Face of the Enemy - Part 6

Face of the Enemy

by SpaceCowboy

Disclaimers in Part One

‘Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her. But once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.’
- Voltaire

Part Six

TRIP TUCKER OPENED HIS eyes reluctantly, blinking as his dim surroundings came into focus. Someone had lowered the lights- he could only assume, for his benefit. His body ached and he shivered as the air cooled the sweat his body secreted to compensate for the fever. He cautiously turned over onto his back but was obstructed by another body.

He inhaled deeply before contracting his sore muscles and edging his body slightly to the left- giving him room to manoeuvre. He finally made it over and saw who was in his way. Hoshi had apparently fallen asleep in the chair; leaning over the bed with her head resting in the crook of her arm.

She looked peaceful, if not uncomfortable. Trip winced as he raised his right arm to brush the fallen hair off her face. Her skin felt cool and soft to his touch. Which didn’t surprise him, but her presence here did. Feeling sleep beckoning him once again, he moved as gently as he could, trying not to disturb her sleeping form. He draped his arm across her shoulders and fell back asleep to the rhythm of her breathing.

~

When Hoshi realised the commander had actually fallen back asleep, she gently unwrapped herself and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

The doctor approached and put a hand on her shoulder. “How’s the patient doing?” he asked quietly. “I see you’re awake now.”

“Sorry about that,” she replied. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

Phlox waved the apology away. “No harm done. Besides, I like to see this crew get their rest. Has he said anything to you?”

Hoshi stared at the commander, not sure if she should mention his earlier outburst of animosity towards her. Had it been personal, or something she could discuss with the doctor? She decided to discuss. “He did earlier,” she began. “And he seemed pretty angry with me.”

“Nonsense,” gawked Phlox. “The Commander has nothing but respect for you. He considers you a friend.”

Hoshi drew in a deep breath. “That’s not the impression I was getting from him earlier. He was definitely…” she paused, searching for the right word. “Angry. Although I can’t imagine why.”

Phlox folded his arms across his chest. “The last time I checked, anger was considered a negative entity.”

Hoshi regarded him quizzically.

“That amulet he’s wearing is the embodiment of Sacha’s negative entities. Perhaps Mr. Tucker is feeding off the anger contained within. I wouldn’t take anything he says too seriously right now. I’m sure he’s battling many difficult emotions.”

~

Archer called a meeting of all the senior officers the minute they returned to the bridge. But the briefing area seemed empty with Trip and T’Pol missing. He was staring at the spot where Trip usually stood when the last officer filed in. Hoshi had left the commander in sick bay, and Archer immediately asked about his condition the moment she arrived.

“He’s still the same, sir,” responded Hoshi. “He’s been asleep most of the time.”

Archer nodded and turned his attention to the rest of the crew members. He felt confident about his officers, that together they would find a way out of this predicament. He already had one idea, but he wanted to find out if there were any less drastic options. He began the meeting by going over the recent events that had just transpired, and then opened the floor to suggestions.

“I believe they’re keeping the sub-commander in the Great Hall,” started Malcolm. “As we know, there’s been an energy field erected around its perimeter. That’s probably why our scanners couldn’t detect her Vulcan signature. It must have gone up the moment they stepped inside.”

“I’d like to know how they knew we were coming?” sighed Archer, as he paced the end of the briefing table.

“Lucky, I guess,” mused Hoshi. Then she glanced at her captain with a look that stated she hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Archer shook his head. “I don’t think the Vhoorminians have gotten this far on dumb luck. They knew we were coming; they were waiting outside the Great Hall when we arrived.”

“Actually, Captain,” interjected Malcolm. “If I remember correctly, the guards weren’t waiting for us. Someone went in to gather them.”

Archer levelled his gaze on the security officer. “So you think it was dumb luck?”

“I believe it was more of a coincidence, sir. And they probably put up the energy field in case we tried to transport the sub-commander to Enterprise,” replied Malcolm.

