Immune- Chapter 17

Immune

by Trinneergirl

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter Seventeen

Kurt Wilkinson couldn't believe it. Not content with being a hero, an engineering marvel, a first-class officer, and everybody's good friend, Commander Tucker had now become a miracle? Brought back from the dead? For two days, since he had overheard his guards talking, Kurt had reveled in the death of Trip Tucker. After that bastard had offered his whore's body as a trick then knocked him out, it seemed only fitting that the effort the crewman had gone to, sabotaging the life supports, had finally paid off. Mister Goddamned Perfect had suffocated on the Bridge all alone. Now, (and it was all Wilkinson could do to fight down the flash of white rage), the man had been revived! Brought back form the dead! His heroism, stoicism, and every other kind of -ism that involved sucking up to Mister Blonde and Beautiful was being trumpeted from the heights. All of Kurt's madness, his irrational hatred, coalesced into a dense ball of murderous loathing in his chest. He had to rid the universe of Trip Tucker, and he had to do it now.

The door opened and the two Dryalian guards entered. One had his gun at the ready the other had his rifle slung over his shoulder so he could hold the tray of food and drink with both hands. Kurt waited. The guard placed the tray on the table at which the prisoner sat. Like lightning, Wilkinson stood and attacked the guard. With the strength of madness he twisted and broke the neck in a single motion. Holding the body to use as a shield, the human grabbed the rifle. The one shot the shocked Dryalian guard got off hit the corpse of his crewmate. Kurt fired back and the second guard went down, stunned. The prisoner walked to the door and opened it. It was not locked when the two guards entered. Something nagged at him, something he had failed to do. Ah yes! Wilkinson examined the rifle and flicked the weapon to kill. He aimed the weapon at the stunned guard and fired. Satisified, Kurt made his way up the hall. This time there would be no mistakes.

Jon Archer shook his head in bewilderment. The damage Crewman Wilkinson had caused was enormous. Reed had joined him on the Earth starship, leaving Hoshi with Trip.

"What a mess!" Archer complained.

"It gives me the horrors," Reed replied. Archer turned to look questioningly at the Lieutenant. The Armoury Officer pointed across the ruined bio-lab to the epicentre of the explosion that had caused the destruction. "The thought of being there, frozen, unable to move, just waiting for the computer to explode and tear you to bits," Malcolm explained. "It takes some kind of twisted mind to come up with such a horrible way to murder someone."

"I know," Jon agreed. Hesitatingly he asked, "Malcolm. People don't think Trip got his job here because he's my friend, do they?"

"If they ever did, it lasted until we cleared Spacedock," Reed replied with dark humour. "I don't think we would have lasted very long out here without him."

"And no one thinks..." Jon hesitated, obviously embarrassed.

"That Trip slept his way to the top?" Malcolm finished, smiling. "No bloody way, sir!" The Lieutenant laughed dismissively at the notion. "We all respect each other's privacy, but 83 people is less than you'd find in a small village. If you and the Commander where carrying on an affair, everyone on board would have known about it faster than lightning!" Reassured, Archer smiled awkwardly.

"It was a shock," he admitted. "Hearing him throw that allegation at Trip."

"It suits Wilkinson to see Trip as, amongst other things, a whore," Reed told his Captain, turning grimly angry. "Something to be used, looked down upon. If he can persuade himself that the Commander's looks and loose morals got him the rank he holds, Wilkinson can clear himself of the blame for not getting promoted. In his mind, he didn't make officer grade because, unlike Trip, he didn't have the looks to open his legs and get what he wanted. It's a sop to his pathetic need to find excuses for his own failings."

Archer studied Reed's face in some surprise. He'd never seen the English Lieutenant so angry. Even when, under the influence of radiation from a black hole trinary, he and Trip had come to blows, Malcolm hadn't had this amount of boiling rage going through him.

"Do you think others feel the same way? About Trip?" he asked his subordinate.

"Probably," Malcolm answered bitterly. "Trip is a very special person. Strong, tough, intelligent, capable. And very young. I'm sure there are people who resent that, who are longing to see him, (if you'll pardon the pun), trip up. There's always a lot of free-floating jealously about people like that. When you shine like he does, you're always going to be a target." Malcolm turned away and scanned the far wall of the bio-lab to hide his face. "You're the same, sir," he went on, to Jon's astonishment. "There are people who want to put all your achievements down to your father. Your rapid promotion, being given the Captaincy of Enterprise. Anyone who knows, you knows you're here because you earned it. Trip's the same. There'll always be back-biters, sir. Trick is to rise above them."

