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Time Heals- Ch. 3

Author - Aeryn A
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Time Heals All Wounds

By Aeryn Alexander

Rating: PG-13, Romance, Drama
Disclaimer: Fan fiction is for fun, not for profit.

Chapter Three

The beginnings of a plan

*****************

The second Commander Tucker spotted T’Pol at the hatch of the engineering compartment; he dropped what he was doing and headed for the door. She raised one eyebrow as he approached. She could not understand his haste.

“Well?” he asked quietly, glancing down the corridor just in time to see Az step into another compartment that he guessed to be the bridge.

“I assume you are inquiring about the injured crew member.” she stated. Trip nodded and wiped the sweat from his face. “I believe that he will die without the care that Doctor Phlox could provide. But his brother is stubborn, proud, and bitter, if I understand the application of those terms properly, and he would not allow the doctor onboard even if they were both dying.”

Trip simply shook his head and said, “That’s a shame, a damn shame.”

“I agree with your sentiment.” she said coolly.

“Really?”

“The loss will diminish his people.”

“Coming from you, that is quite an expression of grief.” he said.

“It is a matter of fact. To have maintained this craft as they have done, both must be extraordinary engineers, not to mention what can be inferred of their piloting and navigational abilities and so forth.” she said.

“That reminds me. Have you submitted our plan for consolidation of quarters?” he asked, managing a small grin despite the situation.

“The proposal is nearly completed, however; this mission does take precedence. I believe that I can present a strong case in our favor.” said T’Pol, lightly touching his lips with her fingertips before starting to walk away.

“You know that drives me crazy.” he sighed after her.

“So you have said on numerous occasions, yet you remain quite sane. One must wonder.”


T’Pol paused a few meters down the corridor and removed her communicator from her pocket. Captain Archer, she knew, was anticipating a report on the condition of the ship and its crew, such as they were: one badly injured and the other too proud to accept assistance on his brother’s behalf. The situation was not promising and made all the more complicated by the fact that the two Denobulans were Phlox’s estranged sons.

“T’Pol to Captain Archer. I have a status report for you.” she said, keeping her voice low and even. She was not overly concerned about being overheard, but concern was an emotion. In all fairness suffice it to say that she wanted to keep her report confidential if at all possible.

“Go ahead.” said Archer.

“The Denobulan ship can be repaired. Commander Tucker has not given me an estimate on the time or other expenditures required. He seems to believe, however, that it can be done.” she informed him.

“That’s good news then. What about ... the casualty?” asked the captain.

“He is bleeding internally and will not recover without medical treatment far more sophisticated than can be provided with a tricorder and a rudimentary medical kit.”

The captain was silent for a few moments before sighing, “I want your opinion, sub-commander. Do you believe anything could change Az’s mind?”

“I do not know, sir. Perhaps Commander Tucker could ...” she began to suggest.

“Trip is about as subtle as a phase pistol. No, I think this guy would only dig in deeper if provoked like that.”

“I have spoken to Az. I suspect you are correct, captain, but both our options and resources are limited. Perhaps it would be for the best if we simply allowed Az to do what he believes to be right.” said T’Pol.

“We may not have a choice, but I want to hope that things will work out otherwise.” said Archer.


When Tish opened his gray-blue eyes, slowly surfacing from the unconsciousness that had held him in a murky, silent world of feverish dreams and shadows for too many days, his elder brother was near at hand, watching him with a brooding expression and concern-filled eyes. The faint sound of machinery, the engineers working not so great a distance down the corridor, caught his ears, though he could not readily identify the noise.

“Brother?” Tish questioned, his normally fluting voice touched by hoarseness.

“I am here.” answered Az.

“What is going on?”

“Our distress signal was answered by an alien vessel, the Enterprise. They have sent us engineers. The Zedeev will be repaired.”

“And a doctor? Have they sent us a doctor?” asked Tish.

Az looked away and shrugged before answering, “No, but ... he is on that ship. He is their doctor.”

“Father?”

“Yes, Tish.”

Tish closed his eyes and nodded that he understood. He shivered slightly.

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah. Looks the same as ever.” said Az a little bitterly. “Do you want to see him?”

“I don’t ... It hurts, brother.” said Tish, squeezing his eyes closed.

“I can get some medication for you, but ... I’ve been told that it won’t be enough, that you need better treatment.”

“I don’t want to see him.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“And him?” asked Tish, opening his eyes.

“I really gave it to him.” Az sighed.

“Why am I not surprised? What did he do?”

“Nothing. You know, he just stood there ... and let me say my piece.” shrugged Az, leaning against the bulkhead.

