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A Life Worth Living- Chapter 11

Author - Gabi
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A LIFE WORTH LIVING


By Gabi

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst

Summary: What if both Trip and Sim had survived the transplantation? Takes place during Similitude

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own the characters and I don't make any money with this story.

~~~

Chapter 11

Malcolm sat on the bench and watched Sim and Trip. He was deeply worried. Neither man looked well. It was to be expected that Trip's condition would deteriorate, but Malcolm couldn't understand why Sim was looking so pale. It had cost him a great effort to drag Trip through the forest, not to mention Malcolm's strenuous rescue, but Sim was a strong young man who should be able to put up with some strain. Could it be that Sim's general physical condition wasn't as good as Trip's? Given the fact that Sim had never left Enterprise before and had never had to exert himself, it could indeed be possible. Letting his gaze wander from Sim to Trip, Malcolm wondered how he had ever mistaken them. It was so obvious who was Trip and who was Sim. They had the same features, the same manner of moving, the same characteristic gestures, but all the same they looked different and it wasn't because of the nasty bruise that was beginning to form on Sim's cheek.

Malcolm frowned. "What's that?"

When Sim opened his eyes and gave him a questioning look, Malcom ran his hand across his own cheek. "You've got a bruise there. Where did it come from?"

The corner of Sim's mouth twitched a little. "Guess it was a certain security officer's boot."

Malcolm's eyes widened in dismay. "I kicked you?"

"You were panickin', Malcolm," Sim reassured him. "It's only natural that you lashed out. Unfortunately I got in the way of your foot when I tried to tear the vine apart."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm muttered.

"It wasn't your fault. You weren't quite yourself. Just forget about it."

Malcolm nodded, swallowing. "Have I thanked you for saving my life?"

Sim smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

Malcolm licked his lips. "You know, in the beginning, I felt somewhat uncomfortable in your presence. Looking at you and knowing that Trip was lying in Sickbay on the brink of dying felt awkward."

"I understand. It wasn't easy for anybody."

"But I've realized that you're not only Trip's clone. You're an independent human being who makes his own decisions. Maybe they're the same decisions Trip would make, but it is obvious that although you have Trip's memories, you're not him. You're an individual."

"So you don't feel uncomfortable in my presence any longer?"

"No, that feeling passed a long time ago. What I wanted to say is, I consider you my friend and not because you look and act like Trip, but because you are you."

"Thanks, Malcolm. That means a lot."

Malcolm nodded, standing up to get over the embarrassment this confession had caused him. He stopped the blood transfusion and removed the device. Studying Trip's face, he stated, "He's looking better."

"That's good." Sim got up, but suddenly he stumbled and reached blindly for support.

Malcolm steadied him until Sim stopped swaying. "Dizzy?" Malcolm asked.

Sim only nodded, biting down on his lip, hard.

Malcolm led him to the other bench and helped him to lie down. "I think that's normal. You just lost half a liter of blood. Get some rest."

Sim swallowed and closed his eyes. "What about you? There's no bench left."

"Doesn't matter. I couldn't go to sleep now anyway. I'm going to get the shuttle ready for take-off."

"D'you know when the next window will open?" Sim's voice was only a low whisper and Malcolm had to strain his ears to understand him.

"No, not exactly. We'll have to fly to the region where the windows open and simply try to catch it as it begins to form."

"You can't do the pre-flight check with only one arm. I'll help you."

"I'll manage, Sim. You can help me later on. First you have to rest."

Sim complied far too obediently, closing his eyes. After casting him a worried glance, Malcolm went to the helm.

As he checked the instruments, a smile began to tug at his lips. "Look at this," he muttered when he realized what he was looking at. "T'Pol sent us the exact data for the next window," he said over his shoulder. "I guess the captain told her to do so when we didn't answer his call. That will make things a lot easier."

He turned around when he heard a sharp hiss behind him. Sim had dug his fingers in the grey fabric of his uniform, in the center of his chest. He was gasping for air.

"What is it, Sim?" Alarmed, Malcolm jumped off the chair. He knelt down next to Sim, who was panting and obviously in a lot of pain, pressing both his hands onto his chest.

"What is it?" Malcolm asked anxiously.

"Could be a heart-attack." The words were so soft that Malcolm wasn't sure if he had understood them right.

