Author: Lady Starblade -- [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tu/R
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None, really
Archive: If ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.
Feedback: Yes, please. <Bambi eyes>
Disclaimer: Oh, how I would love to own them all, but alas, I do not. Paramount owns all, and I make no money whatsoever.
Author's Note: Sequel to "Ferocity." Second in a three part series. And I just had to give poor Travis something to do. Wrote this in two hours instead of working on my thesis paper like I should've been. Hope you're happy. <g>
Summary: "He could not abandon Malcolm now. He could not and he would not."
**
Trip almost didn't recognize the sensation. It took his battered mind a few moments to place it. Warmth. It was warm again. He stared dazedly at the soft glow coming from the floor he was crouched on. What had happened? A sudden sound made his head snap up, and his weapon rose unsteadily. Had to keep firing, had to keep the aliens back, had to save Malcolm....
He recognized Jonathan Archer just in time to keep his finger from pulling the trigger. Trip wove slightly on his knees as his free hand tugged at his makeshift eye-shield. As he pulled it away, he saw Dr. Phlox, his normally cheerful expression replaced by one of concern. The man at the transporter controls looked extremely familiar, and Trip reflected that he should know him, but his mind refused to focus.
This was Enterprise. Trip felt his shoulders sag as the adrenalin that had kept him going during the escape left all at once, leaving him lightheaded, dizzy, and none too steady. "Cap'n," he mumbled, fatigue blurring his voice.
The other man took several swift steps forward, easing the alien rifle out of his hand and sliding an arm around his waist. "Yes Trip, you're here. You're safe."
"Safe..." Trip repeated dumbly, feeling the world begin to spin. He was safe, they had gotten out.
That last thought suddenly sharpened Trip's mind as Archer carefully helped him off of the narrow transporter platform. "Malcolm, where's Malcolm?!" He heard his shout echo painfully off of the walls. "Where is he?"
"Easy, Trip, easy, we're locking onto him now...." Archer cast a glance to the junior engineer at the controls.
"Firefight, lots of aliens shootin'...." Trip twisted in Archer's grasp, staring desperately at the platform.
"Captain?" The concerned note in....Rodgers, that was his name....Rodgers' voice made the other three look at him. "I can't lock on. There's no signal to lock onto."
The sound that came from Trip's throat was frighteningly close to a snarl. "Whaddya mean there's no signal?! He was less than ten feet away from me!" Archer's voice telling him to calm down had become only a faint whisper over the roaring in Trip's ears.
"There was a signal, but there was a flash of energy, and then no signal. It's like he just..."
"Crewman!" Archer's snapped command cut off the sentence. Trip froze as he realized the implication.
"Are you sayin' he's dead? Are ya!?!!" Rodgers actually took a step back as the furious Trip lashed out.
"Trip, stop it!" Trip shook off Archer with maniacal force as he lunged for the console. The only thought in his head was to save Malcolm.
But his body couldn't match his will. As soon he moved away from Archer, Trip's legs gave way, pitching him violently forward. He fell, his head coming within bare inches of striking the edge of the panel. With shaking arms, he tried to push himself up, but his strength failed. Trip lay on the floor, gasping with effort.
Phlox appeared at his side, a hypospray in hand. "Commander, you must calm down before you cause further injury to yourself." Trip ignored him and tried to get to his feet again. Once again, he failed, collapsing with a low moan.
A sharp prick to the neck, and Trip lost what little strength he had. Whatever Phlox had injected him with was yanking him down into unconsciousness. His eyes rolled upward to see his old friend leaning over him, face creased with worry. "Jonny," Trip pleaded blurrily, "please help 'im. Ya gotta 'elp 'im. Promised I would'n leave 'im...."
The last thing Trip was aware of was Archer's voice. "We'll try."
**
Something wasn't right. Something was missing. That thought helped Trip swim upward, out of the strange sleep he had been in. He became aware of the surface under him, the air around him, the soft sounds chiming above him. That was wrong. There had been stillness before, broken only by Malcolm's breathing and the sound of his heartbeat.
Malcolm. Eyes still closed, Trip reached out, searching for him. What had happened? Where was he? The terrible thought that the aliens had taken Malcolm away and killed him made Trip's eyelids flew open at the same time his breath caught. A familiar gray ceiling filled his field of vision. His eyes rapidly flicked from side to side. Sickbay. He was back in Enterprise's sickbay. He had woken in this room often enough to recognize it.
Trip's gaze snapped to the bed on his right, then to his left. Both empty. Cautiously lifting his head, he looked around at the line of empty beds. Malcolm wasn't here. He was back on Enterprise, but Malcolm wasn't.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Trip levered himself up onto his elbows. There was a dull ache all over, but no sharp, protesting pain. After pulling up into a sitting position, an experimental wiggle of his fingers and toes confirmed he still had them all. His mind was still foggy, but he was gradually becoming more alert.
The memory of the transporter platform rushed back. A flash of energy, then the signal was gone. A disrupter blast. Trip closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. The logical assumption, as T'Pol would say, would be that Malcolm had been struck by a bolt in the firefight and killed. Trip took several deep breaths to calm himself. *Don't get ahead of yourself; you never liked logic anyway.*
His movement attracted a Denobulan doctor, who quickly came to his bedside. "Hello, Commander Tucker. How are you feeling?"
Trip brushed aside the question. "What happened after I got knocked out? Where's Malcolm?"
Phlox shook his head slightly. "I had to sedate you because of your agitated state. Afterwards, they were unable to locate Lieutenant Reed."
The universe narrowed down to a single point. In a low voice, Trip asked, "Is he dead?"
