16
"Very well. But there is no cure," Phlox said.
"No cure?" T'Pol asked.
"None. Humans gave up trying to cure smallpox because prevention was so good. It was considered eradicated in 1979. There were two stockpiles of it kept, along with vaccines, in case of terror attacks, but it was anthrax, not smallpox, that was first weaponized. It appears that even human terrorists found that weaponizing smallpox was distasteful and wrong," Phlox stated.
"But someone has the stomach for it," Keleth said, "Reed, we may need more blood from you. Stand by," He closed the communications link.
"What are you proposing?" T'Pol asked.
"The blood is not a cure, yes? But that one, he has another affliction, very mild, and is injected with an enzyme, what was it?" Keleth asked.
"Lactase," said Phlox.
"If the two are combined, or if, well, perhaps it has something to do with growth medium," Keleth said, thinking out loud, "There is also, I do not mean to be distracted, but I have my own people to consider. There are few weaponized diseases in Klingon history. A quick search may turn up what I am looking for."
"Can you help us now?" T'Pol asked.
"Give me an hour," said Keleth, "I will do my own investigation for my own people. I must do this. I probably have another day or two before they are truly critical but I wish to have a good plan of attack for when we are done here."
"Do you think it will be that fast?" Phlox asked.
"It will have to be," Keleth said, indicating Crewman Madden, "That female will die in a day or two. The others will start to follow. It has to be fast."
"Or not at all," T'Pol said.
=/\=
Long day.
Malcolm was exhausted. Doing everyone's job was not what he was cut out for.
It was almost oh two hundred hours. No wonder he was all in.
"Going to, going to have a lie down for a bit," he said into the communicator.
"I, too, need to rest for a while," Keleth said.
"Very well," Phlox said, "Lieutenant, come here and show Doctor Keleth to an empty room on B Deck."
Malcolm did as requested, "And, and over in there, you can wash up," he said, then left. There was no time for niceties. He was far too tired.
Keleth sat down on the bed in the unfamiliar room, "Too soft," he muttered to himself. He tapped out onto his PADD. Dach Disease. Lack of focus. That had to be it.
He reached into the front of his tunic and pulled out a tiny chain he was wearing. It had a charm on it, a lavaliere. Two ladders crossing, a double helix. One was dark, the other, a dull silvery color, "L'Kor, you are the iron and I am the tin," he whispered to no one.
=/\=
Malcolm's dream was troubling.
They were together again. Pamela was writhing under his touch, squealing with delight.
Her hands were everywhere, and so were his. Mouths met and broke apart, and found other body parts and then met again and again. They were on the bed, on the floor, standing up, sitting at the desk, even. He was bound with handcuffs or scarves, and broke away or let them overtake him as the moment demanded. She hit him with a leather strap and he didn't flinch, didn't lose concentration. She scratched his back, raking it with her nails and drawing blood. He scratched her in return, but his nails met her front, not her back, making irregular marks.
They were breathing faster, hotly and saltily swearing at each other, she kept telling him to do it, to get on with it, to come on already.
He was close, could feel everything rocketing along when her face turned to a mass of bumps and her body went from smooth and beautiful to pebbly and mottled, disgusting and frightening.
Desire turned off like a switch and he pushed her away and backed away from her. She approached him and he pushed back again.
"But I love you!" she cried out.
And he awoke.
He sat up, aching, panting, coldly sweating and shivering.
He finally said, "What kind of a man am I if an imperfection or two affects me so? Is my love real if it can be so easily thrown away?"
=/\=
Keleth, too, dreamed.
It was their home, on Kronos. L'Kor was lying on their bed, nursing Arizhel. So it was over forty years ago.
L'Kor looked up when Keleth came into the room, which was filled with her artistry. Small and large sculptures, paintings of dramatic scenes and carefully woven wall hangings. Her talent was everywhere, but nowhere more so than in the baby she held. He looked at her, "You are both better, I see."
"Yes," she said, and adjusted the baby a little under her right arm. A small thing flashed in her left hand.
"What is it you have?" he asked.
She adjusted the baby again and held out her left hand, palm open. It was a little necklace, with a dark and light lavaliere charm, "This is for you. Thank you for our children."
"Thank you," he said, smiling and taking it, "It looks like DNA."
