The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - Chapter 4

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Sita Z

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

****

Chapter 4

The next day went by rather quickly. Jon tried to make him take the shift off, but Trip refused, knowing that work was the only thing that would keep him distracted right now. The Captain didn't seem happy, but didn't make any further objections, either. Trip was glad he didn't. Burying himself in his work was the best form of self-therapy he knew, and after a few hours of bringing the field stabilizers up to scratch Trip actually found himself feeling a little better. His staff acted as they always did around him, and even though Trip was sure that by now everybody knew, he was grateful to Hess and the others for not letting it show. Being out of uniform didn't help, but the loose shirt did a much better job of hiding the bulge on his side.

Not that there really was a point in hiding it, Trip thought wryly. The senior staff had been informed, and everyone who served on a starship knew that aside from warp vessels only gossip traveled faster than light. Still, he wasn't going to run around looking like he had a soccerball stuffed under his uniform. It was bad enough as it was.

At lunch time Hoshi came down to Engineering, carrying a tray with sandwiches and several cups of coffee. She acted cheerfully enough, saying Chef had asked her to take some food down to those "workaholic engineering maniacs", but Trip knew as well as she did that this was not quite the truth. In all likelihood it had been Archer who'd asked her to see to it that Trip got some lunch. Well, Trip didn't really care; he was hungrier than he cared to admit and had only avoided going to the messhall because he hated having everyone staring at him. Grabbing two sandwiches and a cup of coffee, he smiled at Hoshi and was relieved when she simply returned the smile and left without any questions about how he felt.

In the afternoon the aches started again. Up until now Trip had been able to more or less keep his mind off the topic, but now he found his thoughts returning to Phlox' words of the day before. You're asking me to kill, the doctor had said, and in a way he was right, of course. Undergoing this operation meant killing it. The fetus.

Trip noticed that he had been staring at the same display for five minutes without ever really seeing the readings on the small screen. With an angry movement of the head he returned his attention to his work. He'd made his decision, and he couldn't let this business affect his work. Still, he seemed to have trouble concentrating, and after he'd triggered the second alarm in thirty minutes by entering wrong access codes he noticed that Lieutenant Hess was watching him with an expression of worried concern.

After the shift was over, Trip escaped to his quarters, and not even the hunger gnawing at his insides made him leave the privacy of his room and go to the messhall. Instead he rummaged through his drawers in search for something to eat, and felt an almost ridiculous relief when he finally dug up an old box of cookies. They were rather crumbly and tasted of nothing, but Trip ate the whole box in less than five minutes, even shaking out the crumbs afterwards and licking them off his fingers. It was far from enough, but when Trip tossed the now-empty box into the waste recycler he found himself feeling a little better.

Lying down on his bed, not bothering to turn down the lights or even kick off his boots, Trip draped an arm across his eyes and let out a weary sigh. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, not right now and probably not at all, but it felt good, allowing his body a moment's rest. Work in engineering had exhausted him more than he would have thought, and his joints ached as if he was coming down with a flu.

Trip had only just reached the place between wakefulness and slumber where thoughts exist merely as inconsistent snatches of the mind, when a dull pain in his side startled him back to full consciousness. In a gesture that had become rather automatic, he pressed a hand against the lump under his shirt, waiting for the unpleasant feeling to pass. After the pain was gone he let his hand rest on his side for a while. It was strange. Now that he knew he wasn't going to be stuck with that thing for much longer he didn't feel so disgusted anymore. Touching it no longer made him shudder. Following a sudden impulse, Trip pulled up his shirt and took a good look at the thing on his side. Over the last few days it had grown to the size of a honeydew melon, and the bony ridge that went across its length reminded Trip of the protuberant elongation of the spine on a Xyrillian's head. Maybe it was the spine, he mused, carefully running a finger over the reddish knobs. Maybe this was the baby's back he was seeing. For a brief moment he wondered if Xyrillian babies looked very different from human ones. Could they reach the same stage of development in a gestation period of only seven weeks? It seemed impossible. Again, almost tentatively, he touched the bulge, and felt the hot skin under his fingers. Somehow the place felt warmer than his usual body temperature. Trip guessed Phlox would have been able to provide an explanation for that phenomenon, but he had no intentions of asking him about it.

