The Courier- Pt 2

THE COURIER

By kittytrypsin

PART TWO (Chapters 8-13)

Rating: G, Action/Adventure
Disclaimer#1 Paramount owns the original characters; I’m only borrowing them.
Disclaimer#2 No profit is being made from these ramblings (I wish).

Archive Gladly, just let me know where.

A/N: ‘italics’ indicates people’s thoughts.
A/N: **Mycros is the planet featured in “Dead Ringer”-plug, plug.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Phlox had been slightly generous with his estimation of time: it had in fact been only 8 hours before Trip’s laboured breathing had necessitated life support. The doctor had kept him sedated throughout, carefully monitoring his biosigns, and making a note of the neurological changes. Finally, as he’d watched his patient’s exhaustion deepen, he’d intervened.

“Phlox to Captain Archer.”

“Go ahead, Doctor.” Jon replied, his mouth as dry as dust.

“I’m placing Commander Tucker on life support now, Captain. I can, of course, maintain him physically on that, indefinitely, but if we are to prevent further neurological damage, we need to have this implant removed, sooner rather than later.”

“Ok, just do what you can for him. Let me know of any changes.”

Jon was in his quarters when the call came through from sickbay. He pondered for some time as to whether he should put a call through to Trip’s family. Was it fair to burden them now, if there was even a glimmer of a chance that he’d pull through? And paradoxically, was it fair to not tell them if he wasn’t going to make it? Sighing deeply, he fingered the button on the wall.

“Personal log, continued: Dr Phlox has taken the decision to place Commander Tucker on life support for as long as is deemed necessary. We are presently at Warp 5, ETA 12 hours from Hensa. So far, there haven’t been any further attacks from our unknown assailants, but I can’t help thinking that the attack must have something to do with the information Commander Tucker is carrying. I would like to commend Sub-Commander T’Pol for her quick thinking and continued loyal support. Since the attack, she has only briefly left her post, and continues to scan for the alien vessel’s warp signature. It was only her timely intervention which saved the ship…Pause log.”

Jon sat on the bed and fondled Porthos’ floppy ears, lost briefly in a moment of carefree joy as he imagined them strolling along through a flower-filled field. There was nothing that Jonathan Archer would rather be than the starship captain that he was, but occasionally the weight of responsibility was almost too heavy to carry. The buzzing of the intercom brought him out of his reverie.

“Captain Archer, please report to the bridge.”

When he entered, five minutes later, he could sense the change in the bridge crew. Travis was usually so boyishly enthusiastic about everything; Hoshi was gradually enjoying space a little more with each passing day; Malcolm was as always stiff-upper-lipped reserve; and T’Pol, as hard to read as ever. But now, as he looked at their faces, everyone, even T’Pol, was showing strain and concern. On a vessel the size of Enterprise, the grapevine worked feverishly fast, and he didn’t need to tell them about Trip; their faces spoke volumes.

T’Pol smoothed her face back to its normal blank canvas. “Captain, we have Hensa on our long range scanners. Do you wish to hail them?”

“No, for now I think we’ll keep our arrival a secret. I don’t want to give Mendos’ name out until we know whom we can trust. There might be factions on the planet that don’t want the commander’s information to reach its destination. Find out all you can about the people of the planet…language…appearance…clothing. When we get within range, a landing party will have to transport to the surface.”

Jon scrutinised his Science Officer. T’Pol had remained at her post since the alien vessel had attacked, apart from her brief visit to sickbay, and although she often reminded them that Vulcans required less sleep, he felt that she needed a break.

He spoke gently to her, prepared to quash any arguments. “T’Pol, let Hoshi handle the investigating of Hensa, it’s well within her abilities. I’d like you to be 100% fit for duty when we arrive, and for that to happen, you need to take a few hours rest. Meditate, sleep, whatever it takes, but I’m ordering you to relinquish your post.”

T’Pol could feel tiredness tugging at her resolve, and realised the logic of the captain’s argument.