“That, or they figured we’d retaliate with full force,” suggested Archer. “And that’s an option I haven’t dismissed quite yet. But I’d rather it not come to that. Any other suggestions?”

“Why don’t we just give them what they want?” offered Hoshi. Archer threw her a beleaguered look. “I know. I know. Not an option.”

“It’s not just that, Hoshi,” Archer said. “I refuse to be bullied into doing something.”

“So how do you propose we rescue the sub-commander, sir?” asked Malcolm, his right hand massaging his chin. “We’ve been trying to break through their shield, but engineering can’t penetrate their rotating polarity.”

“Where did this technology come from?” asked Hoshi. “There was no indication their culture had advanced this far in shield technology. And we haven’t found any evidence of this weapon Phlox mentioned either.”

Archer braced his hands on his hips, brought his pacing to a stop. “There’s a lot of inconsistencies throughout their technology. And I think Malcolm was right when he suggested earlier that the Vhoorminians have been acquiring technology through unconventional means.” He glanced from face to face around the table. “But let’s stay on the topic at hand. I suggest we break the sub-commander out.”

“How do you propose we do that?” asked an eager Malcolm.

Archer drew in a deep breath. “I’ll try and arrange to have the passing of the amulet take place in the Great Hall,” he started, knowing that his plan was not altogether foolproof. “And when they drop the shields to let us in, we’ll sneak in a security team.” Archer smiled at his security officer. “I’ll leave that part up to you.”

Malcolm grinned. “That’s leaving a lot to assumption, but I’ll have a team ready on your go, Captain.”

“I knew you would, Malcolm,” replied Archer.

“But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention there’s still the matter of time, sir,” added Malcolm. “Silla’s arrival is not imminent, and the Chancellor will be waiting for your response concerning the transporter. Unless of course, he wants to kill two birds with one stone and do it at the same time?”

“I have this sneaking suspicion he’s trying to obtain our transporter under the table,” replied Archer. “To vote on something this big would take decades. And the Chancellor doesn’t have that much time. I’m pretty confident we’ll be doing this in two separate transactions, so we’ll just have to stall. But only with the transporter situation. I won’t have Trip suffering any longer than he has too. Now let’s get to work. I want a rescue proposal in two hours, Mr. Reed.” With that, Archer ended the meeting.

~

Immediately after it ended, Hoshi returned to sick bay. She knew doctor Phlox had other duties to attend, and leaving the commander in the hands of another crewman was not boding well with her. Especially since the crewman was not familiar with the commander on a personable level. Hoshi hated to think of Trip waking up to an unfamiliar crewman who could only relate to him as a ranking officer. The commander did not need protocol, he needed compassion.

When she stepped into sickbay the lights were still dim, so she assumed the commander was still sleeping. So it came as a surprise when the diagnostic bed was empty and the babysitting crewman was sitting across the room reading a PADD. “Where is the Commander?” she asked, startling the crewman.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Ensign,” he sputtered. “He’s in there,” he said, pointing to the washroom. “He’s been in there awhile too.”

Hoshi shook her head, then headed for the washroom and knocked gently on the door. There was no response, so she tried again. When there was still no response, she opened the door and walked in. She immediately found the commander sitting on the floor, his head in his hands.

She rushed to his side. “Commander? Are you all right?” She bent down beside him and noticed he was shirtless. She reached over to nudge his shoulder and felt the dampness of his bare skin. “Let’s get you back to bed, sir,” she said. Then she looked into his eyes and noticed how vacant they were.

“I can’t move, Hoshi,” he replied, his words soft and slow. “I can’t… I feel so alone…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’ll help you,” she offered, reaching for his hand. “Come on. You’ll be much more comfortable in there.” She squeezed his hand and urged him upward. His normally strong hand felt weak and fragile compared to hers. Hoshi wanted to rip the amulet from off his neck and throw it out the nearest airlock.

She noticed Trip was starting to struggle to get up, so she put his arm around her shoulders and threw her own arm around his waist for support. Then she escorted him back into the main room where she noticed the crewman had left, and in his place now stood the captain.

