A Life Worth Living - Chapter 9

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.

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Chapter 9

"Trip!" Phase pistol ready in hand, Malcolm sprinted back, Sim following closely behind. It was only forty meters but it seemed to take forever to cover the distance on the rough terrain.

Trip was fighting desperately against a vine that had his right arm in a firm grip. Another one was twining around his legs and Trip couldn't do anything against it. As the vine pulled, slowly, the makeshift stretcher began to move.

"Hold on, Trip!" Malcolm reached the vines and began to fire. When the vine around Trip's legs snapped, the second one suddenly let go and retreated. Sim grabbed the handles of the stretcher and hurried out of the plant's reach with Malcolm covering their backs. It wasn't until they had covered another hundred meters that Sim let the stretcher slide to the ground and sat down, panting heavily. "What d'you think, Malcolm," he gasped. "How far can it reach?"

"Not this far, I hope. But we'd better be cautious. There may be other plants like it around."

"Could you please tell me what that was?" Trip looked from Malcolm to Sim, shock still evident in his eyes.

Malcolm sat down beside him, carefully removing the now dead vine from Trip's legs. "A carnivorous plant that had chosen us for its dinner."

Trip's eyes widened. "I saw the movin' vines when we came here the first time. But I thought my eyes were playin' tricks on me. Why didn't it attack us then?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Perhaps it was still busy digesting its breakfast. We saw a lot of bones lying over there."

"Maybe it's not active in the midday heat. It's much cooler now than it was when we came here a few hours ago." Sim stood up, only to sit down again beside Trip.

"Thank you," Trip murmured.

Sim laid his hand on Trip's arm, smiling knowingly.

Trip took Malcolm's arm. "It's the second time today that you've saved my life."

"Feel free to return the favor anytime." Malcolm smiled. Then he looked over to Sim who was searching through the backpack. "What are you looking for, Sim?"

"The gloves," Sim answered.

Trip looked at him, then gently reached for Sim's hands and turned them around. Sim's palms and fingers were sore, his fingertips bloody and his nails ripped.

Trip bit his lip. "Will you please hand me the medkit, Malcolm?"

"Won't be much use," Sim said. "There are no bandages left."

Malcolm looked down at his chest, where his arm was tied into place with bandages.

Sim followed the lieutenant's gaze and shook his head. "I know what you're thinkin', Malcolm, but I won't let you do it. You mustn't move your arm."

"But it would be better to bandage your hands. The rods aren't exactly made of a smooth material, they will chafe your hands even more."

"That's what the gloves are for."

"But we can clean up your hands," Trip insisted.

"We don't have time for this."

"Yes, we do," Malcolm said firmly. "We still have nearly two hours left. I think one and a half would be enough to cross the river and reach the pod. You are exhausted, Sim. You need to rest. We'll take a half-an-hour break. And that's an order," he added, when Sim opened his mouth to object. "Fortunately, you're not Trip and therefore do not outrank me." Malcolm smirked.

Sim complied, allowing Trip to clean up his sore hands.

"Lie down and try to sleep a little," Malcolm suggested. "I'll keep watch."

"But you're tired as well, Malcolm," Sim objected.

"I can't sleep anyway with those plants around. And you have to regain your strength so that you can carry the stretcher." Malcolm looked at Sim solemnly. "I can't help you with the stretcher, but I can do my job as security officer."

Once more, Sim complied. Using his arm as a cushion, he lay down and fell asleep almost at once.

#####

Close to an hour later they stood at the river bank and looked at the other side. Standing ankle deep in the water, Malcolm had his lips tightly pressed together. The knot in his chest was almost choking him. It had been difficult to cross the river with both his friends at his side, and with two sound arms that had allowed him to swim. How was he supposed to cross the deep spot with one arm? How were they supposed to bring Trip safely to the other side?

"I'll carry him," Sim decided. "It's not difficult in the water. Then I'll come back and fetch the stretcher and the backpack."

"Don't you think the bulkhead would sink like a stone?"