Thinking of the doctor brought reality back to his mind, and he let go of his shirt, pulling it back down. Sleep seemed to be not an option right now, and Trip decided he might just as well go to the messhall and get himself a bite to eat. His rumbling stomach reminded him quite clearly of the fact that two sandwiches and a box of cookies were all the food he'd seen yet today, and that it was not enough by far. Well, dinner time was over so hopefully most of the crew would have left the messhall and gone to their quarters. And it wasn't yet time for gamma shift to be on duty.

The mere thought of food made his stomach give another angry grumble, and Trip got up, throwing his bed a last, wistful glance. His body ached for some much-needed rest, but he knew from the experience of the last nine days that he would start feeling dizzy and sick with hunger if he didn't get something to eat soon.

On the way to the messhall he met only two or three people, and fortunately none of the senior crew. He wasn't really up to explaining to anyone about his red-rimmed eyes, or his absence from dinner in the Captain's mess. All he wanted to do was find something to silence his rebellious stomach and then return to his quarters as quickly as possible.

As he had hoped, the messhall was empty. Not bothering to get himself a drink, Trip walked over to the cupboards and began looking over the left-overs from dinner. There was some meatloaf, as well as a plate of that eggplant casserole Hoshi was always trying to get him to eat. Trip grabbed both dishes and some icecream for dessert, carrying his tray over to a table near the window. He sat down and started to dig into his meal, finding to his surprise that despite its rather unappetizing smell the casserole tasted quite good. The simple act of putting food into his mouth made him feel a lot better. Maybe he would be able to get some sleep tonight, after all.

Being as concentrated on his food, Trip never noticed when the messhall door opened.

"Commander..."

Startled, Trip looked up and saw Malcolm standing at the resequencer unit. The Lieutenant had spoken in his usual clipped tone of voice, and when Trip met his eyes, he gave him one of those formal smiles that always made his face look like it was simply not made for smiling. Trip watched as Reed placed a cup in the resequencer's slot, hoping the Lieutenant was going to take his tea and leave. If it had been Archer or Hoshi, he wouldn't even have bothered getting his hopes up, but Malcolm Reed was never one to socialize much.

Cradling his cup in both hands, Reed hesitated for a moment, apparently indecisive whether to stay or go back to his quarters. Trip silently encouraged him to do the latter. He didn't really feel like making forced small talk right now, and the weird assembly of half-eaten dishes in front of him on the table didn't help make the situation less awkward.

No such luck, however. After a brief detour to the cupboards in order to get himself a plate of apple pie, Malcolm came walking over towards Trip's table at the window, again smiling in that suppressed way of his as he pointed at the chair opposite to Trip.

"Anyone sitting here?"

Yes, my invisible buddy is sitting there, and he doesn't like any non-supernatural beings taking his seat. Trip had no idea where the crazy line had come from, but he bit down on it just before it left his mouth. It was enough he was pregnant. He didn't need the crew thinking he was schizophrenic as well.

"No, sit down," he said, trying to sound like he hadn't secretly pleaded with Malcolm to leave only a few moments ago. Reed arranged his plate and cup on the table and took a seat, meticulously unfolding his paper napkin and placing it on his lap. Trip felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips, and he didn't manage to cover it up quickly enough for Malcolm not to see it. The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows.

"What's so funny?"

Trip shook his head. "It's jus'... my grandpa used to do the same thing."

Reed's eyebrows climbed even higher which gave his usually stoic features a strangely surprised expression. "What? Eat apple pie?"

"No." Trip gestured at Reed's lap. "That napkin thing. I always thought-"

Trip realized what he was about to say, and stopped himself just in time. Great, Trip. Tell him you always thought only weird old screwballs did that kind of thing. Let's start this conversation with you putting your foot in the mouth yet again.

To his surprise, however, Malcolm smiled. "Come to think of it, my grandfather did that, too. Must have taken over the habit."

