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The Miles That Lay Ahead- Chapter 11

Author - Gabi
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The Miles That Lay Ahead

by Gabi

Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst
Rating: PG-13 (one or two chapters will be rated R later on)

Disclaimer: I guess I own the aliens in this story, the friendly as well as the unfriendly ones, but unfortunately none of the Enterprise staff.

~~~~~~


Chapter 11

Trip felt strange. His whole body was numb. Not only wasn't he able to move a muscle, he couldn't even feel his body. Things seemed to have gotten worse while he had slept, and Trip, feeling strangely detached from his body, involuntarily opened his eyes to check whether he still had his arms and legs at all. Surprised, he realized that Malcolm had left his former sleeping place and now lay beside him on the floor. His face was ashen and his breathing shallow and erratic. A jolt went through Trip's motionless body. Malcolm was dying. But that couldn't be; he just couldn't be dying.

"Malcolm," Trip exclaimed. "Malcolm, wake up!"

Slowly, Malcolm lifted his eye lids. "I'm sorry, Trip," he whispered barely audibly. "But I can't take any more of this."

"No, Malcolm," Trip yelled. "Stay with me! C'mon, you have to hang on! Don't give up. Malcolm!"

Trip felt tears welling from his eyes and running down his cheeks. He wanted to shake Malcolm, bring him back to life somehow, but he was pinned down on the floor with no chance to do anything.

"Hang on for me, Trip." He could barely understand Malcolm's whisper. "The captain will come and get you. Tell him it was an honor to..."

"No, Malcolm, NO!"

Malcolm's breathing became shallower and faint, his eyes closing in slow motion. Fiercely, Trip fought against his motionless body. He wanted to at least hold Malcolm in his arms. His friend was dying and he lay here like a lifeless stone. Trip started to cry. "Don't leave me, Malcolm. Don't give up. Stay with me. Please!"

Malcolm drew a last shaky breath. His chest rose and fell one last time and with a small moan, he slowly let out his dying breath. Then his breathing stopped and his face went pale and ashen. He was dead. Trip felt the pain cut through his heart like a knife, and something deep within his soul broke apart. Then he began to scream.

"Trip!" A worried voice came from far away, but he could barely hear it. "Trip!" The voice grew louder and more insistent, but it couldn't drown out the sound of his own crying. "Trip! What's the matter? Wake up!"

Trip's eyes flew open. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs and his breath came in gasps. A face bent down over him. Malcolm's face.

"You're not dead?" Trip whispered, still out of breath.

"No, I'm not." Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Am I supposed to be?" He smiled. "You scared me, screaming like that. Was it a nightmare?"

"Yeah. I dreamed that you were dead." Trip cleared his throat that felt raw and hoarse, his eyes filling with tears. Tears of pure relief. It had been a dream. Only a dream. Malcolm was still alive. He rubbed his hands over his face. "It was horrible." Trip frowned when he saw a grin tug at Malcolm's lips. "What's the big joke, Mal? I dream you're dyin' and you think it's funny?"

"Just look what you're doing."

Trip stared at his hands. Still caught in the aftermath of his dream, he hadn't even realized how he had run them over his face. They moved. He was able to feel them. He felt his whole body. His worsened condition had been a dream as well.

"Dammit, Malcolm." Trip let out a shaking breath. "I can move." He flexed his shoulders and tested if he could move his upper body. "Except for my legs, of course", he added. "Would've been askin' too much, I guess." Trip tried to feel his body, examining every muscle. Despite the horrible nightmare he felt rested. Sort of. His arms and legs felt relaxed. The cut in his calf still was throbbing, though, as well as the sunburn on his arms, but the cramps had stopped. His thirst, however, seemed to have worsened. He would have given anything for a sip of water. His tongue was swollen and seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth. His lips were cracked and dry and his blistered mouth felt like it was made of sandpaper. A single mouthful of water would have felt like paradise. But that wasn't important now. Malcolm was still alive and he could move again, so there was still hope.

"How do you feel?" Malcolm asked.

Trip sighed. The odds were still against them. He didn't have the slightest idea how he was even going to get into a sitting position, let alone find the strength to repair the thrusters. He could move his body and his arms, but only slowly and awkwardly. Every movement hurt. "I'm okay," he said, but Malcolm wasn't going to be fooled.

"Yes, I can see that." The lieutenant grimaced. "Seems to be almost as bad as it was after your first relapse." He watched Trip's futile efforts to turn onto his side, then stood up and offered him his arm for support. "Here, now try again."

With Malcolm's help Trip finally managed to sit up. Panting, he leaned against the wall.

"You're not planning to go outside and repair the thrusters in this condition?" Malcolm frowned skeptically.

"I have to try, at least. But I need your help, Malcolm."

"Of course. But how am I going to help you?"