"It would be more difficult if the water was deeper. But since I'll have solid ground under my feet most of the time I'll be fine. But you will be on your own." Sim glanced at Malcolm with a worried expression. "Will you manage?"

Malcolm straightened his posture. "Of course I will." There was no way he would show any weakness. It was ridiculous that Sim was worried about him when he had to carry Trip through the water. "Like you said: I'll have solid ground under my feet. I can take the backpack."

"Leave it to me, Malcolm," Sim said gently. "Concentrate on gettin' to the other side unharmed. I won't be able to help you."

…if you freak out, Malcolm silently completed the sentence. He gritted his teeth, determined to not let his aquaphobia have the better of him. "I'll manage," he said, trying to convince Sim as well as himself. "How are we going to bring Trip up the slope over there?"

"Wish I knew," Sim sighed. "We won't have any other option than to drag him up. Won't be very pleasant for him, though."

"Trip is as tough as nails," Malcolm answered. "He'll be okay."

Sim nodded. "I'm glad the water isn't cold. Trip's already runnin' a fever."

Malcolm patted Sim's shoulder and, with a last challenging glance over the water, he turned around to get back to Trip who lay a few meters behind them where the ground still was dry.

#####

Trip strained his neck to look over to Sim and Malcolm who stood at the nearby river's edge. He knew perfectly well what they were talking about. He hated being a burden to his friends. He should be at Malcolm's side, helping him fight his phobia and lending him a helping hand should he lose the fight and start to panic. Instead, Malcolm would be all alone, and even Sim wouldn't be able to help him because he would have to carry Trip. Cursing his condition, Trip started to unfasten the straps across his chest and hips. There was no way his friends could take him to the other side with a shuttle bulkhead attached to him.

Sim kneeled down beside him and freed his legs, while Malcolm stowed away the communicators and the scanners in the backpack so they wouldn't get wet.

"Leave the backpack here," Sim said. "I'll come back and get it."

"What about the padd?" Trip asked. "It's still in my pocket."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Wouldn't be a good thing if it was damaged by the water." Sim took a water-proof bag out of the backpack and sealed the padd inside. "I'll put it in the backpack. It's not totally water proof, but it's a lot more water-resistant than your uniform is."

"Yeah," Trip agreed. "Just to be sure. Hoshi will have our heads if the data is spoiled."

Sim smiled and put the backpack aside. Then he tested whether Trip's legs were still bound tightly together and the splints still firmly fixed. Grabbing Trip under the armpits, he dragged him into the water until it was deep enough so that he could take Trip on his arms. At first he tried to hold the splinted legs out of the water so that the bandage on the open fracture wouldn't get too wet, but it was a futile attempt. Trip, who had wrapped his arm around Sim's neck, saw what he was trying to do and shook his head. "Just let my legs go into the water."

"We don't know what bugs are swimmin' around in there, Trip. You have an open wound that might get infected."

"The bandage is already wet, Sim. You can't do anythin' about it. By the way, you can't keep holdin' me like a baby when you have to swim yourself."

"That's true," Sim admitted reluctantly. "To be honest, I don't know how we can do it."

"Don't you think it's a little bit too late to think about that?" Trip chuckled. "Don't worry, I guess I can swim on my own. At least for a short distance."

Sim grimaced. "That's what I was hopin'," he admitted.

However, when Sim let Trip's legs slide under the water, Trip instantly felt the warm water stimulate the circulation in them, and the blood, flowing more freely, started to seep through the wet bandage Trip only hoped that Sim wouldn't notice.

He could see Malcolm wading grimly through the water, his eyes fixed on the other side. Trip smiled. He didn't want to disturb his friend's concentration by asking how he was doing. Malcolm was stubborn enough to get over his aquaphobia. He would make it.

"It's gettin' deeper," Sim announced, startling Malcolm and Trip out of their thoughts. "Watch out for the ravine, Malcolm, I believe it's only a few meters to the left. Try to hold your track when you start swimmin'."

Malcolm only nodded, but at the same time took a few steps to the right, closer to Sim and Trip.

