Disease and danger, a study of contagion (Star Trek TOS) - complete

[Shamaël]

Thanks to everyone who is reading and / or commenting on this thread! I am overjoyed at your wonderful comments. 

On 05/02/2018 at 10:10 PM, castiel_angel said:

I love how dramatic Kirk is

Well, that's one of his character trait, is it not? I'll leave him to his lonely misery to focus on Bones and Spock (less dramatic, but not exactly calm either...).

On 06/02/2018 at 3:45 AM, AngelEyes said:

Ooooh. Intrigue!

Any guess about the reason why so many people are sick in Sciences? (Of course there is a reason.)

On 06/02/2018 at 4:56 PM, Spoo said:

Looks like it’s only a matter of time for Bones, though...

... Well, yes. For now, Spock is still in perfect health, but McCoy unfortunately doesn't have a Vulcan immune system... I'm still taking my time, but there will be more action in the next part.

On 06/02/2018 at 7:17 PM, Jelloicious said:

And I am now completely reading Jim's lines with dramatic William Shatner phrasing.

... Mwahahahaha. I didn't think about Shatner's looooonnnnng pauses, but now I'm imagining them, and it's hilarious. Thanks for that!

 

Day 3 – 15:00

Chief medical officer’s log, stardate 4157.54

This damned cold has spread like wildfire and I have to put the ship on quarantine if I don’t want Mr. Spock to burst into my sickbay, reminding me about Starfleet medical procedure. (Sigh.) 142 crewmembers are now affected and as we are currently in the middle of an exploring mission, we need as many people as possible in Engineering and in the Science labs. Furthermore, after almost three days of confinement, some of the officers are stirring crazy, so maybe this is for the-heh… for the best-heh-hah…! HahHAT’SHOO!

McCoy stopped the recording and sneezed again into his upraised shoulder, trying to block the spray with his sleeve.

“HAAH’TCHEW!”

The symptoms had started about an hour ago, but he had refused to acknowledge them. It was only a matter of time before the ship was put on quarantine, and retiring to his quarters for an hour or two would have been stupid when he could be much more useful in sickbay. He blew his nose, sniffed to clear his nasal passages and pressed the lower button on the communication panel.

“Spock here.”

“McCoy. Are you needed on the bridge or could you come down to sickbay?”

He did his best to conceal the congestion in his voice, but he also knew that the Vulcan’s oversensitive hearing would pick up the difference. There was a short silence, and then:

“I am on my way, doctor.”

Bones sighed and sniffled once again. He didn’t exactly want to debrief with Spock, but he had no choice. If he wanted to continue fighting the outbreak, he couldn’t do it without the first officer’s backing.

Said first officer soon appeared on the doorstep of the CMO’s office, his eyes scanning the physician as if he was an interesting and yet potentially dangerous specimen worthy of studying.

“Yes, Spock, I’m sick”, McCoy huffed. “Happy?”

The Vulcan’s eyebrows went up.

“I fail to see why such news would give rise to happiness, doctor. I see no reason to be pleased by…”

McCoy’s sudden and violent sneeze, directed into his handkerchief, interrupted his damned logical speech.

“Huh’AHSHTSCHH! Yeah, whatever. Here’s the news: a third of the crew is sick and I’m about to put the Enterprise on quarantine. It means that until we’re all clear of contagion, we won’t be able to leave the ship or to be in direct contact with any humanoid lifeform.”

“I am aware of this specific rule, doctor.”

“I know you are”, Bones muttered. “Green-blooded computer”, he added for good measure.

“I also know that for a mild illness such as a common cold, any member of the crew is allowed to return to work under some conditions.”

“And that’s exactly why I wanted to see you. Do you think you could rearrange the shifts to prevent sick people to work too close to healthy people? I’ve already tried to reschedule everything, but I need you to oversee it.” Feeling a disagreeable sensation creeping along his throat, he coughed roughly into his fist, trying to keep his lungs under control in front of his friend, and completely failing. “I don’t like the idea of giving up, even if a cold is definitely not something alarming. We could at least try to limit the damage. What do you think?”

Spock was now looking at him with this very specific look, the one McCoy was ill-at-ease with and generally escaped from with a banter or a sarcasm – the one that meant that behind layers and layers of Vulcan coldness and pretended indifference, Spock was able to feel as intensely as humans did. Leonard was never sure about what the first officer was exactly feeling (in cases like this one, it looked like admiration, with a hint of fondness and worry, which was a bit disturbing and even scary), but when he stared at him like that, he knew that somewhere deep, deep inside, Spock was experimenting something close to humanity – maybe even something too human to be expressed…

“If you give me fifteen minutes, I will be able to reschedule everything.”

… And the cold and blank response indicated that he was hiding whatever he was feeling behind heavy mental barriers and defences. But McCoy was too busy trying to control his nose to tease him about that.

“Thahhh… Hih! Heh-HhhhETSCHH! Um, thadks.”

He sniffed thickly and turned away to wipe his burning nostrils. A sudden surge of heat washed over him. Fortunately, he was sitting at his desk, so maybe Spock wouldn’t notice that he was feeling dizzy? He decided to divert his attention, bringing up another topic:

“I’ve been calculating statistics, as you asked me yesterday, and guess what I’ve found?”

“I do not ‘guess’, doctor.”

McCoy snorted, sneezed twice, and looked at his screen.

“I have 42 sick people in Engineering, 13 in Security, 12 in navigators, 7 in Communications, and 68 in Science. Don’t you think it’s a lot? After all, only four of them beamed down on Gault with Sulu.”

Spock nodded pensively.

“The result you provided me with is indeed surprising, but I cannot find any logical reason why there would be more infected crewmembers in Science than in the other Departments.”

“So it’s just a coincidence then? I heard about them that universe is rarely so lazy.”

A new bout of coughing assailed the physician, and when he finally managed to get his breath back, Spock was hovering over him, a medical tricorder in one hand.

“What on Earth are you doing?” the CMO yelled, irritated.

“We are not on Earth, doctor. And even you should be able to understand that I am assessing your temperature.”

Bones swallowed hard. He knew the rules Spock had not mentioned yet, and was sure that the green-blooded bastard would apply them literally…

“You have a 37,9°C fever.”

McCoy let out a sigh of relief. Spock, on the contrary, seemed almost upset.

“Doctor, you do not look well. May I suggest…”

The CMO cut him off abruptly.

“Oh no, Spock, no, you may not. Regulation clearly stipulates that during a quarantine, a patient must remain in his quarters if his temperature is equal or higher than 38°C, which rules me out. I'm allowed to remain on duty if I wish to.”

For a moment, Leonard thought the Vulcan was going to drop the case, but he just put the tricorder back on the desk and looked at the chief medical officer in the eyes:

“You know as well as I do that your immune system does not react well to mild illnesses and that it is very likely that your fever will spike up. It would be wiser to retreat into your quarters and rest.”

Bones couldn’t help but blush. Hell, yes, he did know that, thank you very much! But he didn’t want to remain alone in his quarters, waiting for the fever to rise slowly and slowly make him delirious. When he worked, when he felt useful, when he was taking care of people, he didn’t focus on his own discomfort and didn’t anticipate the moment he would inevitably crash. Being stuck in his rooms was a nightmare, and he feared the moment his brain would disconnect and start raving…¹

There was only one solution left to prevent Spock from fussing over him.

“Oh, Spock”, he grinned, “don’t tell me you’re worried about me, huh?” The Vulcan stiffened, as if offended. But McCoy didn’t end there. “For a cold and a low-grade fever? It wouldn’t be very logical, now, would it? Not very Vulcan.”

The first officer took a step back – physically as well as metaphorically – and Bones knew that he had won.

“I will send you the new schedule in less than twenty minutes.”

And with that, he was gone. Remembering with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude how his friend had taken care of him last time he had been ill, McCoy sighed, feeling slightly guilty. It was so easy to get rid of Spock by accusing him to feel. And yet, he knew he owned him so much...