Trip smiled back, relieved that Malcolm hadn't taken offense at his remark. In the few months they had been out here Trip had never really talked much with the taciturn Lieutenant, but on the few occasions they did talk he had gotten the impression that Reed felt uncomfortable interacting with his fellow officers in any other than a strictly professional manner. At times he had noticed a certain dry humor in the way the Lieutenant commented on things, but mostly the wry irony vanished quickly to be replaced by Reed's usual reserved reticence. Well, at least off duty the man seemed to have a sense of humor, after all.

"So... " Malcolm said, busying himself with the pie on his plate, "busy day in Engineering?"

Trip sighed inwardly. Although he appreciated Malcolm's efforts of making everything seem normal, small talk was last thing he needed right now.

"Yeah," he said. "Quite."

Malcolm nodded. "Same here. I spent all afternoon recalibrating the bloody targeting scanners. Just when I thought I'd solved the problem they went out of alignment again. I really don't know what's wrong."

Trip looked up. "Have you tried reinstallin' the software?"

"Several times." Malcolm stabbed his pie as if it were to blame for every malfunction that had ever occurred in Enterprise's armory. "The simulations are running as perfectly as you please, but every time I try and fire a test torpedo it is off by at least two meters."

"I still think there's somethin' wrong with the computer program. Maybe I can take a look at it tomorrow."

Malcolm looked up from his plate. "But... I thought..."

He trailed off, quickly lowering his eyes, but Trip knew what he'd been about to say. Great. The news really got around at an amazing speed aboard this ship.

"Well, I guess it won't take all day," he said, the words coming out snappier than he'd intended them to. "There'll be time enough in the afternoon."

Malcolm shook his head. "That's alright, Commander. The day after tomorrow will be fine."

"And what if we're bein' attacked?" Trip asked sharply. "I don't think Starfleet'd be very pleased to hear the Chief Engineer was too busy havin' an abortion so he couldn't fix the weapons."

Malcolm flinched, and Trip, seeing it, let out a weary sigh. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I..."

He trailed off, not quite sure what he'd been about to say. He didn't mean to make these tactless, cynical comments, they just seemed to come out somehow without him being able to prevent it. Malcolm was still looking anywhere but in his direction, and Trip felt ashamed. Reed hadn't deserved this.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated. "I didn't mean to sound rude or somethin'. It's just that... well, guess I'm kinda tired. Didn't get much sleep the last few days."

"I understand," Malcolm offered quietly. "Maybe you should ask Dr. Phlox to give you something."

Trip shook his head. "It's okay. And I don't think Phlox'd be very happy to see me right now."

Reed frowned. "Why's that?"

Trip sighed. "He was quite... upset yesterday. He doesn't think it's right to perform the operation."

Malcolm only nodded, and Trip couldn't help but notice a strange expression on the Lieutenant's face.

"What is it?" he asked. Malcolm shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Yes there is." Trip paused. "You think he's right?"

"It's not my place to decide who is right and who isn't, Commander." Gathering up his plate and cup, Malcolm rose from his chair. "Now if you will excuse me-"

"No I won't." Trip caught him by the arm, and looked pointedly at Reed's chair. "Not until you've told me why you gave me that look a minute ago."

For a moment Reed hesitated, but then he sat back down on his chair.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

At any other time Trip would have rolled his eyes at Reed's stiff formality, but right now he only nodded, apprehension rising at the back of his mind. He didn't really know why he was doing this, asking Reed for his opinion, but somehow he felt almost obliged to listen to him.

Malcolm stared down at his hands, apparently trying to find words for what he was going to say.

"Commander, I... I don't know what I would do in your situation. I really don't. And it's certainly not my place to question your decision, but... maybe Dr.Phlox is right. Maybe you shouldn't do this."

Trip stared at him. If it had been Hoshi, Phlox or maybe even Jon sitting across from him, telling him these very things, he wouldn't have been surprised. Well, not that surprised, anyway. Hoshi was never one to mince matters when there was something on her mind, and the Captain was his best friend, after all. For the last eight years he'd always been the first one Trip had turned to when he'd needed personal advice, or simply a friend who listened.