When the water reached his shoulders, Sim started to swim. "It's only about twenty meters," he told Trip. "I'll hold you as long as I can."

It was difficult for Sim to swim without using his arms. Even more so with a weight on them. Trip made steadying movements with his arm, but it didn't help much.

Suddenly, they heard a cry behind them. Trip looked over Sim's shoulder. "Malcolm!" he shouted in confusion. "Malcolm! Where are you?" With frightened eyes he looked at Sim. "He's gone."

Sim didn't know what to do. He couldn't even turn around with Trip on his arms. Trip let go of Sim's neck. "You must go and help him."

"I can't let go of you."

"'Course you can. I still have two healthy arms. I told you I can swim."

Sim shot him an uncertain glance, but they had no other choice. He let go of Trip and dived.

Trip held himself in place by moving his arms, but he painfully missed the support of his legs. Their weight was pulling him down and he didn't know how long he would be able to hang on. But his worries about himself came second at the moment. He scanned the water's surface and detected bubbles and a movement under water, but he couldn't make out neither Malcolm nor Sim. But the water wasn't so deep that they could disappear completely, was it? The seconds stretched like hours and for a horrible moment Trip feared that they both had drowned. Finally, Sim emerged.

"What's goin' on?" Trip shouted, beside himself with worry.

"One of the carnivorous plants must be livin' in the ravine," Sim said hastily. "Malcolm is trapped. Some of the vines have got him. I need the knife, Trip."

"It's in the backpack. You'll need a few minutes to get back. There's no way Malcolm can hold his breath that long."

"I need you to do it, Trip. I can give Malcolm mouth-to-mouth breathin', but I can't do it for a long time. I don't even know whether it's workin' and how long he'd be able to fight the plant. He's panickin' as you can imagine. Hurry up, Trip, I know you can do it." And with this, Sim took a deep breath and dived under again.

Trip's feverish mind was still trying to understand what had happened, but his instincts kicked in almost immediately. Without thinking he pulled his arms through the water, trying to swim to the edge of the river they had left only a few minutes ago. His legs were protesting and suddenly a sharp pain shot through them when his feet dragged across the river bed. Trip simply ignored it. Imagining the agony Malcolm was suffering at this very moment was giving him the chills. Thinking that his friend was caught under water, struggling against a plant that wanted to eat him gave him a rush of adrenaline that numbed the pain and allowed him to double his efforts. His heart was thumping in his chest and his blood was pounding in his ears. Sweat was beginning to run into his eyes and he tried to get rid of it by ducking his head under water. If only the water wasn't so warm. It was like swimming in a bath tub. He didn't have more than fifty meters left to cover but he had the impression that he was making no progress at all. His legs were hurting and he was quite sure that without the painkiller he would have lost consciousness a long time ago. Desperately, he struggled on, trying to lift his legs so that their weight wouldn't pull him down. When the water got shallower, he turned around to prevent the protruding bone from scratching over the ground. Swimming on his back without using his legs for support wasn't easy, either, but he was almost there. He could see Sim emerge from the water and yell "Hurry up, he can't hold on much longer" and despite his racing heart and his tired arms he once more tried to increase his speed. He couldn't let Malcolm die. It would be his fault if Malcolm died.

Eventually, the water was so shallow that Trip could sit up. He pulled himself over to the backpack and started rummaging through the pockets. Where the hell was the knife? Every wasted second could cost Malcolm's life. Sim wasn't going to be able to give him mouth-to-mouth forever, and the air Malcolm got from him wouldn't be enough to survive much longer.