“Very well, Captain, I will indeed spend some time in meditation. Please call me if you require me to resume my duties.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

T’Pol had spent 2 hours relaxing in quiet, undisturbed meditation, and felt much refreshed. At first, she’d had more difficulty than usual in shutting out all thoughts of her fellow crewmembers. She could understand the concerns and anxieties they were all expressing: fear for their stricken colleague and for the journey ahead.

Now that she was refreshed, she resolved to visit the commander in order to quell her own…‘concerns’ was perhaps inaccurate, but she was certainly aware that she did share the crew’s hopes for a full recovery of the popular engineer. He could be a most infuriating human, seeming to effortlessly annoy her at every opportunity, and yet she secretly enjoyed their verbal spats, especially when she gained the upper hand, leaving him speechless.

If he were to…die, or even lose his mental faculties, she would miss him most sincerely. These thoughts unsettled her, as she realised that she didn’t have the same feelings for the captain, or any of the others. She respected Captain Archer, and was totally loyal to him, but it was the Chief Engineer she looked for on entering a room; she didn’t always seek him out for conversation, but merely acknowledged to herself that he was there.

Of course, he could usually be heard long before he was seen, amusing all around him with tales of derring-do, and T’Pol accepted that his continued presence was essential for crew morale.

With little effort, she found herself making her way to sickbay. Inside, the lights were dimmed and the single occupant was lying still on the biobed, surrounded by the paraphernalia essential to keep him alive. Phlox looked up from his patient to regard his visitor.

“Sub-Commander, is there something I can do for you? Are you suffering from you head injury?”

“Thank you, I am quite well, I came to see how the commander is.”

“I’ve been giving him stimulants in order to keep his neural pathways active, but there’s only so much I can safely inject him with, so we have to provide external stimuli. And so I’ve been my usual garrulous self. I’m quite sure that when Commander Tucker awakens from this…adventure…he’ll not want to hear me talking for a long time. Now that you’re here, perhaps you would like to spend some time with him. Talk to him. I’m certain that another voice will be a welcome change for him.”

“Why would I talk to him? He is unable to respond.”

“That’s right, but it is a firmly held belief that even in a deeply unconscious state, we can still hear the spoken word. Many a coma patient has rallied to the sound of a loved-one’s voice.”

“I hardly think I qualify for that category, Doctor.”

“I know he regards you as a good friend. Encourage him to hold on, to keep fighting.”

T’Pol was unnerved to be asked to do this, but short of a flat refusal, she didn’t see how she could get out of it.

“What should I talk about?”

“Anything at all. Let’s see, his favourite subjects are Warp engines, food and baseball, so pick something from that list, or choose something yourself.”

Phlox grabbed the opportunity to move away whilst T’Pol sat with a perplexed look upon her countenance. He was beyond earshot, but close enough to keep vigil over his patient.

T’Pol’s eyes held a slightly startled look, but she took a deep breath and stood beside the bed, looking down at the gentle face of a…friend. She admired the contours of his face, his strong jaw and soft lips, the blond eyelashes that were closed over his blue eyes; he’d called eyes the ‘windows of the soul’…Mentally, she berated herself for her lack of discipline, at allowing herself to indulge in what she’d overheard Ensign Sato refer to as a daydream.

“Commander Tucker, Dr Phlox has asked me to talk to you. I must tell you that your condition is placing great emotional strain on the entire crew.”

She paused as she thought how her words sounded too much like a reprimand. It was true that the commander had a cavalier attitude towards his own safety at times, but he could hardly be held responsible for his present predicament. She tried a different tack. Her voice softened as she continued.

“The crew need you, Commander, you must not give in to your infirmity. If you succumb, Captain Archer will be overcome with grief, as will many of your fellow crewmen. They have come to depend on you not only for your engineering expertise, but also for your ability to lift their moods.”

She was warming to her task now, a faint flush appearing on her throat. Phlox observed her changing appearance with interest, but said nothing and continued to keep his distance.