"It is," she said, "The iron is coated so it will not rust. It will always remain constant. You, Keleth, are the iron. The other half is tin. It is pliable and it is weaker. I am the tin."
"No," he shook his head, "You are the one who has been through so much more than I have. You are the one who has been constant; you are the one who is true. I am the one who can be bent and shaped, like you have hammered out this charm. You, L'Kor, are the iron. I am merely the tin."
He awoke.
"I must tell her that," he said to himself, "It is all true, all history, save for that part. And that is the most important piece. She is the iron. All I am is tin."
=/\=
Phlox kept working, into the night. Everyone else was gone, but he was all right. He didn't have to sleep for a while. The virus did not grow on anything liquid and needed a solid or semi-solid medium. The virus did grow on a medium of mozzarella but that didn't seem to be getting him anywhere. He spiked the solution with lactase and set it aside. He shook his head. It wasn't working.
Vaccinia, variola. Variola, vaccinia.
He looked up mozzarella on his PADD. Water buffalo milk. It was made from water buffalo milk, and not cow's milk.
He needed a cheese or some other substance made from solidified cows' milk.
Cheddar.
17
Porthos eagerly trotted along as Phlox went on his errand. Their destination was the kitchen.
Phlox rummaged around in the refrigerator until he found what he was looking for, "Ah. And no, you may not have any," He said to Porthos, "Here, have some mozzarella. We can spare that. But not this."
They returned to Sick Bay.
Phlox prepared a petri dish, adding in the variola virus, growth medium, vaccinia, a few drops of Reed's blood and lactase. All together in one mix. He let it sit, and then looked at his PADD, "Hmm, it says here that mature cheddar contains crystals of calcium lactate. Perhaps that will help, eh?" Porthos did not answer.
He got up and looked over at Crewman Madden. She looked terrible, and was barely recognizable, "I hope we can move fast enough, for your sake," he muttered.
He returned to his stool and began dictating:
Medical Log, July twenty-seventh, 2158. Chief Medical Officer Phlox reporting. Progress continues to be slow. Disease has been identified as weaponized smallpox, and so this matter is believed to be an instance of Germ Warfare. Lieutenant Reed's immunity has been identified as being conferred via vaccination. Immunity is imperfect; the Lieutenant has been ill twice but with extremely mild cases. The first instance was when he was vaccinated several years ago. The second instance was very recent. It is estimated that the vaccination is not a perfect match to the strain currently under investigation.
Klingon Chief Medical Officer Keleth of the Somraw has been particularly helpful in this investigation. This should be noted in future negotiations with the Klingon Empire.
Crewman Madden's condition is worsening. In addition to the external evidence of the disease, enanthem are present on the tongue and other mucous membranes. She has one of the three most advanced cases. The other two are Haddon and Delacroix. They evidently have a hemorrhagic version of the disease, which traditionally has a higher fatality rate. Given this form of weaponization of the variola virus, it is believed that most if not all of the cases will be fatal, but that the three hemorrhagic ones will be more rapidly fatal. Intravenous fluid replacement is of some help. Delacroix and Haddon are visited as time permits. It is recommended that they be moved to Sick Bay tomorrow if a cure is not found, and exchange places with Will Owen and Ensign Mayweather, who currently have milder cases.
Current plan is to grow the variola virus in as many different solutions and media as time permits, and check for cell death. The virus grows best on solids and semi-solids. Dr. Keleth's recommendation is to check on growth on media containing lactose. This is somewhat akin to growing influenza vaccine on eggs. So far, a medium containing water buffalo milk has proven unsuccessful. A medium of cow's milk is now under investigation.
On a second matter, it is my belief that there is still a possibility that one of the Nereid Medical Academy students was cheating. While the wiping of the overall database appears to have been a part of the assault – particularly as evidenced by a similar problem with the Klingon Medical Database – the initial wiping of the quiz is more problematic. Whichever species perpetrated the Germ Warfare most decidedly knew nothing about that. I am forced to conclude that there is still a cheater or there is possibly even more than one.
He stopped dictating.
Interesting.
=/\=
The alarm screaming in his ear, Malcolm got up. He had enough presence of mind to collect Dr. Keleth. They returned to Sick Bay.
"I have interesting news," Phlox said.
T'Pol walked in, yawning.
