Of All...Times- Ch. 3

Of all the Times, Places, and People!

By Eratta

PG-13, General
Disclaimer in Chapter One

Chapter Three

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They had begun to move soon after daybreak, taking only what they needed as previously agreed. Both maintained introverted silences as they made their way through the marshy area, heading towards the base of a mountain. Trip, still favoring his ankle, was too deeply engrossed by T'Pol's revelations to notice that he was falling behind. Lost in his dumbfounded thoughts, he missed a root and fell, cursing as his ankle was further aggravated. He righted himself and looked down to inspect the damage. It didn't seem too severe, but the bandage had become soaking wet and hung loosely around his ankle.

"Commander?" The Vulcan's clear voice barely cut through the mist that shrouded the base of the tropical peak.

"Down here, T'Pol. I took a spill."

"Keep talking. I will come to you." She replied, her voice more audible

He did as she told him, and presently he could see the shadow of her willowy figure coming out of the dank mist. He grinned ruefully, and shrugged his shoulders. She raised an eyebrow briefly before sinking to the ground beside him.

"Have you injured yourself again?" She asked, carefully inspecting the wounded leg. Trip bit back a sigh as her warm fingers briefly massaged his cold, wet skin. It felt so good; he wished they could just stay where they were so they could continue her ministrations. But again, it was over before it started. She quickly withdrew her small, skilled hands and rummaged in her pack for the med kit. Opening it, a shadow of a frown passed her face as she coughed delicately. Trip leaned closer, peering into the kit.

"We got enough bandage left?"

"No. And we cannot continue without stabilizing your foot." She said, concern coloring her tone.

Trip stayed where he was, and T'Pol became more aware of his exact proximity to her. She had never before been this close to him, and she wasn't sure she didn't welcome the intrusion into her sphere of personal space. Close up, she could see the clear cornflower blue of his eyes, and the healthy color of his skin. His wet uniform clung to his body, outlining the well-defined and powerful muscles. Realizing that she was staring, T'Pol instinctively shrunk away. Trip looked up at her sudden movement, wondering why she wouldn't meet his eyes. He searched her face a while longer, then sat back in defeat. He would leave trying to figure her out until they were in a more comfortable location. He sighed and said,

"Go on. I'll wait here 'till they can send somebody down for me."

Her head flew up immediately, fixing him with a look between a glare and shock.

"That was probably the most illogical thing I have ever heard you say." She admonished.

Despite her serious tone, Trip chuckled. She obviously had no idea how illogical he could be, even though they had been working together for over a year. It seemed she hadn't really figured him out either.

"I don't see why." He countered patiently. "You'll make better time without having to wait for me, and I'm not too keen on hurtin' myself more."

"I will not leave you, Commander." She replied with finality. 'Damn, she had that look again' Trip thought to himself. For a woman who supposedly had never dated, she sure knew how to manipulate a guy into doing whatever she said.

"C'mon T'Pol, let's be reasonable. You know I'm right; admit it." In spite of their predicament and his discomfort, he still felt jovial enough to tease her. After all, it wasn't often he got a chance to talk to her without some distraction to take her away. In his opinion, she had used the 'I've gotta do something' excuse far too often, and as a result he hardly ever got to spend quality off-duty time with her. And besides, there was no one better to tease.

"In a different situation, perhaps." She replied, repacking the med kit.

"But as it is, you would most likely not survive long enough for a rescue team to locate you." She stood and offered her hand to Tucker, who looked at her in mock offense.

"And what makes you think I wouldn't be able to survive on my own? I practically grew up in an environment like this!"

"I doubt the Florida Everglades are home to enormous carnivores that move faster than you do."

"Never underestimate the power and brains of a croc, lady. I've had my share of close scrapes."

He stood, and instantly a stab of pain shot through his calf. Though he took the trouble to conceal it, there was no fooling the small woman he leaned on. In that moment, she made her decision. Bending down again, she removed even more from their packs, and stowed all that remained into her own. Trip looked down in confusion.

"Now what're you doin'?"

Finished with her work, she straightened and looked up at him, hoisting the pack onto one shoulder. She then settled his arm across her slender shoulders, and wrapped an arm securely around his waist. Trip was stunned, and more than a little offended.

"Hey SubCommander, I can take care a' myself. You just do what I said and go one without me."

She gazed up into his miffed face, trying to keep the amusement out of her cultured voice.