Phlox fixed him with a sympathetic look. For an irrational second, Trip wanted to punch it off the doctor's face. "Is he?"
"I don't know, Commander. But if he is, he is still on the planet as a prisoner, and his captors probably none too happy with your escape."
"Wait a minute. Back up a sec. Planet? We thought we were on a ship."
Another head shake. "No, you and the Lieutenant were being held in a complex on the planet we are orbiting. I understand there was some type of shielding that prevented an earlier rescue until you reached a non-shielded area."
Trip filed the information away. "Fine. But we don't know Malcolm's dead, right?"
"I don't know the current status of the search, but Captain Archer asked that I contact him as soon as you fully regained consciousness. I'm sure he can fill you in."
"Doc, how long was I out?" Trip asked, an odd realization dawning.
The doctor looked extremely uncomfortable and glanced away before answering, "You've been missing for nine days. You've been unconscious in sickbay for three days."
"Three days!" The words exploded out of Trip. "Ya mean I've been layin' here for three days while Malcolm may be dyin'?!"
"Mr. Tucker, please calm yourself. I'll inform the captain that you are awake."
Trip nodded slowly. "Yeah, Doc, you do that."
**
Trip swung his legs back and forth as he sat on a biobed, his eyes fixed on a wall panel. Unlike Malcolm, he wasn't exactly one for pacing, but his agitation was looking for a release. Dr. Phlox was finishing up a last battery of tests, and if they came out right, Trip would be free to leave sickbay to return to his quarters. He mentally snorted as he ran a hand over his newly-shaven face. The captain would probably lock him in there to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.
The conversation with Archer a couple of hours before had gone pretty much as Trip expected. There was no evidence outside of the transporter sensor log to confirm whether Malcolm was alive or dead. But Trip could see that Archer didn't hold out much hope. It would only be a short matter of time before he decided to move on.
Trip kept remembering how right before they had made their escape from their cell, how they had both promised they wouldn't leave the other behind. And he had left Malcolm behind. His mind told him that he had done no such thing, but guilt and anger still wrapped themselves around his heart. He could not abandon Malcolm now. He could not and he would not.
His train of thought was broken by Phlox's return. "Well Commander, you seem to be in relatively good shape. I'm sure you're eager to get out of sickbay."
"Got that right."
Phlox held up a cautioning hand. "Just to return to your quarters. Your body has been through a very rough time and it needs more time and rest."
"But..."
"No," Phlox overrode Trip's voice. "There is nothing you can do to help with the search now. I'm sure they are all doing the best they can." The doctor gave Trip a measuring look and added, "I am sorry, Trip."
Trip jerked his head. "Stop talkin' like he's dead. There's still a chance."
Phlox didn't reply, just stepped aside and gestured to the door. "You are free to go."
Trip pushed himself off of the bed and left without looking back. His mind spun furiously as he tried to think of something, anything he could do. He reached the end of the hallway and pressed the turbolift call button. An idea was beginning to form, but he couldn't do it alone....
The turbolift door slid open to reveal Ensign Travis Mayweather. The young helmsman looked up and tentatively smiled. "Hey Travis," Trip said as he boarded the lift.
"Hi, Commander....Trip." Travis corrected himself at the engineer's sideways glance. "How are you feeling?"
"Been better." Trip looked over at Travis. The ensign looked tired and drained. The kid had probably been on the bridge twenty hours a day trying to find them. Archer had looked rather haggard as well, and Trip didn't doubt that Hoshi looked similar. Maybe even T'Pol showed a bit of the strain. "How are you doin'?"
Travis shook his head and sighed. "We've been trying, but we can't find him." He turned a saddened look towards Trip. "Malcolm's my friend too, and I don't want to think that he's dead."
The lift door opened, and Trip made a snap decision. He reached out and snagged the younger man's sleeve, stopping him in mid-step. "Wait. I need ta talk to you. Come to my quarters, huh?"
Travis's eyes narrowed slightly, but nodded and stepped back.
**
"Are you crazy?!" Travis's eyes were now widened with surprise at Trip's pronouncement. "You want to risk your life, again, break a couple hundred regs, and you want me to help you do it?"
Trip folded his arms and merely stared at Travis.
Travis shook his head hard and stood up. "No, I can't do this. This is crazy." He started to take a step toward the door.
"Travis, you've gotta help me. I have to try. I can't leave him behind..." Trip had to pause and swallow before he could continue, "....I promised I wouldn't."
Travis stood still, listening.
"He saved me, now I gotta return the favor. I can't...." He ran out of words as he spread his hands and looked imploringly at Travis. "Please, help us."
The stillness was agonizing as the two men stared at each other. Trip tried to put everything into his gaze that he couldn't put into words. Travis suddenly shuddered and looked away. "All right." Trip let out a long breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "I still think you're crazy."
Trip managed a smile. "Yeah, I 'pose I am."
**
The two men slid into the transporter alcove unobserved. It was the middle of the night, shiptime, and the corridors were deserted. Trip hefted the alien weapon as Travis moved toward the console. He reflected that Malcolm would have kittens if he found out how alien weaponry had been left unattended in the Armory. Heads would probably roll when they got back.
Travis examined the display and punched several buttons, reloading the coordinates Trip had been beamed up from. He nodded, and Trip leapt up onto the platform, pushing aside his dislike for the thing. They were only going to get one chance at this. Trip did not envy Travis; the poor guy was going to catch serious hell.
"Travis." The other man looked up. "Thanks."
Travis nodded. "Just bring him back. For both your sakes." He looked back down. "Transporting...." Enterprise vanished as Trip felt the wild drop and odd stretched sensation that came with transporting.
Then the cold was back.
END