both productive and dry, sneezing, body aches, congestion, watery eyes, fever."
"Most of the crew had fevers, including, possibly, Lieutenant Reed," T'Pol pointed out.
"That only narrows it down to a few thousand," Phlox shook his head, "If we could throw another person at this problem, it would be a bit easier."
=/\=
Malcolm got to the Bridge and put the dog bed down next to the captain's chair. He tried out the chair for a second, but it was set for someone taller than he was and, certainly, not for him. He felt strange, "No. This is wrong," he said to Porthos, who did not answer, "This belongs to your master."
He then walked over to the helm. Not comfortable there, either, and the readings were confusing. He managed to steady the helm and get the Enterprise going at full impulse. Warp drive seemed to be offline. It would be very slow going to get to the Ti'Mur, but at least they were moving a little bit.
He went over to his station, and saw warning lights flashing just as he got there. This was not good. He clicked open his communicator, "Commander, I, I need you here. Right, right now. My apologies, Doctor."
"On my way."
=/\=
Ambassador Soval shook his head. There seemed to be no way to reach the Enterprise. He requested that the Ti'Mur accelerate to maximum warp.
=/\=
T'Pol arrived quickly, "What seems to be the trouble?"
"Here. I think I can get this on the screen," Malcolm fiddled with the controls at Hoshi's station, "There. Klingon Battle Cruiser. Coming in fast. Take the helm."
She did as requested, "Have you a plan?"
"Not really," he admitted, "Tactical is working perfectly but we can't exactly get out of the way quickly or call for help. Hull plating is polarized. Torpedoes are armed."
"Can we communicate with the other vessel?"
"If they come close, I believe so."
"Then let's opt for a diplomatic solution if it can be achieved," she suggested.
"Agreed."
The other ship barreled in and stopped, close. A proximity alarm was tripped. Malcolm turned it off.
They hailed the Enterprise. T'Pol got the message on screen, and then returned to the helm.
"This is Captain Lorgh of the Imperial Klingon Battle Cruiser Somraw. Surrender and prepare to be boarded," Lorgh coughed a few times. A couple of female Klingons behind him chased after a male Klingon.
Something was not right. Except for Lorgh, none of the Klingon Bridge crew appeared to be at their posts.
Malcolm sprang back and cut the sound, "Now what? They won't exactly show us mercy."
"A fire fight is not going to help," T'Pol stated, "And the Ti'Mur cannot get here on time. Surrender is likely to be our sole option."
"There's also suicide," Malcolm said, "It's really a matter of no survivors versus, at best, three."
=/\=
Back on the Somraw, it was louder than usual and the crew was running wild. Lorgh had neither the stomach nor the strength to deal with it. He switched communications, "Keleth!" he yelled into the console, "You have your orders."
=/\=
Malcolm put the sound back on. He and T'Pol looked on the screen, and saw the Klingon Bridge filling up with a sand-colored gas. Klingons were falling all over the Bridge – Lorgh included. The screen switched to a scene of a sole Klingon, an elderly male. He said, menacingly, "This is Keleth of the Imperial Klingon Battle Cruiser Somraw. Surrender and prepare to be – oh, to Stovokor with it," His tone changed, and was quieter, "I am Chief Medical Officer Keleth. Your Bridge is nearly empty. You must have the disease as well."
=/\=
Phlox titrated samples and tallied up his notes as he went along. It was respiratory, sort of. Dermatological, kind of. Definitely a virus and not a bacterium. Reed's blood was no cure, although it did kill the virus when the two were mixed in a controlled experiment. But that didn't work in a test subject, and besides, Reed had B positive blood. Even if his blood did work, it still couldn't mix with that of over half of the crew. He kept working.
=/\=
"Perhaps," T'Pol answered.
"It is ... it causes a kind of madness. Somewhat like Balt'Masor Syndrome but not exactly. My Medical Database is nearly completely gone; I have little to compare it to. Can you – it is not our way, but our way is going to mean a dishonorable death to all – can you assist? It is of honor for me to ply my trade and do all I can to save my shipmates," Keleth said.
"We will consider it," she replied, "Stand by," she broke the communications link.