Archer helped Hoshi put Trip back to bed, despite the commander’s feeble attempts to push them away. He kept complaining that he was too hot under the blanket, so they gave in and let it rest on his waist.

“I see he’s in good hands,” mused Archer. “But do you think we should call the doctor back?”

“I don’t think there’s anything he can do for him,” replied Hoshi. She stared down at the form on the diagnostic bed and pulled her shoulder back- demonstrating a strong front for her captain.

“It’s hard when someone we care for is sick and there’s nothing we can do,” stated Archer in a kind voice. Hoshi looked up at him in surprise. “You’re body language betrays you, Hoshi. I can see your concern right through your brave front.”

“”It’s just frustrating,” she sighed.

“I know,” nodded Archer. “And as much as I’d like to be the one by his side right now, I have duties I can’t ignore. But I’m glad you’re staying with him. And now that I know he’s in your good hands, I should get back to work.”

Hoshi bid good-bye to the captain and re-took her vigil in the empty seat beside the bed.

“Is he gone?” muttered Trip, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Yes, he’s gone,” she smiled. But her mind raced, trying to remember everything she had just said. If he had been awake this whole time, he would have heard her every word.

“Good,” replied Trip, meeting her gaze. “I can’t stand him seeing me like this.”

“What about me? Don’t you care how I see you?” teased Hoshi.

“Not really.”

Hoshi saw what looked like a smile spread across his dry lips. She smiled back and watched him cross his arms over his chest shivering. She leaned down and retrieved the covers and tucked him in.

Trip grabbed her hand and held it for a moment. “Thank-you,” was all he said.

“For what? I’m not doing anything any other language loving isolationist wouldn’t do,” she teased again.

Trip shifted, embarrassment evident on his face. “I didn’t mean that you know,” he offered. “I was in such a bad mood. My head was pounding… I wanted to throw up…”

“I understand, it’s okay. I’ve already forgotten.” She brushed the hair off his face gently. But if you ever accuse me of that again I’ll have to kill you, sir.”

“Deal.”

“Good. Now be quiet and go to sleep.”

~

The sub-commander lay motionless on the cot. Her body was being imprisoned, but her mind was not. T’Pol had slipped quietly into meditation after the sedative have worn off, and now she was standing on the red sands of Vulcan. In the sky above were the two familiar moons of her home world. And beside her was her conscience. It spoke to her during her meditations, helping her calm her emotions and focus her mental discipline.

“You have been patient.”

“I have. But I question my discipline.”

“You must not lose your patience. It is through patience that you learn tolerance. And tolerance is the foundation of acceptance.”

T’Pol contemplated the words. “But I do accept. I accept many things.”

“Indeed. You can even accept things that do not exist. A thought is not tangible, but yet it exists. But can you create something that does not truly exist?”

The words refused to make sense to T’Pol. “If you create something that does not exist, does it not then exist?”

“Not true. And that is the challenge you must…”

Suddenly T’Pol was jolted from her meditation; her unconscious voice cut short by a hand shaking her awake. She opened her eyes slowly to find she was no longer on the bed, but rather, race down on the floor staring at two pairs of boots. T’Pol braced her hands by her shoulders and hoisted herself to her knees. Then she felt two arms hook under her shoulders and urge her upwards to a standing position.

“I trust you slept well?” asked a voice across the small, desolate chamber.

T’Pol shook her head not quite awake. “Who are you? Where am I? I demand to be returned to my ship.”

“Sub-Commander, we mean you no harm,” assured the voice. “If you cooperate we may even return you to your ship early.”

T’Pol’s eyes began to focus. She could now see the familiar voice belonged to Chancellor MiVix. And there were two guards on either side of him- each wearing the same armour that was impervious to Malcolm’s phase pistol. “Chancellor MiVix. What do you expect to accomplish by holding me against my will?”