Malcolm Reed, however, was an entirely different matter. The man was a mystery to him as he was to most of the crew, and Trip couldn't remember a single occasion when the Lieutenant had discussed any of his personal feelings or interests in public.

Reed seemed to have noticed Trip's surprise for he shifted uncomfortably on his chair, again gathering up his cup and plate as if he meant to leave.

"Commander, I apologize if I have been out of line-"

"Malcolm, wait." Reed stopped in his tracks, watching Trip with an almost wary expression on his face. Trip took a deep breath. "This isn't between Commander and Lieutenant. I need your advice as a... as a friend, and I need you to talk to me."

Trip realized with slight dismay that his voice had taken on an almost pleading tone. He'd been turning this problem over in his mind for too long, his thoughts going in circles without coming up with any solution, and Malcolm's point of view seemed to shed new light on the matter.

To Trip's relief Reed stayed. He folded his hands in front of him on the table and took a brief moment to think before he spoke again.

"I don't really know how to explain it. It's just that... I'd have agreed without a second's doubt if the Captain had decided to go aboard that ship once again and try a little more... convincing way of negotiation. But... I don't think it's right to let the child suffer the consequences. Even if the Xyrillians refused to take responsibility, it deserves a chance to live."

Trip had never before heard Malcolm speak with such intensity in his voice. Being used to Reed's usual dry, ironic tone it was almost like talking to another person. He cleared his throat, but for once realized that there was nothing to say. No but, no what if, nothing. Malcolm was right, and in his plain-talking way had voiced the exact thoughts Trip had tried to suppress for the last day and a half. Deserves a chance to live. Just like everyone else.

Trip noticed that he was clenching his fingers around the spoon's handle, and deliberately loosened his grip. He couldn't bring himself to look Malcolm in the eye as he spoke.

"I know. D'you think I've never given thought to that? It's just... hell, Malcolm, I can't... deliver a baby!" Even saying it left a bad taste in his mouth, and to his surprise and further dismay Trip felt sudden tears rising in his eyes. "I'm not a Xyrillian, for God's sake! It's unnatural, and I... I just can't stand havin' everybody laugh at me and whisper behind my back. I'll be the laughin' stock of Starfleet, and the crew'll never respect me after this! And I can't care for a child, much less an alien one. It's not gonna work!"

Angrily, Trip wiped the tears off his cheeks. He hated himself for sounding like he was whining, but the words seemed to come out of his mouth all on their own.

"I can't do this, Malcolm. I jus' can't."

Again, Reed surprised him. Instead of being embarrassed by Trip's tears, Malcolm carefully reached over the table and put a hand on Trip's arm.

"Trip. No one is going to laugh at you. I can understand you are afraid of... of the other consequences, but you're never going to lose the respect of the crew. The Captain told us what happened. It wasn't your fault."

Trip let out a bitter laugh. "Tell that to T'Pol."

"She already knows. When the Captain briefed us on the situation, she was the first one to suggest that we keep your condition a secret, at least for the time being. She said there was "no reason to expose Commander Tucker to even more emotional stress" by making your pregnancy shipwide news."

Trip raised his head, not quite able to believe what Malcolm had just told him. "She said that?"
Reed nodded. "And she was quite emphatic on her point. She made it clear that anyone who let a word slip – accidentally or otherwise – would have to answer to her."

Suddenly Trip felt ashamed. Here he'd been, nursing his grudge against the Vulcan for deliberately letting his secret slip, only to be told that T'Pol had made the senior crew promise not to say a word.

"I thought everybody knew..."

Malcolm shook his head. "Only Dr.Phlox and the senior staff. To tell the truth, there were some speculations as to why you're out of uniform, but T'Pol only told the crewmen in question to mind their own business." He smiled slightly. "She actually quite bit their heads off."

Trip frowned in confusion. "You should've heard her when Phlox first told her and the Cap'n about the whole thing. She seemed to really enjoy rubbin' my face in it."

