The Star Trek: Voyager premise and its characters belong to Paramount Studios. No infringement on Paramount's rights is intended. This round robin group story was written by fans and is meant for fun only. Please keep this disclaimer attached to the file.Plasma ChillsB'Elanna looked up at the engine's pulsing blue plasma core and shivered. Blue is a cold color and B'Elanna was catching a cold. With all the advancements in science, everyone was still baffled by the common cold."Great," she muttered aloud to no one. She hadn't realized that the comforting pulse of the great engines would make her wish for her bed and hot tea. What she didn't want at that minute was an emergency or an emergency medical holograph. She turned to find Vorick standing there. She sneezed. He leaped out of the way. "Sorry, Vorick. I hab a code in my node," she said as she sneezed again. The usual calm, unemotional Vulcan made a face and scurried away. "Great," she muttered again, thinking, *A Vulcan makes a face and I don't have a camera. No one will ever believe me and I feel lousy.*She realized she was alone in Engineering. "I don' hab the plague, just a code!" she announced. She leaned up against a panel. *They can cure the plague, they can cure Antarian fungus, they can cure all sorts of hideous diseases that would make a Klingon quake, but they can't cure the common cold,* she thought, glaring at the empty engine room. Then loudly announcing, "I'b going to my quarders, you can all come oud from hiding," she sneezed again.As the Engineering doors whooshed shut, Vorick and two other ensigns wearing protective face coverings, carrying what looked like cans of antiseptic spray carefully acquired from Sickbay, entered and immediately began spraying the entire area. The doctor had said the spray might help. Fortunately they hadn't heard the resulting conversation after all three were safely out of Sickbay. Kes had looked at the doctor, questioning, "Might help? That?""Well, it can't hurt, and it will make them feel better.""But they aren't the ones that are sick!""Whatever," shrugged the doctor. Back in her quarters, B'Elanna, comfortable ensconced in her red satin pajamas, replicated herself a cup of Tarkalian tea and a box of tissues, then headed for bed where she crawled under the covers. *This is miserable,* she thought, taking another sip of Tarkalian tea. *I can't breathe, I can't even think. Wonder what was in that disgusting stuff? The computer said it was a "make-my-fev