The Chancellor folded his arms under his robe and crossed the floor. He sat down on the only piece of furniture in the room; a six-by-four protrusion jutting out from the far wall. “We hope to trade you for your wonderful transporter technology. Unless, of course, you would care to tell us how it works yourself?” The Chancellor looked hopeful as T’Pol stood firm and determined.

“No,” she replied simply. “And I can assure you, my captain won’t either.”

“Does your captain not cherish your life, sub-commander?” patronized the Chancellor. “What a pity.”

“Captain Archer cherishes all life. But I assure you once again, he will not hand over any information concerning their transporter.” T’Pol stepped closer to the Chancellor. “You might as well release me, or kill me now.”

The Chancellor stood, coming face to face with his prisoner. “I think we’ll keep you for awhile.” Then he turned to the two guards. “If she tries to escape, kill her. And by the way, Sub-Commander, trying to escape would not be wise. You are several miles underground. And there is a force field disrupting any chances of being transported out.”

The guards backed up to the door and stood at each side with their rifles poised. The Chancellor turned abruptly away from T’Pol and marched out the door.

T’Pol wanted to trust the crew of Enterprise for help, but logic dictated that was almost impossible. If she couldn’t find a way out, how were they supposed to be able to find a way in? So T’Pol began pacing, trying to make observations that might help her situation.

The cell was approximately ten feet by ten feet with no windows and one door. She realized that if she was going to escape, it would have to be through the same door the Chancellor had used. Unfortunately, two guards were hindering any possibility of just walking through it.

T’Pol changed the direction of her pacing so she was now walking toward and away from the guards- staring at the floor so the guards wouldn’t see what she was really doing. She was not only testing how close she could get to the door before the guards felt threatened, but also making a reconnaissance of the weapons.

The Vhoorminians had been so gracious during first contact, that she found the intimidation level of the guards now quite fascinating. The weapons they carried appeared to be some sort of primitive automatic projectile disruptors. She had no idea what damage each projectile could do to Vulcan flesh and organs, and she had no desire to find out either.

She had only been able to get within a few steps of the door before the guards had felt compromised. It wasn’t enough to make a quick dash, but possibly something to work with. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her meditation. “Can you make something that does not truly exist?”

The theoretics of the statement confused T’Pol. She could not understand how something could exist, yet simultaneously not exist. Then it hit her.

Now all she had to do was convey this knowledge to her captain.

~

Archer was in his ready room nursing a steaming cup of coffee when his door chimed. Lieutenant Reed entered a moment later with a PADD and passed it to him immediately. “Thank-you, Lieutenant.” Archer nodded to the empty seat across from his desk. He tried hard not to think of who usually sat there- especially in times when he needed advice.

“Thank-you is not required,” replied Malcolm, taking the seat. “Just fulfilling my duties.”

Archer smiled. After all this time, Malcolm was still the ever persistent by-the-book officer he had been when he first arrived. Archer had hoped by now he would have relaxed some, and in some aspects he had. But not quite enough for Archer’s liking. He read over the proposal. It was short, thorough, precise and left little to the imagination.

It simply lacked the sensationalism usually attributed to such reports. It almost seemed boring, but Archer took comfort in that. Boring on paper could mean boring in reality. Archer actually started to appreciate his security officer’s lack of drama. It was easing his tension. He looked up from the PADD with a smile. “Don’t ever change, Malcolm,” he said wryly.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Archer waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. So, do you think this will work?”

“That’s impossible to answer, sir,” replied Malcolm, blowing out a strong puff of air. “But I like to think my men are up to the challenge.”

Archer didn’t like the answer. “Do you think there is a good chance of this working?”

“I believe, taking into account our options, that there is a good chance this will work.”

Archer nodded and placed the PADD off to one side. There was something else on Malcolm’s mind- he could see it in the security officer’s uncomfortable composure. “What is it?” he asked.

“All due respect, sir. As much as I like the thinking behind your strategy, I think there’s another option.” He paused, waiting for his captain’s approval to continue. “It seems the Vhoorminians put faith in trade. So I propose we trade something of greater value than our transporter technology.”

