A Fine Mess- Ch. 8

A Fine Mess

By Chianna

PG - Action/Adventure/Romance
Disclaimers in part one

Chapter 8

The Quality of Compassion

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

Hoshi was amazed as they stepped out of the shuttle. They had seen the city on approach. The buildings were magnificent. They rose on spindly spires that were capped by white disks that seemed to be trying to rival the clouds. The sky was violet and seemed to reflect a warmth on the all the terrain. So it was a visible shock to bring their gaze down to the valley below and see the seemingly endless tide of tents and other makeshift shelters.

"We shouldn’t be surprised. They said that they had run out of public space and had to try to get the sick out of the city to quarantine the contagion," Hoshi said as much to herself as to her companions.

Trip was a little breathless as he observed, "I’d seen this movie once. I think it was called Gone With the Wind, ‘bout the aftermath of the siege of Atlanta, and there was this one scene. It was... this is worse."

They were met by the expected welcoming party as they approached the camp with their supplies,. Hoshi had made contact with planetary and city officials when they entered the atmosphere and explained their mission. Maybe under different circumstances their motives might have been questioned. But seeing the relief on the faces of Aviarians washed away any concerns the landing party had about the greeting they would receive.

The Aviarians were quite striking. Tall and slim, Trip thought that they did resemble the name that the Universal Translator had picked for their home world. Instead of hair, their heads were covered with a close-cropped sprinkling of feathers. There was no uniformity to their coloring. One of them, either the leader or just one bolder than the rest, stepped forward to greet T’Pol.

"Salutations. My name is Rana. We thank your people and your friends here for your assistance. Come down with us to the camp so that we can immediately set up your work space."

T’Pol acknowledged the greeting and started to organize the party, "Rana, we have need of assistance to bring the rest of the supplies from our shuttle down to the camp." Rana started to motion to some of the others to assist as T’Pol and continued. "Hoshi, show them where the shuttlepod is and work with them to bring down all of the equipment. "She will need to set up a communication’s center when she arrives back at the camp. This is Commander Tucker. He is our Chief Engineer. He will need a secure place to set up the matter resequencers that will make the antivirus."

Tucker smiled what he hoped was his friendliest, I-just-want-to-stay-out-of- trouble-and-not-offend-anybody smile. "Don’t forget that I’ll need the folks that are going to be flying some of these resequencers around the planet to work with me so that they will be able to set this up as well."

The welcoming party seemed healthy to Trip, but as they approached the camp, he was reminded of all the reasons why he tried to stay away from sickbay and all hospitals in general. There was a distinct odor to sickness and death that defied the more obvious differences in species. And then there were the sounds – bustle, confusion, shouts and tears. The camp was so overrun with the sick that pallets were placed outside the tents on the ground in any shaded spot. Once again the enormity of the crime being perpetrated on these people seemed almost incomprehensible.

Later in the day, Trip found himself making his way back to his improvised engineering department. As he approached a tent he overheard T’Pol taking care of the diplomatic needs of the moment. He could tell as the voices ebbed and swelled that news of the Vulcan’s conclusions was not well received. Things started to simmer down and Trip was sure that T’Pol’s cooler head would prevail. All their energies had to be focused on creation and distribution of the antiviral serum, Trip overheard T’Pol saying. She continued to say that once that was established, more focus could be put on getting at the root cause and coordinating communication surveillance. Good plan honey. You’ve talked me down a time or two. Just keep at it an’ Vulcan logic will prevail.

He started back to his tent, where several were helping him to prep the resequencers and ready them for shipping. They were quick and already earlier volunteers had taken over explaining the workings of each machine. All of the people in the camp had been inoculated. They were currently working on making more of the antivirus agent for those in the city as well as programming the Aviarians own resequencers so that they too could make the serum. As he started to make a quick trip to the communications center to see if Hoshi needed his help, a small brown blur ran right into him, bounced off and fell bottom first into the dirt in front of Trip.

For a moment, man and boy were too startled to do anything more than stare. Trip got hold of himself first and made introductions. "Hi. My name’s Trip, which I guess is pretty appropriate for the situation. Sorry ‘’bout that. Are you okay? Did ‘ja hurt yerself?"

The little fella shook his head rather gravely. Trip could now see twin paths of tears running down his face. He didn’t look much older than a 4- year-old human child. In place of the feathers that the adults sported, he had light brown downy fuzz. Trip checked around for any adults that might be looking for the little guy, but nobody seemed to be paying them much attention.

"What’s your name big fella? Where are your folks?" As he asked, Trip extended a hand and the boy reached up and took it, righting himself.

With the contact of their hands it was as if a dam had burst in the little one.

"My name is Rook. My mommy and I came here ‘cause she’s sick. They told me to go out and play while they took care of my mommy and now I can’t find the tent she is in. They all look the same to me. Do you know my mommy? Is your name really Trip? Do you go ‘round tripping other people?" Seemed that some universal truths hold water in any galaxy. Tears often clear up when troubles are shared with someone you think can help.

