“Ensign, how are you feeling today?” asked Doctor Phlox as Lili sat on the scanner bed, her legs dangling over the side.
“No complaints.”
“Good, good, now, lie back and let’s have a look at you.”
“A little quickly, if that’s possible, okay? I’m not a fan of being in the scanner tube for too long,” she said.
“Understood. Ah, now, you are, chronologically, forty-five years of age. Your blood pressure is rather good – it’s one ten over sixty-seven. Your resting pulse is also very good – sixty-nine beats per minute.” The doctor flipped a switch and the scanner bed began to slide into the scanner. “I’ll make this as brief as I can.”
“Thanks, Doc. Anything exciting on the monitors?”
“Hmm, that’s interesting,” he said as he reversed the bed to bring it out.
“Bad interesting?”
“No, but I have the explanation for why your numbers are so good. You have a very slight kink in your left circumflex artery.”
“What is that going to do to me? Will I die young, or something?” she sat up in alarm.
“No, no, it’s nothing, really.”
“Really?”
“I am telling you the truth, Ensign. It’s a very, very minor flaw. And it’s actually not much of a flaw at all, as it’s helping you by artificially keeping your pressure down. I imagine you ingest a lot of salt and calories in your profession.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, patting her belly, which, although not large, was not exactly flat, either.
“What I mean is, while I would prefer that you lost a few kilos, the tests tend to belie that. Your pressure and resting pulse are both as low as an athlete’s.”
“I played shortstop on my High School’s baseball team when I was a kid, but that was close to thirty years ago – I mean, it’ll be in the 2120s. I still can’t get the years and the verb tenses right.”
“No one can,” the Denobulan smiled. The smile was too wide, and it could be unnerving. “Tell me about your mental state, if you would. And, feel free to get dressed.”
“Well, I feel okay. I mean, I bet everyone’s going to talk to you about matters of the heart. Is that the motivation behind all of these physicals?”
“You got me. It is one of the motivations, although it is by no means the only one. Tell me what you think.”
“I imagine I’ll be the last woman selected,” Lili said as she zipped up the jacket of her chef’s whites. “I am, after all, older than all of the women here except for T’Pol.”
“But you’re close in age to the captain, and to Lieutenant Reed. Crewman Harris and Major Hayes are both older than you, in point of fact. I am older than you as well.”
“It’s age and it’s attraction, and they probably also look at me and think I’m a reproductive dead end.”
He looked at a screen. “A moment; the computer is counting.”
“Counting?”
“Yes; you might be curious about how many eggs remain in your ovaries.”
“So you’ll know, more or less, when I become fully menopausal?”
“Precisely. Ah, there, we have it. Ninety-two.”
“So, that’s, what, it’s less than ten years.”
“It’s a little over seven, assuming that you release one egg per month – and it may be more or less than that, on average, near the end of your fertility. I would say that you’ll be done in late 2044, early 2045 at the latest.”
“So I’d be around fifty-two or so, or barely hitting fifty-three when I became fully menopausal?”
“I’d say so. Therefore, you are, currently, as fertile as, well, as Hoshi Sato or Tara Balcescu presumably are. I haven’t tested them yet – plus their situations wouldn’t be the subject of public discussion, anyway.”
“And mine shouldn’t be, either,” Lili said, “It’s not like I’m gonna go into the cafeteria, stand on a table and suddenly yell, ‘C’mon, boys! I got another seven years left! I’m still getting my period!’ It, uh, it just doesn’t work that way.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does. Still, I can see why you’re in the predicament that you are in. It’s fascinating to me, truly. You humans are rather uptight about your sexuality and all manners when it comes to relations, yet you gossip about each other as if it were the most intriguing of subjects! And you hem and haw and push and pull and advance, then retreat, when it comes to declaring your attractions.”
“Thrust and parry,” she said.
“Let’s not get vulgar, Ensign.”
“Uh, I didn’t mean it that way, Doc. Are, um, are you hitting on me?”
He looked at her a bit quizzically. “I apologize if that was the impression.”