"Got it!" With a relieved sigh Trip grabbed the knife and placed it between his teeth. He didn't have the time to stow it away in a pocket of his uniform. Quickly, he turned around and pulled himself back into the water, clenching his teeth on the knife when a sharp pain shot up his legs as they dragged over the ground. When the water got deeper he noticed a few thin red streaks drifting past him. The warm water and the strain he had to put on his legs was making his wound bleed even more. But he couldn't bring himself to worry about it right now. He only wished he could have used his legs to speed himself up. He could see Sim emerge and dive back down every twenty or so seconds in the desperate attempt to keep Malcolm alive. Even from a distance Trip could hear him panting and he knew that their time was running short. When Sim broke through the surface the next time, Trip gave a yell and threw the knife to the other man, hoping he had thrown it far enough so that Sim would be able to catch it. If the knife dropped into the water too far away from Sim, it would sink, and with it their last hope of saving Malcolm.

But Sim leaned over and caught the knife in a smooth movement. With his teeth, he removed the cover that protected the blade. He took a deep breath and disappeared.

Trip closed his eyes. Had he been fast enough? Or was Malcolm already dead? He let out a shaking breath. Hold on, Malcolm, he thought desperately. Please hold on.

He allowed himself only a short moment of weakness, before he crossed the rest of the distance. His job wasn't done yet. He took a deep breath and let himself sink under water.

#####

Malcolm paused for a moment, trying to get his breath. He stood mid-river, the water flowing around his thighs as he kept his eyes fixed on the river's edge, the place where he longed to be so badly. He was sweating. Of course it was from the warm water, at least that was what he kept telling himself. He never would have admitted that the sweat on his forehead could be from fear as well. His heart began to race every time he looked at the water's surface (and there was really no way to avoid doing so), but he could keep the panic at bay by repeating to himself that he had nothing to fear with solid ground under his feet. It was illogical to panic just because he had to wade through a river, and he found it highly annoying that his body wouldn't listen to his mind and would react with such anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be all but choking him as he stared at the water. Malcolm gritted his teeth. "No need to panic," he murmured to no one in particular. "It's only a little water."

"It's gettin' deeper," Sim announced. Malcolm acknowledged the words with a grim smile. He had managed the first time, he would manage now.

Just as the water had reached his chest, Malcolm felt a movement beside his ankle. He didn't even have the time to warn his friends when something grabbed his leg and, with a hard jerk, pulled him under.

Instinctively, he had taken a deep breath and pressed his mouth shut just before he was pulled down, but all the same, Malcolm froze in shock when his head went under. His eyes as blank as his mind, for a moment he allowed whatever creature had him in its grip to pull him into the ravine. It was only his survival instinct kicking in that made him resist and start kicking and splashing. Fervently, he tried to break his left arm free, jerking on the bandages that were holding it to his chest. Kicking with his legs, he realized that it had to be a vine of one of the carnivorous plants that was holding his leg in a tight grip. Desperately, Malcolm struggled against his enemy, but the vine wouldn't let go. However, it stopped pulling him deeper. It was as if the plant knew that all it had to do was keep his prey under water and soon it would be able to pull it down without any major efforts. Malcolm knew that he had only limited time, and the more he struggled the more oxygen he would use up. His mind was telling him to calm down, so as not to waste too much of his precious air, but the panic that was choking him up wouldn't allow him to act rationally.

Suddenly, his flailing arm hit something. He didn't know what it was but he clung to it with all his might, trying to pull himself up. Something dug in his arm so painfully that he had to let go. The pain had cleared his vision, however, and Malcolm realized that it was Sim. Again he tried to cling to his friend's neck, desperate to get back to the surface. But again Sim freed himself with force, staring into Malcolm's eyes as if he were begging him not to panic. His mind, trained to stay calm in life-or-death situations, told Malcolm to get a grip, that Sim couldn't save him as long as he was panicking and pulling the other man down with him, but his arm seemed to have its own will, holding on to Sim's clothes again and again. Sheer panic had taken control of his actions and his mind couldn't get through. Eventually, Sim swam out of Malcolm's reach and let himself sink deeper into the ravine to examine the vine that had captured Malcolm's leg. Malcolm could feel him tearing at the vine with all his might and kicked with his free leg to break free. He hit something with his foot, but the vine wouldn't budge even an inch.