Archer wasn’t sure what Malcolm was getting at, and he looked back at him suspiciously. “If I’m not willing to trade our transporter, I’m certainly not going to trade any greater piece of technology.”

Malcolm leaned forward in his seat. “I’m not suggesting we trade something of greater value to us,” he started, peaking Archer’s interest. “I’m suggesting we trade something of greater value to the Vhoorminians. It seems they put a lot of emphasis on that amulet the commander is holding. Perhaps they want it more than our transporter?”

Archer sat back, drummed his fingers on his desk top and regarded him thoughtfully. “I have to admit, I’ve thought about it,” he sighed. “But I will only consider it as a final option. Trip and Sacha are innocent pawns in this situation. And I’d rather keep them out of it for now. But if it comes down to the wire, I’ll reconsider the option. For now, I think we should stick to plan A.”

Malcolm nodded and stood to leave.

“I want your team at the ready, Malcolm,” stated Archer. “And break out the big guns, our phase pistols don’t seem to be doing the trick.”

~

After meeting with his security officer, Archer decided to get a personal update from engineering. He entered main engineering, and momentarily forgetting his friend’s whereabouts, began searching for Trip. After a moment he sighed and resigned to speaking with one of the lieutenants. He found Hess working by Trip’s desk, so he approached. “What’s the status of the weapons; surface-to-orbit specifically?”

Lieutenant Hess jumped to attention. “It’s all in the reports, sir,” she answered. “Would you like me to bring them up on the computer?”

“Just sum it up for me, Lieutenant,” replied Archer. He was in no mood to go rifling through endless reports when she could easily tell him what he needed to know in a few short sentences.

“Per protocol with first contacts, we did an extensive high resonance scan of the planet on arrival. But we didn’t come up with anything substantial.”

“But we know the weapon exists.,” stated Archer. “Doctor Phlox said they had extremely powerful surface-to-orbit weapons.”

“We haven’t been able to find them, sir.” Hess paused and directed the captain to a nearby monitor. She brought up the schematics of the planet and pointed to a pattern of crisscrossing lines approximately three miles beneath the planet’s surface. “But we did learn something else. After several surface scans, we started digging deeper and detected some sort of barrier matrix that surrounds the entire interior of the planet. But our scanners can’t penetrate it, and we can only assume their defence systems are located underneath.” She paused and scratched her head. “They have sophisticated shields, sir. It’s strange that their sensors are so prehistoric.”

Archer ignored the last statement and leaned close to the monitor. “Do you think our weapons could penetrate their interior shield?”

“Most likely,” offered Hess. “But first we’d have to blast through several miles of sheer rock. And that could be a problem- time wise.”

Archer thinned his lips. “I bet they keep their cells underneath that interior shield. And that’s probably where they’re keeping the sub-commander.” He stood back up and folded his arms across his chest. “Any luck penetrating the external shield around the Great Hall? Scans would be very beneficial right now.”

“We can‘t scan through it, sir,” replied Hess. “Every time we match it’s frequency it changes. But on a good note, we can transport through it. They both use modulated frequencies, so it doesn’t present a problem.”

Archer dropped his head. “That’s a definite step in the right direction,” he said. “But we can’t exactly do a blind transport. We need them to drop the external energy field.”

“We need them to drop the internal energy field,” replied Hess. “Then we could get a better understanding of the weapon, if it is indeed located beneath.”

Archer nodded, also seeing further implications. With the internal shield down, they would also be able to get to T’Pol. “So all we know is that they have a significant weapon, but we have no idea what kind of effect it’ll have on Enterprise.”

“Well, it’ll either do little to no damage, or blow us to bits,” replied Hess.

Archer did not appreciate the attempt at humour. “Let’s assume the worst and boost all reserve power to the lower hull.”