"A heart-attack?" he asked incredulously. "Why would you suffer a heart-attack?" Without waiting for an answer, Malcolm lifted Sim's upper body and leaned his friend against the bulkhead in order to ease his breathing and prevent the blood from his legs from running to his heart and putting more strain to it than it could handle. He remembered that his grandfather had had a weak heart and that he had always had a small box with nitroglycerin pills in his pocket. Malcolm rummaged in the medkit, but he knew that he wouldn't find anything useful. Members of an away mission weren't supposed to suffer from a heart condition and of course the box wasn't equipped for all possible occasions. Only the scanner would be of any help, but simply to confirm Sim's suspicion. Malcolm had just switched on the small device when Sim sighed and started to relax. His pain seemed to ease and Malcolm swallowed in relief. Perhaps it hadn't been that bad. Watching Sim writhing in pain had almost driven him crazy and the helpless feeling had rapidly turned into despair. If it had indeed been Sim's heart, it would be essential to take him to a doctor immediately. But they were stuck on this planet for another hour. Malcolm laid the scanner aside to steady Sim who had started to tremble.

Sim took a shaky breath. "I think it's over," he croaked.

"Why would you think it was a heart-attack? Perhaps it was only the exhaustion that made itself felt."

"I don't know. No matter what it was, it hurt like hell." Sim tried to breathe deeply, but grimaced in pain as he did so.

"I'm sorry, Sim," Malcolm said. "Our marathon through the woods was a little more than you should have taken on."

"You had no way of knowin'," Sim whispered. "I have a weak heart. It's a side effect of the enzyme."

"A weak heart? What do you mean by this? Congestive heart failure?" Malcolm startled. If Sims heart was slowly but surely failing to pump blood through his veins, he should have never come along on the mission.

"No." Sim took a deep breath. "It's not that. See, it's not only my heart that's not workin' right, it's most of my vital organs. My metabolism is losing its strength... as I said, it's a side effect of the enzyme."

"How long have you known?"

"Phlox told me yesterday. But he thought I was fit for the mission as long as I didn't overexert myself. He said my heart would be fine, as long as I was careful."

Malcolm snorted. "Yes, and you followed his orders to the letter. You should have told us, Sim. We would've never allowed you to…"

Sim cut him short. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. And besides, what d'you think I should have done? Leave Trip in the forest? Leave you under the water to die? Sometimes you just don't have a choice."

Malcolm nodded slowly. He could see Sim's point. But that didn't help him now. He was stuck here in the shuttle with two dangerously ill friends and there was still another hour he would have to sit around doing nothing before he could take them back to Enterprise.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked.

Sim licked his lips. "I would like to have some water."

Malcolm took the water bag and unscrewed the cap with his teeth.

When he knelt down with the bag, Sim suddenly let out a cry. Again, he grabbed for his chest, cried out once more, then he went limp.

"Sim!" Malcolm let the bag drop to the floor, not caring that all the water was spilled. "Sim, hang on. Please hang on."

Sim's head fell to one side. His face was ashen. With shaking fingers, Malcolm checked for his pulse and sighed in relief when he could feel a faint and shaky throbbing. Sim was still alive but Malcolm had no idea how bad his condition was. He took the scanner and recalibrated it. When he saw the diagnosis on the small display, Malcolm swallowed hard. Sim's coronary artery had spasmed, cutting off the blood flow to his heart and causing the heart attack. His metabolism, already weakened by the enzyme, hadn't known how to deal with the strain, and had eventually "short-circuited", breaking down like an overloaded engine. Unfortunately for Sim, the short-circuit had occurred in the most vital of organs, his heart. And if he didn't get professional assistance soon, he might not survive another attack.

For another moment or two, Malcolm stared at the readings on the display. Then he laid the scanner aside and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of silent despair.

#####

Slowly, Malcolm unwrapped the bandages that held his arm to his chest. With two of his crewmates unconscious he needed both his hands. He flexed his hand and tentatively rolled his shoulder but stopped with a pained grimace. It would be best not to move his shoulder more than was absolutely necessary. He reached for some blankets to cover Sim and Trip, and fastened the straps around each man so they wouldn't fall off the benches. Trip was still running a fever, but he didn't look as pale as before. Sim, however, was looking even worse. Malcolm sighed, checking for the thousandth time how much time had passed. The minutes went by at a snail's pace. His friends were both in urgent need of a doctor, but they were still here on the planet's surface and he couldn't do anything but wait and pray that Trip and Sim would hold on until they were back on Enterprise where Phlox could treat them.