"Oh, good. I won't have to repeat myself," Phlox said, "I placed the virus onto a medium of hardened cow's milk."
"Hardened cow's milk?" asked Malcolm.
"Cheddar cheese, to be more precise," Phlox replied.
"Oh, my."
"As I was saying," Phlox continued, "I then added lactase and vaccinia to the dish, along with a bit of your blood, Lieutenant, and set it aside. Four hours later, I have this," He showed the dish. Keleth and T'Pol nodded knowingly.
"What am I supposed to be seeing?" asked Malcolm.
"The variola virus is a pinkish color," Keleth said.
"I don't, I don't see any pink," Malcolm said, "I. Don't. See. Any. Pink."
"And so you should not, assuming that the virus has been eradicated from this dish," T'Pol said.
"Have you tested it in a patient yet?" Keleth asked.
"No. But she will be first," Phlox indicated Crewman Madden.
"There is no need to hesitate," T'Pol said.
Phlox prepared the shot and administered it. Malcolm didn't look, "I'll be on the Bridge," he said, "Call me if there is something, if there is some news, please."
He left.
img id="Desperate Malcolm" src=" .com/wallpaper/admin/upload/Dominic%20Keating_1_wallpaper_" title="Desperate Malcolm" alt=" Desperate Malcolm "/img
[img] .com/wallpaper/admin/upload/Dominic%20Keating_1_wallpaper_[/img]
=/\=
"Medical Log, July twenty-seventh, 2158. Chief Medical Officer T'Par reporting," she dictated, far away on the speeding Ti'Mur.
"Patient has fully recovered from the variola virus, due to administration of a modified form of Cidofovir. Patient will be regularly checked for nephrotoxicity. "
=/\=
"I have tested the patient's blood twice," Phlox reported, "Are we in agreement?"
"We are," T'Pol said. Keleth nodded.
"Recovery will be slow. I will now bring the patient out of medically-induced stasis," Phlox said, "T'Pol, contact Lieutenant Reed."
She clicked her communicator open, "Lieutenant, we have something."
"On my way," He put the ship back into drift, as far away from the Somraw as possible.
He arrived as Crewman Madden was regaining consciousness. She tried to speak, but couldn't.
"That's all right," Phlox said to her, "Just rest. Talk later. And, and, I will handle all dermatological issues. Don't worry about that. Just rest."
She closed her eyes.
Malcolm dared to hope, finally, "Can you cure Pamela? Uh, Doctor Hudson?"
"First Haddon and Delacroix. I would like for them to be in Sick Bay. You'll need to shift patients around. Move Travis and, and MacKenzie, switch them with the other two."
"Very well. Commander, if you please."
The shifting went pretty quickly. For the past few days, they had all dropped a kilo or so, and his shoulders felt better anyway.
Haddon responded almost immediately, and even tried to get up. Delacroix took longer, but seemed to be all right.
"Now?" Malcolm asked. He didn't want to be impatient but, he was.
"Here. You can administer it yourself," Phlox said, handing Malcolm vaccines for her and Blair.
Pamela didn't wake up immediately, but did. Blair blinked a few times. Pamela made a slight noise and indicated with her eyes. Her index finger was slightly up and trembling. He took it in his fingers and then covered her hand with his, "I'll be back very soon," he promised, and leaned over and kissed her forehead, amidst a few raised bumps. What should this be to me? He thought to himself.
T'Pol and Malcolm made their way through that deck and C Deck. They would inject, then wait, then inject a second time in order to bring patients out of medical stasis. One crewman looked particularly bad. His face was very bumpy and worse on the left side than the right, directly over his eye. T'Pol looked at the names scrawled on the door. It was Crewman Hodgkins.
They brought him to Sick Bay, even though there weren't enough beds, "Crewman Hodgkins is an advanced case," T'Pol explained.
"Yes, definitely. Must have worsened considerably overnight," Phlox said, "I've read about this. Sometimes smallpox can blind a person. Put him, oh, I don't know where."
"Doctor, since the milder cases are recovering in quarters, I shall take Pamela with me. She can sleep in my quarters," Malcolm volunteered.
"You must let her sleep," Keleth scolded, then clapped him on the back again, hard, "Give her a day or two before, eh?"
Malcolm blanched, "Yes, yes, of course. Here, Doctor, can you assist me in bringing her to B Deck?"