“Didn’t get into it? Fath ... He was never one to back down from a fight.” coughed Tish.

“I think it was the shock.”

“Of running into us out here? Yeah, I bet he thought he would never see us again.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to see him? I mean, I wouldn’t mind. I could just stay clear of him.” offered Az.

“Maybe I will get better ...”

“It could happen.” Az agreed, only his eyes betraying him. He was doubtful. He had seen the scans. “Try to rest. I need to look in on that engineering crew.”

“Take care of the ship, brother.”


Az was not the only one who had seen Sub-commander T’Pol’s tricorder scans. Phlox had been pouring over them in sickbay since they had first been transmitted. He didn’t like what he saw, a fact that was only compounded by the fact that they were scans of his youngest son. The internal injuries were not severe, merely extensive. From his vast well of experience, Phlox determined that they were in all probability the result of a serious beating, no doubt administered by who ever had boarded the Zedeev. It was funny. He could imagine stubborn, unrelenting Az standing up to a party of pirates or raiders, but Tish was cooler, more reasonable of temperament.

“But people do change and every situation is different.” Phlox reminded himself, looking at the cracked bones and bludgeoned organs.

He had been informed that the engineering team would be rotating personnel relatively soon. Phlox had more than half a mind to hitch a ride over with the next rotation. Assistance, he believed, would be more difficult to turn down in person. But he suspected that Captain Archer would rather he not cause an incident. After all, it was hardly the place of a Star Fleet captain or members of his crew to intrude upon the private affairs of another race, another culture. He had imparted some of those ideas to the captain himself. Maybe his own beliefs concerning non-interference were coming back to haunt him.


Their night had been a short one Trip reminded himself as he grudgingly boarded the shuttlepod back to the Enterprise with T’Pol and his team. He hated to leave the work, even in Lieutenant Hess’s more than capable hands. T’Pol had left a hypospray of medication with Az, whose brother had slipped back into unconsciousness. Trip rued not having the chance to speak to the younger Denobulan. He thought that maybe he would be more likely to listen to reason. Pain could do that sometimes. T’Pol expressed no opinion on the matter, but he could tell that it was on her mind. He squeezed her hand as they entered the shuttle bay.

“It’s not over yet.” he said as they began the walk back to the officers’ quarters.

“No.” she agreed.

They stood at her door for a moment as Crewman Fuller, one of Trip’s engineers, passed by on her way back to engineering.

“Commander, Sub-commander.” she acknowledged brusquely.

“Crewman.” said T’Pol.

“Always sees us together and never bats an eye. Got to hand it to her.” said Trip as she vanished down a corridor.

“She has known about Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato for sometime. She is well practiced in the art of not seeing what she doesn’t want to see. Or discretion.”

“How do you know that then?”

“I saw her see them kiss near one of the torpedo tubes. She has said nothing of which I am aware.”

“Can I come in or do you need an extra round of meditation?” asked Trip.

“You may come in. It is my intention to work on our request for shared quarters, and I desire your input.” she said, opening the door for him.

Trip, well acquainted with her quarters, walked in and collapsed on the bed while she took a data pad from her desk, raising an eyebrow as he stretched and grinned at her.

“You want to see if we can get Malcolm and Hoshi in on this?” he asked her.

“It is my impression that Lieutenant Reed is not ready to make that step in his relationship with Ensign Sato. It would be premature and possibly ill-timed.” T’Pol informed him, also reminding him of their respective ranks.

“Well ... maybe in a few months then.”

“They are an attractive couple.”

“Just like us.”

“Yes.” she said, a ghost of a smile playing across her lips. It was the most Trip had ever gotten since the time she had smiled at the captain’s table after many days of not meditating.

“You’re beautiful when you do that.”

“And I am less beautiful at other times?” she questioned.

“I can’t win, can I?”

“The odds are not in your favor.”

Trip watched her make a few notations on the data pad, absent-mindedly pacing as she did so, but as graceful as a cat. He sighed softly and counted his blessings.

“Can you talk and type at the same time?” he questioned.

“Of course.”

“What’re we going to do ‘bout that Denobulan that’s dying over there?”

“I thought we both understood that there was nothing we can do. It is out of our hands.” she told him, something subtle and slightly dangerous in her tone, almost like irritation or frustration.

“I’ve been wracking my brain for the last few hours. I have an idea, but I might need some help to pull it off.”

“I am listening.” said T’Pol, raising her eyes from the data pad and stopping where she stood.

“It involves something of a ruse.” he said, beginning to outline his plan ...

*****************

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far (zealousgirl, tracy, and Bucky)!


Continued in Chapter 4

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