"I have no doubt of that Mr. Tucker, but unfortunately we don't have that kind of time."

She began to move further up the slope, towing a reluctant chief engineer with her. Though he knew she had a point, he felt it was his duty as a man to protest. This was humiliating to say the least.

"And what makes you think it'll be faster this way?"

"I don't, but as I already stated, I will not leave you behind."

He rolled his eyes, trying not to lean on her too much. But it was hard as hell. This slope was tricky and beyond slippery. They hadn't gone ten minutes before he's forgotten how many times he's slipped or his injured foot had given way. Though T'Pol kept silent, Trip felt like a fool and cursed himself verbally every time it happened. Finally, an hour later, T'Pol stopped. Trip was only too happy to rest and get off his foot, but he would never tell T'Pol that. Glancing at her, he was surprised to see how heavily she was breathing. Maybe the rumors of Vulcan strength were more far-fetched than he'd thought.

"Hey, you okay?" He enquired. The petite woman turned, and Trip recognized the familiar look of irritation. Privately, he congratulated himself for being able to recognize and interpret her moods, however subtle they were.

In answer to his question, T'Pol surveyed herself. Truth be told, she was not 'okay'. In fact, she was far from it. But her distress did not come from having to carry Mr. Tucker, as he believed. Though he had become characteristically irritating again over the course of the past hour, her breathing was the real problem. T'Pol now was beginning to feel worried. She had spent time in tropical locations before, but had never experienced this kind of difficulty. It was an effort to take each breath, and traveling uphill while towing a large human was not helpful. To make matters worse, it seemed her logic had failed. Yesterday, it had seemed entirely plausible that the air would become thinner as the altitude increased, but now she could not detect any signs of lessening humidity. The increasing pressure in her chest summoned a distinct sense of foreboding.

Because they were resting, she devoted full attention to filling her lungs with as much air as possible. When she didn't answer with the usual, 'I'm fine', Trip looked more closely at her. She was standing about a meter away, with one hand pressed to her sternum. Her chest heaved with each breath, and Trip could hear her wheezing slightly. Her eyes were closed in concentration, and her usually glowing bronze skin was dull and flat despite the moisture in the air. Something was wrong. Instantly, Trip was worried. He didn't know much about illnesses, but he knew that these were not good signs. And the fact that T'Pol couldn't mask them with her rigid Vulcan discipline was scarier still.

"T'Pol, what's wrong?" He asked quickly. At his words, T'Pol knew she couldn't pretend anymore. The emotion in his voice told her that he was worried; that he knew something was wrong with her.

"I . . . do not know." She replied between heaves. Presently, she came to sit beside him on a rock, and calmed herself into a state more fitting a Vulcan officer. When she was sure that her symptoms were under control, she turned her head and met his eyes. At the expression in them, she knew he wasn't convinced with her display of control. Finally, he broke the silence.

"When did this start?" He asked gently, voice laced with concern.

A lie was instantly on her tongue, but she hesitated. What good would it do to lie to him? He was intelligent and observant, and he had seen her difficulty. And although he could do nothing to help, perhaps confiding in him would put her more at ease. He had proved before that he was trustworthy, and looking into those honest blue eyes, T'Pol knew she couldn't lie to him. It was highly illogical, but she simply couldn't bring herself to tell him a falsehood now. She simply didn't have the ability.

"Soon after we landed." She murmured back, careful to use as little breathe as possible.

He swore and looked away, as though searching for an explanation or an answer. But the terrain offered none, and he had no choice but to look back at her. T'Pol was surprised to see the soft, almost tender look on his face. She had never seen him look at anyone like that before, much less herself. She had expected him to be angry for keeping the truth from him. At length, he spoke. In no more than a whisper, he asked,

"Why didn't you tell me?"

For reasons unbeknownst to her, T'Pol felt a wave of guilt and regret wash over her. It was not logical in the least to be feeling this way, but neither was denying the emotions that currently were so prevalent in her mind.

"I did not want to worry you. There is nothing we can do anyway. I have scanned myself several times, and my scanner detects nothing."

Trip nodded absently and chewed on his lip. She had observed that it was a habit he resorted to when trying to think of a solution to a problem. Inwardly, she was touched. That particular look was reserved for his precious engine. Other problems didn't warrant it, but obviously hers did. As Tucker thought, T'Pol turned her gaze up to the sky, where she saw the sun steadily climbing. Judging that they had spent enough time resting, she lightly touched the Commander's arm. He looked at her, momentarily startled.

