Disclaimer: While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Dr Bashir are not to be regarded as authoritative. Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Paramount and Viacom; all original characters and story © 2024 FemaleChauvinist.

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The peace talks were progressing well, Captain Benjamin Sisko thought with satisfaction.

The inhabitants of the Ruffyneila system had approached the Federation about help in ending the decades-old war between two of their planets. As the nearest Federation outpost, Deep Space Nine had been chosen to host the peace talks, and as captain Benjamin Sisko had been drafted to serve as mediator.

For a week, he had been studying up on the war and Ruffyneilian culture in general, and now he flattered himself with the progress that had been made so far, despite having a worsening headache that he attributed to stress and the mental strain of absorbing so much information in a short time.

He sucked at his cheeks to get some moisture and swallowed, attempting to ease the tickle caused by a dry throat. He found himself occasionally clearing his throat as discreetly as possible, resisting the urge to cough as he knew it would be considered an unpardonable breach of manners.

Focusing on the points being raised by the opposing parties, he barely even noticed that he was rubbing itching wrists together under the table.

But as the day dragged on, he couldn't ignore the fact that his eyes also were dry and itching, forcing him to acknowledge that the worsening tickle in his throat was more than just the need for a sip of water.

The Ruffyneilians seemed determined to come to an agreement at one sitting; it was with difficulty and after several failed attempts at hinting that Sisko finally convinced them to recess for the night.

He waited only until the last of them had left the room before giving in at last to a wheezing coughing fit that left him doubled over, breathless and with a throat that felt no clearer than before.

Of all the rotten luck, he thought wearily, straightening slowly. He had apparently caught a doozy of a cold at just the wrong time.

He was even more short of breath by the time he arrived at his quarters, and briefly considered going down to the infirmary and asking Dr Bashir to give him something. He knew the doctor's usual prescription for a cold or other minor illness was rest and alleviation of symptoms, but if Sisko reminded him how important these talks were, maybe he would make an exception and give him an antiviral.

As Sisko turned, gray spots danced in front of his eyes, and he caught at the wall to steady himself. Maybe he was dehydrated as well, he considered; he had been in those talks for over eight hours, and it was against the cultures' prohibitions to have even a glass of water to sip.

Leaning heavily on the counter, he tapped his combadge. "Sisko to Bashir," he gasped.

"Bashir here," came the instant reply. "Are you all right, Captain?"

"I need some cold medicine — in my quarters." Feeling another coughing fit coming on, he tapped his combadge to end the communication before it could be broadcast over the link.

oOo

Dr Bashir frowned as the conversation was abruptly ended; Sisko's voice had sounded terrible. He hadn't collapsed, or the commlink would still be open, but the doctor's practiced ear told him he hadn't been far from it — and it certainly wasn't from a mere cold.

Grabbing a fully-stocked medkit, Bashir set off for Sisko's quarters at a near run, knowing that with Jake living on his own now, the captain was alone there.

He didn't waste time on the doorchime, instead keying his medical override code into the lock. As the door slid back, he saw Sisko on the couch half slumped over the arm, conscious but obviously fighting for breath.

Bashir's tricorder was out even as he darted to bend over the man, snapping the medkit open as he set it beside the couch and selecting a vial and hypospray almost without looking.

"Hope that'll…knock out…this cold," Sisko rasped, feeling the cool tingle as Bashir injected the trioxe. "Have to…get back to…peace talks tomorrow…"

"No self-diagnosis," Bashir said sternly, administering another hypospray. "This isn't a cold; it's an allergic reaction, and your trachea is so swollen, it's a wonder you're getting enough air to still be conscious and talking." He shifted Sisko into a better position to open his airways before pressing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, inserting a vial of medication into the slot. "Just breathe that for a few minutes," he encouraged, resting his fingers on Sisko's pulse. Sisko let his eyes drift closed; as the medication began to take effect it felt so good simply to breathe that for a moment he didn't attempt to argue.

Then he pushed aside the oxygen mask. "It can't be allergies!" he protested, absently scratching his wrists.

Bashir pushed up the captain's sleeve. "You have hives all up your arms!" he pointed out. "I suppose that's a symptom of a cold now?" He sighed. "They should go down now that I've given you the epinephrine, but I have some lotion that should help, too."