"Consider it?" Malcolm asked, "What's there to consider?"
"Those people are dying, just like our people are."
"They're Klingons!" he said, "And we're supposed to find them a cure while Pa– everyone here is so terribly ill?"
"An additional medical officer would be of help to Dr. Phlox and myself," T'Pol said.
"If they weren't sick, they'd be firing upon us!"
"I – no – that does not fit in with Klingon logic. Klingons value honor above all else. They would consider it dishonorable to simply run roughshod over a ship full of dying people unable to defend themselves properly."
"I'm in command, and I say not to cooperate with them."
"Mr. Reed. By your own statement, you have said that we will share in the decision-making. Does that remain your intention? Or have the rules changed?" she asked.
"I – we'll, we'll vote on it. Let's call Phlox."
They explained the situation, "I don't see an alternative," Phlox said, "Particularly since you were seriously considering surrender before this. It troubles me that perhaps the Klingon disease is transmissible to any of us, but I have my doubts about that. The physiology is simply too different, which is also why this human infection has not jumped to either Commander T'Pol or myself. Plus that ship seems to still have warp drive, albeit no one here can read Klingon or pilot such a vessel. It still may be of use. I say we cooperate. Now, if you'll excuse me. Phlox out."
"Well, I don't like it," Malcolm said.
"Your objection is duly noted," T'Pol replied, "But we cannot make this decision based upon emotions."
Reluctantly, he reopened the channel, "This is Reed to Keleth. I – we – we will share whatever we know. It, it isn't much. And we don't believe it's the same affliction."
"Probably not," Keleth allowed, "Human, I am curious. You are on a human vessel. Yet you are unafflicted. I presume you are the only one of your species who is. Do you know why that is so?"
"No," Malcolm said, "I could say the same for you."
"Ah, I am easy to explain. I have been locked into Sick Bay Quarantine for two days. I got in here just as the malady was beginning to affect the crew. My captain ordered me here for the duration. And now it is the duration and I am in here and they are all out there," His voice had an edge of desperation to it.
"Can you explain the gas?" T'Pol asked.
"Ah, Tricoulamine in vapor form."
"Tricoulamine?" she asked, "That's a nerve toxin."
"Not to Klingons," he explained, "It is a means of creating a close approximation of stasis. But it would affect me as well. I would pass out, too, if I went outside of Quarantine without a pressure suit. I am trapped in here. It is not a good way to die."
"I see," she said.
"Even our food animals are knocked out," Keleth added, "A Klingon ship this quiet is not – it is not something I had ever thought I would experience." He sighed a little.
Malcolm cut the sound again, "I suspect he hasn't eaten in a few days."
"You are most likely correct."
"I – we would not be able to watch him constantly. I would still have to be here."
"True," she said, "But another medical brain tackling the problem would be a major form of assistance. Not to mention a gesture of extreme good faith."
"Let's ask Phlox," he clicked open his personal communicator, "Doctor, how do you feel about a little company?"
14
"I said, Doctor, fancy a spot of company?" Malcolm asked.
"I, it is one thing to communicate from ship to ship. But bringing the Klingon doctor here? It is unprecedented," Phlox said.
"Doctor, would you feel comfortable diagnosing and treating patients you hadn't seen in person?" T'Pol asked.
"I don't suppose I would."
"I also feel uncomfortable about this," Malcolm admitted, "But I'm not certain what else can be done. It is also a chance to, to show our humanity."
T'Pol looked at him, "And, and, uh, our Vulcanness and, uh, Denobulan, uh, -ness," Malcolm hastily added.
"What about simply exchanging records?" Phlox inquired, "Our database is full of holes. Perhaps theirs is not, and that would be enough."
"Didn't he say that they were also missing records?" Malcolm asked.
"That was more or less the statement," she responded.
"So it was not a cheating student," Phlox said, "Huh. I will, the situation will be uncomfortable. But I suppose it's necessary. Even to have someone else titrate would save time."
"I'd escort Dr. Keleth wherever he needed to go, other than Sick Bay. Which would really only be to and from the Transporter, and perhaps to somewhere to sleep if he is here for that long," Malcolm said.