~

The sounds of an alien language woke Trip from his restless sleep. Hair dishevelled and face unshaven, he pushed the blankets off his chest and slowly sat up. Across sickbay, and sitting with her back to him, Hoshi was practicing a new tongue. Then the room started to spin and his stomach suddenly lurched. With a renewed sense of urgency, Trip slid off the bed and stumbled into the washroom.

He could hear the linguist’s concerned voice through the door, but it was masked by the sounds coming from his own stomach and throat- they were trying to regurgitate what simply wasn’t there. His throat burned from the acids that came up instead, and he could taste the sickly metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He spit it out into the sink and slumped back against the wall; groaning and clutching his stomach.

Hoshi must have heard him thump against the wall, because the next thing Trip knew, he was being helped back into bed. He lay supine, but his stomach and lungs felt like were on fire. He could hear Hoshi in the background, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. All Trip cared about was trying to put out the fire inside him. The pain was intense, and no position he lay in eased it in any way.

He finally rolled onto his side and tucked his legs up to his chest, but it was no use. The pain would not subside. “Damn,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Make it stop.”

~

Hoshi didn’t know what to do. She was in a panic. The commander was in pain, and she could do nothing to stop it. But the doctor could. She ran to the wall and accessed the ship’s intercom. “Sickbay to Doctor Phlox. We have a medical emergency.”

She heard the Denobulan respond, and a few seconds later the doors to sickbay whooshed open. But it wasn’t the doctor. It was the captain. He quickly came to stand beside her over the diagnostic bed. “What happened? I was just on my way here when I heard you call for the doctor.”

Hoshi shrugged in distress as she laid comforting hands of the writhing commander. “He was asleep… then he just woke up.” She pointed over her shoulder to the washroom, her mind begging silently for the doctor to hurry. “He was in there… and I helped him back to bed. He’s in a lot of pain, sir.” With her last words, Hoshi was able to catch her breath and steady her voice.

She watched as Archer tried to make sense of the diagnostic readouts, but like her, he was no doctor either. And Trip, on the bed, was still curled in a ball and now unresponsive to her verbal coaxing. It wasn’t until the doctor arrived that the situation in sickbay changed.

Phlox walked in, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it quickly and went straight to the commander. Hoshi did not have to explain anything. The doctor quickly read the monitors, grabbed some hyposprays and injected the commander. Then he turned to address the other occupants of his sickbay. “How long ago did this start?” he asked, taking a manual radial pulse.

Hoshi ran her hands through her hair, forgetting it was pulled back in a ponytail. Her fingers got caught, and she ripped the elastic out in frustration. “Maybe a minute before I contacted you. Before that, he was just sleeping peacefully.”

The doctor made a noise with his throat, but didn’t speak. He moved about the room gathering diagnostic equipment, then returned to the bed.

“How is he, doc?” asked Archer.

“He’s suffering from an electrolyte imbalance,” replied Phlox, loading another hypospray and pressing it against the neck of the commander. “His potassium and magnesium levels were dangerously low.”

Hoshi’s eyes fell to the commander’s chest where the overhead lights gleamed off the silver sunburst. “Did the amulet cause this?”

Phlox adjusted the settings on his patient’s monitor and spoke to her over his shoulder. “I’d say it was more of an effect, or side-effect to be more precise. The imbalance was due to more coming out of the commander than going in.” He paused his work and turned to face them. “He needs to eat. Replenish what he’s losing. It’s that, or I’ll have to try a more invasive procedure such as a feeding tube.”

Hoshi glanced down at Trip. He was staring at the ceiling- his eyes open and unfocused. His skin was pale and dry. It hadn’t taken long for the effects of the amulet to turn a strong, vibrant man into fragile, vulnerable shell. Hoshi couldn’t believe Trip wanted to endure this. He had asked the captain to let him endure this. For what? Hoshi asked. For friendship? For loyalty to a man he barely knew?

Hoshi was beginning to think she barely knew the man before her.

“You can treat the electrolyte imbalance, right?” asked Archer, breaking Hoshi from her internal dialogue.

“Yes. This I can treat. It’s something tangible,” replied Phlox.

