Payment in Full - Chapter 28 TITLE:                       PAYMENT IN FULL- CHAPTER 28
AUTHOR:                 PIPPIN
RATING:                   NC-17 (to be on the safe side)
PAIRING:                  Archer/Trip

SETTING:                 Minor spoilers:  "Stigma"; "First Flight" and "The Expanse".  Set after the events of "Savior".

FEEDBACK:            Always!  [email protected] 

DISCLAIMER:         Paramount owns the characters. I’m just borrowing them, and promise to return them safe and sound.  The only thing I gain from this is some writing practice.

SUMMARY:              Everything has a price.




Chapter 28


Archer looked up from his report.  He thought he had heard something.  He listened intently for a moment, but their quarters were silent.  Trip had probably just muttered something in his sleep.  Don’t be such a worrywart, Jon.  The engineer had gone to bed early, after admitting somewhat shamefacedly that he had not taken his morning nap.  Archer had promised not to “tattle”, provided that Trip paid for his sins by getting a good night’s rest. 

He started to read the security report again, noting with grim amusement that every “i" was dotted and every “t” was crossed, metaphorically speaking.  Looked like Lieutenant Reed was determined not to give anyone cause for complaint of any sort concerning his work.  I still think he got off lightly. 

He was interrupted again; this time by his comm. 

What now?

It was Phlox.  The doctor did not waste any time on niceties.  “Captain, is Commander Tucker all right?”

“Trip?  He’s fine.  Sleeping.  I put him down for the night about an hour or so ago.”  He realised with wry amusement that he was speaking about his lover as if he were a small child.  “He was tired,” he added unnecessarily. 

Would you please verify that?”

“Sure.  But why?”

I’m getting some very strange readings from the Commander’s sensor bracelet, Captain.  Very strange indeed.”

With a sudden chill somewhere in the region of his spine, Archer arose and went into their bedroom.  What the hell?

Trip was not sleeping.  Seemingly wide-awake and coherent, he was intent on trying to climb over the bed rail, and was muttering to himself as he did. 

“Trip!  What are you doing?”  And without waiting for an answer, Archer hurried over to his lover’s side. 

Trip looked up at him, his face shining with sweat, his eyes glazed and unfocused.  “Jon?  That you?  What are you doing here?”

Archer didn’t answer; he was too busy trying to disentangle the engineer from the bed rail.  It was more difficult that he thought it would be.  Trip seemed to have gained strength from somewhere; he struggled and fought against the captain’s restraining hands. 

“Let me go, goddammit, let me go!”

“Trip – you need to get back to bed.  You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“What the hell are you talking about?  I’ve got to stop it!”

“Stop what?  Trip, what’s wrong?”

Trip stopped his exertions for a moment, gaped at Archer.  “What’s wrong?  Jesus, Jon – can’t you feel it?  They’re gonna blow sky-high if we don’t do something!”

Archer took advantage of this to push Trip back down onto the bed.  “Feel what, Trip?  Everything’s fine.”  Except it’s not.  He could feel the heat coming off his lover’s body; it was like standing next to an open plasma conduit. 

Trip struggled against Archer’s grip, but his newly found strength had vanished.  “It’s so damn hot,” he whined.  “The engines … they’ve got to be overheating… going to blow … core breach…”

The captain fought to keep his voice steady and reassuring.  “The engines are fine, Trip.  Everything’s just fine.”

Trip turned his gaze up to Archer’s face and seemed to see him for the first time.  “Jon?  That you?”

“It’s me, Brat, it’s me.”

“Jon – I don’t know what’s wrong.”  His voice trembled slightly.  “I feel like hell.”

“Just relax, Brat.  Everything’s going to be all right.”  I hope. 

But Trip had slipped away from him and his eyes had taken on that slightly glazed cast once more.  “Too hot.  It’s too hot.”

Holding him down as best he could with one hand, Archer used the other to buzz Phlox; the three short sharp bursts that meant “emergency”.  Trip started at the sound, looked up and around.  “Tactical alert?” He asked the air.  “We under attack?”

“No,” Archer said, trying to calm him.  “Just calling Phlox.  That’s all.”

Trip shook his head slightly and shivered, even though the sweat was now pouring off of him.  Not knowing what else to do, Archer took the cloth they kept by the bed and wiped his face with it.  The younger man sighed and closed his eyes. 

“Better?”  Archer asked softly.

Trip simply sighed in response.  Archer decided to take that for a ‘yes’.  He took some of the water from the thermal pitcher and soaked the cloth in it, wiped Trip’s face and neck.  Trip sighed again as Phlox came through the door.

“What happened?”

Archer shrugged helplessly.  “You tell me.  Like I said earlier, he went to bed early tonight.  Said he was tired. When I came in here to check on him like you asked, I found him trying to climb out of bed.  He kept saying that the engines were about to blow.”

At this, Trip stirred restlessly.  “Too hot,” he muttered. 

Phlox ran a scanner over him, frowned.  “These readings confirm those of the bracelet.  He’s running an extremely high fever.  We have to get his body temperature down.  We’d better get him to Sickbay.”  He then turned, and using the comm, summoned his assistants, instructing them to bring a stretcher to the Captain and Commander’s quarters immediately.

While he was doing so, Archer picked up one of the plastic braces used to stabilize Trip while being moved.  But upon hearing the word “Sickbay”, some measure of awareness seemed to have returned to the engineer.  He looked up at Archer.  “Don’t want to,” he said.

“Don’t want to what, Brat?”

“Sickbay.  Don’t like it there.  Don’t want to go. Want to stay here.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Commander,” Phlox interposed, “but I’m afraid you have no choice.”

Trip gave Archer a sly look.  “That’s what you think.”  And crossed his good leg over the injured one.  “Not going.”