“You’re hurting, too, aren’t you?” she asked, “And I bet you’ve got a similar issue, where you need to get it across that you’re, well, not to put too fine a point on it, but that the parts would fit and you would be a good, loyal mate for someone.”
He looked down.
“I’m sorry,” Lili said, “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. But it almost feels like we should be out there, broadcasting everything. We’d tell everyone our preferences and our levels of physical fitness and our quirks and we’d all choose. Or, better yet, we’d just feed it all into the computer and let it decide, eh? But deep down, I think none of us want that. I mean, I don’t want to be picked because of the children that I apparently can still have. That would be a bonus, but it shouldn’t be the reason why anyone wants me. I want to be, well, I want to be loved for me. Or at least liked! And for the whole package – not just what’s still in my ovaries, as if all I was; I was some baby bank, or something.”
“You know,” the doctor said, “I should not be blaming this stalemate just on humans and human nature. It is the situation that we are in.”
“Right,” she said, “we’re just fumbling around, and we’re all doing a pretty lousy job of it, I’d say. I don’t even think most of the gossipers are mean, not really, or at least they don’t intend to be. I think it’s more that there just isn’t any news, so they just make stuff up.”
“Probably.”
The doors swished open. It was Crewman Hamidi. “Doctor, I can come back later,” he said once he saw Lili.
“Oh, it’s all right. The Ensign and I are finished here.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Lili said, and departed.
=/=
“Sir, I have something on long-range sensors,” Malcolm reported.
“Oh?”
“I believe it’s a Xindi warp signature.”
“In this area?” Jonathan asked. They were a few light years away from the as-yet-unnamed temperate planet, but even that seemed to be too close for comfort.
T’Pol looked up from the Science station. “Confirmed. It’s a small vessel, possibly a scout ship.”
“Looks like they’re heading away from us,” Travis Mayweather said, checking the piloting station.
“Very well,” the captain stated, “I don’t think we need to be going out and looking for trouble.”
“What if it finds us, sir?” Hoshi asked.
“Huh, well,” Archer thought for a moment, “I’m open to suggestions. We don’t really have allies and we can’t really go around looking for them. How are we going to know whether something we do affects the timeline too much?”
“You will recall,” T’Pol reminded him, “that we laid certain ground rules when it came to contact with other species.”
“True,” Jonathan allowed, “but in the face of an enemy, I don’t think we can always hide. I mean, do you think that’s even possible?”
“It could be; if I may interject,” Malcolm said, “it could be that, since it’s 2037 and the Xindi have not yet seen humans, they might not see us as posing a threat. We might not have to hide much at all, and should simply stay out of their way.”
“We have the Xyrillians,” Travis suggested.
“And they’re our only allies,” the captain noted, “I’d rather not impose upon them to fight a battle for us.”
“That may happen, regardless of protocol,” T’Pol speculated, “However, it is true that we may need to cultivate some friendships. Perhaps our contact rules need to be rethought.”
“I’d really like to know if anything we’re doing affects the timeline,” Archer mused.
“Ensign Sato and Commander Tucker and I could again attempt to go through Crewman Daniels’s things,” Malcolm offered. Daniels was a time traveler. He was gone but his equipment remained, under lock and key. They had, earlier, attempted to use it, and had come up empty-handed, but maybe things would be different this time. Plus, if they could contact him, maybe he could get them back to the correct time – 2154.
“Let’s change up the team,” the captain suggested, “It’ll be T’Pol, me and you,” he told Malcolm. “Hoshi, you have the Bridge. And get MacKenzie, Jones and Haroun up here to fill in. I want to take my time, if I can. Let’s see if we can reach Richard Daniels. Stand by, Hoshi. If we need you for transmission, we’ll call you, and maybe even Tucker if there’s any engineering work to be done. I’m tired of passively sitting around. I want to do whatever we can, right now, to use Daniels’s equipment as much as possible.”
=/=
“So, Crewman, you are feeling all right?” Phlox asked Security Crewman Azar Hamidi.
“Sure, I’m fine.”
“May I ask you a few non-medical questions?”
“Uh, I guess so.”