“HAH-ETTSCHEW!”

Okay, time to get back to work.

 

¹ I swear to you I didn't intend to advertise my other stories, it's just that in my drabble thread, I've already explained how Jim (and now Spock) spend the night with McCoy when he's ill, because his fever gets very high, no matter the mildness of the cold. If you're interested, it's the two last ones (17 and 18).

Edited February 8, 2018 by Aliena H.

[AngelEyes]

Love stubborn Bones. And Spock being all caring wrapped in logic.

4 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“So it’s just a coincidence then? I heard about them that universe is rarely so lazy.”

LOL. I love crossover quotes.

[Spoo]

10 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“Oh, Spock”, he grinned, “don’t tell me you’re worried about me, huh?” The Vulcan stiffened, as if offended. But McCoy didn’t end there. “For a cold and a low-grade fever? It wouldn’t be very logical, now, would it? Not very Vulcan.”

The first officer took a step back – physically as well as metaphorically – and Bones knew that he had won.

“I will send you the new schedule in less than twenty minutes.”

I laughed so hard at this part!! These two are hilarious.   You write them incredibly well. 

Everything is still paced perfectly, and the dialogue and interactions continue to be spot on. This is one of the best stories I’ve read in a while.  

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Hi! I'm sorry I'm late to the party but I brought extra tissues, the soft lotion kind too. It looks like your characters need them.

Wonderful story! Well written and excellent characterization. I'm looking forward to reading more. 

[Shamaël]

Thank you, everyone! I'm a bit late for the update, sorry. I had forgotten that I had a professional and personal life, and, well, I had to deal with both of them. 

On 08/02/2018 at 1:26 AM, AngelEyes said:

I love crossover quotes.

I wondered if anyone was going to notice it!!! Bravo!!! (I've been re-watching Sherlock recently with my mother, whom I have converted to this show, after years and years of inexplicable refusal.) Ther's another (distorted) Sherlock quote here, but it's mainly because Spock quotes it at least 2 or 3 times in TOS and AOS.

On 08/02/2018 at 6:58 AM, Spoo said:

Everything is still paced perfectly, and the dialogue and interactions continue to be spot on.

Wow, thank you! I really hope this part is understandable (particularly the part about Masters' theory - because it was very hard to write - i'm sorry about 'crappy science', it's just that... well, there's a remote plot but obviously the main interest of the story isn't there... I've just tried to be more or less in-character, but, as always, Spock is difficult to write...).

On 17/02/2018 at 6:26 PM, Subtly Clashing Wishes said:

I'm sorry I'm late to the party but I brought extra tissues, the soft lotion kind too. It looks like your characters need them.

Thank you for them! They gladly accept the tissues, because it will become a problem soon, as you will see. Yes, the situation is a bit difficult aboard the ship. Too bad, isn't it? 

(Oh, I just wanted to say that I'm trying to use 'real' characters from TOS: DeSalle, Riley, Garrovick, Kyle and Masters appear in different episodes... Yes, I AM canon-freak.)

 

Day 4 – 11:30

Captain’s log, stardate 4158.22

The ship’s been put on quarantine yesterday, but almost every affected crewmember has come back on duty and the Enterprise is perfectly functional for her ongoing mission. We have penetrated the gas cluster and are now studying it. Its components are surprising, as well as the electric pulsation we can pick up, coming from what seems to be the centre of the cloud. We are trying to get there as fast as possible, but something in the tremendous energy we are registering interferes with the warp core, so we are only able to use the impulse power.

“This is indeed an unexpected theory, lieutenant, but it deserves priority attention. I will transfer your research to Communication immediately.”

Charlene Masters looked at her superior with what he was almost sure was disbelief, as if she could not possibly have succeeded in forming a worthy hypothesis. Spock could not understand why she persisted in underestimating herself when she was one of the most brilliant scientists aboard, but with time, and with the help of the captain, he had managed to understand and accept that human feelings, such as self-depreciation or lack of confidence, prevented them from fairly evaluating their own competences.

“The suggestion you have voiced is, as you noticed yourself, improbable, but in science, only the impossible must be ruled out, lieutenant Masters. And it is not impossible that this gas cluster includes a lifeform our sensors cannot read for some unknown reason. Therefore, the energy pulses we are registering since we entered this cloud could be, as you suggested, an attempt to communicate with us. As your field of research is connected with energy, and as you are an expert in this area, I am inclined to listen to your theories, however peculiar they may seem.”

Spock was always surprised to see shock, bewilderment, gratitude and pride passing through the members of his science teams’ eyes when he praised them logically. Masters smiled and shook her head.

“Well, Sir, it seemed crazy, but I thought…

Her voice suddenly trailed off and she bend over in a sneeze she didn’t manage to cover on time.

“Isshhuh!”

Spock felt the wetness of the droplets when they landed on his hand, which was leaning over the panel. The woman’s eyes widened and she tried to apologise, but a sneezing fit prevented her from talking. She turned away, hiding his face into steepled hands.

“Ehh’sshh! Ehtshh’uh! Isshh! I’m so sorry, Commander, I… Isshhuuh! Ehhsshhihh!”

“There is no harm done, Lieutenant”, Spock answered calmly. “I am immune to human illnesses. Please resume your explanation as soon as you feel well enough to do so. Then you will go to sickbay for a complete examination.”

She was blushing – from fever or from shame, the Vulcan could not tell – but she composed herself quickly (another reason why Spock appreciated her: she was always very professional), sniffed slightly and showed him some figures on the screen.

“There is a sequence I have picked up 68 times since we have entered the cluster. Between this sequences, the pulsation varies, but there is clearly a pattern here. I believe the Communication department should concentrate on this specific data. And I don’t think I’m sick, Sir”, she added quickly and quietly. “I am prone to allergies.”

“I will transmit the data to the Communication department”, the Vulcan answered, “while you are reporting to sickbay. If you are declared healthy, you can come back in this team. If not, you will be transferred in another shift, if you wish to continue working on this specific matter.”

Her face relaxed and she nodded her thanks before leaving the room. Two minutes later, Spock took the tape where they had registered the unusual electric pattern and headed to the bridge. He had been pleased to see that this morning, only three of his Science crew members were absent. He had worked with ‘sick teams’ and ‘healthy teams’, and had not noticed a significant loss of efficiency in the teams that were affected with the common cold. He knew that most of the crewman were dedicated to their job and eager to do what they had signed for when they had enlisted in Starfleet. In these moments, Spock could not deny that, illogical as it was, he was feeling gratitude towards the odd fate that had placed him on this specific ship, with this specific captain and this specific crew.

“HutSHHCHH’UHSHhh!”

A young ensign who was walking in the same way on the corridors doubled over with a tremendous sneeze, and Spock wondered how many time the epidemic would last. Doctor McCoy had given him the statistics on the morning, and 213 crewmembers were now affected, namely half of the crew. The chief medical officer had insisted on fighting the disease as long as he could, and Spock had helped him as much as he could, but in a confined space as the Enterprise was, it was becoming harder and harder.

As he stepped into the turbolift, the yellow alert resounded all over the ship, and Spock immediately raised higher his mental shields. When he arrived on the bridge (where all the officers were sick, and either coughing, sneezing of sniffling every minute, which was a bit overwhelming for the Vulcan’s sensitive hearing), the captain looked at him and offered him his best smile.

 “Spock, I’m glad you’re here! It seems that this gas cluster doesn’t only interest the Federation.”

The first officer resumed his usual position, at the Science station, and glanced at the screen.

“A Klingon bird of prey, Captain?”

Kirk nodded, a hazy look upon his face, and suddenly pitched forward with a wheezing sound.

“Hih’HIGZSCHHhsh!”

The captain did not seem prepared for the sneeze that rocked his whole body, even if he had clearly been waiting for it, handkerchief in hand. His fingers had been resting over his lap, nervously squeezing the white cloth, but he had not raised them to his face, as if he had the power to hold back the reflex. At the last possible second, he had lurched forward, obviously displeased with his lack of control. He straightened and opened his mouth, but instead of the words he intended to utter, another sneeze made his way out, and he barely caught it in time.