"I could wear a sidearm," T'Pol offered.
"We would only show the remnants of the medical database," Phlox said, "Nothing strategic."
"No star charts, nothing tactical, of course," Reed added, "We'd feed him."
"Klingons enjoy freshly killed meat," T'Pol pointed out.
"Well. There won't be any of that," Malcolm said, "I suspect he will be less choosy after a few days of hunger."
"Then we are in agreement," Phlox said, "I must admit my mind keeps changing on this. So let us act quickly, before we change our minds again."
=/\=
Ambassador Soval looked at an incoming news transmission:
Professor Edward Hudson, 71, died today at his home on Lunar Colony. Professor Hudson taught Beginning Calculus at Lunar University.
He is survived by his wife of forty-three years, Linda Morgan Hudson, and his daughters, Dr. Pamela Hudson of Nereid and Lisa Hudson Schiller of Lunar Colony. Other survivorsinclude son-in-law Robert Schiller and grandchildren Louise and Edward Schiller. Services will be private. The family requests donations to the Lunar Charitable Trust in lieu of flowers.
=/\=
Keleth got himself into a pressure suit. It was not easy – he was an old man and had no one to help him. Cautiously – even though he knew he'd be protected from the Tricoulamine gas – he ventured outside of Sick Bay Quarantine.
He sighed and shook his head as he downloaded the remains of his medical information onto a Klingon PADD. He then took blood samples from Lorgh and Lorgh's woman, Legeis. He got to the Somraw's Transporter room, "I do not wish to be walking into a human trap," he sighed to himself, "I am too old for such things, and too foolish," He made contact with the Enterprise; "I am ready."
=/\=
T'Pol worked the Transporter's controls while Malcolm stood by, phase rifle cocked and ready. As soon as Keleth materialized, he pointed the rifle at the Klingon's head.
"I – oh, human," Keleth said, taking off the helmet of his pressure suit, "I would be a foolish Klingon indeed to not only come here but to also come armed and ready to do damage," He shook his head.
"You must understand that we cannot trust you," T'Pol said.
"And you should not," Keleth agreed, "And I should not trust you. Yet here we are. There are patients, yes? We must go to them. Unless they are lying on the floors nearby."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow while Malcolm escorted Keleth along. Malcolm never put his weapon down.
Sick Bay was close by.
"Ah, our guest," Phlox said, "I have numerous samples to titrate, over there. You can get started."
"I am not a laboratory lackey," Keleth said, "I am a trained physician. Having me perform little more than clerical work is a poor use of my time and skills."
"Indeed," T'Pol said.
"I'd best go back to the Bridge," Malcolm said, "Keep an eye out," He said to T'Pol quietly.
"I am neither agile nor wily, not anymore," Keleth said, "Human, you are the pilot?"
"No, I am the Armory Officer."
"Oh. Well that explains the overabundance of caution. For a species that has burned Klingon cities and killed our children, you are suddenly vulnerable, and it makes you uncomfortable."
"Burn cities? Kill children? Is that what you think we are?" Malcolm was becoming incensed.
"I have seen casualties."
"And what of you? Your way is to shoot first and ask questions later. All manner of massacres in the name of some warped sense of honor," Malcolm seethed. Keleth was too close to where Blair and Pamela were lying. He wasn't thinking straight.
"Gentlemen!" T'Pol called out.
They looked at her, but it was Phlox who interjected, "Our time is short, for both species. Let's leave the arguments to another day."
"Human?"
"I have a name. It's Reed. You can call me Mr. Reed."
"Reed, then. Do you have different characteristics than the other humans? Some reason why you would have a natural immunity?"
Malcolm softened his demeanor a little, "I, I don't know."
img id=" Puzzled Malcolm" src=" .com/EpisodeGuides/CharacterImages/Startrek_ " title=" Puzzled Malcolm" alt="Puzzled Malcolm"/img
[img] .com/EpisodeGuides/CharacterImages/Startrek_[/img]
"Doctor Phlox," Keleth said, "you will run your Sick Bay as you wish – as I run my own. But rather than have me endlessly titrate samples, I think it would be best if I were to study this one, find out why he is different."