"Yes. And then you will take me to the Transporter. I must attend to my own."
"Do you need help?" T'Pol asked.
"No. I can prepare another gas and pump it throughout the decks. Much like here. First to cure, then to wake. And I will lock myself back into Quarantine. No one wants to be around so many who are awakening at the same time."
"We cannot thank you enough," Phlox said.
"Learning is good. No matter where it comes from," Keleth said.
He picked up Pamela as Malcolm watched. She was alarmed but had no strength to resist. Reed directed him to quarters.
Once Pamela was laid down, Malcolm and Keleth went to the Transporter, "It's customary, we shake hands when people depart," Malcolm said.
"We don't."
"Doctor, I, I just want to tell you, since we have no idea which species perpetrated this, might I suggest that our two sides at least sign some sort of a treaty whereby we outlaw Germ Warfare? It seems only fair. This is, it is truly horrific."
"We wish it on no one. I am not a political man."
"Neither am I," Malcolm said, "But there is someone I may be able to speak with. Thank you again," He ran the Transporter and Keleth was gone.
18
Medical Log, July thirtieth, 2158. Chief Medical Officer Phlox reporting. Most of Sick Bay has been cleared of patients, and I am left with treating Crewman Haddon, Crewman Delacroix, Crewman Hodgkins and Crewman Madden.
Crewman Gary Hodgkins has suffered permanent blindness in his left eye, due to an accumulation of enanthem within the sclera. I am forced to recommend that he be removed from his current position in the MACOs and that this twenty-six-year old crew member be reassigned to an area where his infirmity will be less of an issue.
The other three crew members should eventually be able to return to their regular duties. Crewman Deborah Haddon will be monitored for any lasting physical effects before returning to Security detail. Crewman Brian Delacroix will receive significant reconstructive facial surgery before returning to Food Service. Crewman Melissa Madden will need the most reconstructive surgery before returning to her duties as the night shift pilot. The Ti'Mur will be here tomorrow and will take all four of these crewmen for extensive rehabilitation, which is expected to take several months. All other crew members will undergo surgeries as needed while the Enterprise is docked with the Ti'Mur. I will be performing or assisting with most of those surgeries.
On another note, the Nereid Medical students will immediately return to Nereid on the Yahrala, which is approaching at high warp. They will be operated on later, as that ship's medical staff's time permits. I still do not have information on the cheater or cheaters.
He turned off his PADD and shook his head. T'Pol came in, "Just when I think I am understanding humans, they change again."
"How so?"
"They are, they are a rather confessional species."
"Yes, I noticed that myself," Phlox said, "I suspect it's the near-death experience that has them so spooked. There may be confessions of love lurking out there, about to be revealed. What did you hear?"
"Chef told me the secret ingredient in the tomato sauce," T'Pol said, "It's burgundy wine."
"Ah. Well, a crew member has even come out to me," Phlox said, shaking his head, "I can't say as I blame them. There must have been a great deal of fear."
"Perhaps the fear was logical at the time," T'Pol allowed, "But these confessions now are ..." she just walked away.
=/\=
Malcolm got back from shift and found Pamela up and wearing a towel, drying her hair with another one.
"Oh, you're better!" he said.
"Yes, I feel stronger," she said.
"That's wonderful, Darling."
"Reed, we have to talk. Really."
"I, I know. You're leaving tomorrow," he said.
"About that, yes. And about everything else."
"Can't we, uh, can't we talk tomorrow?" he asked.
=/\=
Will came into Sick Bay, "Doctor Phlox, can I speak with you? In private?"
T'Pol left.
"By all means. What can I do for you, Doctor Owen?"
"I, are the patients asleep?"
"Yes, they should be," Phlox said, "Here, let's go over by the lab. None of them should hear us. Now, what can I do for you?"
"I know who the cheater is."
=/\=
"Tomorrow?" Pamela asked. She sat down on the bed.
"Yes," Malcolm said, coming close and standing over her, "Let's, let's lose this," he tugged at the towel around her torso.
"I, Reed, I am really disfigured. I looked at myself in the mirror even though Phlox had said not to."
"It's not bad."
"It is."
"I'm all right with it all."
"Now you're pitying me."
"No," he said, "See what you still do to me?" He leaned over and kissed her.
