A Fair Trade- Chapter 11

A Fair Trade

by kittytrypsin

Genre: Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer # 1: Paramount owns the characters from ‘Enterprise’, I’m just borrowing them. But if they don’t look after them…

Disclaimer # 2: No financial gain is being made from these stories, unfortunately.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Captain, the ion storm seems to abating slightly,” Hoshi called from the science station. There hadn’t been any point in her manning communications, as nothing had got through to them since they’d commenced orbit around Kendal Prime.

Jon stepped across to join her, changing places to look into the viewer. Hoshi assessed his body language with concern. He’d barely left the bridge since Commander Tucker’s enforced departure, and certainly not since the launch of the rescue mission. He glanced up, catching her watching him, and gave a tired grin.

“About time our luck changed. Try raising the away team.”

“Aye, sir,” Hoshi responded, gliding gracefully to her usual post. “Enterprise to Sub-Commander T’Pol, Lieutenant Reed, come in please…”

Because of her sharp hearing, she was the first to detect the scratchy response. At first it was only a slight modulation in the static, but as she slid control levers and refined the signal, everyone on the bridge could hear T’Pol’s answer.

“T’Pol to Enterprise, go ahead.”

Jon joined in the conversation. “T’Pol, have you found Trip?”

“Affirmative, Captain, however we are endeavouring to elude pursuit. Is the transporter an option?”

“Not yet, there’s still too much static to lock on safely. What’s your situation?”

“We are in a hover vehicle, but our pursuers are gaining on us. We will have to take evasive action and find a place of concealment. Shuttlepod One is severely damaged, but the rescue pod is serviceable. When the situation allows, we will return to Enterprise.”

“Understood. How’s Trip?”

T’Pol glanced briefly at the semi-conscious figure beside her, judging her reply.

“Advise Dr Phlox to expect the commander as his patient on our return.”

Jon sighed; T’Pol’s cryptic reply did nothing to assuage his anxieties. A short answer would either have reassured him, or…

A sharp burst of static interrupted his thoughts.

“T’Pol, what was that?” he yelled.

“We are under attack…Lieutenant Reed, try to remember that we have no roof over our heads.”

The bridge crew raised collective eyebrows as they listened in to the sounds of battle through the open comm. T’Pol came back.

“Captain, we will have to land and attempt our return tomorrow. Might I suggest that you maintain communication silence and we will contact you when it is safe to do so?”

“Very well, Sub-Commander, keep your heads up! We’ll keep the lamp lit.”

T’Pol’s eyebrow rose at the obscure statement, but she had little time to ponder its meaning, as a lucky shot from the pursuing vehicle caused their hovercraft to yaw alarmingly.

“Lieutenant, they are gaining on us. Can you go any faster?”

“I’m sorry, Sub-Commander, but I’m flying an unfamiliar craft over unfamiliar terrain. I’m going as fast as I think prudent.”

“Prudence will not prevent us from being brought down if they catch us. I suggest you land as soon as possible. Our chances of survival on foot are greater than if we are shot out of the sky.”

Malcolm fought to regain some form of helm control, and just as he’d given himself a metaphorical backslap for a degree of success, another shot found its mark.

“I’ve lost the helm. Hang onto anything you can…we’re going down!”

He gripped the steering device as if his very life depended upon it, and saw the two crewmen scrambling to grab hold of fastened objects. He couldn’t see over his shoulder, but had to hope that T’Pol and Trip would survive the crash-landing.

T’Pol watched in concern at their rapidly decaying altitude and instinctively threw herself across the engineer’s slumped body.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Malcolm was the first to regain consciousness and he pushed himself painfully into an upright position from where the crash had flung him. It was by now almost pitch black and it took a few moments for his eyesight to compensate. When it had, he looked around at his crewmates. Johnson and Murphy lay in a tangle of limbs and broken branches.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he asked them both, putting a hand to his forehead to stem a sudden feeling of dizziness.

Both crewmen slowly responded, untangling themselves and moaning softly.

“Aye, sir, I’m awake now,” Johnson replied.