"That's a good plan of attack," Phlox said, "Commander, you and I will continue testing and retesting against any drugs we've got and any disease patterns we can collectively remember."
"I believe we were going to look at Measles next," she replied.
"I'll be on the Bridge. Ask me, ask me what you like but I've got to spend my time now making sure that our two ships don't knock into each other."
=/\=
Dr. Keating-Fong was waking up, "Wh-what happened?"
"You've been very ill," Ambassador Soval said to her, "But you are improving now."
"Oh, good. Oh my God, the students!"
"We are going as quickly as we can. But it will be about a week before we arrive, even at maximum warp."
"If I'm recovering from what I think I had," she said, looking at the bumps on her hands, "that won't be soon enough."
=/\=
It was supper time. Malcolm had picked out leftovers from the kitchen. Salad for T'Pol. Pizza for everyone else. Porthos eagerly followed behind on his errand.
He brought it all over to Sick Bay and set it down on a counter.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Phlox said, grabbing a slice.
"Ah, and you remembered," Keleth said, looking down at Porthos.
"Re-remembered?" Malcolm asked.
"Yes, although it's small. Do they make good eating?"
"Dr. Keleth, that is the captain's pet," T'Pol said, "He is not to be eaten."
"Huh. Well, I don't see how anyone can eat things that are so, so processed," Keleth said, "This has smells of, of I don't know," He brought a slice to his face and inhaled, making a face.
"Oregano, I'd say," Malcolm explained, "We're not exactly equipped to serve fine Klingon cuisine."
"Still, I am hungry," Keleth admitted. He cringed and took a bite, "Salty. These round things are very salty."
"Those are pepperoni slices," Phlox said.
Malcolm busied himself with scraping the cheese off his slice.
"Human! I mean, Reed. Why do you do that?"
"I have, it's a condition called Lactose Intolerance," Malcolm said, "I can't digest dairy products."
"Dairy. You drink the milk of other species?"
"Yes, and they make products from it as well. Cheese, which is what you see here, is particularly delightful," Phlox pointed out, "The Lieutenant here, his body doesn't produce enough lactase, which is an enzyme used for digesting dairy."
"Is that a common affliction?" asked Keleth.
"No, it isn't," Phlox said, "He is ... the only one on the ship."
Malcolm sat up straighter, "The doctor here gives me injections at times, to help with, with digesting dairy."
"When was the last one, and what is it made of?" Keleth asked.
"The evening of July ninth," Malcolm said, "I remember it because it was Hoshi's twenty-ninth birthday party."
"Yes. Too much ice cream," Phlox recalled, "The injection is mainly a booster of additional lactase, in a neutral suspension medium."
"When did the symptoms begin? Of the afflicted ones?"
"Not sure," Malcolm said, "But I do know that the environmental controls were turned down perhaps a week ago. And today is July the twenty-fifth."
"We believe that the environmental controls were tampered with because there were crew members already suffering from fevers," T'Pol stated.
"So it is possibly a delayed onset," Keleth mused, "Slow build-up of symptoms, possibly something that could be explained away, for at least a while."
"Well, I know that, that Pame – uh, Dr. Hudson – she said that she was warm sometimes, but always dismissed it as nothing. It was only the other day when it became intolerable, and then it was obvious to several others that their symptoms could no longer be ignored, I'll wager."
"So what we have here is as follows: a slow onset of symptoms, most likely the first one is a fever, but it climbs slowly. Other symptoms include flushed faces, painful joints, coughing and sneezing. Coughs are not necessarily productive. Advanced cases have dermatological manifestations, starting from the torso on outwards, to faces and hands. One has manifestations on the feet and ankles. Possibly some impaired judgment as well," Keleth summarized, "Reed, did you experience any of this while you were ill?"
"We don't truly know whether I was ill at all. I had some feelings of being warm but they may not have been too intimately related."
"No. You were ill," Keleth insisted, "The antibodies are very active. You had a very mild case and recovered, possibly within less than a day. A very slight fever could go along with that. Do you have any scars, Lieutenant?"