"You'll have to carry me on your shoulders. Not just on your back, that wouldn't be enough to reach the thrusters."

"This isn't going to work, Trip. I can't use my hands to keep you steady. And I'm sorry to say this, but you're too weak to keep your balance without someone holding on to you."

"I can lean against the bulkheads."

"And how you're going to do repair work like this?"

"I'll manage. Could you help me get my tools?"

"Take it easy, Trip." Malcolm sat down beside his friend. "Right now, it's too hot out there to do anything." He leaned forward to look out the broken window. "I believe the second sun is going to set in about an hour. We'll still have two hours of daylight left, and the heat will be much more bearable."

"But we need to leave here as soon as possible."

"I agree, but working under these conditions is going to be of little use. What do you suppose how far we are going to get in this burning heat? One of us would collapse within the first ten minutes. We can't fly during the night, anyway, it's so dark you wouldn't be able to see anything without the sensors. Or did you manage to repair them?"

"Short distance sensors," Trip nodded.

"So they're back in working order?"

"Workin' order might be somewhat exaggerated." Trip sighed deeply. "We'll be better off usin' our eyes."

Malcolm smiled understandingly. "Tell you what, Trip. Try to get some more rest, and when the sun has set, we'll try to repair these bloody thrusters, then get some sleep and get away from this place at the first light of dawn."

"Sounds good."

"Now try to sleep. Do you want to lie down again?"

Trip shook his head. "My joints already ache from lyin' on my back all the time. I'm quite comfortable here. Could you push the medkit over here?"

"Why?"

"I want to refill the hypo. Just bein' cautious. If necessary you can maybe find a way to inject yourself with the stuff."

"If necessary?" Malcolm frowned at the implication of Trip's words. "Do you think your condition will worsen again while you're sleeping?"

"You never know." Trip grinned lopsidedly. "To be frank, I don't really trust my body anymore. I just want to play safe."

Using his foot, Malcolm pushed the medkit to where Trip could reach it and watched his friend load the hypo with the last dose of painkiller. "Perhaps you should use it yourself?" he suggested.

Trip shook his head. "The cramps have stopped, and you need it more than I do. Tell me when the effect of the last dose is startin' to wear off."

Malcolm nodded, sitting down on the floor beside Trip.

"You should lie down on one of the benches," Trip suggested, but Malcolm shook his head.

"That's alright."

"Thank you." Trip was relieved to have Malcolm at his side during his sleep. He swallowed. "I saw you die, Mal. Don't do that to me again, okay?"

Malcolm smiled. "It's okay, Trip. We'll get out of this, I promise. Do you want to lean on my shoulder?"

Trip nodded wearily, then he leaned his head against Malcolm's shoulder and in an instant he was fast asleep.

-###-

"D'you know how this feels, Malcolm?"

"Like we were two little boys who are desperately trying to reach the shelf with the candies?" Malcolm suggested.

"Exactly. And I feel damn stupid."

"Same here. I'm just glad the obnoxious guy with the camera isn't anywhere around."

Trip chuckled. "No need to get personal."

"I wouldn't. Still, I'm glad no one's taking pictures."

Still chuckling, Trip concentrated on his task. His place on top of Malcolm's shoulders wasn't the best position to keep his balance, although Malcolm had rested his arms on his thighs to stabilize his stance. But Trip couldn't use his legs to keep himself steady and had to feel his way along the bulkheads, always trying not to make Malcolm lose his balance, since the Lieutenant had no way of using his hands to hold on to the shuttle. Their stance was anything but stable, and both of them were praying that the other wouldn't suddenly lose his balance.

For the thousandth time, Trip cursed his lifeless legs. It had taken him twenty minutes to climb onto Malcolm's shoulders. The lieutenant had squatted in the sand in front of the hatch, and it wouldn't have been a problem if Malcolm had been able to take a hold on Trip's legs. Like this, however, they'd kept sliding from Malcolm's shoulders, and it took the two men a long time until Malcolm managed to get to his feet.

They had planned it very carefully, realizing they only had one try. If Trip suddenly noticed he had forgotten a tool, he wouldn't have a chance to get it out of the shuttle. As a measure of precaution, he had tied thin cords to all his tools with a loop at the end to fasten them around his wrists. Bending down to pick up a dropped tool was going to be equally impossible.

Malcolm had advised Trip to protect his hands with some rags. The bulkheads were heated up by the suns and still radiated an enormous heat, although the second sun had set half an hour ago. When he felt the bulkheads' heat, Trip was glad for the advice. On top of everything else, he didn't need to burn his hands when he touched the hot metal.

Step by step, they made their way to the thrusters. Leaning against the bulkhead with his shoulder, Trip took a special scanner out of his toolkit that was hanging around his neck.

