Sneezefic by Liberty Belle

Iiliya's voice rang softly through the dim back office, her slight weight causing the chair beneath her to squeak faintly each time she rocked back upon its reinforced springs.

"I'm continually alarmed and disturbed by the lack of regard the Founders show their Vorta 'servants'. The cloning procedure is so streamlined, and has become so commonplace, that they think nothing of discarding sick or injured Vorta in order to replace them with a newly cloned version. It's unclear just how the Vorta themselves feel about this practice... but I guess we'll find out soon."

The Cardassian doctor sat forward, lacing her gray hands together atop the control panel of her desk, addressing the live journal recorder which patiently awaited her next insight. Every so often she would dart her eyes towards the Sickbay doors, studying them for any figure or shadow that might be lurking outside.

"Since the Dominion's occupation in this quadrant, and the Cardassian Union's subsequent allegiance with that empire, things have been incredibly boring for me. I thought serving as chief physician on Deep Space Nine--formerly our own Terok Nor--would be exciting... compelling. Instead, with the evacuation of all Starfleet personnel, and the cease of trade in this area, I find myself surrounded by nothing but Cardassian and Jem'Hadar soldiers, and the Vorta... none of whom seem the least bit interested or willing to have their afflictions looked after." She sighed, shaking her head. "But I'm digressing..."

The chair squeaked again softly as the slender doctor rose from behind her desk, and approached the doorway, gazing out into the well-lit but empty medical bay. Equipment and beds had gone unused for months since the Dominion's takeover... she hadn't seen a single broken bone or black eye come through that door. Her last visitor, in fact, had been one of the Vorta aides asking if her supplies required replenishing, or if she was short on staff. She'd just laughed.

"Last night," Iiliya continued aloud. "I happened to be in the brief company of what appears to be the station's head Founder--a female, as far as I can tell--and her Vorta attaché, a man known simply as Weyoun. They were inquiring after the status of the old science logs from the Federation's occupation of the station, when Weyoun interrupted himself with a terrible sneeze, which seemed to produce a slight amount of blood. The Founder commented--rather offhandedly, I think--that if his injuries were going to interfere with his duties, then perhaps another Clone could be instated to take his place." She furrowed her brow deeply as she added, "I realized suddenly that she was suggesting euthanasia right in front of him... I was horrified."

Turning from the door, the doctor continued to speak, now folding her arms beneath her chest. "It seemed to me that, if he was indeed injured, it might be something so minor as to be treatable in a single sitting... and I suggested to the Founder that I might spare them both time and resources by simply taking a look at the Vorta myself. She was hesitant, but agreed to at least let me have a look at him. I must admit, I'm interested in studying their physiology... we know so very little about them." A glance fell to the chronometer strapped about her wrist, and Iiliya went on, "Speaking of which, I'm awaiting my patient in the next few minutes, so I suppose I'd best go set things up." And then, in a mutter, she added, "...At last. Something to do. Close log."

The recording had no sooner ended that the office was filled with a dull chime from the medbay's main doors, alerting her to a presence there.

"Open doors," she said aloud, commanding her computerized aid, and stalked forward to meet the new arrival.

The anticipated Vorta entered with uncharacteristic timidity, darting his eyes to every shadow, every corner, as if in suspicion that something might be waiting to leap out at him. Knowing them to be a naturally mild, if somewhat arrogant species, the doctor could not help but draw attention to his behavior.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Weyoun?"

His flinching came to an immediate stop, the focus of his strange blue-violet eyes closing on her like a bird of prey. And yet he smiled.

"Please," he murmured pleasantly. "I prefer just 'Weyoun'."

"Very well, then, Weyoun. You appear a little nervous."

"Simply... uncertain, Doctor."

"Oh? Was your last experience in the medical suite an unpleasant one?"

Folding his robed arms he prowled forward, continuing to observe his surroundings with twitching movements of his head and eyes. He said, in contrasting calm, "There has never been a previous experience."

Iiliya frowned as she made a gesture towards one of the biobeds, indicating that he should take a seat.

"Is that because you've been in exceptionally good health all your life, or because the Founders replace you every time you're injured?"

Weyoun had no direct reply to her question, either too smart to get into a debate with her over the propriety of the Founders' ways, or believing that it was meant rhetorically.

"This bed, Doctor?"

"Yes, that's fine."

His robes were a tortoiseshell compliment to the rather bleak and solid colors of the station's medbay, his eyes perhaps the most vibrant thing in the entire room. Patiently he watched her arrange the scanner nearby, though the moment her hand descended to initiate the first pass, he cut her off with a firm but pleasant, "I'd really prefer if you didn't do that."

With her hand still hovering, Iiliya frowned. "Excuse me?"