Malcolm walked away to get a clearer scan of the debris. Captain Archer stared after him in mute shock. He had just had insights into Malcolm Reed that he'd never even imagined! Whilst knowing that his Armoury Officer was a first-class security and defense expert, his astute comments showed a rare depth of human understanding Archer hadn't, until now, credited him with. Blinking, Jon brought his attention back to the ruined bio-lab, depression trickling through him as he surveyed the mess. Life support had been bad enough! The three rooms that had been set on fire by the electrical feedback that had been meant to explode Enterprise had only suffered minor damage, but this was a wreck! They would need to go back to Earth and get fixed in Spacedock. There was nothing else for it. Damn. The two men were joined by T'Pol.

"How's it going?" Jon asked his first officer.

"So many systems were improvised by Commander Tucker that until he is well enough to provide assistance, it would be imprudent to make repairs," she replied. "Our engineers and those of the Dryalian craft are stymied as to how Mister Tucker did all he did." A Vulcan brow rose in reluctant appreciation. "Several circuits are so intricately cross-wired that, without the Commander's assistance, it would be dangerous to attempt removal."

"All that whilst being stalked, sabotaged, and starving half to death." Reed shook his head. "We're lucky to have him." Both brows rose on the beautiful alien face.

"Indeed," she agreed. "I cannot think of anyone else who would have had the range of skills needed to get Enterprise here." Having finished the scans, the three officers turned to make their way back to the Dryalian hospital ship. They passed through the air lock between the two vessels and met Captain Dan’een who was with Sau'mara.

"We have been in contact with a Bolian repair vessel," Dan'een informed them. They are on their way."

"Repair vessel?" Archer asked. Dan'een smiled.

"Not entirely on your behalf," he elucidated. "We took considerable engine damage getting here as quickly as we could." Sympathy showed in Captain Archer's expression.

"We really can't thank you enough for doing all you did," he responded gratefully.

"It's what we're for," Sau'mara's deep, reassuring voice told them. "We help. Besides, Dryalia feels that, if a way can be found to safely traverse the Vort Cloud, we would like to make friends with Earth."

"Thank you," Jon responded, touched. "We're very new to manned deep-space exploration. We can use all the friends we can get." The Communications panel chirped.

"Captain Dan'een?" The Dryalian moved to respond.

"Dan'een."

"Bridge here, sir. The sensors show weapons fire in sector C." Dan'een paled under his tiger stripes and looked at Archer.

"Crewman Wilkinson," he explained shortly. Eyes flaring, Archer, T'Pol, and Reed tore off down the corridor. "Send security teams down to Sectors C and H," the Dryalian Captain ordered. Then he and Sau'mara headed off in pursuit.

The Dryalians discovered something else about humans and Vulcans. They were fast. Sau'mara soon slowed his pace, his age catching up with him, but Dan'een and the security team that joined up with him were in peak condition and they were outstripped by the Enterprise crew in the most staggering manner. Jon, Malcolm and T'Pol, oblivious of anything other than getting to Trip, sprinted through the Dryalian vessel. The same thoughts were going through all their heads. If there had been weapons fire, Wilkinson might well be armed. Trip and Hoshi were in terrible danger. Outdistancing the Dryalians by decametres they ran on, determined not to lose anyone else to that madman. Especially not Trip, again.

Hoshi had sat with Trip for two hours. She had regaled him with all the latest gossip from Enterprise, revealing to a surprised Trip a wealth of in-depth information on the lives of the crewmen and women of Enterprise. Breaking in on the flood of personal information he asked.

"Hoshi, do you and the other women talk about me like this?"

"Oh yes," she replied airily. "There was a pool going as to when you would sleep with an alien woman. Crewman Irana Seminov won after you had your fling with Princess Kaitama." Trip closed his eyes.

"Oh no," he responded. "Does everyone think I'm a whore?" Hoshi's almond shaped brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Nobody thinks you’re a whore, Commander!" she came back hotly. Then she smiled. "In fact just the opposite."

"Opposite?" A puzzled Trip queried, all-at-sea. Hoshi wrinkled her nose.