“Hehh’HADZZSCHHuhh! Damnit! Why do such things as viruses even exist? That was a rhetorical question, Spock”, he added with a half-smile, as if he feared that his first officer would launch into an unnecessary biological explanation. Sometimes the Vulcan did not understand the human mind and humour. “Anyway, one of our probes have detected a Klingon ship. They are unaware of our presence, and they seem very busy in trying to… to suck energy out of a strange… a strange thing situated at the centre of the cluster. Have your team figured out what is that strange pulsing, Mister Spock? A little light in the darkness would be most welcome.”

The first officer ignored the captain’s metaphor, as well as he tried to disregard a particularly violent sneezing fit coming from ensign Chekov’s station.

“Lieutenant Masters made an interesting suggestion. Lieutenant Uhura”, he said, turning towards the young woman, “could you try to decipher this tape, assuming that the electric pulsation is a language and that an unknown entity is trying to communicate with the Enterprise?”

“Of course, Mister Spock.”

The lieutenant nodded and took the tape with a discrete sniff, while the captain looked sceptically at the Vulcan.

“Really, Spock, you think that there is life in this cluster? Our sensors didn’t pick anything, and we’re sure it doesn’t come from that bird of prey.”

“It would not be the first time, Captain. I tend to concur with lieutenant Masters’ conclusions. And, considering the presence of a Klingon ship and what they are currently trying to do, I believe the message is a call for help.”

[AngelEyes]

On 2/18/2018 at 3:22 PM, Aliena H. said:

Yes, I AM canon-freak.)

I admire that.

 

On 2/18/2018 at 3:22 PM, Aliena H. said:

Spock was always surprised to see shock, bewilderment, gratitude and pride passing through the members of his science teams’ eyes when he praised them logically.

LOL

 

On 2/18/2018 at 3:22 PM, Aliena H. said:

“Hehh’HADZZSCHHuhh! Damnit! Why do such things as viruses even exist? That was a rhetorical question, Spock”, he added with a half-smile, as if he feared that his first officer would launch into an unnecessary biological explanation. Sometimes the Vulcan did not understand the human mind and humour.

Perfect.

 

On 2/18/2018 at 3:22 PM, Aliena H. said:

“It would not be the first time, Captain. I tend to concur with lieutenant Masters’ conclusions. And, considering the presence of a Klingon ship and what they are currently trying to do, I believe the message is a call for help.”

I like the plot development!

[Jelloicious]

You're officially my favorite author of this fandom--fetish or no.  The voices are just perfect. Loving how this bug is stalking closer and closer to the impervious Vulcan.

 

[Spoo]

There’s nothing wrong with being a canon-freak! It just means the fic will be accurate.  The conversation between Kirk and Spock towards the end of the update was brilliant - “that was a rhetorical question, Spock”  - and, as always, your eye for detail is superb! Ahhhh, I can’t WAIT for the virus to finally get to Spock.  

[Shamaël]

@AngelEyes and @Jelloicious and @Spoo: Thanks for the comments! I'm glad you like it. I have the impression that you really WANT Spock to catch the virus. And I really don't understand why.  Be patient, it's getting closer, but he's still immune (yes, Vulcans are quite resilient)... for now. The crew isn't entirely contaminated yet. 

(To be honest, thet's not much plot, I just wanted a little fight against a Klingon ship...)

On 20/02/2018 at 6:07 PM, Jelloicious said:

You're officially my favorite author of this fandom--fetish or no.

Wow, thank you, that's really appreciated. 

Okay, not that much sneezing in this part. I wanted Uhura's POV because I really like her, and I imagined that she's the one who managed to communicate with the lifeform because, you know, she's the best. (That's not really canon, but let's pretend it is, okay? ) And, last but not least, I'm unsure about a lot of words, expressions and sentences in this part, but I don't think I can do better. Please be indulgent.

 

Day 4 – 16:00 

Chief medical’s personal log, stardate 4158.43

Spock and Uhura finally managed to communicate with the lifeform that Charlene Masters thought was hidden into the gas cluster, and that turned out to be the cluster itself. Okay, I concur with Spock, this is fascinating and all, but jumping into the lion’s den without a plan isn’t the best thing we could do now, even if we have to save this poor… thing from the Klingons, whatever it is. If a fight was to happen, I’m… I’m hehh’TSCH’shhoo! Huh’ahhShHYew! – Bless me – I’m a bit concerned about the state of our crew. I already had to force Sulu off duty and Scotty isn’t exactly as fit as a fiddle. Getting into a fight when 275 of your crewmembers are sneezing their brains out and your chief engineer is burning with fever doesn’t appear to me like the most intelligent thing to do, but I know as well that it’s impossible to reason with Jim, so I’ll just pray that everything goes smoothly.

(Sigh.)

As if it had ever happened before.

“Now, listen, that’s ridiculous! I repeat, I can’t, and I won’t, talk to that klingon ship. Just picture the scene: This is captaind Jabes T. Kirk, frob the starship Endterprise. You are actually violatidg the Federationd laws by tryindg to suck off edergy frob ad indtelligent lifeforb. Please stop or we will-heh… we will-ehhh… Heh’ztCHt! Snff – I dond’t thindk I deed to go od. This is utterly ridiculous.”

Uhura smothered a chuckle, feigning to cough into her sleeve. Sure, the captain was blowing his nose the most quietly possible every two minutes, and he wasn’t the epitome of health, and she knew how much he wanted everything to be perfect when he represented Starfleet, but his complaint was highly exaggerated. His nose was clogged up, but when he didn’t force the congestion in his voice, as he had just done, it was still perfectly understandable and recognisable. Unlike hers, which was starting to become more and more hoarse and croaky.

She was really feeling under the weather. Until now, she had of course been assailed by unpleasant symptoms – the need to wipe her runny nose a hundred times per hour, the frequent sneezing, the impression that her sinuses were burning – but she had been able to perform her daily duty without any problem. Now, on the third day of that bloody cold, she was experimenting some new sensations that made everything – especially concentrating – more difficult. Her fever had obviously gone up and she was shivering despite of the warm temperature of the bridge. She had difficulties breathing through her nose, and her lips had become sore and dry, as well as her nostrils, irritated with the constant dampness. Her head was pounding and, while the sneezing had absolutely not decreased, the coughing had increased, and with it, the pain in her throat and lungs. Her whole body was starting to ache and protest against the illness.

She was not, as Mr. Spock was fond of saying, entirely functional.

But she would remain on the bridge as long as her captain would need her – and he needed her, now, to communicate with the strange energy lifeform they had finally begun to understand two hours ago.

Said captain was now staring at his first officer with puppy eyes, and she knew – everyone knew – that the half-Vulcan couldn’t resist that look. Of course, he couldn’t approve of Kirk’s silent pleading, because it was against regulation: a starship captain must remain at his post, no matter the problem, unless he is wounded or seriously ill. And a head cold was by no means a serious illness.

But Spock, without a word, slowly rose from his science station and silently walked to the main chair, clearly disapproving his superior’s whim but obeying him nonetheless. Kirk grinned and made room for the Vulcan, who sat gracefully into the captain’s chair.

“Lieutenant Uhura, please hail the Klingon ship.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She made some frequency adjustments and, one minute after, the face of the Klingons’ commander appeared on screen. He seemed slightly surprised to realise that a Starfleet ship had been so close to him and that he had not seen or sensed it approaching.

“I am commander Spock, acting captain of the Starship Enterprise”, the Vulcan said coldly. “The energy container you have been attempting to open for more than six hours is in fact the heart of a vast alien lifeform. If you managed to open it, you would not only kill said lifeform, but also free a tremendous amount of energy, that would destroy your ship, ours and every living thing within a radius of approximately 356.576.876 kilometres. As you were probably not aware of that, you will not be judged for what you have done. Stop immediately what you are doing and we will let you continue your journey.”