"But I wasn't around anything today that I don't come in contact with dozens of times a day all the time," Sisko insisted, sounding a little less sure of himself.

Bashir looked up from applying the soothing lotion. "What about the Ruffyneilians themselves?" he suggested.

"It can't be," Sisko protested; "I didn't have any symptoms at all during the preliminary meetings."

"You wouldn't have," Bashir agreed. "The first contact is what sensitizes you; after that an allergy can develop at any time."

"So it could be something on the station…"

"Maybe, but you were closeted with them so long that a different trigger would be highly coincidental. And their…coats… do contain proteins that are strong potential allergens." Sisko wouldn't question how Bashir knew that; he was aware that the doctor's study of the species would have been as thorough as his own, as it was for any race he expected he might be called upon to treat. "The next exposure could prove fatal," Dr Bashir continued, "especially if you still have allergens in your system from this time, so I'm afraid continuing to mediate at those talks is out of the question."

Sisko sat up. "But I have to be there!" he exclaimed, the last word half cut off as he set himself coughing again.

"Easy," Bashir cautioned him. "We can discuss it later; for now you just need to breathe." He moved to replace the oxygen mask, but Sisko attempted to push his hand away.

"No," he gasped. "I don't need that…throat's just a little dry…"

"You do need it," Bashir said firmly. "But I'll get you a drink if you keep it on while I do."

Sisko nodded wearily, letting Bashir guide him back to lie against the cushions. Only as he once again breathed the medicated oxygen did he realize how labored his breathing had actually been. Maybe he did need it…

"All right, sip slowly," Bashir told him, lifting the mask just enough to hold a glass of cool water to Sisko's lips.

"I want to get you down to the infirmary for overnight observation," he told him when he had finished most of the glass.

"I don't need the infirmary," Sisko insisted.

Bashir sighed, wondering if civilian doctors had as much trouble with their patients thinking they knew so much more than their physicians did. "You are responding well to treatment," he admitted, "so I guess I can keep an eye on you here if you stop arguing with my diagnosis and treatment." Slipping the tricorder's transponder into his ear, he moved to run the device over Sisko's chest. "Take a deep breath for me, please."

"I really need to be at those meetings, Julian," Sisko repeated more calmly this time. "Isn't there any way you could desensitize me?"

At least he was no longer debating the fact that it was an allergic reaction to the aliens, Bashir thought wryly. "I can't do anything unless you cooperate," he said a little impatiently. "Deep breath, please." There was an edge of steel in his voice this time that Sisko knew better than to argue with, and he followed the doctor's instructions as Bashir listened to his heart and lungs.

"Well, it doesn't sound that bad," he admitted finally, giving Sisko a reassuring smile as he pressed the transponder back into its place on the tricorder. "But you need to get out of that uniform — it could be harboring allergen particles — and a decontamination shower wouldn't be a bad idea."

He carefully helped him remove the uniform so as not to stir up any more allergens, then bundled the whole thing into the recycler and set it for biological decontamination. He scanned Sisko one more time, then set the controls on the shower before gesturing him inside. "Don't lock the door," he warned. "I may have full access, but keying in my codes would be a waste of valuable time if you collapse in there."

"I won't collapse," Sisko scoffed, and Bashir admitted to himself that it seemed unlikely at this point. Still, one thing he had learned over the years was that you could never predict with certainty how anyone's system would react.

oOo

After Sisko's shower, Bashir helped him to bed, where he scanned him once more before giving him another hypospray and pressing the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose. "And if you want to stay here instead of the infirmary, you need to keep that on until you lose the wheeze I'm still hearing," he warned as Sisko seemed about to protest.

"Your hearing's too good," Sisko grumbled. "So what about desensitizing me?"

Bashir shook his head. "I couldn't; not before the talks resume tomorrow. It can't be done until the allergens clear from your system, and then it takes at least a week of treatments."

Sisko sighed. "Then I guess you'll just have to dope me up with allergy medicine before I go in there."

"You aren't going in there," Bashir said sternly, "or didn't I make myself clear?"