"Let's just say there are a lot of women on board who wish the fraternisation rules didn't apply to good-looking Chief Engineers," she teased. Trip chuckled, flushing with the compliment.

"Ah, Hoshi, you do me good," he smiled. He looked rueful. "I don' think anybody could find me good-lookin' right about now." Ensign Hoshi Sato took in the emaciated, bald man, lying almost too weak to move on the bed.

"Nonsense," she replied. "Chef, having been given access to a load of new ingredients by the Dryalians, is even now working on building you up again. He's vowed not to stop until you are back to the weight you were."

"I find the very thought of food horrible," Trip revealed. Hoshi paused for a moment, her brow wrinkled.

"Commander, I was anorexic in my teens," she confessed quietly. Trip blinked at the revelation.

"You were?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes. I got paranoid about my weight. It was stupid, but... In the end, only you can decide to eat again. I know it's hard," she continued. "Every tiny mouthful makes you want to retch and food disgusts you like you’re eating raw sewage. But you have to force yourself, sir. It's really difficult, but it does get easier. I promise."

Trip nodded. Hoshi had stated the matter exactly. Food disgusted him so much it made him retch, but if he didn't eat he would die and he'd been dead enough for one month. He looked down at what he could see of himself sticking out of the white sheet.

"It's hard to believe that one person's hatred could cause so much harm," he observed, taking in the prominent bones and skeletal limbs. Hoshi nodded, compassion in her expression. She stood and made her way across to the Communication panel.

"Travis is meant to be relieving me here," she explained. "Before I talk you crazy!"

"Course, Travis is always an island of calm in a stormy sea," Trip responded mendaciously. Hoshi smiled.

"Well it's his turn to talk your other leg off," she conceded. She was standing with her back to the open door. There was a blur of movement seen through the glass wall, but before Trip could identify it, Hoshi was struck a stunning blow on the back of the head and fell down unconscious. Shocked, Trip watched her fall, then froze in horror at the sight of Kurt Wilkinson standing in the doorway with a Dryalian rifle. The madman entered, stepping over the motionless body of Ensign Sato.

"Hello, Trip," he greeted silkily. "Long time, no see." Despair trickled through the young Commander. When was this guy going to leave him alone? Kurt smiled and raised the gun to point directly at the body in the bed. "You must have liked dying a lot, to come back and do it again." Unbidden, tears fell from Trip's eyes. He shook his head in hopelessness.

"Go ahead," he told the homicidal man. "Just end it." Wilkinson, obsessed with the idea of seeing Trip terrified and begging, lowered the weapon.

"Sure, you want to die," he sneered. Trip smiled gently.

"I never wanted to be killed by you and I don't now," he responded. "But look at me, Kurt. Isn't this what you wanted? I'm too damned weak to get up! I'm a skeleton lyin' here! I'm bald, anorexic, and I had to be revived from the dead! I can't even go to the toilet without help! Isn't this what you needed to see?" More tears coursed down the thin cheeks. "I'm humiliated, Kurt! Degraded. On my knees and helpless. Does it work for you? Has destroying me made anythin' any better?"

For a long moment Wilkinson stared in confusion. He took in the hairless man on the bed, his blue eyes full of pain and his skin stretched tight across bones that seemed to about to burst through the fragile covering of flesh. He had brought Trip to this. For a second, Kurt Wilkinson saw himself as he really was. A man who, instead of admiring Trip Tucker for the success he had made of his young life, had instead set out to destroy him. Because Trip was everything he wasn't, brave, dedicated and loyal. It was Wilkinson's epiphany. Whilst he had been able to justify his actions before, now, faced with this suffering skeleton, he could only see the person he had put through hell, for no better reason than petty jealousy. He cried out, holding one hand up to block out the sight of Trip in the bed. He tried to get back the hatred, but he could not hate the pitiful wreck he'd made of Charles Tucker III. In his boiling confusion and insanity only one thing could set him free from the agony of seeing himself as he actually was. He looked back at Trip, his face contorted with anguish.

"HAVE TO DESTROY YOU!" he screamed. Trip, trembling with the insane fury that seemed to resonate in the room, could only wait as the rifle was aimed at him again. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, turning his face slightly away, unable to do anything else but wait for the end.

Continue to Chapter 18

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