T’Pol continued. “Last night, the captain refused his steak, and I have been informed that that is a sign of his concern for you. Indeed, I have noticed this loss of appetite affecting other crewmembers, too. You must therefore recover, not only for your own sake, but also for that of the crew. Lieutenant Reed is experiencing difficulty in sleeping, as is Ensign Sato, and efficiency is down by 12%. Lieutenant Hess is an adequate deputy, but she lacks the leadership your job demands. Your continued absence from Engineering means that efficiency there is also effected.”

T’Pol stopped when she realised that the doctor was standing across the bed from her, looking with interest at Trip’s EEG.

“Very good, Sub-Commander, whatever you’ve said, it was most certainly stimulating. You must continue.”

T’Pol straightened her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her. “I must return to my post, Doctor. However, I will endeavour to return at the end of my shift. Please excuse me.”

She looked down at the sleeping form of the man she was coming to regard as a friend. He suddenly seemed very young and vulnerable, all of his usual bravado a sham. On a whim, she gently touched his hand with hers, surprising not only the doctor, but also herself. Turning away abruptly to keep Phlox from seeing that her composure was unstable, she walked out of sickbay.”

“Fascinating!” Phlox observed, behind her retreating back. “And who said that Vulcans were emotionless?”

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

CHAPTER NINE

They had made good time to Hensa with no signs, as yet of the vessel, which had attacked them, and had just entered standard orbit when Hoshi spoke.

“Captain, we’re being hailed.”

“From the planet?”

“No sir, from a ship.”

They hadn’t detected any vessels on their approach. Jon’s eyebrow rose in a fair facsimile of his Science Officer’s. This cloaking technology might prove to be their downfall.

“Ok, put it through, and somebody find that ship!”

Malcolm touched a few buttons on his console, checking the sensor array for anomalies, and the enemy vessel suddenly appeared. It was much larger than Enterprise, and his sensors picked up heavy armaments.

“They could blow us out of the sky, Captain!” Malcolm whispered. Jon nodded grimly. He would have to be as diplomatic as all of his Starfleet training had ever prepared him for.

At first, the dialogue coming through was unintelligible. The view screen showed an alien, seated on what appeared to be the bridge of his vessel. His appearance was mostly humanoid with a few minor alterations: he possessed no ears, making the smoothness of his head seem strange, and his skin was a normal pink but scaly, and his eyes were a vivid green shade.

“Hoshi, are you getting anywhere with a translation?” Jon asked.

“Yes sir, just about got it.”

Suddenly the foreign words manifested themselves into understandable English. Jon took a gap in the alien’s diatribe to put in his own two cents’ worth.

“I’m Jonathan Archer, captain of the earth exploration vessel Enterprise.”

“Captain Archer, you are in violation of Hensaran space. My sources also tell me that you are in possession of rebel intelligence information, which I demand that you hand over immediately.”

Jon had guessed that Trip’s time-bomb might indeed be rebel information, but now wasn’t the time to be getting into the pedantics about who had the rights to the facts. He just hoped this man wasn’t of the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ brigade. He signed to Hoshi to block the transmission, and turned to T’Pol.

“You and Malcolm stop off at the quartermaster’s and see if he’s got your costumes ready. Transport to the surface and find Mendos, and get him up here with his blasted code. I’ll try to stall these guys for as long as I can.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

The away team had been on Hensa for 20 minutes now, twenty minutes during which they had managed to avoid coming into contact with any figures of authority. Their quartermaster had kitted them out in reasonably accurate clothing, and if they kept their heads covered by hoods and their eyes down, they could pass as Hensaran from a distance.

The alien on the space station had given them the co-ordinates of Mendos’ house, but he wasn’t home. T’Pol took in the unsophisticated dwellings, and observed that any citizens she saw passing nearby seemed poorly clad. She deduced that this was where those who had fewer possessions would reside, and it seemed to be in keeping with the image of rebel fighters, struggling to overcome oppression. She and Malcolm moved away from the door, unaware that they were being scrutinised from the shadows.

T’Pol brought out her communicator from the folds of her cloak.

“Captain, we have failed to locate Mendos at these co-ordinates. We will continue to look for him. What is your current situation?”