"N-no."
"Birth marks or other marks out of the ordinary?" Keleth asked.
"No. Wait, that's not true. There's a mark on my hip. But I've had it for a few years."
"Show me. Over there," Keleth said.
Malcolm took down his uniform for a moment. The mark was small and faint, barely noticeable – nowhere near as large or irregular as Pamela's scar, "That is small, but it might be something. Phlox, look at this," Keleth said.
"Hmm," Dr. Phlox said, "It is possible."
"What is it?" Malcolm asked.
"It appears to be," T'Pol said, "the remnants of one of the dermatological bumps that the advanced patients have. You appear to not only have had the disease this week, but you seem to have had it a few years ago as well."
15
Malcolm zipped his uniform back up, "I don't recall any illness like this. Nothing even close. I've had colds. I've sneezed and coughed of course, like anyone does. But it wasn't as virulent. It, it certainly was not this kind of a malady."
"Hmm," Keleth said, "Two mild cases, very, very mild. I would think – is the hip a place where injections are made?"
"It can be," Phlox said.
"Then this is, I suspect, not a natural immunity at all. It's a conferred one," said the Klingon.
"Conferred?" Malcolm asked.
"Yes. You've received a preventative inoculation of some sort. What do you humans get for preventative shots?"
"Measles. Mumps. Diphtheria," Phlox said, reciting from memory, "Rotavirus. Human Papilloma, but only for women. There are more, but everyone gets the same immunizations."
"Did you ever receive different immunizations?" Keleth asked.
Malcolm thought for a moment. Oh, yes.
That.
"Doctor Phlox," Malcolm said, "Might I have a word with you in private?"
"By all means," Phlox grabbed his PADD.
They walked out into the hallway, "What is it?" asked Phlox.
"Doctor, I cannot say much. I am bound to reveal, well, to reveal nothing. I don't relish telling you this but I think it's necessary."
"Go on."
"There is a – if you look at the original Starfleet Charter, Article fourteen, you'll, you'll see what I'm talking about. Sorry to be so indirect, but I must."
Phlox looked on his PADD, "Section, section. Hmmm. Section thirty-one. Is this it?"
Malcolm nodded very, very slightly.
"Lieutenant, we will, for the record, this conversation is not happening. Can you say anything?"
"I was given some shots. More than the others got. To, to protect me in the event of, of, a microbe or virus or something being, uh, becoming weaponized."
"Germ warfare?"
Reed nodded, "My thought is, perhaps this is a weaponized virus of some sort."
"Weaponized indeed," Phlox shook his head, "With the database in shambles, this will still not be easy. Still, perhaps there are historical records. Humans stopped doing this a long time ago, yes?"
"Over a century ago, I believe. Not a very pleasant or proud chapter in our hist'ry."
They returned to Sick Bay.
"We have a possible plan of attack. A better one," Phlox said, "I will look at historical records. Mr. Reed has been conferred certain immunities that come from, from historical medicine. I am unable to disclose more information about this."
"I am all right with you not coming clean with me," Keleth said, "But her?" He indicated T'Pol.
"Later, perhaps. I don't know," Phlox said.
Reed shook his head, "Let's not stand on ceremony," he said, "I can look in the historical records as well, while I'm on the Bridge."
T'Pol and Phlox went back to their investigation.
Keleth got up and walked a lot closer to where Pamela and Blair were lying, "Human females. Hmm."
Malcolm suddenly didn't want to go to the Bridge quite so quickly, "Doctor?"
"Oh, yes. They are too delicate. This one is getting worse, see?" he showed Malcolm where Pamela was starting to get a few bumps on the side of her face.
"They, they make us better people," Malcolm said, a bit defensively.
"Oh," The light dawned. Keleth said, "These are your women."
"Just one of them," If she really was his.
"Which one? Light skin or yellow hair?"
"Y-yellow hair."
"Hmmpf."
Malcolm rubbed his shoulder. It did still hurt a bit.
"Body aches?" Keleth asked.
"No. I, I strained a muscle."
Keleth looked down at Pamela, "Ah. I was young once. These are, though, a Klingon male would break them in half."