"I don't have a lot of strength. I'm not at 100%."
"That's all right."
"But –-"
"But nothing," he said, insistent, "You will be gone tomorrow. Let's, let's have tonight together. No matter how fast or slow it all goes. No matter how good it even is. But let's at least have it."
=/\=
"Oh?" Phlox asked, "I am listening."
"It's, it's me," Will said.
"Have you been acting alone?"
"Yes."
"And Doctor Claymore; is she involved in any way, or did she know about it?"
"No and no. She – I did this because I've been failing. I didn't want to, didn't want to be forced to leave her. Do you, do you understand that?"
"I cannot say that I am fully confused by your motivations. But I will still recommend – in fact, insist – that you be expelled."
"I, I know. You won't, uh, you won't tell her, right?"
"Dr. Owen, she is bound to find out. No, I will not inform her myself. But you should."
They didn't hear the door open.
"I can't tell Blair this," Will said.
"Tell me what?" she asked, standing in the doorway to Sick Bay.
=/\=
"I feel so hideous," Pamela complained.
"You are as lovely as you always have been," Malcolm said, "Did you think that your beauty was only confined to your skin?"
"I, you're not serious."
"I am," he said, more forcefully grabbing at the towel until it was off her. She had redness on her chest and belly. There were bumps on her legs, including over her scar. Her feet were riddled with them. Her hands were pebbly. Her face had some, mostly on her forehead but a few by her temples as well.
"This is a lot for you to tolerate. Are you sorry you did that?"
"No," he said, "I still want you. I cannot, cannot stop wanting you. All of this is temp'rary anyway. This is just a bump –" he smiled " – in the road."
"We have to talk."
"Tomorrow."
He got into bed next to her and kissed her neck, then moved his mouth down, his lips tracing down over her stomach. He looked up at her for a second, "Tell me if, if anything hurts."
She laughed at that, louder than he'd ever heard her laugh before. When she'd composed herself, she said, "Thank you for, for this. For not being spooked by it."
"Well, you know what they say. You're supposed to get right back on the horse."
"Good metaphor," she said.
=/\=
"Well? I am waiting," Blair said.
"You can, um, there is the Decontamination Chamber if you wish to speak truly privately," Phlox offered.
"Uh, no. Whatever this is, let's keep it out in the open," Blair said sharply.
"Blair ..."
"Don't you Blair me, Will Owen. We aren't supposed to be keeping secrets. So what's the big secret?"
"I, huh,..."
"And ...?"
Will sighed, "I, I did it. I'm the, the cheater," he said slowly, then his voice sped up considerably, "But I only did it to be with you. If I'd failed, we'd be separated! I love you!"
"So we all almost died – not to mention the captain and the entire human crew?" she yelled.
"Please, there are patients resting," Phlox said.
"My apologies to them," Blair spat out, "Did you know that crewman over there was blinded?"
"Yes, I do know that," Will admitted.
"And that's your fault!" she exclaimed.
"My fault? I wiped a quiz and then the unit, uh, twice. Plus a bit of, of Orthopedics. But that's it. The rest of it wasn't me."
"I don't believe you!" she yelled, then saw Phlox and brought her voice back down again, "And I don't care anyway. Even if, even if the rest of this isn't you – no one told you to jeopardize all of our careers now, did they?"
"N-no."
"So who cares what else happened. You were gonna just let everyone else take the fall for you. And you'd've killed Stoney's career, and An's, and Pamela's, and mine rather than own up to it?"
"Don't worry about Pamela. She could always turn tricks."
Blair slapped him, "It's a good thing we're leaving, and you'll be expelled. Right, he'll be expelled?" she asked Phlox.
"Yes. I will be recommending that the Nereid Medical Academy take that course of action."
"Good," she spat, "Then this will be easier."
"Wh-what?"
"I never have to see you again, and I never have to talk to you."
"But, Blair! We love each other! I would marry you tomorrow."
"It'll be an awfully funny wedding, you exchanging vows with yourself. I'm gone. Doctor Phlox, a pleasure."
She stormed out.
=/\=
Malcolm mainly just held her. Pamela didn't have her usual stamina, not even close, but it was close enough. He kissed her repeatedly, until it was obvious that she was just too tired to do even that. He held her close as she slept, arms around her, never leaving her.