“We’re still talking, or maybe that should be ‘arguing’, because we’re not getting anywhere, fast. But on the plus side, they haven’t opened fire…yet.”

“This appears to be a relatively primitive society, Captain. Perhaps, if you were to re-calibrate the ship’s sensors, your protagonist might not be as formidable as he appears. They may be hoping to intimidate you into handing over your information by having you believe they can out-gun Enterprise.”

“Ok, keep looking and keep in touch.”

T’Pol was stowing away her communicator when she heard a startled ‘Oh!’ from Malcolm.

“Er, Sub-Commander, we have a situation here.”

T’Pol’s eyebrow rose as she took in the lieutenant’s rigid stance, and the two aliens standing very close to him. One had a weapon pushed against Malcolm’s side. As she debated her next action, a third alien approached her from behind, pressing a weapon into her back. The far from gentle prodding indicated the direction the two officers were to take and they found themselves herded into a dimly lit room.

“Who are you looking for, strangers?”

“A friend asked us to locate a man named Mendos. We’ve come a long way expressly to see him.” T’Pol kept her voice flat and unthreatening.

“Why do you want to see the doctor? You’re not from around here, your accent is wrong.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes as he wondered what they’d make of his clipped English vowels.

“No, we’re from…out of town…but we have a friend who’s sick, and we were told that Dr Mendos could help him.”

The three Hensarans exchanged looks of caution.

“Tell us who sent you here to find the doctor, or we can’t help you.”

Malcolm was all for telling them nothing, but T’Pol remembered Commander Tucker hanging onto life by a thread, and knew that time was against them.

“We do not know his name, only that he made contact with us on a space station, and directed us here. Our friend is in dire need of the doctor’s assistance. Our journey took so long, he’s dying.”

The aliens debated silently for a moment before one of them crossed the room and opened a door set into the corner.

“Come on out, Doctor. I think they’re from Fisan. Perhaps all isn’t lost after all.”

A small, stooped Hensaran emerged from the other room, blinking suspiciously at the newcomers.

“Where is the information Fisan gave you? Is one of you the courier?”

“Comm…our friend who’s sick is your courier. The implant is making him ill. We were told you had the key to safely remove it. Please collect it and accompany us, there is no time to waste.” T’Pol seemed less in control than usual, Malcolm thought, as he listened to her monotone speech. He’d begun to notice a subtle change in the sub-commander when Trip’s name was mentioned.

He was brought out of his musings by the dry sarcasm of the small doctor.

“I’m not about to leave with total strangers. What kind of fool do you take me for? You could be working for the Establishment for all we know. The courier must come here.”

Malcolm lost his patience. “The courier, as you’re so fond of calling him, is on life support because of your blasted implant. He can’t come to you, so ‘the mountain’s going to have to go to Mohammed’. Now please hurry. If this information’s as important as we’ve been led to believe, important enough to risk a man’s life over, I suggest we get going.”

Mendos drew himself up straight to seem taller. “You talk of risking one man’s life! We’re all risking our lives every day, trying to free our people from this despotic regime. This information that your friend has will help to save thousands of lives.”

“NOT IF IT IMPLODES!” Malcolm was on the verge of striking someone, anyone.

“Agreed, you have a point. It would be a shame to lose the information now. Where is your landing craft?”

T’Pol thought the lieutenant was restraining himself remarkably well, considering that he spent as much time as he did with their volatile chief engineer. But even she acknowledged the harshness of Mendos’ words as he spoke of the tragedy of the lost information, rather than the tragedy of losing their friend. She took a deep breath to control her anger.

“We had to transport to the surface, our vessel is being confronted by a Hensaran ship.” She activated her communicator and hailed the captain.

“We have located Dr Mendos, Captain. If you are able, might I suggest that you transport us up?”

“Hold on, T’Pol, we’re a little busy here. They’re charging weapons…sorry, Sub-Commander, we’ll have to get back to you.”

*********************.

CHAPTER TEN

On the bridge, Jon had ordered the hull plating to be polarised, but the ship still rocked heavily from the violent encounter. The crew were tossed about and he watched in sympathy as they picked themselves painfully off the deck.