"We must continue." She stated simply. Trip's mouth formed a thin line and he crossed his arms defiantly.

"Not with you bein' sick."

"We have been through this, Commander. This is our only option."

"That was before you decided to share with me the important fact that you can't breathe easily!"

"Our circumstances have not changed."

"Yes they have! Now instead of one of us being injured, we're both hurt. And don't you try to tell me that yours isn't that bad." He said in exasperation. He waited as she pondered an appropriate answer.

"Your point is noted, but the fact remains that out best hope of being rescued is to reach a higher altitude. We can do this one of two ways." She paused and waited for his reaction. When there was no change in his countenance and stance, she continued.

"We may either continue as we have . . ."

"Or?" He asked

"Or, I can render you unconscious and carry you the rest of the way." Her serious tone and expression effectively told him she wasn't kidding.

"You're not strong enough." He retorted rebelliously. He didn't like either of her ideas in the least.

In response, T'Pol gave him an appraising once-over. When her eyes traveled back up to his, she told him,

"I estimate that the ratio of my strength to yours is similar to the ratio between a typical human male and an infant."

Hmmm, that definitely wasn't what he had been expecting. Maybe something more along the lines of a human teenager to the heavy weight champion. He looked at her, and she gazed back at him. Neither said a word as the silent contest of wills began. Finally, Trip gave a gusty sigh and stood to stretch. T'Pol stood in turn and together they assumed their former positions. After they had resumed their walk, he ventured,

"So . . .um . . . you wouldn't really have knocked me out and carried me up, would you?"

"I suggest you don't try to find out."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dr. Phlox was feeding his impressive menagerie when the familiar sound of an opening door reached him. Straightening and coming to see who his visitor was, he was surprised to see Ensign O'Connor.

The young man had never been injured since coming aboard Enterprise, and Phlox had very limited contact with him. He wondered what could have brought the tall man to sickbay, since he had no obvious medical problems. Turning his rather disconcerting smile on the Irishman, Phlox called out in a cheerful voice,

"Ensign O'Connor, it's not often that I see you here. What can I do for you?"

Thomas smiled back, dark eyes warm with friendliness. Phlox instantly understood how so much of the crew trusted him.

"Actually Doctor, nothing is wrong with me. I was wondering if you could help me with a problem."

Phlox beamed. "Certainly! What is it?"

In response, O'Connor handed him a PADD. Phlox briefly studied it, only to find basic readings of the planet they were currently orbiting. He was mildly puzzled. Anything pertaining to the planet was outside his area of expertise. In fact, it was directly within the ensign's.

"Tell me Doctor, how doVulcans respond to humid temperatures?"

"The same way humans do, I believe."

"Even in an atmosphere like this one?"

"What is your point, Ensign?"

Thomas took the PADD back and pressed a few buttons. When he handed it back, he could see all the components of the atmosphere listed beside their respective percentages. Most of them were familiar: Nitrogen, Oxygen, Carbon-Dioxide. A few were rarer, and one was very odd. He had never seen this element in a natural combination with the others. Intrigued, the Denobulan asked,

"Can you run an analysis to see what effect this combination has on the more common elements?"

O'Connor grinned briefly. "That's exactly what the SubCommander asked me to do before she left. But with the detailed scans taking place after they disappeared, I was only able to complete it now."

"And?"

"It only affects one element; copper."

Phlox froze immediately. This was not good news, especially since T'Pol was most likely still alive on the planet. Correctly interpreting the doctor's stricken look, Thomas nodded and proceeded.

"When it combines with copper, the new compound is three times heavier than other copper compounds. I was wondering," He paused, carefully phrasing his next words. "How would that affect a Vulcan?"

Phlox's mind was miles ahead, and he crossed the facility with a few long strides. O'Connor followed, peering over the shorter man's shoulder to see what he was up to. Phlox accessed the main computer and opened his medical files. They were written in Denobulan, so Thomas had no idea what he was doing. Stepping out of the way, he waited patiently for the doctor's response.

It wasn't long before Phlox turned around, jovial face uncharacteristically grave.

"Doctor?" The ensign questioned.

"I need to speak with the captain."

A few minutes later, Archer arrived in Sickbay. He was startled to see O'Connor there, as the man had a legendarily small medical record. Not giving it too much thought, he crossed directly over the office, where both men awaited him. He had hurried purposefully; Phlox never sounded that urgent unless something was really wrong.