"I have to, Julian," Sisko argued. "If we call the meetings off, not only will the civil war continue, but both sides will have a grievance against the Federation as well."

"All right, but it doesn't have to be you," Bashir pointed out patiently. "Dax is trained in xenopsychology, and the symbiont's had experience with inter-species negotiations."

"But her rank isn't high enough," Sisko objected. "Anyone below me would be considered an insult — as would switching mid-talks for any reason."

"Oh? And how about dropping dead in the middle; I suppose that wouldn't be an insult?"

"Probably, but we both know it isn't as bad as all that."

Bashir grunted, choosing not to debate the point at the moment. "So…you weren't chosen as mediator because you actually knew them," he realized. "Are they unfamiliar enough with Terrans that we all look alike to them?"

"I suppose so," Sisko confirmed. "What are you thinking, Julian?"

"Just that we could put a dark-skinned Terran of about your build into your uniform and send him in as you, and they wouldn't know the difference. Or not even Terran, as long as any facial differences could be easily concealed. Too bad Jake doesn't take after you a little more…but isn't there an ensign in engineering…?" He had seen all but the newest crewmembers for at least basic physicals, and had rapidly been running through them in his mind even as he spoke.

Sisko frowned. "Halberd?" he asked doubtfully, obviously not thinking much of Julian's idea. "I admit he looks enough like me to fool someone who isn't familiar with Terrans, but his voice is nothing like mine, and without any training in negotiation, he could make the whole thing blow up in our faces."

"So we rig up the communicators so you can hear the talks from outside the room, and they can hear your voice. Halberd will have to lip sync a little, but since you're using translators anyway, the Ruffyneilians won't notice if his lips don't match the words."

Sisko still appeared doubtful, and Bashir crossed his arms. "It's the only way you're continuing to mediate at those talks; take it or leave it."

Sisko sighed, recognizing the inflexibility of the doctor's voice. "I'll take it, then." He moved as if to get up. "But there's a lot to do to set up…"

"All of which can be handled without you," Bashir said firmly, pushing him back down with a hand on his shoulder. "Lie still and rest, and I'll contact O'Brien to rig up those communicators, and Dax to give Halberd a crash course in Ruffyneilian manners."

oOo

The plan went off without a hitch, the Ruffyneilians never noticing a difference. Due to their intense focus and unwillingness to take breaks for such mundane things as eating or sleep, the talks that Sisko had originally anticipated dragging on for at least a week were satisfactorily concluded within three days. Not only was the civil war ended to the mutual benefit of both sides, but Sisko anticipated that within three to five years the Ruffyneilians of both planets would petition for membership in the Federation.

"And I can't still be allergic to them, if I'm likely to be running into them unexpectedly on the station," he reiterated to Bashir.

"Even with desensitization, there are no guarantees," the doctor warned him. "It's not always completely effective, and even when it is initially, repeated exposure can cause the allergy to reappear. So even after these treatments, I'm going to want to implant an automatic epinephrine injector."

Sisko frowned. "Why can't I just carry allergy medicine with me?"

Bashir sighed; Sisko was still refusing to acknowledge just how serious his reaction had been. "Because I don't trust you to inject yourself at the first symptoms, or to let me know that you needed to," he said frankly. "The automatic injector will give you the medicine before you're even aware of a reaction, and send a signal to my tricorder, or the one of the nearest doctor, if I'm out of range."

The look in Sisko's eyes showed that this was an argument against the device in his opinion, and Bashir tried another tack. "It's also far more discrete; you won't risk offending a species that gives basic biological needs a low priority."

Sisko still appeared unconvinced, and Bashir crossed his arms. "I can't force you to let me implant the device, of course. But if you don't, I'm afraid I'll have to reduce your medical clearance level; you probably won't be deemed fit to serve on a space station, let alone command one."

"That's blackmail!" Sisko spluttered. "Tell me something, Julian; do civilian doctors bully their patients this much?"

Bashir shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Do civilian patients pretend to know more than their doctors and reject sound medical advice?"

Unexpectedly, Sisko laughed. "I guess you have me there. All right, Julian; go ahead and do whatever you think you need to."

THE END

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