“Everybody OK?”

Heads nodded as they maintained their posts, faces pinched with anxiety. Jon turned to Ensign York, deputising at Tactical.

“Can you target their weapons array?”

“I’m trying, sir, but I can’t get a lock. The readings are all over the place, it doesn’t make any sense.”

Jon suddenly recalled T’Pol’s suggestion that the alien vessel may be using a distortion field to emit an exaggerated image.

“Re-calibrate again, and keep doing it until the sensors recognise what’s out there, then get a lock and fire.”

“Sir, that could take hours!”

“You got somewhere to go, Ensign?”

York noted the tone in the captain’s voice and turned back to his console.

“Sorry sir. I’ll get right on it.”

Jon thought it was time for a pep talk with his bridge crew. “Ok people, the enemy is smaller but more manoeuvrable, so we’re in for a bumpy ride until we can outsmart them. Maintain your posts, Commander Tucker and I are counting on you. Travis, time for some fancy flying. Make us the hardest moving target they’ve ever tried to hit.”

Travis gave a huge grin in spite of the tension. “YES SIR!”

The intercom sputtered to life beside the captain. “Phlox to Captain Archer.”

Jon’s heart missed a beat. “Archer, go ahead Doctor.”

“Captain, I’m sure that you’re doing everything possible to terminate the attack we’ve just engaged in.”

“Your point, Doctor?”

“This continued assault is playing havoc with the delicate equipment in sickbay, not to mention that the lurching of the deck makes it hard to continue one’s work.”

“Have you been injured?”

“Not I, thankfully, but I’ve had to strap Commander Tucker to his biobed for fear of him being thrown off, and Ensign Cutler has sprained her wrist.”

“Sorry, Doc, but as you said, we’re doing everything we can. Let me know if you’re having any power fluctuations and I’ll re-route what I can. On the plus side, the away team has found our contact, and we’ll have them on board as soon as possible.”

“That’s splendid news, Captain. I’ll let Commander Tucker know immediately.”

Jon smiled sadly at the doctor’s words. He knew that Phlox talked to his coma patients, but how he longed for Trip to open his eyes, give his trademark cheeky grin, and reassure him that he was fine. Maybe soon…

^*^*^*^*^*^

“Doctor, a patrol is checking houses in the next street. Perhaps they’ve picked up the transmission signal from the communicator. It’s not safe to stay here.”

One of Mendos’ companions had gone outside to reconnoitre. Mendos explained the situation to the two officers.

“Our Resistance party is constantly being hounded. When the authorities do catch any of us, it’s not pretty. A mock trial takes place behind closed doors, swiftly followed by a public execution.”

“Where I come from, that’s called a Kangaroo Court,” Malcolm interjected.

T’Pol spoke. “Logic would dictate that we should re-locate, Doctor, but I must risk a further communiqué with the captain to advise him of our situation, and suggest that he maintains radio silence.”

“Agreed, but let’s do that as we move. That’ll make it harder for them to triangulate the signal’s source.”

Mendos’ aides checked the street before the party moved out, hugging the walls and staying in the shadows. After several twists and turns, and about 10 minutes of scurrying from one shadow to the next, they arrived at their new safe house. T’Pol had made brief contact with the ship, but Hoshi had breathlessly informed them that Enterprise was under attack and still couldn’t use the transporter.

“We will have to wait and hide, Doctor. This may take some time.”

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

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Three hours had elapsed, the longest three hours of Malcolm Reed’s life, as they moved away from the search parties time and again. They were now back inside the old quarters of the town, taking a risk by hiding in a building that had already been searched.

Malcolm couldn’t help but wonder how Trip was holding up, and what was happening to the ship. During their last communication, he’d longed to suggest to T’Pol that she enquire after the commander, but he knew they’d had to keep their transmission as brief as possible to avoid detection.

“Commander Tucker is a fighter, Lieutenant. Try not to concern yourself about things over which you have no control.”