“Are you a very religious man?”
“Sir?”
“I am, let’s just say that I have been asked to inquire about such things.”
Azar thought for a few seconds. “Crewman Haroun; you must be asking because of her.”
“Yes,” Phlox admitted, “she has asked me to behave; I believe the term is in loco parentis.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Azar allowed, “I, well, I’m kinda half and half. I pray but I’m in Security so I need to be available at all times. Lieutenant Reed does make an effort to not interfere with prayer times, but the Xindi and the Suliban and everyone else we’ve encountered, well; they haven’t always been quite so accommodating.”
“Of course. And I understand that your, your income, at least until we were thrown back in time, it was considered to be halal, yes?”
“Yes,” replied the young crewman, “it is in keeping with our faith. I take it you performed the physical in order to check my physical fitness.”
“The term is good appearance, right?”
“Don’t forget bodily cleanliness.”
“Right,” agreed Phlox, “and I am checking those things but naturally you are aware that you are not the only person getting a physical during these next few days.”
“Got it, Doc. There’s more, yanno, there’s the ability to make mature judgments; a forgiving nature, tolerance, an even temper; and being from a decent stable family. How are you gonna determine some of those?”
“I can only determine about your family from a perusal of records. Even then, it’s not a perfect indicator, but it will have to do. As for the remainder, Crewman Hamidi, you and Private Azar will be observed by me. Consider yourself to be on notice.”
“I, I see,” Azar replied, “I won’t ask you anything about it, nothing more. I just want you to know that I hope that you pick me for Maryam. But if you don’t I’ll, I will try my best to understand.”
=/=
Malcolm got the huge lock off Daniels’s door and the three of them walked inside. “I know there’s a kind of database,” the captain noted, “let’s start with that.”
T’Pol and Malcolm rummaged around the desk. “Is this it?” asked Malcolm. It was a handheld device, about the same size and weight as a PADD, but it was more rounded at the corners.
“I think so,” Jonathan said. He clicked around on it, trying to turn it on.
=/=
In 3098, Richard Daniels had just returned from a trip to AD 79 Pompeii. He was tired and his feet had been pretty badly burned from running through stone city streets that were on the verge of becoming lava fields. He heard an alarm chirp.
Quickly, he traced the source – it was disturbance of his devices, by the NX-01, in 2037. “Now, Jonathan,” he said aloud to no one, “I put passwords and thumb print identifiers on everything for a reason.”
The chirping persisted. He sighed. “I wish I could tell you that there is a species you are going to become friends with, good friends. And another that you’re going to battle – and it’s not just the Xindi – it’s another one. And I could tell you things about the Xindi as well, but I bet you wouldn’t believe me. Just, just, keep an open mind, and look for your answers within. Don’t come to me and my stuff for your answers. I’d love to give them to you, but you’ve gotta figure that I can’t. Get out there. Meet people. The timeline isn’t as fragile as you fear.”
The chirping suddenly stopped. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s only the first iteration. And take care of my ancestors, all right?” He got up, a little gingerly, as the bottoms of his feet still burned a bit, and headed to the Sick Bay at the Temporal Integrity Commission.
=/=
The three of them returned to the Bridge. Everyone looked up. “Those are the looks of bad news,” deduced Aidan.
“That’s right,” Malcolm confirmed, “we were unsuccessful. Stand down, Mister MacKenzie.”
“Aye, sir,” He left with Maryam and Diana as the Bridge crew all returned to duty.
=/=
Phlox wrapped up the last of his examinations and began to feed his experimental animals. “We’ve had quite a day today,” he said to the Derellian bat. “I’ve got two more of the people who I thought were depressed to admit so. That’s good, but Crewman Brodsky did not admit to her condition. So there’s a problem right there. Ah, we’re all done. Time for me to dictate.”
He sat down on a stool and clicked on his desktop computer. “Computer, dictation mode.”
“Ahem. Chief Medical Officer’s Log, October twenty-first, 2037. I have conducted ten physical examinations today. At this rate, I can finish in about a week and a half. However, if other matters arise it may be longer than that. Here are my findings so far.”