"That scan, while essentially harmless, would reveal more to you of my physiology than I am comfortable exposing. There is a reason the Vorta are such an enduring species, Doctor, and secrecy has a great deal to do with it."

In frustration she sighed, "W... well this is going to complicate everything! I'll have to examine you manually--do you realize how unpleasant that's going to be?"

He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes creasing into tight little wrinkles.

"Perhaps now you understand the reason for my reluctant arrival."

Iiliya fumed and stormed around the idea in her head, refusing to outwardly exhibit any of her annoyance beyond the drumming of her fingertips upon the console's edge.

"Fine," was her eventual, muttered consent. "But I'm warning you now, you're not going to like this."

"Understood, Doctor. I avail myself to your undoubtedly capable ministrations."

She could at least keep the Vorta apprised of the procedure, she decided, even if she wasn't particularly happy about the methods she'd have to use. Gathering some rarely-used supplies from one of the overhead cabinets and attaching them to her computer, she began to explain.

"I need to see the interior of your throat, to determine the cause of the irritation and the source of the blood. If there's nothing there we'll need to assume you have some kind of infection in your lungs, and things become a little trickier." Returning to him, she held up a looped length of what almost looked like nylon fishing line, no greater in diameter than a piece of string, and with a tiny, glowing tip. "This," she told him. "Is going in your nose."

"My... nose?" His lilac eyes crossed distressedly as she held it up to him, forcing him to focus.

"Mm-hmm," she could not keep a suggestion of satisfaction from her voice. "For one, it will bypass the gag reflex. For another, I'll be able to take a look at the upper portion of your throat, which I wouldn't be able to see if this was threaded orally. Are you quite certain you don't want me to perform that scan?"

Weyoun stared at the fiber optic filament, unconsciously wrinkling and stretching his nose in unhappy anticipation.

"Quite." he answered finally, almost curt.

"All right..." A sigh escaped her, but she placed the heel of her palm firmly at his temple, relaxing him back to the bed. Once he was fully reclined she bent over him, carefully and gently threading the slender, translucent wire into one of his nostrils, inserting it only a few centimeters at a time.

Weyoun was fine for a moment, then suddenly gave a terrible, flustered snort as the tip of the filament began to invade more deeply.

"It will probably make you sneeze," Iiliya warned, concentrating calmly on her work. "But please try not to, until the cable is inserted completely, or we'll be here all day."

True to the doctor's word, Weyoun found the experience highly unpleasant. Not painful, exactly, but awkward and irritating, so that as the nylon wire was guided into his nose and down the back of his throat, he was forced to fight a new and almost overwhelming desire to try and sneeze it out.

"There," she said at last, stringing out the remainder of the line so that it led from his nostril, out of sight to a link with her observation console. She returned there, tabbing the controls idly as the fiber optic camera showed her the moist, dark interior of his throat.

Weyoun sniffed repeatedly, hesitant to touch the wire but unable to keep his hand from flinching towards his irritated nose.

"May I sneeze now, Doctor?" he asked, unsure he could resist if the answer turned out to be 'No'. Fortunately, Iiliya glanced over at him with an agreeing: "To your heart's content."

And not a moment too soon, either. The slender Vorta's body flinched sharply as he began to sneeze, fitfully and violently, unable to resist the irritation of the small wire.

"Ipfft! Ipfft! Ipfft! Ipfft! Huh-Ipfft!", one after the other they came, causing the camera view to distort wildly each time.

He calmed a little after that, opening his eyes and staring blearily at the ceiling, continuing to wrinkle his nose tightly every few seconds.

"Bless you," she called over to him, giving him a curious, amused look. One of his hands continued to touch the tip of his nose and upper lip, fighting every urge to free himself of the unrelenting irritation. His expression became sneezy again, and once more his small frame seized inward. "Huh-IPFFT!"

"Bless you."

"...Ugghhh..."

"Now, let's see what we can see..." Iiliya used the controls to illuminate his throat, adjusting the camera view to the limited extent of the cable's range. "...I don't see any sign of irritation or infection," she reported unhappily. She really didn't want to invade his lungs; if he thought this was unpleasant, he had no idea what that would be like...

"Nothing?" he asked, equally dismayed, flaring his small nostrils as he inhaled against the invasive thread and accidentally triggered the desire for another sneeze. "H'ipfft!" This thing was driving him crazy...

"Bless you. No... let's see... I'm looking a little further up, now... try not to--"

"H'ippff!" He wrenched inward, then relaxed back again, wildly wrinkling his nose.

"Bless you. Try to lie very still for a moment, if you can..."

"Easier said than done," the Vorta lamented, rubbing the tip of his nose with a knuckle, trying to resist the agitating sensation of the wire in his left nostril. Iiliya continued to scan, brow furrowed.