T’Pol’s voice startled him out of his ruminations. He’d forgotten that Vulcans possessed a degree of telepathy. He tried a smile, but it felt half-hearted.

T’Pol was glad that Lieutenant Reed didn’t share her telepathic abilities, or he would have felt her own turmoil as she thought of the commander. She worried that the delay would prove to be his undoing, and she had to steel herself not to contact the ship and demand to be transported.

“Do you think they’re ok, Sub-Commander?” Malcolm interrupted her thoughts.

“We must hope so, Lieutenant, as the alternative is unacceptable. Should our vessel be destroyed, we would be stranded here with an outnumbered Resistance party. Our survival chances would be slim.”

“Trip should add you to his list of ‘grim reapers’. Captain Archer is a fine tactician. I’m sure he’ll find a way to defeat the enemy.”

“Agreed. I believe we should attempt to contact the ship again. Given the time lapse, they may be in a position to assist us now.”

She flipped open her communicator and spoke softly. The answer to her hail was the sweetest sound Malcolm had ever heard.

“Enterprise, go ahead Sub-Commander.”

“Captain, were you successful in battle?”

Jon’s voice carried a half laugh as he thought of the somewhat illogical question. Had they been unsuccessful, would he be answering?

“Yes, eventually we were able to get a lock on their true configuration. Their engines were definitely less sophisticated but that didn’t stop them from running rings around us. We just had to have patience until we could target their propulsion and weapons arrays. So, if you’ve all had enough of dodging the militia, you can come on home.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

“Captain, do you really think it’s wise to let this man inject even more chemicals into Commander Tucker?” Malcolm asked, anxious for the man who lay deathly pale before them.

Mendos looked at each of the two men. “Captain, you asked me to remove the implant. This chemical I’m preparing is the code to do just that. It is imperative that I be allowed to continue.”

“Ok, go ahead.”

Jon, Malcolm, T’Pol and Phlox stood around Trip’s biobed as Mendos touched his neck with a hypospray. T’Pol was disconcerted with her lack of composure as she looked at the young engineer, so close to death. His skin had taken on a translucent quality, almost as if his blood had been drained, and the dark shadows under his eyes, together with several days’ beard, seemed to make him gaunt. Mendos looked up from his patient.

“There won’t be any visible response for several hours. The changes taking place are physiological. Analysis of Commander Tucker’s blood will tell us when the implant can be safely removed. I’ll remain here with Dr Phlox, and as soon as there’s anything to tell you, you will be informed.”

He turned his back on the officers, taking readings from Trip’s biosigns. Jon was more than a little miffed by the alien’s attitude. This was his friend, his ship, but he was being made to feel as if he was in the way. Sighing, he turned to Malcolm and T’Pol.

“I’ll be on the bridge. Post a guard outside this door, and then get some rest, both of you. You’ve had a long day.”

“I will remain here, Captain. I may be of some help to Dr Phlox.” T’Pol spoke with determination. Jon regarded her, half suspecting that he saw concern on her normally composed face.

Jon nodded his head in weary gratitude for the offer; another friendly face for Trip to see, if and when he awakened, would be welcome.

As the two men left sickbay, T’Pol sat beside Trip’s bed, watching the monitors intently. She recalled being in a similar position less than 14 hours ago, when Phlox had encouraged her to talk to the commander. Tentatively, she touched his cold hand with her soft warm one, as if she could breathe life into him through physical contact.

“Commander, the implant will be removed from you very soon, and then you must come back to us. Your time to leave is not yet here.” She spoke softly, her words inaudible beyond the bed.

Phlox watched her lips moving, her hand still resting on the human’s. He thought they made an enchanting couple, but it was highly unlikely that anything more than friendship would develop between two such strong-willed characters. For sure, the Sub-commander was here by his bedside when she could have been resting, but their normally volatile relationship seemed to make the possibility of romance remote. How much more simple was the Denobulan way of love. Still, he was fascinated by inter-species relationships, and he would keep a close eye on this one, nurturing it in any way he could, providing they both survived!