The Klingon commander laughed.

“Tell me, Vulcan, why should I will believe you?”

“Because you are well aware that my species cannot lie”, Spock answered calmly.

Uhura felt a sneeze coming at the back of her throat. Now is not the moment, she admonished herself – but the itch was too strong to ignore, and after an involuntary sharp intake of breath, she muffled the noise into the palm of her hand, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Nnng’chh!”

She immediately cleaned her fingers with the sanitizer doctor McCoy had provided the whole crew with and looked back at the screen. The Klingon seemed to speculate about his interlocutor’s sincerity. Suddenly, he shrugged and laughed again:

“Well, thank you for the advice, but I think we will take the risk. And we do not wish any witness.”

The image on the screen disappeared, and instantly Kirk jumped on the chair. Spock had moved even faster and was now coming back to his station. Sometimes the ballet those two were dancing was a bit scary.

“Chekov, raise the shields!”

The young pilot obeyed, but his reflexes were clearly dulled with the illness and his hand hit the wrong buttons while he launched into one of his loud and irrepressible sneezing fits.

The first blow hit the Enterprise hard, and everyone lost balance on the bridge.

“Captain, I believe they have managed to steal some energy from the cluster”, Spock warned them, his fingers swiftly dancing over his control panel. “The strength of the blow was not the one of a bird of prey and…”

Uhura didn’t listen to him anymore. She was picking up the frequency of their new ally.

“What did this ship do to your ship?” was more or less the question the alien lifeform uttered in its electric language.

“They used a very powerful source of energy to harm us”, she explained in the same way, as simply as she could.

“Could I do the same with their ship?”

Uhura frowned. The alien, who was made exclusively of energy, didn’t seem know he could harm other lifeforms with his power…

Another blow hit the ship despite of the shields Chekov had finally raised before half-collapsing in his chair, visibly exhausted and feverish. What a great crew they were today!

“Yes”, she translated, “I think you could, but…”

On the screen, a blinding light coming from the alien core suddenly wrapped the Klingon ship. Uhura blinked, as everyone on the bridge, and the second after the bird of prey had vanished, disintegrated by the alien’s blow.

"I may have underestimated my power", the lifeform said.

"That’s an understatement", she instinctively answered, eyes still fixed on the screen in disbelief, while the captain turned towards her.

“Uhura, what… Huh’IDGZSCCHHhah! What the hell happened?”

Edited February 28, 2018 by Aliena H.

[Jelloicious]

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

I have the impression that you really WANT Spock to catch the virus. And I really don't understand why. 

Why, whatever would give you that impression?  Why would we possibly want to see that calm, cool Vulcan exterior rocked?  Can't imagine....

Keep it coming!  Loving how you play with this crew!  (and...awww....there are some nice Klingons, right? Oh, wait...not in the TOS).

 

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

On 2/28/2018 at 10:09 AM, Aliena H. said:

(To be honest, thet's not much plot, I just wanted a little fight against a Klingon ship...)

Well you're the author, why not write what you want?  

On 2/28/2018 at 10:09 AM, Aliena H. said:

“Now, listen, that’s ridiculous! I repeat, I can’t, and I won’t, talk to that klingon ship.

Poor Kirk, but it seems perfectly in character for him not want to appear weakened in any way, especially in front of Klingons. Kirk and Klingons were generally a deadly mix if memory serves. 

On 2/28/2018 at 10:09 AM, Aliena H. said:

On the screen, a blinding light coming from the alien core suddenly wrapped the Klingon ship. Uhura blinked, as everyone on the bridge, and the second after the bird of prey had vanished, disintegrated by the alien’s blow.

"I may have underestimated my power", the lifeform said.

"That’s an understatement", she instinctively answered, eyes still fixed on the screen in disbelief, while the captain turned towards her.

“Uhura, what… Huh’IDGZSCCHHhah! What the hell happened?”

See what I mean? Kirk just needs to be in the vicinity and poof go the Klingons.

[AngelEyes]

On 2/28/2018 at 10:09 AM, Aliena H. said:

Said captain was now staring at his first officer with puppy eyes, and she knew – everyone knew – that the half-Vulcan couldn’t resist that look.

Right! Awww! LOL!

 

On 2/28/2018 at 10:09 AM, Aliena H. said:

“Now, listen, that’s ridiculous! I repeat, I can’t, and I won’t, talk to that klingon ship. Just picture the scene: This is captaind Jabes T. Kirk, frob the starship Endterprise. You are actually violatidg the Federationd laws by tryindg to suck off edergy frob ad indtelligent lifeforb. Please stop or we will-heh… we will-ehhh… Heh’ztCHt! Snff – I dond’t thindk I deed to go od. This is utterly ridiculous.”

LOL!!!!

 

On 2/28/2018 at 10:09 AM, Aliena H. said:

"I may have underestimated my power", the lifeform said.

Um, yeah! Good thing they are allies now!

[lsbn]

Ahhhhh please keep writing!!! This is fabulous!!!

[Shamaël]

@Jelloicious: Mwahaha, it's coming closer... Not for this part, but the next. Spock really is a great choice for some sneezy torture. I mean, he's so... in control... it's tempting, isn't it?

@Subtly Clashing Wishes: Yes, Kirk and the Klingons are not very good friends. Well, especially after the 3rd movie, of course, so in this fic we are far from it, but Jim doesn't like to appear weak in any way. Let's say I won't be very kind to him in that regard.

@AngelEyes: Sorry, this is the end of the "gaseous lifeform versus the Klingons" plot... I had told you it wasn't really a plot.

@lsbn: Thanks, here comes the next part!

 

Day 5 – 07:30

Captain’s personal log, stardate 4159.15

For the first time in months, I wish I could remain in bed for at least three more hours. Yesterday has been tiring, and that damned cold doesn’t help. I’ve been ill for only two days, but it seems like two weeks…

“This lifeform is like nothing we have met before, doctor. The way it managed to hide us from the Klingon ship until the last moment without knowing anything about their sensors was remarkable. I am currently studying its composition. It is essentially gaseous – a very complex mix of heavy and light gas – but it also possesses some carbon and silicon atoms. It can expand for kilometres or condense in a very small space, and…”

McCoy ran his hand over his head and sighed, wondering when that damned Vulcan would finally shut up. At any other time, he would have been pleased to discuss science with Spock, exchange a few barbs and marvel at the mysteries of the universe, but today he wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t want to know about that cloud, its intelligence or its composition. The thing was their ally now, a fact for which he was grateful, considering its astonishing power, but that was enough for the physician. His mind was sluggish and he wasn’t able to focus on more than one thing at a time.

“Sniff – Spock, could you please keep your fascinating comments for later? I’m sorry, but I have enough on my plate for today.”

The Vulcan cocked an eyebrow, and Bones immediately knew he shouldn’t have used such a metaphorical sentence.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to eat anything, okay? I just have other concerns, that’s all.”

“What concerns, doctor?” Spock asked dryly, probably offended by his interlocutor’s interruption.

McCoy felt a sneeze coming and held up a finger as a warning. His breath started to hitch while he hastily fumbled into his pockets to retrieve an old tissue, balled up and damp from his previous use. Trying not to close his eyes, he looked in vain for a dry spot and eventually pinched his nose with his right hand, covered with the tissue, to muffle the explosion and limit the mess.

“Heeh’etchuuhh!” The rough fabric irritated his already sore nostrils and he winced, waiting for another sneeze. “Hah’AAahHtCHEWW!” Ow. This one had been quite violent. Bones could feel his heart thumping in his ears and sinuses. He tried to blow his nose, but the wrecked excuse for a tissue he was holding wasn’t really of any assistance.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, he mumbled. “In case you hadn’t notice, we have an epidemic on the ship. This is my concern. And even if it’s only a cold, well… it’s becoming more and more problematic for the proper functioning of the Enterprise. Scotty is confined to his quarters with a high fever and absolutely unable to rule Engineering, Sulu has been removed from the bridge, and so were Uhura and Chekov. In sickbay, Chapel is so sick she had to leave, and M’Benga isn’t too well either. This damned bug is… heh-hih! Heh’tschCHIEW! hitting hard.”