Murphy scrambled into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. Malcolm tried to figure out what way the craft was lying, in order to know in what direction to look for the two who hadn’t yet been accounted for: T’Pol and Trip. A soft groan coming from ahead of him alerted him to the fact that one or both of them was regaining consciousness.

“Malcolm?”

“Commander! Are you hurt?”

“Somethin’ on my chest…can hardly breathe…get it off!”

Malcolm carefully made his way towards Trip’s voice, stepping over Johnson and Murphy. He let out a startled exclamation when he stumbled over a pair of legs, and reaching down to trace their outline, he followed the shape until his hands recognised the shapely form of the Sub-Commander. She was lying right across Trip’s chest, out cold.

“It’s the Sub-Commander, sit. I don’t want to move her without knowing her injuries. Can you ease out from under her?”

“Nah, my ribs…feel as if they’re about…ready to pack in…an’ my leg’s gone to sleep.” He turned his attention to the woman lying on top of him. “Hey T’Pol…wakey, wakey.”

He tapped her cheek lightly with his free hand, his left arm being pinned by T’Pol’s weight.

It took several minutes, minutes of agony for Trip, and concern for T’Pol from everyone before she started to come round. It wasn’t her normal graceful transition from sleep to wakefulness, but instead was a haze-filled confusion. She became dimly aware that she was lying on something firm but warm, and that her name was being called. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and focussed her mind to ignore a dull headache.

“T’Pol, unexpected as this is…an’ it’s real nice…but it’s kinda difficult…to breathe with broken ribs…when somebody’s lyin’ on your chest.”

Trip’s voice was husky with the effort of shifting air through his tortured lungs. He’d never been as glad to see anyone waken up in his entire life. T’Pol raised herself onto one shaky hand, easing the pressure on Trip’s chest.

“Ah…thanks. You ok?”

She touched her head with her free hand, as if mere physical contact could negate the headache.

“Thank you, Commander, I have a mild concussion but am otherwise uninjured. Lieutenant Reed, what is our status?” If she was embarrassed by her proximity to Trip, she hid it well.

“As far as I can make out in the darkness, we’ve landed in a forest, hopefully the same one we traipsed through today, or was that yesterday? We’ve been remarkably lucky with minor injuries, but the hovercraft’s had it. So far, there’s been no sign of our pursuers, but I think it’s too optimistic to imagine that they’ve given up.”

T’Pol was now seated beside Trip and could hear his laboured breathing.

“Commander, what is your personal status?”

“Don’t worry about me…I’ll be ready for…the next round. Oh, an’ by the way, Malcolm…this is my idea of…a good rescue.”

T’Pol assessed his condition as she listened to his statement coming in short bursts. In spite of his pain, he was still ready with a sarcastic comment. She put her hand onto his injured leg to check the bandage and found that it had come lose. Her hand came away sticky with what she knew would be his blood. The wound was haemorrhaging again.

“Lieutenant, we need to get out of this craft and find some shelter. Crewmen, assist the Commander.”

“I can manage, T’Pol.” Trip made to rise from the seat, only to fall back, beaten and exhausted by the smallest of movements. “Ok, maybe not today…but I’m sure I’ll be better, tomorrow.”

He tried his best to stifle the moans as Murphy and Johnson gently raised him onto his good foot and supported him around the waist. T’Pol watched in the gloom as they made their slow, painful way out of the downed craft, then caught up with Malcolm.

“I am concerned about Commander Tucker. His breathing is becoming laboured and he has lost a great deal of blood from his thigh wound. We need to get him back to the ship sooner, rather than later.”

“I know, Sub-Commander, but what can we do? He’s not fit to move, really, and the captain can’t use the transporter yet.”

“We should split up and one of us make our way to the shuttle. It can be brought to the commander.”

“‘Mohammed and the mountain’, I like it. Ok, which one of us should go?”

“You are the commander’s friend; you should stay with him and keep him calm. I will take crewman Murphy as back-up, and will contact crewman Briggs and Ensign Barr to expect our arrival.”

“Ok, but be careful. I don’t want to have to launch another rescue party.”

T’Pol gave him a look of scorn, even though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “I will endeavour to do so, Lieutenant. And you also must exercise caution. You will be less able to effect an escape if you are apprehended.”

TBC

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