"What's the problem?" He demanded as soon as they noticed him.

Phlox didn't waste any time.

"We need to get T'Pol off the planet."

"We're working on analyzing the scans now."

"There isn't time for that. If they are still alive, the SubCommander doesn't have much time." Phlox said urgently. A frown was punctuated by the exotic ridges in his face.

"What do you mean?" The captain asked, feeling a stone develop in the pit of his stomach.

Thomas spoke up; earning him startled looks from his senior officers. No doubt they had forgotten he was there. "There's an element in the atmosphere that bonds to copper, making it at least three times heavier than it normally would be."

Archer was still confused. Though he knew Vulcan blood was mostly composed to copper, he didn't know what all this science talk meant in terms of her safety.

"And what will it do to her?"

"Any number of things, if she remains exposed," Phlox answered, "but the thing we have to be most worried about is her lungs. If the copper becomes too heavy, it's possible that it her body won't tolerate it, which could cause her lungs to retain fluid." That was the most simplistic explanation he could offer, knowing that the captain didn't want to be bothered with the how's and therefore's of the situation.

Archer swore and then began to pace, as was his habit in times of crisis or stress. Finally, he turned back to the doctor and the man temporarily in charge of science.

How probable is this?"

"Highly probable." Thomas answered quickly.

"How much time would she have? And what about Trip?"

Phlox's face turned thoughtful as he calculated.

"Commander Tucker should be fine. But T'Pol has no more than 36 hours from the landing before she goes into a coma. From there, it depends on the individual." He answered regretfully.

"But if we got her in the next 24 hours, she would be alright?"

"I believe so."

He regarded them for a moment, and then straightened.

"Right," He began. "O'Connor, back to the bridge with me. We'll search for them on foot if we have to. Phlox, get to work figuring out a treatment, in the event that we get them back before she goes into a coma."

The brisk walk back to the bridge was a quiet, tense one. But as soon as they reached it, Hoshi turned on them with a smiling face. She had gone back on duty after six hours of sleep, and had been analyzing the detailed scan as fast as she could.

"Captain, I've found the pod's signature!" She called.

He crossed the circular room to stand behind her. Hoshi could tell something was wrong, but knew it wasn't a good time to ask. Plus, she may not even really want to know right now. Not after working so hard.

"Have you tried hailing them?"

"There's no one aboard sir. Even though they crashed, it seems that it could have been worse, and I've got a visual."

She tapped her consol with expert fingers and an image of the overturned pod came up on the screen. Upon seeing it, Archer instantly came to the same conclusion she had.

"The door's open, which means at least one of them got out."

Hoshi nodded. Archer stood, and told her in his no-nonsense voice, "We don't have much time. I want you to help O'Connor to locate them, and when you have, notify me. Lt. Reed?" He called. The British man's head obligingly flew up.

"As soon as we've got a lock, I want you to fire up the transporter and bring the SubCommander up first."

Reed nodded his head, but ventured, "Sir?"

Archer perched on the edge of his chair, and replied tiredly, "I don't care what happens, Malcolm. You get her up first, then Trip. Got that?"

"Yes sir." Malcolm replied. Though he had no idea what was going on, it was obviously important to follow those orders to the letter. With pride he noted that was what Reed's did best.

A/N Continued: Whew, this was a long one. And now you sort of know what's wrong with T'Pol. Don't worry, I'll get into more detail later (probably towards the end). Since I took the time to write this, please have the decency to leave a review, even if you hated it. It's only common courtesy.

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Eight hardy souls have made comments

I'm really enjoying the story so far. I can't wait to see what happens!

I really like this story. Please, continue to keeping it coming. :)

This is good. Poor T'Pol, hope they get to her in time while she still has the breath left to thank them. Just hope Trip doesn't bump into any of the hungry carnavores in the meantime (gulp). Ali D :~)

This was great. I can't wait to see what happens. Please write some more!

Great part. You can fell that they grow closer to each other and that Trip seems to like her and the other way round. Awwww ... so sweet. Keep up the good work.

Great story so far, and I like you explanatio of T'Pol's illness. Waiting for more.

I want more! C'mon don't leave us hangin', this is just too good. Ensign O'connor huh! Nice touch.

ooooh. i wonder what happens next! i'm in suspense. i love ensign Connor already!!! keep it coming.