Malcolm's raised his eyebrows in sympathy. "Guess she couldn't pass up the opportunity to play the logical Vulcan."

Trip nodded, resigning to the fact that he had never been able to understand either Vulcans or women, and that for obvious reasons a Vulcan woman was quite out of his league. Still, strangely enough, the image of T'Pol giving some crewmen a dressing down for "interfering with his business" made him feel a little better.

Malcolm grew serious again. "What I meant to say, even T'Pol knows that you're not to blame." He paused. "Imagine the Xyrillians had needed help with their weapons system. Then it would have been me, not you, going to their ship. It could have happened to anyone. Even to the Captain."

Wearily, Trip shook his head. "You woulda been more careful. I'm the only one stupid enough to... to stick my hands where they don't belong, as T'Pol put it. I shouldn't have gone into that holographic chamber in the first place. I-"

"Trip." It still sounded strange, hearing Malcolm call him by his nickname instead of his title. "We're here to make contact with new species. That means being diplomatic, keeping an open mind. Trying out new things. And who knows? Ah'Len could have been deadly offended if you had refused to play that game of hers. If you put it that way, it might have actually been a breach of Starfleet protocol to turn her down. Everyone would have done the same."

"Still, I was the one who ended up pregnant."

"You were the one going over there to fix their engines, and so you were the one who was responsible for diplomacy. You did nothing wrong. It wasn't your fault."

"And neither is it the baby's fault." Trip didn't know where the words had come from, but the moment they left his mouth he knew them to be the truth. An awkward truth, maybe, one that made it harder or maybe even impossible for him to take the easiest way out of this. Now, however, that he'd said it aloud, there was no way to erase it from memory anymore.

He noticed Malcolm watching him intently. The Lieutenant seemed to know what thoughts were running through his mind, for he simply nodded, then looked down at his hands as if to signalize that he wasn't going to comment. Or push any decisions.

Trip heaved a sigh. In a way, he'd known ever since he'd taken a look at himself earlier that evening that he was no longer sure about the decision he'd made yesterday. If he had ever felt sure about it. Maybe the idea of going through with it, of deciding against the operation had seemed so terrifying that Trip had forcibly dismissed all doubts, ignored them even though they were always present in his mind. But the longer he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that there was no other way. At least none that he could live with.

"Well, shit."

Malcolm looked up, and there was a tiny smile playing about his lips even though his eyes were serious as he spoke.

"You're making the right decision, Trip."

Trip shrugged. He didn't know what to say. How would Malcolm know whether his decision was right or not? His change of mind might just as well have signed his death sentence, and even if it didn't kill him, there still was the shame and humiliation of having to carry the child to term. Not to speak of the responsibility he knew he couldn't take. So what was there to say?

Trip felt a hand on his arm and raised his eyes.

"Trip," Malcolm said. "You know that you're not alone in this, don't you? We'll all do everything we can to help you."

The cynical part of Trip's mind came up with at least a dozen sarcastic answers, but he firmly pushed them away. If he was going to go through with this, he would have to deal with worse things than honest offers of help, and he would have to keep a tight check on his emotions. And wise-cracking at people who told him they were going to be there for him was not a good way to start. He smiled at Malcolm, trying for a level tone of voice as he answered. "Thanks."

Malcolm nodded, then picked up his cup and plate once again.

"Well, I still have some reports I need to finish. Got to go back."

Trip shook his head, watching Malcolm as he got rid of his dishes and made his way towards the door.

"Do you ever sleep, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm smiled again, and this time it wasn't a formal sort of smile. "Good night, Commander."

Trip watched as the door slid shut behind Reed and noticed that the strain of the day was starting to catch up with him. Now that his stomach was no longer giving him hell, he actually felt rather tired. Well, time he got back to his quarters and caught a good night's sleep. After all, he had a hell of a lot of explaining to do in the morning.

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One person has made comments

Yeah, this story rocks. I love the scene between Trip and Malcolm. I had to remember that "Unexpected" was one of the first episodes and the two boys had barely known each other then.
For English isnt't your 1st language either, you're doing a great job with this story.
Greetings to Germany from Starsearcher