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There were some drawbacks to having a practically all-human crew in a tight, isolated ship. Sickness traveled quickly. If one person got sick with anything as benign as a cold, it wasn’t long before everyone on the ship had to visit Sickbay for a decongestant or analgesic. Luckily for the crew of the Enterprise , their doctor and head science officer were not humans and thus, immune to most viruses that afflicted the human race.
For them, however, not being the only ones sick was not a blessing but, in fact, a curse. Humans, T’Pol constantly noted as she and Phlox ran about convincing crew members (from lower deckers all the way to Captain Archer) to stay in their beds, were incredibly stubborn. They had a tendency to want to do an insurmountable amount of work when they truly should’ve been in bed.
“Lieutenant Reed!” Phlox exclaimed as he shoved Malcolm back down onto the biobed, “You have a temperature of 102°! The torpedoes do not need to be recalibrated at this time!”
Malcolm, profusely sweating, struggled weakly under the doctor’s strong grip.
“But, Doctor,” he panted, “If we’re attacked-”
Suddenly, he fell limp and Phlox glanced up to find T’Pol pressing a hypospray to his shoulder.
“I thought it would be best to sedate him. Knowing Lieutenant Reed, I find it highly unlikely that he would’ve complied with your orders.”
These terrible illnesses always resulted in an exhausting few days for the two aliens aboard the NX-01. They didn’t mind too much, however. At least, they didn’t seem to mind.