She soothed, "A moment longer..."

"Doctor... this is going to make me sneeze..."

"I know, but please--"

Weyoun breathed more carefully, uncomfortably, wrinkling his nose a few more times. It wasn't working.

"...Doctor...", he pleaded, voice taking on a strange, warbling quality.

"Ah!", she declared with sudden delight. "There, I see it!"

"D... Doctor... if you w...wouldn't mind--"

"I'm sorry--please, go ahead..."

He loosely curled his arms over himself, once again wrenching upward from the bed as his small, frenzied sneezes resumed. "H'ipfft! Ipfft! Ipfft! H... H... " Relaxing backward, flaring his nostrils greatly and giving a deep sniffle, Weyoun finally encouraged another wrenching, "Heh-IIPFFT!"

A soft groan accompanied the reopening of his eyes, though once his fairly weak sight had come back into focus, he took note of the Cardassian doctor again bending over him, studying him with great interest.

"I say again," she murmured, struggling against laughter. "Bless you."

It was such a very strange custom, the whole 'blessing' business, but Weyoun was feeling peevish enough to accept it with a miserable little sniffle.

"Thank you. He sat up, relieved when she began to gather the lower portions of the nylon line, preparing to remove it. Just in time, too... its presence was again proving ticklish and bothersome to his nose, and he wanted it out as quickly as possible. "What is it you've found?"

"...You have a very slight ulceration at the back of your throat... just enough to cause that spot of blood. I can give you an antibiotic for it, if you'd like... no cloning necessary." She pinched the slender tube at the level of his chin, using her other hand to loosely cover his nose with a tuft of tissues. "I'm going to remove this, and I want you to breathe out through your nose--don't swallow."

He did as he was told, wrinkling his nose fiercely at the very strange sensation of the tube being removed, along the way tickling the sensitive area between his nose and throat. Iiliya removed it altogether with a quick gesture, and then immediately pinched the tissues over his nose, holding them in place. Just as immediately Weyoun released an irritated, "H'Ipfft!" into them, strange eyes turning up at her as she withdrew her hand, and allowed him to hold the tissues himself.

"Bless you."

"How long will this take to heal?" he wondered, covering his nose as he wrinkled and wiggled it, trying to work out the persistent, annoying sensation of the tube. Even removed, he could still feel it...

The doctor considered the question before answering honestly, "I don't really know. For a human, it would be a matter of a few weeks. For a Cardassian, possibly days. For you? I can't imagine. You seem to be of a somewhat sensitive nature, but then again you're impervious to all known poisons... so..."

"Unknown, then. But it is treatable..." Weyoun slid off the table, unexpectedly flinching his slender shoulders forward as he released another, "H---Ipffft!" He seemed so fragile for a moment that Iiliya was tempted to reach for him, but he recovered quickly, giving his nose a careful, delicate little wipe. "As I was saying," he went on, in a voice that was still heavy with nasal irritation. "It will not require my termination." He wiped carefully once again, with small upward brushes of the tissue, but there was only one logical conclusion to such a predicament. To Weyouns credit, he was fighting it.

"Not at all," she reassured him, more gently this time. Even as she was speaking to him she could see the sneeze slowly mounting in his expression. Obviously of a species not given to much sneezing, he made none of the usual efforts at containing his distress, instead letting the smooth musculature of his face react at will to the tiny twitches and seizures of irritation. "If I may say so, I think I've saved your life."

His eyes had begun to close, but now reopened with effort, the vibrant violet of the revealed irises gleaming from beneath weighty lashes. With the wadded tissue held by the fingertips of both hands the Vorta attaché gave up all attempts to speak. His small nose wrinkled... relaxed... and he gave into an expression of sudden, almost agonized nasal irritation. Loudly he drew in a breath, pitching forward with a single, explosive, "HEHIPPPFFF!"

Her hand snatched out for his arm, catching him from a stumble, and she blinked with odd respect as he self-consciously recomposed himself.

"I beg your pardon," Weyoun murmured, touching his nose a final time with what remained of the handkerchief.

"Bless you. You sounded as if you needed that..."

"I feel much better, now. Though if it's all the same to you, Doctor, I'd rather not have anything else... inserted anywhere."

Suit yourself, Iiliya thought with amusement, knowing all the while she dare not say it to him.

"Well, hopefully it won't come to that. I'll fill out an order for the antibiotic and have it delivered to your quarters... will that be all right?"

"Quite fine," he agreed, fixing the elegant collar of his uniform, then bowing forward from the waist--a slight gesture of deference that was not lost on her for its humble gratitude. "My thanks to you, Doctor."

"Take care, Weyoun," she advised, looking after him as he strode more confidently towards the door. There was no reply, though the hydraulics hissed viciously after him as he made his egress.

The End