"Good thing I'm not a Klingon male, then."
Keleth clapped Malcolm hard, on the back and laughed a bit.
Malcolm was taken a bit aback and had the wind knocked out of him, "Doctor, if you please. Let us focus and get on with, with it!"
"Hu – Reed, I think elliptically. I approach a problem, then I turn away, and I come back again from a different approach. It is – you may disagree with the method but it does work for me."
Malcolm said, "I, just. I feel it's urgent. We shouldn't fool 'round," He took Pamela's limp, cold hand in his. The back of it was bumpy and a bit reddened.
Keleth looked at him, "It, it kills you to not be able to really help much."
"I don't think it would be prudent for me to discuss such things with you, Doctor Keleth."
"Then I will tell you," Keleth said, "I have four daughters. And my third, Arizhel, when she was born, my wife, L'kor, well, both of them, they developed a raging infection. It nearly killed the both of them. And until I knew the problem and how to treat it, I was, I was not a pleasant man to be around. It tears at you if you cannot fix things."
"I, yes, it does."
"And now I have things I cannot fix."
"With, with Pamela? And the others?"
"No. In my own house," Keleth said, "My wife is paralyzed from the waist down. And I cannot fix that. And it rips me up like you are being ripped up now."
"Maybe we're not meant to, to fix everything," Malcolm said, "Maybe you're just supposed to be with her, even if you cannot make it all go away."
"I will not take life advice from you, Reed," Keleth said, straightening up, "And you are supposed to be on this vessel's Bridge, yes? Leave me to my work," Keleth said gruffly.
=/\=
Dr. Keating-Fong sent out a message via her PADD:
Dear Dr. Hudson,
As you know, your father was sent home from the Green Mountain Medical Facility for hospice care. He has passed. You are not obligated to take the next series of tests if it will be too much for you.
On a personal note, Pamela, please do not feel obligated to finish your schooling on time. Go and be with your family.
Sincerely,
Dr. Bernardine Keating-Fong, MD, PhD.
Funny, it didn't go through.
The Ti'Mur continued at high warp.
=/\=
Malcolm sat on the Bridge. The Somraw was close but not a threat. Both ships were slowly, slowly moving toward the last-known location of the Ti'Mur.
He turned on a PADD. He went to Search and typed: Search: Weaponized diseases: historical. 140,000 records. Search: Weaponized viral diseases: historical. 12,800 records. Search: Weaponized viral diseases: historical. Dermatology. 1,000 records. He scanned through. Tularemia. Hemorrhagic fevers. Venezuelan Equine Encephalitis. HIV.
Another one. He clicked on some pictures and cringed. He clicked open his communicator, "Doctors, I may have, I may have found something."
Phlox said, "I was performing a search and kept coming up with pictures of Native American blankets."
"Blankets?" T'Pol asked.
"Yes. A primitive form of germ warfare."
"You believe that is what this is?" asked Keleth, "Interesting. That could assist me with my people as well. There is a very old and shameful part of our history when that was done. It is dishonorable to hide behind microbes and unseen viruses. You should look your enemies in the eye before you strike them down. Germ warfare is the very nadir of cowardice."
"We feel the same way, more or less," Malcolm said, "Doctor Phlox do you see what I have seen?"
"Yes," Phlox said, "It appears that a cure was not developed, but the immunity comes from – and it is ironic when it comes to you, Lieutenant – it came from a much milder affliction that was observed in dairy maids."
"Dairy maids?" asked Keleth.
"Yes. They milked cows hundreds of years ago," Malcolm explained, "It's somewhat ironic, considering my aversion to dairy."
"That is correct. And in the late eighteenth century, a British doctor, Edward, uh, Edward Jenner," Phlox read off his PADD, "noticed that dairy maids would get a mild disease called cow pox. But then they were immune to a much more deadly disease. The, the cow pox disease is properly called vaccinia. From it, the word vaccine is developed – it's, Hoshi would find this interesting – it's derived from the Latin word for cow, vaca."
"And the more virulent malady?" T'Pol asked.
"It's called variola."
Malcolm did a quick search, "Smallpox."