“How are you feeling, doctor?”

McCoy sighed and rubbed his temple with his left hand. He had brought it upon himself, really.

“I’m all right, Spock. I’ve been sleeping at night, if that was the meaning of your question. I’m just unwell, but not to the point of not going to work. My temperature isn’t too high.”

For now, he silently added for himself with a cough he didn’t manage to suppress. He knew he should slow down if he didn’t want to pay for it, but with almost the three quarters of the crew being sick, he really couldn’t afford the luxury of bed rest. He raised his eyes and looked at the Vulcan, who was staring at him, as if he was trying to ascertain the truth of the last words the chief medical officer had uttered.

“What about you?” McCoy frowned. “Are you all right? You look a bit… peaky.”

Spock’s skin colour was always peculiar, of course, but his complexion was indeed paler than usual. Which was very strange, because Spock being Spock, he was always healthy – except when he decided to hide some ‘Vulcan biology stuff’ from his doctor, but, all the Gods of the universe be thanked for that, that problem would not recur before approximately six years and a half.

“You are well aware that I cannot be infected with the common cold.”

Bones rolled his eyes and sneezed explosively into the tattered tissue he had kept in hand.

“HehhEXXCCSHSHEW! Snirfl – Yes, you lucky bastard, I know. Anyway, when was the last time you slept?”

The first officer’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly.

“6,56 days ago, doctor.”

Lord, give me patience…

… Or not.

“What? Are you out of your Vulcan mind? Spock, you are half human, and you need to sleep!”

“The captain was not feeling very well yesterday evening and I volunteered to remain on the bridge for the night.”

Yes, of course Spock would do that. That green-blooded fool always did that kind of things for the captain, no matter his own health.

“I put you off duty right now for the next two shifts, and if you protest”, McCoy added when he realised the Vulcan was about to argue logically, “it will be for the next two days.”

Spock’s mouth closed as suddenly as it had opened.

“Good”, the CMO said with a smug look. “It seems that you finally learn the lesson. And now you’re going to your quarters and rest.”

.

McCoy was proud of him. Despite being ill, he had dealt with the most stubborn officer of the ship and had won (which was almost unbelievable; maybe Spock was really tired after all, if he had gone to his quarters without a protest), and now he was about to win in a contest with the most reckless officer of the ship.

“Come on, Jim, there’s no need to exhaust yourself when there’s nothing to do on the bridge!”

Sniffling miserably, the captain looked at McCoy with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

“But Bones, if you’ve put Spock off duty, someone has to…”

“As a matter of fact, no. Everything is quiet, the Klingon ship has been dealt with…” Kirk cringed at the memory. The physician shrugged. “… and we won’t be able to land and disembark before at least one week, so there is no need to hurry.”

The captain’s eyes widened in incomprehension.

“One week? Why?”

“Because the ship is quarantined. Most of us are still contagious. We cannot beam down and meet people before every single member of the Enterprise is cleared of this retched cold. Considering that the outbreak started four days ago, and that the cold is still spreading, I’d say we’re stuck in here for at least seven days, maybe more.”

Jim sighed and almost immediately sneezed violently, twisting his head to the side.

“Hhh’EHZSCHHhh! HEEHHhh-Hahhh’IITSCHH'hhuh! Ugh. How bany of us are idfected already?”

McCoy magnanimously chose not to pass comment on the heavy congestion in the captain’s voice.

“When I checked this morning, 343 members of the crew were sick. And those who have been contaminated first are now in bed and unable to work properly. The first two or three days of the cold have not been very problematic, but after this, the illness is taking its toll on them. I can only guess that it will happen to everyone gradually. You don’t look too well yourself, Jim.”

The younger man shrugged.

“I’ll live”, he answered in a tone that implied that survival would be hard. McCoy sneered.

“Yes, I’m sure of it, but you could do with a day of rest. There will always be someone on the bridge, Jim, but it doesn’t have to be you, okay? We are in the middle of nowhere and we have nothing to do.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“The most intelligent words you’ve uttered since I entered this room.”

[AngelEyes]

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

McCoy ran his hand over his head and sighed, wondering when that damned Vulcan would finally shut up.

Poor Bones.

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“Sniff – Spock, could you please keep your fascinating comments for later? I’m sorry, but I have enough on my plate for today.”

LOL

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“6,56 days ago, doctor.”

Lord, give me patience…

… Or not.

Oh dear.

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

McCoy was proud of him. Despite being ill, he had dealt with the most stubborn officer of the ship and had won (which was almost unbelievable; maybe Spock was really tired after all, if he had gone to his quarters without a protest), and now he was about to win in a contest with the most reckless officer of the ship.

LOL. Go Bones!

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“The most intelligent words you’ve uttered since I entered this room.”

Right!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Okay, wrong fandom but... I’ve got a bad feeling about this. People aren’t getting better yet? Spock looking peaky? 

[Jelloicious]

Oooh....things are not looking great for the Good Ship Enterprise...Mr. Spock, you may be a vulcan, but you're not invincible.  

[Shamaël]

@AngelEyes and @Subtly Clashing Wishes and @Jelloicious: thank you very much! No, things aren't looking too good for the ship. Definitely not. (McCoy is starting to 'have a bad feeling about all this", just as you do.) Because I'm evil.  I really hope this isn't taking too much time. As I said before, I just... can't write anything short.

Okay, the moment you've been waiting for has arrived and... as usual, I'm having trouble writing Spock. Please be indulgent. And enjoy the first stage of a very human common cold for a half-Vulcan... Did I ever say that Spock is my absolute favorite character? Well, he still is. 

 

Day 5 – 15:30 (387)

Chief medical officer’s log, stardate 4159.56

The captain ordered rest for the whole crew this morning, with the exception of emergency teams that will take turns to deal with the ship’s most important functions. I must confess that I am… worried. I don’t know how this happened, but as unbelievable as it seems, 387 crewmembers in 420 are sick with the common cold. I’ve never seen that before – generally, an epidemic touches between one and three quarters of the crew – but I’m sure that by this evening we’ll have 420 sick crewmen and women. Well, no, 419 in fact, because of course the green-bloodied walking computer is immune to ‘illogical inconvenient human illnesses’ such as the common cold. (Pause. Exasperated sigh.) Sniff - Computer, delete - ehhh... delete that last sentence.

Spock was bent over a microscope, deeply engrossed in the experience he had started 5,61 days ago and had had no time to complete due to circumstances beyond his control. Now that he was back in control again, he could finally achieve the task he had been involuntarily neglecting for days. He had retired into the botany laboratory, far away from sickbay, in order to avoid doctor McCoy pestering him and urging him to sleep and take some rest when there was work to be done.

On the other hand, the chief medical officer was not completely wrong. Spock was feeling unusually tired, and a diffuse soreness had settled at the back of his throat during the past 2,33 hours. He blamed the plants Sulu had brought back from Gault, which diffused a strong, almost animal scent through the botany laboratory.

His eyes finally spotted the anomaly he was searching into the particle he had been studying for long minutes and he carefully adjusted the microscope to observe it closer, when a strange sensation crept at the back of his throat. He just had time to jerk his head back with a sharp inhale that was not entirely conscious.

“ATSHH’ISSSHUH!”

Taken aback by the suddenness of the unanticipated sneeze, the first officer narrowly prevented his head from hitting the microscope. Feeling a fresh burn into his nostrils, he hastily turned away from his experience and sneezed helplessly twice more into his cupped hands.

 “Heh’Hhhh'ETSHAAAH! HAHTCH’AHhh!”

Being Vulcan, Spock was not easily surprised. But those unexpected outbursts coming from his own body without any warning seemed unreal to him and he had some difficulty concealing his amazement. Sniffing wetly, he glanced around to ascertain that he was alone in the laboratory. Fortunately, no one had witnessed this incomprehensible lack of control – but the fact that he had been unable to master this unfortunate human reflex was… disquieting.

