"Dough Boys" by A. Rhea King Rating: PG Disclaimer: Don't own the, CBS/Paramount does. Summary: Malcolm and Trip are kidnapped and brainwashed to believe they are soldiers in an alien war. Suffering from the flu, but determined to find his men, Archer goes in search of them. CHAPTER 1 Archer gasped, relaxed, gasped and sneezed into the tissue in his hand. He sniffed as he wiped his nose. Archer watched Doctor Phlox sit down on the stool beside the bio-bed still reading a PADD in his hand. “I have the Bastion virus, don’t I?” Archer asked with a voice pinched by his stuffed sinuses. Doctor Phlox chuckled, looking up at him. “No, Captain. For the sixth time since you’ve come in, the Bastion virus is only contagious to someone with canine, feline or anthropoid DNA, none of which you have.” “Some people believe we descended from apes.” Archer coughed, closing his eyes when it flared his headache and aching body. The doctor laughed. “So I’ve read, but you are millennia away from those ancestors and you have a rather typical variety influenza virus.” Archer looked down at Doctor Phlox, narrowing his eyes. “As in common, achy body, stuffy nose, coughing...flu?” Archer started coughing. Doctor Phlox waited for him to stop coughing and catch his breath before commenting. “The influenza virus is common on earth and first discov--” “I get it. How the hell’d I catch the flu out here?” Archer sneezed hard and started coughing again. “Why didn’t a bioscan catch it? “I would assume you caught it on one of your away missions and this isn’t an identical strain that is found on earth. Since the bioscan is ninety-nine percent effective this apparently fell into the one percent the bioscan can’t catch. However, I have been able to synthesize an antibiotic that appears quite effective.” Doctor Phlox held up the hypospray. “Once a day for the next five days and you’ll be good as new by next Friday.” Archer’s voice squeaked when he attempted to raise it. “That’s a week and a half!” He coughed hard a couple time. “I have to put up with this for a week and a half?” “I’m afraid so. And there’s more.” Doctor Phlox stood. “More?” “You need to go to bed for at least three to four days so we can get your fever down from a hundred and two. You’ve run yourself ragged in the last couple months and you’re immune system could certainly use all the help you can give it to fight this off.” “I can’t leave the bridge for three days,” Archer argued, trying to prevent a sneeze from erupting Doctor Phlox snatched up a tissue and handed it to Archer. Archer grabbed it, sneezing hard into it. Doctor Phlox pressed the hypospray against Archer’s neck. “In that case, I will see you in four or five days in here.” Doctor Phlox smiled, patting the bio-bed Archer was sitting on. “I’m sure you’ve become familiar with how comfortable one of my bio-beds are.” Archer glared sidelong at the doctor. “I can’t leave my bridge for three days.” “Captain, your crew has commanded your ship for much longer when you were completely incapacitated. I believe they can handle it when you’re only a companel call away.” “Yes,” Archer croaked. “But--” “Your quarters three to four days? Or my biobed for a week? Which will it be?” “You’re sure it’s just the flu?” “Yes.” “Is this gonna spread?” “It already has. At least nine crewmen have reported similar symptoms this morning, though not as extreme as yours. I’m working on a vaccination for the rest of the crew.” Archer nodded. “Now, go tell T’Pol that you will be leaving the bridge in her capable hands and go to bed. I will check in on you in the morning.” Archer slid off the bio-bed, wincing when his headache sent spikes of pain down his neck. “The headache will subside after a while,” Doctor Phlox assured him. Archer nodded as he walked toward the door. “Remember, I always have an open bio-bed, Captain,” Doctor Phlox called after him. Archer mimicked in a mutter, “I have an open bio-bed.” # Archer stirred when the companel beeped but he didn’t move until it beeped a second time. He reached up and slapped a hand against it. “What?” Archer croaked from under the comforter. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. There’s an incoming message from Starfleet command for you,” a crewman said. Archer pushed the comforter off his face. His headache, while not as intense as it was a day ago, was still nagging at him. Nothing the doctor gave him seemed to touch it. He could breath a little freer but his coughing and chills seemed determine to hang in for the long run. Doctor Phlox assured him that this would pass, but it was going to take time, maybe longer than he’d initially predicted. “Put it through,” Archer croaked. Archer slid out of bed and started shivering. He pulled on a sweatshirt he’d discarded earlier but he was still chilled. Archer grabbed another sweatshirt and pulled it on as he walked over to his desk and sat down. He reached out and tapped the screen, then hugged himself to try to keep any more body heat from escaping. Admiral Garner appeared with a grim expression. When he saw Archer, his grim expression turned into a deep frown. “You look like hell, Jon,” the Admiral said. “The flu.” Archer sneezed followed by coughing. “I’m going to really hate doing this to you then.” Archer tried to sit up straight but that sent spikes of pain into his eyes and neck. Archer hunched forward, hugging his arms to his chest as he shivered. “Do what, sir?” Archer asked with a hoarse voice. The Admiral leaned on his desk. “Jon, we were contacted yesterday by one of those Cardassians you tangled with a while back.” Archer didn’t reply. “He wants to meet with you. He says he has information about another mining world with Jit slaves. He wants latinum for the information. They asked to meet at the docking station on Rakix.” “We...don’t have any latinum, sir.” Archer broke into a coughing fit. He closed his eyes until a wave of dizziness passed. “I know,” Admiral Garner continued when Archer looked at him again, “We’ve contacted a freighter in your area and we’ve arranged a trade. They’ll give you the latinum and when they reach Earth we’ll settle the trade.” “How do you know this Cardassian can be trusted?” “We don’t. But we are interested in what’s happening with these Jit. So are the Vulcans.” Archer pinched the bridge of his nose. “The freighter is Vulcan, isn’t it, sir?” The Admiral nodded. “Yes.” “Why aren’t they meeting the Cardassian then?” “He made it clear he would only talk to you.” Archer nodded. “I’ll tell Captain Vardee.” “No,” the Admiral said. “We discussed this prior to making any arrangements, Jon. You are not to tell her anything until you can confirm this information is real.” “Sir, with all due respect--” “With all due respect, Captain Archer, are you prepared to deal with Captain Vardee racing off to save Jit only to find herself in a trap?” “She hasn’t offered to do anything risky since she found out she was pregnant, sir.” “And what if she does this time, Jon? Do you want to be responsible for that? Archer winced as his headache spiked across his temples. It set off a chain reaction of aching through his body. Archer mentally argued with the Admiral, but replied, “No, sir.” Archer broke into a string of coughs that made him lean over. He waited until the dizziness passed before sitting back up and looking at the monitor. Admiral Garner continued, “The meeting coordinates are being transmitted now. Once you’ve validated the information, report back.” “Yes, sir,” Archer answered. “Good luck, Jon. I hope you get to feeling better.” “Thank you, sir,” Archer answered. The monitor went back to the Starfleet logo. Archer touched the companel beside the monitor. “Archer to helm.” “Yes, sir?” Travis replied. “You should have just--” A painful string of coughs cut Archer off and it took him a few minutes to catch his breath and continue. “You should have just received coordinates from Starfleet.” “I did, sir,” Travis answered “Set course to the coordinates. Wake me when we’re four hours out.” “Yes, sir.” “Archer out.” Archer got up and went back to bed, not bothering to take his sweatshirts off. He threw the comforter back over his head and dropped back to sleep. # Trip looked back at Archer sitting on his right in the navigation chair. “Ready for launch, Cap’n.” Archer nodded, resting his head against the back of the navigation chair. He closed his eyes against his headache for a moment. Whatever the doctor had given him had lowered his fever, cleared up his voice and stopped the coughing and sneezing, but it had only dulled his headache. The doctor assured him that what he had given Archer would conceal the virus