"And?" Malcolm asked from below.

Trip looked at the sensors. "Better than I'd expected."

"You're not saying the odds are actually in our favor for a change?"

"Maybe, but the repairs could still take one or two hours. Can you hang on for so long?"

"As long as it takes."

"I'll try to get it done as fast as I can."

Trip soon realized that it wasn't going to be so easy. His own body prevented him from working efficiently. He had to fight for his balance all the time, had to keep himself from falling which would have caused Malcolm to stumble as well. The repairs weren't going as smoothly as he would have liked. His fingers were swollen from the heat and he could barely move them after a while. His arms and hands refused to obey the orders his brain gave them, and he had to force every single movement. His joints ached and his hand-eye coordination failed him more than once, the tools slipping from his hands. He cursed fiercely when once again the plasma torch fell from his hand, banging at the bulkhead as it swung on the cord he had fastened around his wrist. Thank God he had remembered to secure the tools before he started.

"You alright?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm fine," Trip lied. He had no idea how much longer he was going to be able to keep this up. One of the relays sent sparks flying and he winced when the electric shock sent a jolt through his hands. Malcolm reacted quickly, taking a compensating step forward that prevented him from losing his balance. Trip's reflexes were slowing down, and his fingers had grown numb. His back was aching from the straining position and he felt so exhausted and tired that he was barely able to keep his eyes open. How was he supposed to repair the damaged conduits in this condition? Not to mention adjust the thrusters. In silent desperation, he looked at the mess of melted EPS-conduits and destroyed circuits. Pull yourself together, he admonished himself. He had to do it now, there wouldn't be a second chance. He could only hope that there were enough spare parts to finish the repairs.

"Everythin' okay down there?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Malcolm answered, but his voice sounded rather strained.

"You're lyin'," Trip told him while he pulled a circuit board out of the engine to test it.

"So what? I'm not the only one." Malcolm knew perfectly well about Trip's condition. He could feel the trembling that was taking hold of his friend's muscles and he pleaded silently that Trip wouldn't have to pay a price as high as last time for exhausting himself in such a way. The exertion of keeping his balance on Malcolm's shoulders was enough to weaken his condition. What was even more, Malcolm didn't know how long he himself would be able to carry Trip's weight. Carefully and without moving his upper body he shifted his weight to the other leg and leaned heavily against the bulkhead. The warmth he could feel through his clothes added to his already heightened body temperature. Sweat ran from his forehead into his eyes, but he couldn't wipe it off without letting go of Trip's legs at the same time. Malcolm knew he was running a fever. His head was pounding and he was beginning to feel dizzy. He firmly fixed a spot in the sand and concentrated on standing still, straightening his knees so they wouldn't buckle under him. No way was he going to give up. He had promised Trip he was going to hang on as long as it took and he intended to keep his promise. He tried to ignore the weight on his shoulders that seemed to get heavier every minute and shut out every conscious thought, staring at the spot in the sand until his eyes began to water. He didn't think of the pain, he didn't think of how much time had passed. He didn't think at all, just staring down at the sand. A soft rumble from above finally startled him out of his trance.

"Sounds like you're hungry, Commander," he teased, and all of a sudden his senses were completely clear again.

"A little. It's been a while since I had somethin' to eat."

"Me too," Malcolm agreed. "But I don't think I'd be able to get anything down even if we still had food." His sore throat made it almost impossible to swallow, and Malcolm knew that Trip was feeling the same.

"Neither could I," Trip answered. "But I don't think I can convince my stomach." He groaned. "Are you hangin' on down there?"

"Like I said, as long as it takes."

"It won't take much longer now. Fifteen minutes, maybe."

"Can you fix the thrusters?"

"Yeah, I think so." Trip used the bulkhead for support and took a deep breath. He felt queasy and dizzy. The conduits blurred, and there were dark spots dancing before his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt himself sway at the same time.

"You need a break, Trip." Malcolm's voice came from very far away, and Trip felt the Lieutenant shift his position to help him keep his balance.

"No, Malcolm," he sighed. "I'll never be able to finish this if I stop now. It's only fifteen more minutes, anyway."

How long could a quarter of an hour be? The idea of his body failing him now when he was almost done was more than frustrating. In the meantime every single movement sent a stinging pain through his muscles, and his back burned like fire. The dizzy spells had worsened, and he felt like he was going to melt from the heat any moment. On top of everything else it was getting darker every minute and he could hardly see what he was doing. He had to hurry. Come on, he urged himself, only a few more adjustments and you're done.

Malcolm swayed under him and Trip once again lost his micro spanner which banged against his elbow, hard. He didn't even have the breath left to utter another curse. But he knew Malcolm was also on the verge of collapsing. He'd been standing out here for more than two hours, hardly moving, weakened by the fever and pain while the weight on his shoulders added to his discomfort.