Sneezing was one of the most unnatural actions for him. He had been submitted to such an inconvenience only once, during a fit he shall not soon forget, eidetic memory or not. Since that day, he kept a safe distance between himself and symbelmynë¹ flowers, to which it turned out he was highly allergic to. Yet, he knew there was no symbelmynë in the laboratory, and that he could not be allergic to the odorous plants from Gault, since he had never been exposed to them before.

The only possible conclusion, as unexpected, improbable and unwelcome as it was, was that he had been infected with the common cold that was at the present time plaguing the whole ship. It would explain as well some other symptoms he had been repressing for 1,28 days – fatigue, headache, chills…

A shiver ran down his spine and he sniffed again, quietly, retrieving the handkerchief he always carried in his right pocket, as Starfleet regulation recommended. He blew his nose, wincing at the gurgling noise that resulted from such an action. Taking a clean cloth, he started to sanitize his station, and was unable to refrain from experiencing some distaste at the sight of the purple droplets that had landed on the microscope lenses. He was not feeling unwell, but he had to admit he was not at his best either, as doctor McCoy had noticed with his usual perceptiveness.

The wisest course of action was, of course, to report to sickbay, even if this meant being subjected to the chief medical officer’s sarcasms. Repressing a sigh, Spock strengthened his mental shields and left the laboratory.

.

He did not manage to report as intended, because sickbay was overwhelmed. Doctor McCoy, who was obviously not feeling very well, asked him for help without even thinking Spock could be ill himself, and the Vulcan did what he could to relieve the exhausted physician of his burden as much as he could (he could not heal people, but he could take care of medical bay’s intendancy). When he finally reached his quarters, 2,43 hours later, he had not had the opportunity to speak to the doctor privately and he was freezing. Not literally freezing, of course. It seemed that, under the effect of this ‘common cold’, his human half was trying to manifest itself by instilling metaphors into his usually well-ordered and completely literal thoughts. And it was becoming harder and harder to suppress the shivers that wracked his body more and more frequently.

The door closed behind him and he let out a sigh of relief, immediately followed by a small cough. He had managed, so far, to conceal his condition from his co-workers (he did not wish to obtrude anyone with his ailment, and if he really had to, he would make sure to share his concerns only with doctor McCoy), but it had been difficult. His mental defences had been blocking most of the symptoms, but he could not prevent his voice from becoming more and more hoarse and congested.

As soon as Spock found himself alone, he sniffed and dabbed at his increasingly running nose before drinking two glasses of water and putting on his meditation robes. Meditation always eased physical pain when he had been injured in a mission. He could only presume it would have the same soothing effect with an infectious illness. Refusing to acknowledge that his joints were aching, he kneeled on his medication mat and closed his eyes.

Almost immediately, the usual peace that came with that position washed over him. He forced himself to examine the feelings that unfortunately had been accompanying the illness – surprise, frustration, disappointment, and even shame – and distanced himself from them. He felt calmer and calmer, detached, at peace. He took a deep breath…

… and was rewarded by a thunderous sneeze that exploded, unannounced and almost painful, tearing his throat.

“HHhh’AAHHTSSCCHH’UH!”

Spock’s eyes snapped open. The expulsion had clearly not been enough to expel the tickle, and was followed by another one, coming from his chest, that left him panting and shuddering.

“Hihh’TSCHhhAAH!”

His breath was still erratic, and although he desperately tried to block the reflex, he did not manage. His shoulders heaved once more and he pitched forward for the third time.

“Ahhh… Ehh… Huh-HehhhTSCHAHahh!”

He suddenly understood that repressing his symptoms as he had done during almost three hours (and probably unconsciously before that), had its unfortunate reverse side: as soon as he relaxed and let his defences down, the reflex, that had only been delayed, came back with full power…

“Huh’ETSCHHhih! HuhH’ITSCHHhsh!”

Clamping his handkerchief over his nose and mouth, feeling helpless and slightly nauseous, Spock abandoned any attempts at meditation, sat crossed-legged and waited for the next inescapable nasal explosion.

 

¹ That is a personal headcanon (I've written two drabbles about that), and an allusion to The lord of the Rings (because I just LOVE symbelmynë). Sorry about that.

Edited March 11, 2018 by Aliena H.

[AngelEyes]

5 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Fortunately, no one had witnessed this incomprehensible lack of control – but the fact that he had been unable to master this unfortunate human reflex was… disquieting.

Disquieting. This is such a Spock thought.

5 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

He suddenly understood that repressing his symptoms as he had done during almost three hours (and probably unconsciously before that), had its unfortunate reverse side: as soon as he relaxed and let his defences down, the reflex, that had only been delayed, came back with full power…

 

I do love this theory.

5 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

(Pause. Exasperated sigh.) Sniff - Computer, delete - ehhh... delete that last sentence.

LOL

[Spoo]

Omg, I'm SO behind on commenting!!  Work has been crazy lately, but I finally have some time to reply!  

Everything is still being paced and written splendidly. I laughed evilly when Spock finally started showing symptoms. Yessss!!   If you're indeed having trouble writing for Spock, then it's hard to tell because you're doing such a fabulous job!  

This wasn't a big part, but it's such a perfectly canon McCoy thing that I have to mention it:

On 3/6/2018 at 9:12 PM, Aliena H. said:

Lord, give me patience…

… Or not.

If McCoy were a book, that would be the title.  

[Shamaël]

On 12/03/2018 at 3:55 AM, AngelEyes said:

I do love this theory.

Thank you!!! In fact, this can happen to me. Normally, at work, I have a mental block, but when I'm completely focused on something, it can happen that I sneeze quite violently. And this is... desquieting. 

On 18/03/2018 at 4:35 PM, Spoo said:

Everything is still being paced and written splendidly. I laughed evilly when Spock finally started showing symptoms. Yessss!!   If you're indeed having trouble writing for Spock, then it's hard to tell because you're doing such a fabulous job!

 Oh thank you so much! (I laughed evilly too when I wrote that part, I have to confess. I've been waiting for it since the beginning!)

More sneezy Spock - AND Kirk. I repeat: this is not supposed to be angsty. It's... just a cold. But those who know me know that I can't resist a bit of drama.  I mean, this is not normal for Spock to catch a cold. This is a human illness. Vulcans do not get ill. Of course it worries Kirk. And McCoy. Isn't it logical?

(Still the canon-freak: theris-masu is a Vulcan herbal tea. Vulcans can't eat sugar, honey or chocolate, except if they want to be drunk. And of course, being Vulcans, they don't. And when Kirk says that Spock has hidden some medical facts from him and Bones, it's an allusion to Amok time (TOS S2 E1), when Spock entered pon farr and didn't say anything because of illogical Vulcan taboos. Okay, I stop talking.)

 

Day 5 – 22:30

First officer’s log, stardate 4160.10

The ship is officially entirely in quarantine and the captain decided to grant every crewman and woman two days off to take some rest after a violent epidemic of the common cold infected 92.01% of the crew. Everything aboard the Enterprise is functioning at a slower pace. (Slight hesitation.) Nothing else to report.

 

Kirk sighed and rose from his bed, where he had collapsed about an hour ago, hoping that sleep would have mercy on him and finally welcome him into oblivion. He had not been that lucky though, and the constant sneezing, nose running and coughing had kept him awake despite of his efforts to rest. A particularly vicious double sneeze finally persuaded him to leave his bed and to turn his mind towards something else than his own discomfort. He picked up the three-dimensional chess board on his desk, adjusted his golden uniform, shoved the last of his clean tissues into his pockets and left the room with a wheezing sneeze.

“HAaahh’AhTZSHAH!”