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

CHAPTER TWELVE

Four hours had elapsed since Mendos had injected the code catalyst. During that time, he and Phlox had run copious tests on Commander Tucker’s blood, talking between themselves over the results. Jon had spoken to Phlox at hourly intervals, anxious for progress reports, only to be spoken to kindly but regretfully informed of little change.

Now, it seemed, things were happening. Phlox was fascinated by the whole process and watched as Mendos extracted yet another blood sample from Trip’s arm, an arm, like it’s twin that was already bruised from so many bloodlettings. Carefully carrying his trophy to the old-style microscope that Phlox had amongst his possessions, Mendos squinted to view the results.

“Ah, excellent, it’s here and seems to be intact. Doctor, would you care to see?”

“Why thank you, I would indeed. At least I’ll get to look at the cause of all of this trouble.”

Phlox changed places with Mendos and adjusted the settings for his eyesight.

“Tell me if I’m looking at the right thing…I see Commander Tucker’s blood components, and what appears to be a marker attached to several of the red cells. Am I correct?”

“Quite so, Doctor. Well done, they’re not that easy to detect. We developed this means of transporting our information and then of course had to make it as difficult as possible for our enemies to be able to get their hands on it. When this slide is fully analysed by a computer programme, the information it contains will be as easy to read as the printed word.”

“And what of the commander, now that the implant has been removed?” T’Pol suddenly spoke from her bedside vigil, startling the two men who, intensely engrossed in their work, had forgotten she was there.

Mendos regarded the young human on the bed.

“The neurological changes of a human body are unknown to me. However, from what Dr Phlox tells me, we were just in time to prevent permanent damage. If your Commander Tucker wants to live, the rest is up to him.”

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jon and Mendos were in his ready room together with Malcolm and T’Pol. Mendos was anxious to get back to Hensa with his newly retrieved information, but he had one last request of Captain Archer.

“Although this data will certainly change our fortunes in the war, if you were to help us, Captain, our struggle would take half the time. Your vessel is so much more sophisticated than anything Hensa has to offer, that you could overpower the government forces in the blink of an eye.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but we’re explorers, not guerrillas. We’ve become involved in your fight through no choice of our own, and now that you’ve got your information, I can only wish you well in your struggle, but I have to decline your request.”

Jon extended his hand and grasped that of the doctor. He watched with a degree of sadness as the Hensaran was escorted to the transporter. He knew that T’Pol still felt his actions in helping to free Sulibans from the Tandoran prison camps had been foolish, and how many times had that come back to haunt him? This time, he wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to question his motives.

“You have the bridge, Sub-Commander, I’ll be in sickbay if I’m needed. Have Travis take us out of orbit and head somewhere nice and boring.”

T’Pol’s raised eyebrow was her only outward response. To herself, she admitted that she wanted to be able to visit the commander, but her shift wasn’t over yet, and the captain hadn’t had much opportunity to spend with his friend. Perhaps the captain’s presence would aid Commander Tucker’s recovery.

^*^*^*^*^*^

“How’s he doing, Doc?” Jon was standing by Trip’s bedside, watching as Phlox tidied away some medical equipment.

“Better. I’ve weaned him off life support and he’s maintaining his breathing quite nicely.”

“So why isn’t he waking up?”

“I’m quite certain that he will, Captain, I simply can’t tell you when. Why don’t you sit with him, tell him about today’s events. Words are a great stimulus; the Sub-Commander was most effective at this.”

“T’Pol spent time here, talking to Trip?” Jon couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice, or his face.

“Yes indeed, Captain, the Sub-Commander has visited Commander Tucker on several occasions. I believe there may be an understanding between them that even they aren’t aware of.”

“Are you trying to tell me that they’re attracted to each other? Trip and T’Pol, who can barely exchange civilities? Come off it, Doc, you’ve been spending too much time watching the ‘weepies’ on movie nights.”

“I didn’t say anything about them being attracted, Captain, those are your words. I merely observe inter-species interactions, and from what I’ve seen over the past few days, I’d say our young Science Officer is developing a…fondness for Commander Tucker. Perhaps it has been brought to the fore by his close shave with death. Facing our mortality tends to shake us all in different ways.”