running rampant in his body from the bioscanners, but only for two hours and that was being optimistic. It was going to take them a half hour to get to the docking station and cleared to land. Doctor Phlox warned Archer he’d have to act fast or be stuck on the station until he was dead or cured. Trip turned, looking at Malcolm sitting at the back of the shuttle. “I’d ask if you were buckled in back there...” Trip grinned. Malcolm chuckled. “But then, have no buckles.” Both men chuckled. Trip glanced at Archer, noticing he didn’t find their joking amusing. Trip turned back to the controls. “Ready to launch.” “Clear for launch, Commander Tucker,” Travis said over the companel. “Save me a piece of pie, Ensign,” Trip joked. “Will do, sir.” Trip smiled. He reached up and released the bay doors. The shuttle pod dropped from Enterprise, and he turned it around to head for the planet Rakix in the distance. Trip looked at Archer again. Archer looked a little paler than he had twenty minutes ago as they left Sickbay for the shuttle pod bay. “You sure you’re up to this, Cap’n?” Trip asked him. Archer let out a soft sigh and nodded. Trip shrugged his eyebrows, looking back at the controls. “When are you gonna tellin’ us what this is about, Cap’n?” Trip asked. “Just fly, Trip.” Trip glanced back at Malcolm sitting behind him on his left side. Malcolm offered a slight shrug of his shoulder in response to Trip’s concerned look. “Well, some shore leave will be nice,” Trip commented, smiling as he looked back at Rakix. “This isn’t shore leave. Don’t treat it like shore leave. Act like the military man you are, Commander,” Archer snarled at Trip. Archer pressed one of the Jit’s combadges onto his chest and initiated it. It beeped once. Trip slowly looked back at Archer. Archer was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, sir,” Trip answered quietly, deciding to drop the conversation. Archer’s unusual short temper had been going on since he’d come down with the flu and had grown shorter yesterday after he had met with Vulcan freighter captain. Trip landed the shuttle pod on a landing pad and Malcolm and Trip stood up to get off the shuttle. “Sit,” Archer ordered them. Both men sank back into their chairs without a word. Archer handed Trip him a small metal case and gave both men a Jit combadge. “When I get what I want, we will turn around and we will walk out, return to the shuttle pod and leave. Understood?” “Yes, sir,” the men replied. “When I tell you to, Trip, you will give them this case. If plans change at the last minute, no questions.” “Yes, sir,” Trip answered. Archer stood. “You both need to keep your eyes open and your phasers armed.” “Yes, sir,” the two replied. “Let’s go,” Archer walked to the side hatch and opened it. He stopped, looking back at the two. “And remember you are military officers and act it.” “Yes, sir,” both men replied. The three left the shuttle pod with Archer leading the way. They came to a crowd of people that bottlenecked into five bioscanners before entering the space dock merchant area beyond. Archer passed through the scanner, glancing at someone when his or her hand brushed against the back of his. The alien glanced at him as she pressed past Archer in a hurry to get through the line. Trip and Malcolm followed, quickly catching up to Archer and fall in behind him. “I feel like we’re being watched, sirs,” Malcolm said. Trip nodded. “By more than one species. You see those humanoids with green eyes?” “Black, scaly skin and hooded cloaks?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah.” “Hush,” Archer quietly commanded his two officers, “Stay focused.” Trip and Malcolm fell silent. Archer entered a bar filled with a variety of aliens. Behind the bar two Ferengi were serving customers. At the back of the bar a group of aliens stood around a table that looked like a roulette table. At the head a tall, scantily dressed alien woman stood with a clear stick in her hand. The group suddenly yelled, “Dabo!” and there was cheering. “Focus,” Archer said, his voice cracking. Malcolm and Trip looked at him. Malcolm looked back when someone pushed against him. An alien covered with a dark brown exoskeleton was watching him. The alien spoke in a language that was incomprehensible to him. Malcolm looked down when something touched his hand