“So this is good then?” rushed Hoshi, seeing a dim light at the end of Trip’s tunnel.

Phlox raised a finger to emphasize his point. “Not exactly,” he said. “I can only cure the effects caused by the effects of the amulet. The amulets direct effects still don’t physically exist.”

Archer hung his head, drew in a deep breath. “All I wanted to do was give my crew some shore leave,” he began, sharing a quick glance with Hoshi before he continued. “And now my chief engineer is dangerously sick and my sub-commander is being held for ransom. All in all, I’m beginning to think shore leave is much more precarious than first contacts. And our track record with them hasn’t been great either.”

Hoshi put a hand on her captain’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, Captain. No one knew any of this was going to happen. We all went into this with good expectations.”

“Maybe so, Hoshi,” replied Archer. “But I’m beginning to think there should be some sort of rule book governing these types of things. We’re coming across too many surprises with each new species we meet out here.”

~

After Hoshi and the captain had left, Phlox decided to stay by the bed and monitor his patient closely for the next little while. He watched the commander’s vital signs fluctuate mildly, but it was his chemical imbalance that was disturbing the doctor. He had seen a quick improvement after the injections, but they still weren’t within normal parameters.

“How are you feeling, Commander?” he asked, smiling down at his patient. Trip was supine now, his head slightly elevated on the bed. But he hadn’t spoken yet, and that was even more cause for concern.

With what looked like a painful swallow, Trip closed his eyes briefly then met the doctor’s gaze. “Been better.”

“Would you like to try and eat something? It might help,” suggested Phlox, already heading for small kitchen in the back room of sickbay. Not everyone was lucky enough to have their own personal kitchen, but Phlox had been allotted one in order to feed his patients. But it didn’t contain the normal selection of foods- these were specially designed for patients on restricted diets. These foods were reserved for patients like Trip Tucker.

He returned to the bed with a protein pack and began pouring it into a cup. The liquid was thick and viscous and extremely unappealing for those it was intended for. “We’ll try a little at first and see how that goes,” he suggested, offering the half filled cup.

But Trip pushed it away. Phlox tried again, but was met with the same resistance. “Please, Commander. It’s for your own good,” he pleaded, holding the cup close to his patient’s mouth.

Trip rolled away, throwing his left arm out and knocking the cup out of the doctor’s hands. “I don’t want it! Go away.”

Phlox began cleaning the mess, thankful that he was a patient man. “I understand your reluctance to eat this, but I assure you, it’s better than the alternative,” he said, rising to face the commander.

“Get the hell away from me!” yelled Trip, in a surprising burst of energy. Then he tried to roll off the bed. But Phlox was able to retain him, due to his weakness.

“Commander, please, try and relax,” he soothed. But it was getting him nowhere. Phlox could see anger in the commander’s eyes- a rage wanting to burst forth without a capable avenue of escape. Rage, like all emotions, came from within. But the rage in Trip right now was stemming from something else entirely. It was coming from the amulet. Trip was succumbing to the negative entities which it held. “I empathize with what…”

“Leave me the hell alone! Save your pedantic, moral speeches for your animals!” Trip threw himself onto his side and buried his head under his left arm.

The words stung. And Phlox could not help but feel that although Trip was suffering the effects of the amulet, there had to be some source of truth in the words he chose. It was hard to hear what someone really thought of you, and it hurt worse when it came from someone you were trying to help. But nonetheless, Phlox still considered the commander a friend- despite what he might say in delusional anger. After all, Phlox could think of a few character quirks of the commanders that he found irritating as well.

But he made a mental note to himself to try and refrain from long winded speeches- at least, in the commander’s presence, and reached for a hypospray. He found the soft tissue of Trip’s neck and injected another sedative. Phlox would give him an hour, and then try again. After that, it would be the feeding tube.

(More to Come)

Continue to Part Seven

Return to Part Five

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

One person has made comments

Great story really loving it. Poor Trip, please write more soon. Thanks a lot!