Jon was about to say more on the subject, but he was interrupted by a soft moan from the man on the bed.

“Is he coming round, Doc?”

Phlox examined the printouts above Trip’s head and ran a scanner over his body.

“He is indeed, Captain. Slowly, but a definite start towards consciousness. Talk to him; help him find his way back. I’ll be just over there should you need me.” Phlox moved away to his workbench.

Jon felt somewhat self-conscious talking out loud to his unconscious friend, but if Phlox thought it would help, he was game. He pulled up a seat.

“Hey, buddy, it’s about time you got back to us. It’s all over, time for you to get on with your life, all you have to do is open your eyes. The ship needs her Chief Engineer back…heck, we all do. Even T’Pol misses you. Meal times have been way too quiet.”

He continued on in the same vein for some time, watching Trip’s relaxed face for any sign of waking.

After an eternity, but in effect less than an hour, Trip started to respond. Phlox was at his side instantly. At first, Trip struggled to keep his eyes open, and when he mastered that, he saw two blurred images hovering over him. Blinking to focus, the faces of the captain and Phlox came into sharper view. Jon was grinning at him, and Phlox’s slightly unnerving smile almost split his face in two.

“Hey there, glad to have you back.” Jon touched him lightly on the shoulder.

Trip cleared his parched throat and tried to move the lump of wood his tongue had morphed into.

“Hi Cap’n,” he whispered, too much effort to speak any louder.

“Commander, how are you feeling?” Phlox boomed.

Trip winced as the doctor’s enthusiastic voice rattled his senses. “Washed out,” he managed.

“I’m sure you do, indeed. However, with plenty of rest, my prognosis is for a full recovery. Another day or two as my guest and I’ll be happy to release you to your quarters.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

True to his word, Phlox was ready to release Trip from sickbay 24 hours later. The engineer was a difficult patient who always managed to try even the Denobulan’s geniality. T’Pol paid a visit to sickbay, just as Phlox was lecturing his recalcitrant patient.

“You are under strict orders to take another 5 days off, Commander. If I find that you’ve disobeyed medical advice, I’ll recommend that the captain throws you into the brig.”

“I will see to it that Commander Tucker complies with your orders, Doctor,” T’Pol vowed.

Trip looked at her warily. “An’ just exactly how d’ya propose to do that?”

“You have not yet fully recovered your strength from all that your body endured. It would be a simple matter for me to overpower you.”

Phlox fought hard to stifle a grin. Trip had no such difficulty.

“Oh yeah?”

His voice was challengingly belligerent, and he was quite prepared for full-scale war, but something stopped him in his tracks. A sudden image flashed before him, of his body lying inert on the biobed, and T’Pol impulsively touching his hand. He looked up at her, startled by his recollection, and a quick grin lit up his boyish face.

“It’s ok, T’Pol, I’ll give in. I’m still kinda sore an’ tired, anyway, an’ a few days’
R ‘n’ R will do just fine. Besides, the way I see it, you always were stronger than me.”

END

Well that’s it, I hope you liked it. Please read and review, all comments are welcome. It’s how we grow.

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Four of you have made comments

I loved this. A great story, very original angle. I would have liked to have seen a bit more Trip and T'Pol interaction at the end but really enjoyed your story. Well done and heaps of thanks, Ali D :~)

Excellent! I really enjoyed the sci fi idea of transporting data via the blood stream and Trip as courier. So intriguing. And T'Pol was most concerned for OMT! Gotta love that! Keep exploring the Trip/T'Pol connection - you have a handle on them and their methods of communicating. Thanks for an involving story.

great stuff! how about another chapter or two? it would be great to see how t'pol manages looking after Trip during his recovery. thanks heaps.

I really liked that. Your story had a natural flow, including the way Trip and T'Pol communicated, in their own subvocal way, of course. I'd love to see more. A sequel maybe? Or even another chapter or two. So how exactly does T'Pol make sure that Trip doens't overexert himself? Thanks for posting the story!