"Only one more relay, Malcolm, I'll be done in a minute." Trip let out a breath of relief. "We did it, Malcolm. We're done."

"Now all we have to do is get back inside." Malcolm's voice sounded hoarse and strained.

"Yes." Trip stowed away the micro spanner. "You'll manage?"

"Of course. You ready?"

"Yeah." Trip felt his way back along the bulkheads that were still warm but could be touched without any protection.

They had managed only a few steps when Malcolm stumbled and swayed. Trip lost his balance and fell face-first into the sand, causing the Lieutenant to lose his balance as well. Malcolm raised his hands so he wouldn't instinctively use them to stop his fall. "Trip," he cried out when he saw his friend slam into the sand.

Trip raised his head to see the Lieutenant drop to his knees, sway and land on his side in the sand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Malcolm assured him.

"Me too." Trip swallowed. "I'm sorry, Malcolm."

"Why? It was my fault. I stumbled."

"And I lost my balance."

"Only because I was swaying."

Trip forced a smile. "Give it a rest, Mal. If we try really hard, I'm sure we can find out which one of us is to blame for the fact that this damned planet consists of nothin' but one giant sandbox. You think you'll manage to get into the shuttle?"

Awkwardly, Malcolm got to his feet, still swaying a bit. "Yes, I think so. And you?"

Trip shook his head. It seemed impossible to him to push his aching body any further. All his strength had left him; his arms and legs had started to tremble again and he was panting, the world seeming to swirl around him.

"But you can move, can't you?" Malcolm asked, alarmed.

"Yes, I can, but I haven't got the strength to do so anymore."

"Can you get a hold on me?" Malcolm bent down over Trip and extended his arms so Trip could get a hold on them.

Trip squeezed his eyes shut to get rid of the blurry haze that clouded his vision. With much effort, he raised his arms over his head and took a hold on Malcolm's forearms.

Slowly, Malcolm dragged Trip over to the shuttle's hatch. Time and again, Trips hands lost their grip and fell limply into the sand, but Malcolm waited patiently for his friend to take a hold of his arms again so he could pull him further along.

When they had finally arrived at the hatch, Trip gathered all that was left of his energy and managed to pull himself into the shuttle.

"I'll help you lie down on one of the benches," Malcolm offered. "You need get some rest."

Trip shook his head. "I'm okay down here, Mal."

"No, you're not. You need to rest to regain your strength." Malcolm bent over him. "Come on, wrap your hands around my neck."

Trip followed Malcolm's order and allowed him to hoist him up onto the bench. With a last great effort, Trip pulled his legs up onto the bunk and lay down with a deep sigh.

Malcolm sat down on the other bench and leaned his head against the bulkhead, not even bothering to cover his yawn. They had made it. Trip had made it, although Malcolm wished he could give him some water. A parched body wasn't going to help his condition. Well, at least now they would be able to leave this sandy place at the first sign of dawn. There had to be water somewhere on this planet. He looked at Trip who was staring at the ceiling.

"What's the matter?"

"What d'you mean?"

"You should get some sleep."

Trip shrugged. "I can't."

"Of course you can," Malcolm admonished. "You're completely exhausted. I can see from here that you can barely keep your eyes open. What's wrong, Trip?"

For a long time there was no answer, but then Trip whispered. "I'm scared, Malcolm."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. It always happened while I was sleepin'. Or unconscious."

Malcolm began to understand. Trip feared another relapse when he went to sleep now after having exhausted his body in such a way. The Commander might well have a point, Malcolm thought, remembering all the exertions Trip had put himself through during the last few days.

"But sometimes your condition has also stabilized while you slept," he tried to reassure his friend. "You need to get some sleep, Trip. You can't go on like this."

"And what if I wake up and can't move anymore?"

"Then we'll work something out. Don't worry, Trip. Just try to get some sleep."

Trip wasn't convinced, but knew that Malcolm was right. If he didn't go to sleep soon he would simply lose consciousness. He could already feel a black haze touching the edge of his vision. The dizziness was becoming worse and he was relieved that he didn't need to fight for his balance on Malcolm's shoulders any longer, but lay comfortably on this bench and was able to relax. Malcolm was right. In his current condition there was nothing he could do but get some sleep.

"You'll wake me up at dawn?"

"Sure." Malcolm watched Trip close his eyes and shift to find a more comfortable position. The sun wasn't going to rise for another five hours; five hours in which they could both try to regain some of their strength. Malcolm lay down as well, idly wondering where they would be this time tomorrow. Someplace safe, maybe, or still out here, if Trip's repairs proved to be useless, after all. To be honest, he didn't really care. At the moment, Malcolm was too exhausted to worry about anything.

TBC


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