#####

Malcolm fired the thrusters. The steady humming of the engines gave him a reassuring feeling. Finally, he was able to do something. Ignoring the increasing pain in his shoulder that came with the movement, he worked the controls. He threw a short glance over his shoulder to the benches. "Don't give up on me, you two, we're going home."

Several minutes later he reached the outer layers of the atmosphere and held the shuttle in a waiting position. The data T'Pol had sent indicated that the next window would be a very small one and would be safe for passage through for only a minute. That was too little time to cross all the layers of interference. Malcolm breathed deeply to fight his nerves. He had to get closer. If he missed the window they would be stuck on the planet for another eleven hours. He was sure that neither Trip nor Sim would survive that long.

Slowly, he approached the coordinates, keeping a watchful eye on the controls. He stopped when some of the monitors started to flicker. He bit his lip as he calculated the distance. They were still too far away. There was no way he could slip through the window within a minute if he didn't get closer. He missed Trip's help. The engineer would have been able to tell him how much the interference would affect the controls and how much closer he could come without the shuttle sustaining severe damage when the window opened.

A minute and a half to go. "Now or never," Malcolm muttered to himself and boosted the engines.

The helm console began to spark when Malcolm steered the shuttle through the outer layer of interference. The vessel rocked and shook, but Malcolm didn't have the time to adjust the controls. Speeding through the atmosphere, he was relieved when the interference began to subside. The comm. started to beep. "Sorry, Captain, I'm a little short on time right now," Malcolm muttered, concentrating on finding the exact coordinates to slip through the window. All of a sudden, the readings on the displays changed and he knew he'd made it. Sighing in relief, he scanned for Enterprise and set a course.

Glancing back he made sure that his passengers were still lying on the benches, he opened a channel. "Reed to Enterprise."

The answer came within an instant. "This is Archer. We were worried that you wouldn't make it. Report."

"Trip and Sim are both unconscious. Trip is running a high fever and Sim has suffered a heart-attack."

"A heart-attack?" Archer repeated incredulously.

"Yes, according to Phlox Sim has a weak heart as a side effect of the enzyme treatment."

"I'll notify Phlox." Malcolm could hear Archer ordering Travis to set an intercept course. "We'll rendezvous in three minutes, Malcolm."

"Thanks, Captain." Malcolm allowed himself to relax a bit until Enterprise came in sight. His left shoulder was sore and he could barely move his arm. But he still had to go through the docking procedure. He positioned the shuttle under the open hatch and sighed in relief when he felt the jolt of the docking clamp attaching itself. They had made it.

Hearing the deck pressurize, Malcolm leaned back in his chair, giving in to his exhaustion. When he heard someone open the hatch he glanced over his shoulder without moving much. "Doctor."

"Lieutenant," Phlox greeted him briefly, already starting to examine Trip and Sim. He ordered his assistants to take Sim to sickbay first, which told Malcolm enough about his friend's condition. Apparently, Sim was even in a worse state than Trip.

"How are you, Lieutenant?" Phlox asked.

"I'm fine, doc. Just take care of Sim and Trip."

Phlox nodded, ordered the second med team to take Trip to sickbay and hurried to climb out of the shuttle's hatch.

Malcolm watched as the two men carefully laid Trip onto the stretcher, secured him and took him out. That was it. He had fulfilled his duty; there was nothing more for him to do. Malcolm closed his eyes.

"Lieutenant?"

Malcolm's eyes flew open, and he tried to get out of the chair. "Captain."

"Easy, Malcolm, I didn't mean to startle you. What happened to your shoulder? It's bleeding."

"I was injured by a flying piece of metal."

"I can't remember you mentioning that when I contacted you the first time."

"Sorry, sir, but we had more important things to discuss than my condition."

Archer smiled. "I see. Come on, I'll take you to sickbay."

Malcolm opened his mouth to tell the captain that Phlox wouldn't have time for him, but he knew that his shoulder needed treatment. Gritting his teeth to not let his weakness and pain show, he climbed out of the chair. Only when his legs buckled under him, did he allow the captain to lend him a supporting hand.

TBC


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