All of a sudden, Malcolm's mind became extremely lucid, seeing clearly what would happen to him. He would meet the same destiny his great-uncle had met. Malcolm had never been afraid of dying but he had always pictured himself dying in battle or protecting Enterprise and her crew; not drowning, held under water by a bloody plant.

Malcolm startled when Sim's face appeared in front of his eyes and instinctively turned his head away, but Sim just grabbed the sides of his head and forced it back.

It was only when Sim pressed his mouth against Malcolm's lips and tried to blow some air through them that Malcolm realized that Sim was trying to give him mouth-to-mouth. Instinctively, he opened his lips just enough that some of the air got through. It was an awkward feeling, but his lungs gratefully accepted the extra oxygen. Sim gave Malcolm the thumbs up and swam back to the surface.

Malcolm's mind was racing as fast as his heart. He couldn't think straight but the last bit of rationality that was left in him told him he would drown for sure if he didn't manage to calm down. With an effort, Malcolm stopped kicking, concentrating on letting out his breath very slowly. He thought briefly it would be better to just inhale and let the water in. That way he would cut his suffering short. But Malcolm couldn't bring himself to do so.

His lungs were crying for air and Malcolm thought they would burst any second when Sim came back into his range of vision. The urge to breathe decreased a little when Sim gave him another rescue breath, and then turned around to struggle for the surface again. Malcolm's mind was getting cloudy and had reached a point where it didn't have the strength left to hold on to the panic. He felt a fatalistic calm coming down on him. Just let go, a voice in his head whispered. It's no use anyway. Sim can't do anything to help you. You know he can't tear the vine apart, and the knife and the phase pistol are still in the backpack. Your phase pistol would be of no use here anyway. Just open your mouth and stop fighting.

His eyelids began to droop. If this was his fate then so be it. He would drown like his great-uncle.

Sim was back to blow air into Malcolm's lungs, but the cloudy haze didn't vanish. The voice in Malcolm's head changed and suddenly it was that of his father talking to him. "I raised you to join the Navy and not to drown on an alien planet," he said sternly. Although Malcolm had his eyes closed, he could clearly see his father before him, floating in the water as if he were a fish. "I told you that you had to learn how to swim, Malcolm. Now swim. You know how to do it. Swim!" There was his father's boat and Malcolm tried to reach it. "Please, father, let me in," he pleaded, but his father shook his head. "You have to learn how to swim, Malcolm." Malcolm struggled against the water. Desperately, he watched his father disappear in the distance. "Don't leave me, " he cried. "I'm drowning." His father nodded, regret written on his face. "I know. Just let go. It's senseless to cling onto life. You're dead."

"No, I'm not," Malcolm shouted. "I won't die if you help me."

Another person appeared beside his father. "Don't listen to him," the person said and although Malcolm had never met him, he knew it was his great-uncle. "You don't need him, Malcolm, you can help yourself. Don't give up the fight. Your friends are going to save you. Just hang on."

His great-uncle came up to him and took him by the shoulders. Shaking him violently, he repeated his last words: "Hang on, Malcolm, just hang on."

Malcolm blinked and suddenly his father and his great-uncle were gone. It was Sim who was trying to shake him out of his reverie. Malcolm tried to focus on him, realizing where he was, but it was less painful to return to the hazy visions of his mind. He felt air fill his lungs but it didn't matter anymore.

The vine tugged at his leg as if the plant were checking whether its prey was still alive. Malcolm could feel the growing pressure on his eardrums, his lungs were aching more with every second and he couldn't find the strength to keep struggling against his fate. Blackness clouded his senses and the plant started to pull him deeper. Malcolm didn't care. A welcoming darkness had appeared that would take away all his misery. But something was tugging at the collar of his uniform and stopping his movement. The mouth-to-mouth he got this time wasn't enough to drive away the blackness and slowly Malcolm surrendered. His mouth opened but instead of water flowing in there was another gush of air. Something dug into his shoulders, but not even the pain could bring him back. The last thing Malcolm felt was a sudden movement, but he didn't know whether it was up or downwards. Then complete blackness engulfed him.

TBC

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