Sniffling hard to avoid another nasal explosion, he walked through the corridor to his first officer’s room and slightly knocked at the door, hoping that Spock wasn’t meditating. But his fears were misplaced, since the door opened almost immediately, revealing the figure of the Vulcan, rising from his chair, as stiff as ever. Hands clasped in the back, he looked at the new comer with a slight nod.

“Please, Captain, come in.”

“Am I disturbing you?” Kirk asked, hesitantly (experience had taught him that generally, when Spock used his title instead of his first name when they both were off duty, it meant that something was upsetting the Vulcan).

“Absolutely not, Jim. I was filling some reports”, he explained, showing some papers upon his desk, “but they obviously can wait, since the ship is temporarily immobilized.”

Jim. That was better. Kirk felt his mind relax as he entered the room. The door closed behind him.

“I can’t sleep”, he confessed with a small shrug. “My nose is completely blocked and I have difficulties breathing when I’m lying down. Are you up for a chess game?”

Spock motioned him the small table where they usually played and went to a cupboard to make some herbal tea. The fragrance soon filled the small room and Kirk almost felt it soothing his throat before he had even drunk the first sip. The Vulcan finally sat in front of the captain, his own mug at his side, and they started to play.

.

“Hh’EHZTSCHHahh! Heh… Heh’GTSCHHuhh! Sniff – I’b sorry, Spock, I’b not exactly a challendge for you right ndow. Snirfl – I… ehh… I ab-Hih’ztCH!”

They had been playing for an hour or so, and Jim felt his concentration falter. His head was heavy and he was grateful for the usual hellish heat in the Vulcan’s room. They had been drinking several mugs of theris-masu, with extra honey for Jim (the fact that Spock had been keeping honey in his quarters for him or Bones when they come to visit him to lessen the bitterness of Vulcan beverages was a proof, amongst many others, of his friendship and thoughtfulness), and it had helped a bit, but the captain was still feeling unwell and unable to focus on the game with his usual acuteness.

“If the purpose is to distract you from the inconvenience of your cold”, Spock gently noticed, “your performance is irrelevant. Besides…” He wavered, and Jim frowned in front of this unusual behaviour. “… I am afraid I am not being a very efficient player myself tonight.”

Kirk straightened slightly, concerned by such an unexpected confession.

“What’s the matter, Spock? Is there any problem?”

Once again, he discerned a fleeting hesitation in the Vulcan’s look, as if he was weighing up the pros and cons about what he could and couldn’t say to his friend and captain.

“Spock?” Jim repeated softly.

The first officer’s eyes moved to the ground and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, as a sign of defeat, resignation or maybe relief, Kirk couldn’t say. The following moment, his brow furrowed in a very unusual expression and his look became distant. Then Spock’s head tilted back and he lifted his hands to cover his face. Taken aback, Jim noticed the handkerchief, folded in half horizontally. It was obvious, from the damp purple stains (yes, Spock’s mucus was purple, and it turned out to be a bit disconcerting, even if theoretically, the younger man had been informed of that fact by Bones), that it had been used, re-used and re-re-used throughout the day.

“Don’t tell me you’ve…”

Spock closed his eyes and the sneezed ripped out from him with a thunderous and rather spectacular “HuhATSHH’SHUHH!”, while his body doubled over.

“… caught a human common cold you normally cannot catch?” Kirk ended with disbelief.

Spock tried to answer, but it seemed that his nose disagreed with his initial plan.

“I am… Ehh’TSCHSSHAH! Ehhh… Ahhh… I… Hih’EhhhTCCHHhih!”

Bending to his right side, the Vulcan tried to blow his nose, but the soaked cloth did not fulfil his initial purpose and Spock hastily rose and went to the bathroom, where he retrieved a clean tissue and wiped at his nostrils. Kirk followed him, dumbfounded by the turn of events. The thought of his invulnerable first officer overpowered by a human illness was beyond his imagination. Spock was… the pillar he always leaned on. Every time the first officer had been wounded (and it had happened a lot, mostly during missions where Spock had stupidly stepped in front of his superior to save his life, risking his own in the process), Kirk had felt a knot in his stomach, a twist in his guts, and his heart had beaten harder and quicker while fear and horror had filled his mind. Now that, for the first time, Spock was sick, his friend was inexplicably feeling the same unpleasant sensations and emotions. Even if a cold could hardly been called a dangerous illness, the fact that his Vulcan first officer had been infected was not normal – not logical. It was unsettling, worrying, disturbing…

“Please, forgive me, Captain”, Spock said, now that he had recovered from the unexpected outbursts. “It was not my intention to display such weakness in front of you.”

Jim’s eyes widened. He could hardly believe what he had just heard.

“First of all, as illogical as you may think this expression is, bless you. And then, for God’s sake, it’s a reflex, not a… weakness!” The stern look in the Vulcan’s eyes dissuaded him from continuing on that topic. Of course, for Spock, a sneeze could be nothing but a weakness. “How long have you been ill? Have you seen McCoy? What did he say?”

Spock stiffened imperceptibly, and Kirk immediately understood what it meant.

“Captain, I…”

“Don’t bother explaining, Mister Spock. You didn’t tell Bones. I got it.”

Jim shook his head, sighing. He didn’t know if he was feeling more frustrated, disappointed, or worried.

“We almost lost you when you hid some medical facts from us, last year”, he said in a low voice. “I thought you were clever enough not to repeat the mistake.”

His words were hard, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help. He was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t help. He couldn’t help the bad feeling spreading in his mind, washing his rational thoughts. He knew that his intuition was often reliable, and his intuition was telling him that something was wrong, utterly wrong.

“Captain, I…” Spock repeated tersely.

Kirk felt an irrepressible itch in his nose and raised a finger to cut off his first officer’s attempt at justification. Turning his head to the side, he covered the incoming sneeze with his hand.

 “Ehh’IHHZCHSHH’uh! Spock, you cad say what you wandt, this is ndot ndorbal for you to catch a cold. Snirff – So we’re going to see Bones. Now.”

Edited March 20, 2018 by Aliena H.

[AngelEyes]

2 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Still the canon-freak

And I love it!

 

2 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

experience had taught him that generally, when Spock used his title instead of his first name when they both were off duty, it meant that something was upsetting the Vulcan)

I feel like this is accurate.

 

2 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“Captain, I…”

“Don’t bother explaining, Mister Spock. You didn’t tell Bones. I got it.”

Jim shook his head, sighing. He didn’t know if he was feeling more frustrated, disappointed, or worried.

Can totally see this exchange.

 

2 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

So we’re going to see Bones. Now.”

Yes!

[Jelloicious]

15 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Still the canon-freak: theris-masu is a Vulcan herbal tea. Vulcans can't eat sugar, honey or chocolate, except if they want to be drunk. And of course, being Vulcans, they don't.

Really??  THIS is a delightful little nugget...where does that one come up? And I love, love, love how you use that in the story, to illustrate Spock's regard for his friends!  

You're really going to have to explain the origin of purple Vulcan snot, while I go wrap my brain around that. 

Love how well you capture Jim's ability to read Spock.  Love how well you capture his ability to cut right to the point with Spock. ("We almost lost you....")

You really do capture all the things I just love about Star Trek!

[Shamaël]

@AngelEyes: As usual, thank you for your comments! I've been absent from the forum for a while (Internet problems, lots of things to do...) and I've seen that you have posted a Jack Harkness fic... Well, I'm just starting to discover Dr Who (2nd season, I'm really really slow) and I really got a crush on him. So as soon as I have some time, I'll read your fic even if I have never watched Torchwood!

On 21/03/2018 at 2:40 PM, Jelloicious said:

THIS is a delightful little nugget...where does that one come up?

Hihihi, the fact that Vulcans can get drunk when they eat sugar or chocolate is not completely canon, but it's generally admitted by the fans because it appears in The Voyage Home's novelization. (Kirk offers a candy to Spock, who refuses because he doesn't want to take the risk of losing his control.) I really like the idea and I wanted to use it here. (And later. Because hot chocolate is definitely a good idea when you're sick with a cold.)