and pulled his hand back from the alien’s tentacle. Malcolm hurried to catch up to Archer and Trip, glancing back at the alien. Archer led them through the crowd to the back where two Cardassians were sitting. Archer sat down across from them, crossed one leg over the other and rested his hands on his leg. Malcolm and Trip exchanged concerned glances, but remained silent guards behind Archer. “I requested to meet with you alone,” the combadge translated the Cardassian’s language for the men. Archer lifted his chin. “Do you have it or not?” The two Cardassians looked at one another. One slid a PADD across the table to Archer. “Our latinum,” the Cardassian demanded. Archer picked up the PADD, reading over the information. “Our latinum,” the Cardassian demanded again. Archer shook his head, tossing the PADD onto the table. “This isn’t the information you promised. It’s incomplete.” “It’s all we have.” Archer stood. “Let me know when you have the information you promised Starfleet. Then we’ll have something to exchange.” Archer turned to walk away. The Cardassians stood, reaching for their weapons. Malcolm and Trip drew their weapons faster, holding them on the Cardassians. Around them people scattered and the din of the bar fell silent for a few seconds. Archer looked around at the crowd, saying, “If you shoot,” Archer slowly looked around, meeting the Cardassians gazes, “my men will kill you.” The Cardassians slowly laid their weapons on the table. “Now, we can make this an incident...or you can give me what this exchange was based on,” Archer told the Cardassians a low voice. His voice was beginning to grow hoarse and crack the more he used it. The Cardassian scowled. Trip stepped closer to Archer in response to the Cardassian quickly reaching behind his back. The Cardassian slowly pulled his hand around, holding up another PADD. He tossed the PADD on the table. Archer picked it up and scanned the information. “Give ‘em the case,” Archer said, his voice much weaker now. Trip sat the case on the table. The Cardassian grabbed it and opened it. He looked up at Archer and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Captain.” Archer turned and started toward the door. Malcolm and Trip backed up a few steps with their weapons still drawn. The two turned together and hurried to catch up with Archer. They found him outside the bar leaning against a wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose to ease back the headache that was growing more intense, a sign that the drug Doctor Phlox had given him was wearing off. When Archer spoke his voice was nearly spent, “We have to get out of here. Now.” Archer turned, heading for the landing pad. Trip glanced behind them. “Cap’n,” Trip said. Archer and Malcolm looked back. The Cardassians were talking to someone in a hooded cloak. “Let’s go,” Archer said. Trip turned and ran into someone. The alien grabbed Trip’s wrist, shaking his free hand at Trip. Trip pulled back, moving around the alien. He looked back and the alien was still yelling and shaking his hand at Trip. He turned, following Archer and Malcolm back to the shuttle. Archer dropped into the co-pilot’s seat when they reached the shuttle, putting his forehead in his hand and massaging his temples. “Take us home, Trip,” Archer whispered. “Aye, Cap’n,” Trip said, initializing launch. # Malcolm sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. He felt Sista slide her arms over his shoulder and down his chest as she rested her chin on his shoulder. Malcolm smiled, picking up her hand and kissing it. “Come to bed,” Sista whispered. “I have to finish these figures, sweetheart,” Malcolm said. “It late,” Sista quietly whined “I know, but I have to finish this. Captain Archer’s temper hasn’t been very pleasant since he’s been sick, you know,” Malcolm said. Sista sighed. Suddenly she grabbed the PADD from his hand. “Vardee,” Malcolm said, standing up. He turned, grabbing for the PADD. Sista smiled, backing toward the bedroom as she put one arm across her abdomen. She dropped the PADD down the front of her nightgown, smiling seductively at him. “Oh no. I lost PADD. Now you have to find,” then Sista disappeared into the bedroom. Malcolm smiled, following her into their bedroom. Continue to Chapter 2

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