He scratched his wrist before continuing. “Captain Archer is in excellent physical health. We discussed his mental health, and he owned up to his clear, to me, feelings of depression. I gave him an injection of hypralonine and gave him a one-week supply of quatromenaline. He is to return when the quatromenaline has run out, and then I will reassess his mental state and his overall serotonin levels.” He paused a moment.
“I also had occasion to retrieve samples of all bodily fluids. That is one of the reasons for these physical examinations – to assess reproductive fitness and to stimulate any questions that crew members might be having about sexuality, performance issues, marriage, fertility, or any of a dozen other topics. Furthermore, with Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol, we will be discussing their reproductive options, seeing as they are of dissimilar species.
As for the captain’s own sample, I found that the count was good and motility levels were somewhat higher than would be expected in a forty-two-year-old human male.
I next examined Lili O’Day. This crew member does not appear to be suffering from depression. She is, though, somewhat perimenopausal. I performed an ovarian scan, and determined that she has, at most, just under eight years of fertility remaining.
Next I examined Crewman Azar Hamidi. This crew member is fully fit and virile, as would be expected of a human male in his twenties. He, too, appears to be free of depression. We also discussed Crewman Haroun, as that is another reason for these examinations – to begin to determine whether he or Private Ramih Azar would be a more suitable husband for the sole Muslim female aboard – Crewman Maryam Haroun. These inquiries are being performed at her request.
Hamidi’s answers to my inquiries were satisfactory, and I did inform him that his actions would be observed by me as a part of making my determination. At this point – and I did not tell the crewman this – his behavior has been good, and there are no strikes against him as of yet.
Nyota Warren was my next patient. I determined that there was a slight blockage in her left fallopian tube. That has been cleared.
Private Rex Ryan was next. His physical fitness and virility were as would be expected of a typical human male in his twenties. He also confided that he has been experiencing some feelings of depression. I gave him an injection of hypralonine and he will check back with me tomorrow. Depending upon his reaction to the drug, I may adjust the dosage accordingly.
Crewman Sandra Sloane was next. She is in her thirties; her fitness and fertility have met expectations.
Crewman Meredith Porter, who is over forty, has, I believe, about six more years of fecundity ahead of her.
Crewman Mara Brodsky was physically fit but denied what I feel to be depression. I informed her that my door is always open in the event that she ever feels the need to talk.
Crewman Christian Harris was physically fit for a human male in his late forties. But he had a rather low sperm count. We discussed this, and he informed me that he has always had a rather low sex drive, and that he often feels quite asexual. He informed me that he did not wish to pursue any treatments to restore or enhance virility.
Crewman Ethan Shapiro and I discussed his depression. The hypralonine injections do not appear to be working, so we are going to try an oral course of quatromenaline. We will reassess after one week.
Tomorrow, two of my appointments will be with Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol.
=/=
In the gym, the MACOs finished their last drills of the day. “Okay,” said Major Hayes, “tomorrow, I’ve got a physical at eleven hundred hours. Corporal McKenzie will lead you in drill number six at that time. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Dismissed.”
=/=
Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, October twenty-first, 2037
I’ve got seven years left. Whooda thunk it? I guess I’m glad I’m not impossibly old yet. But I think that won’t be enough. I bet they all think I’m the hopelessly ugly sous-chef.
=/=
Jay Hayes’s Personal log, October twenty-first, 2037
I’ll see the doc tomorrow. And I guess I’ll mention to him how low I’ve been feeling. The MACOs under my command – they can never know.
It’s getting tougher, not having anyone to really confide in. It’s not like I want to get hammered or anything, but the NX-01 could really use a good bartender.
=/=
Ethan Shapiro’s Personal log, October twenty-first, 2037
I don’t feel any different. I guess I have to wait for the new drug to take effect. I know what would cure me, or at least it should. But it’ll never happen.
Josh is a friend of mine, a good friend. And Karin is his girl. But it’s true – what would really bring me out of it would be if Karin were to come to my quarters and tell me that she wanted me, and not him.
Hey, a fella can dream, can’t he?