On 21/03/2018 at 2:40 PM, Jelloicious said:

You're really going to have to explain the origin of purple Vulcan snot, while I go wrap my brain around that.

... I have no excuse.  I've had a discussion about Vulcan anatomy with my boyfriend (who doesn't share my Star Trek obsession but is very patient with me) and we wondered if body fluids other than blood had a different color than human ones. He said that it could be fun if Vulcan mucus was pink, and... well... it remained as a headcanon. I have no other logical explanation, I'm sorry. 

Anyway, thank you so much for the feedback and sorry for the delay!

 

Day 6 – 00:00

Captain’s personal log, stardate 4160.23

Why can’t we just have a peaceful trip and enjoy a well-deserved shore leave? I’m starting to believe that we are cursed. (McCoy’s voice in the background: Don’t be ridiculous, Jim. Who would curse an entire ship with the common cold?)

 

Spock was mortified. Not only had he been stupid enough, in a regretful moment of human weakness, to let the captain realise that he was ill, but he had also been admonished for having being hiding that fact to doctor McCoy, although he had not really concealed it on purpose. The truth was that once he had found himself into his warm quarters, he had been quite unwilling to leave them. He had work to do, work that did not require intense concentration, and he had chosen to fill in some reports instead of adding to the sneezing chaos that was sickbay. When Jim had come to visit his first officer for a game of chess, Spock had reflexively repressed all his symptoms, but he had focused on his game and had not been able to suppress the powerful sneezes that had ripped out of him when his friend had questioned him about what was troubling him.

With the low grade fever pounding his head, he had the impression that his Vulcan shields were lower and that he was becoming more and more human, which was… unsettling.

But the captain was right. This illness was not normal. He knew it, as well as he knew that he should have insisted to be examined by the chief medical officer. But something had stopped him. And he had trouble ascertaining the nature of his… feeling. It was neither shame, nor false pride. After all, McCoy had seen him in the throes of pon farr. He had saved his life countless times. Even performed surgery on his brain. There was no place anymore for embarrassment between them. No, something else had prevented the Vulcan from going for help to the physician’s quarters. He had contemplated the thought, because it was the logical thing to do, but…

But McCoy had seemed so ill himself, and frail, and vulnerable, that Spock had refused to add to his burden. The man needed to rest, to sleep. He had seen enough ill people for the day – enough on his plate, as he had said himself.

“Captain, I do not want to disobey to your orders”, he said respectfully, “but I believe that doctor McCoy is asleep now. This illness has taken its toll on him and maybe it would be better to let him rest and recover.”

Jim coughed into his fist and looked sharply at his first officer.

“Is it why you didn’t go to him in the first place? Because he was already overwhelmed by… all this?”

Spock looked away, and he knew that with this simple movement, he was telling the captain everything he wanted to know. 3.45 seconds after, he felt Jim’s hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to be ashamed because you have been feeling empathy, you know that?” he said gently. “And no need to give me that offended glare. I know you. You cannot hide from me.” There was no anger anymore in Kirk’s voice. It had been replaced by a soft sadness, an emotion the Vulcan was not sure how to interpret. “I’m sure Bones isn’t asleep right now. You know that when he’s ill, he flees sleep to avoid nightmares. We’ll knock quietly at his door. If he doesn’t answer, we’ll leave. But I’m sure he will.”

Spock nodded pensively. He had not thought of that, although he had himself witnessed the doctor’s night terrors – and even calmed them with his telepathic powers. It was indeed highly probable that McCoy was still awake. Why had he not thought about that? He had the displeasing impression that his mind was less acute than usual.

“Hihh’TZSHCHuh! Welcome into the foggy world of the common cold, Mister Spock”, Jim chuckled, accompanying this sound with a wet sniffle. “You will find that your mental faculties tend to be somewhat lessened by the fever and exhaustion. This is an unpleasant side-effect of human condition.”

Spock sighed inwardly. It was a part of humanity he would have left aside without a second thought.

.

Bones couldn’t sleep. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that he didn’t want to sleep. The congestion was preventing him from breathing normally through his mouth, his nostrils were sore and he was tired of wiping his nose every two seconds. Not to mention the sneezes and dry coughs that shook his body more and more often. And, of course, the fever. It wasn’t that high, bit he could feel it in his painful joints, his pounding head, the impression that everything required twice as much efforts, that everything, including and especially his own body, was heavier, that everything was hard to do.

But he knew his body and his lousy immune defences, and he knew that sleeping meant a higher fever, and nightmares, and he wasn’t ready for this.

A faint knock on the door pulled him from his self-pitying thoughts.

“Come in”, he said, feeling his breath hitching as he did, and turning away to sneeze into his sleeve. “Heh-AhpTSCH’UHhh! HhhaHHTSHHH!”

“Bless you, Bones. How are you?”

McCoy couldn’t help to feel a sting of irritation and embarrassment at the idea that Jim had come to check on him as if he was a five-years old boy. He knew he was a real nuisance when he was sick, but dammit, he was a doctor and he was still able to put his patients before himself. Without even looking at the new comer, he blew his nose and answered angrily:

“I’d be better if 419 crewmembers of the Enterprise weren’t sick with the same illness, or at least if some of them were starting to feel better themselves.”

That was starting to worry him, but he had pushed that troubling thought into the background of his mind. At least Sulu and the members that had landed on Gault in the first place, six days ago, should be feeling better, but their condition had not improved in the slightest. They were not worse, but they were still congested, sneezing, coughing, feverish and unusually tired.

And that was not normal.

“Not that I want to add to your concern, but four hundred and twenty crewmembers of the Enterprise are ill now, and that’s why we’re here.”

What the hell…?

The CMO looked up from his handkerchief. Jim and Spock were standing in front of the door. The captain looked awful, with red-rimmed eyes and a peculiar and unhealthy shade of pink around the nose and on the cheeks. He coughed into his elbow and McCoy didn’t like the sound of it. But Spock…

“What do you mean, 420?” Bones finally asked, understanding at last what his friend meant.

Kirk looked meaningfully at his first officer, who now seemed filled with embarrassment (at least, as much as a Vulcan can be), and Spock took a step forward.

“Doctor, I…”

His voice suddenly trailed off and his eyes closed, and even if McCoy could easily recognise the symptoms, his brain still refused to acknowledge what he was seeing right now.

“HHeh’hIHTSHHH'hhah!”

It was strange, the physician thought, how Spock’s thunderous sneezes clashed entirely with his controlled personality. The Vulcan doubled over with the force of the reflex, reflexively pressing his hands over his mouth and nose, and he let them here, obviously waiting for another explosion.

“HehhTSCHAAahh! Haah’ATSCHUHhh!”

When he finally straightened, sniffing tentatively, McCoy was already up, tricorder in hand, trying not to panic, because there was no way for Spock to catch a common cold.

Which confirmed his gut feeling: this disease was not normal.

 

[AngelEyes]

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Well, I'm just starting to discover Dr Who (2nd season, I'm really really slow) and I really got a crush on him.

Dr Who is amazing. Captain Jack Harkness is the best! And you'll love Ianto!

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

I’m starting to believe that we are cursed. (McCoy’s voice in the background: Don’t be ridiculous, Jim. Who would curse an entire ship with the common cold?)

LOL, but we know better, don't we....

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“Is it why you didn’t go to him in the first place? Because he was already overwhelmed by… all this?”

Spock looked away, and he knew that with this simple movement, he was telling the captain everything he wanted to know. 3.45 seconds after, he felt Jim’s hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to be ashamed because you have been feeling empathy, you know that?” he said gently.

Awwww!

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

That was starting to worry him, but he had pushed that troubling thought into the background of his mind. At least Sulu and the members that had landed on Gault in the first place, six days ago, should be feeling better, but their condition had not improved in the slightest. They were not worse, but they were still congested, sneezing, coughing, feverish and unusually tired.

A bit not good...

 

6 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Which confirmed his gut feeling: this disease was not normal.

Uh oh!

Can't wait to see where this is going. Love it!