Trip aimed to cover all points. "Pleased ta’ meet cha’ Rook. Nope, I don’t know your mommy, but I’ll help you find her. Yep, ma’ name really is Trip - Charlie "Trip" Tucker. Just Trip to all my friends, so guess that makes you one now. Nope, I don’t go ‘round tripping people. I’ve a hard ‘nough time not tripping ma’self." Most 4-year-olds could identify with that final declaration and Rook smiled up to the tall, funny man with the fine, shiny yellow feathers on his head.

"Hey, I know a lady that can help you find your mommy. Want ‘ta ride up on ma’ shoulders? That way you’ll be the first to spot her." This last stroke of genius bonded the friendship and drew a big full smile and eager nod. "She’s small and just a touch greenish with pointy ears. Some folks might even say she’s kind of pretty. You can tell me what you think when you spot her."

Rook saw T’Pol before Trip had spied her. As they got closer, Rook spoke in what most kids would call a whisper – which it absolutely was not. And of course, Trip already knew that T’Pol had keen hearing.

"Looks just like you said. I think she’s pretty, too." T’Pol shot an eyebrow in his direction. If she could, she would have probably made a comment about his working even faster than usual when coming in contact with new species.

Instead, she fixed him with a steady gaze and informed him, "Most cultures find kidnapping a serious offense."

Taking a deep breath, Tucker said, "He’s lost. I told him that you would know the people that could help him find his mom. Rook, this is T’Pol, T’Pol, the big guy here is Rook."

Parroting his new hero, Rook stuck out his hand and responded, " Pleased ta meet cha’ T’Pol."

T’Pol sighed and contemplated that the Vulcan diplomatic corps might have their hands full explaining the introduction of southern grammar to Aviarian society. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Rook. I think I know someone who can help us find your mother." Before she turned away, she considered the pair before her. The resemblance between them was quite disarming and it was more than just their lopsided smiles. In moments like this she could almost make out with her Vulcan reasoning why the rest of the crew was so attached to the easy charm of this human. She could sometimes feel it herself - though admitting it did nothing to comfort her. She may have to meditate tonight for an undetermined amount of time to reconcile these thoughts.

The Aviarians were quite an organized society. In short time, one of the administrators had cross-referenced Rook’s name and found his mother. They proceeded to the tent she was. The news was not good.

When they approached the pallet where Rook’s mother was, Trip could see that things were not looking good. They had been told by the Vulcans that the serum would only reverse the disease in those that were in the first stages of the illness. Rook’s mother looked to Trip to be well beyond any help the serum could provide. From the look on her face, Trip noted, she knew the truth as well.

Rook knew that something was terribly wrong, too. He put his hand in his mother’s and held it gently.

"Well Rook, I hear that you found the people that came with the medicine to help us. Leave it to my little hawk to fly right into the thick of things. Have you been a good boy?" Rook nodded solemnly. Trip saw that the chatty little imp had disappeared and was replaced by the solemn little fellow that he had first met.

She looked at the couple that had brought her child back to her. "Thank you for your indulgence of my son. You’re arrival has saved his life." She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Trip looked at a nurse hovering nearby and saw her shake her head sadly. She only confirmed what Trip had already suspected. Finally, Rook’s mother was able to continue, "Bless you all."

"Rook, how would you like to stay with your friends for a while longer?" Simultaneously, she looked at the two aliens behind her child. T’Pol nodded at the unspoken request. Trip looked at T’Pol and was overcome by an urge that he could not resist - placed his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it gently. She did not shrug off his gentle hold on her.

"Mommy, can’t I stay with you?"

"Rook, baby, I love you with all my heart. I’m going to see your daddy soon and I need to rest for a while. These people need help from all of us. So you go on and see what you can do to help them." For a moment, her eyes left the face of her son and fixed on the couple behind him. Her words were meant to comfort her child as well as to seek help from the couple behind him. "They’ll make sure that you are well taken care of." Tucker met the pleading eyes of Rook’s mother. He knew that she did not want Rook’s last memories of her to be of her death.

Tucker gave her the answer she sought in the only way he knew how. "Come on Rook. Let’s let your mom rest. I’ll keep you out’ta trouble if you promise T’Pol that you’ll do the same for me."

"Okay." Rook bent over and kissed his mother. T’Pol was surprised as the small boy placed his hand in hers. What should she do, she thought. She simply gave the little hand a slight squeeze and led him out of the tent.

Trip stayed behind a moment, saying what he could not before. "His father is dead as well?" Rooks mother nodded. Trip looked at the ground for a moment and when he could, finally said, "We’ll make sure that he is well cared for. You have ma’ word." He reached for her hand. Blue eyes met brown for a moment. She saw the compassion in his eyes and knew she could trust this man. She smiled one last time and he caught it, turned and walked out of the tent.

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

Continued in Chapter 9
Back to Chapter 7

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!