Archer sighed.  “Come on, Trip.  We don’t have time for this.”

Trip shook his head.  “Nope.  Not going.”

I don’t want to have to force you, Brat.  “Please, Trip.  Behave yourself.”

Trip shook his head again.  Archer exchanged an exasperated look with Phlox.  “Are you going to knock him out?” He asked in a low voice.

“I heard that!” Trip announced loudly.

Phlox shook his head.  “I would prefer not to.  Until I know what’s causing this, any medication could do more harm than good.”

“See?”  Trip demanded.  “I told you, I’m not going.”

Archer sighed, and put the leg brace down, picked up that for Trip’s ribs.  Trip immediately reacted by wrapping his arms about himself.  He glared up triumphantly at the captain.  “What did I say?  I’m not going.”

“Trip, please.  Come on.  Be reasonable.”

“Won’t.”

“Trip – don’t make me order you.”

“Nope.”

“Trip…”

Trip gave him a cunning look.  “Well … ask me nicely.”

He exchanged yet another exasperated look with Phlox.  We really don’t have time for this, Brat!  “Please, Trip!”

“You can do better than that.”  He gave Archer another sly smile.  “You know what I like.”

Archer sighed, bent and kissed his forehead.  “There.”

“You call that a kiss?  Give me a real kiss, Jon!”

Archer looked at Phlox, who nodded very slightly.  Anything to get you to Sickbay.  He bent, and gave the engineer a gentle kiss on the lips.  “Better?”

Trip smiled.  “I liked that.  Kiss me again, Jon.”

“Uncross your legs and let Phlox put the brace on and I will.”

Trip sighed and pouted, but did as he was told.  Archer bent and kissed him, and while he was thus occupied, the doctor was able to apply the brace to his injured leg. 

“Kiss me again, Jon.”

“Let Phlox put the brace on your ribs, Trip.”

“And then you’ll give me a kiss?”

“Promise.”

“’Kay.”

And he lay quietly while the doctor prepared him for transfer to Sickbay.  When Phlox stepped back, the engineer looked up at the captain, alert and aware, his teasing good humour suddenly gone.  “Jon,” he said, and his voice was strained.

“What is it, Trip?”

“I don’t feel very good.”

“I know, Trip.  That’s why we’re taking you to Sickbay.  So you’ll feel better.”

“I’m hot.  And cold.  And everything hurts.”

“We’re going to fix you up just fine.  Don’t worry.”

Trip looked up at him and Archer saw fear in those blue eyes, but when he spoke, his lover’s voice was steady.  “Promise?”

Keeping his own voice steady, even though he was frightened half to death, Archer replied, “Promise.”

*  *  *

“I don’t understand,” Phlox murmured.

Archer turned on him.  “What do you mean, you don’t understand?  You’re the damn doctor, aren’t you?  Aren’t you?”

“Captain, please,” the doctor responded patiently – and tiredly as well. 

Archer was not placated in the slightest.  He placed a hand on Trip’s forehead; a forehead which remained stubbornly hot and sweaty despite Phlox’s best efforts.  The doctor would wrap the engineer in a cooling blanket, and Trip’s body temperature would obligingly decrease to near normal, only to shoot back up when the external stimulus was removed.

“How can this be happening?” Phlox asked no one in particular.

That’s what I want to know, too.  “Could he have picked up a bug of some sort?”

“No Captain.  That is not the cause of the Commander’s troubles.”

“Then what the hell is?”  Archer was nearly shouting, but the faintest of whimpers from Trip caused him to lower his voice.  “What’s happening?”  He was afraid; terribly afraid, and that was when he tended to bluster the most.  Phlox seemed to understand, for his responses had been quiet and calm.

“It’s the nanobots.”

The hell?  "The what?  The nanobots?  But – but the Vulcans assured us they would be harmless!”

“And they were – until recently.”  Phlox peered up at the readings, whether to confirm his findings or buy time, Archer wasn’t sure.  The doctor, sighed, and looked over at the captain.  “They were devised to operate at a low level – under the body’s radar, so to speak.”

“And now?”

“Somehow, that has changed.  And the Commander’s body is treating them as invaders, and responding in the only way it can.”

This took a moment to sink in.  “You mean, his body is rejecting them?”

Phlox nodded.  “Precisely.”

“But why now?”

“I don’t know, Captain.  Something has obviously changed.  However, that is of little matter right now.  What we need to do is stop the rejection process itself.  I could administer various anti-rejection drugs, but I think the most immediate and easiest way to do so is to simply turn the nanobots off.  Once they are deactivated, his system should return to normal functioning.”

“And then?”

“And then we will see what we will see.  We may be able to re-engage the nanobots, or Commander Tucker may simply have to have his broken bones mended the old-fashioned way.  He’s already far ahead of schedule in that area as is.”

Trip wouldn’t think so.  But he kept his peace.  He heard Sickbay’s doors open, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed Subcommander T’Pol standing behind them, calm and composed as always.

“You requested my presence, Doctor?”

“Yes, Commander.  Thank you for responding so quickly.” 

She walked up to the bed, and her gaze swept across Trip.  Archer thought he saw stony pity in her eyes, but when she spoke again, there was no trace of emotion of any kind in her voice.  Soval would be proud of you, he thought sourly, then chided himself.  She was not human and he had no right trying to force her to behave in a way that was both alien and distasteful to her.  And after all, it was T’Pol who had suggested the Vulcan hospital ship, and T’Pol who had helped Trip with his nightmares.  Actions outdid words every time.  Better she be unemotional and practical, than to stand by Trip’s bedside displaying something that was foreign to her nature and do nothing at all. 

“But of course, Doctor.  What do you require of me?”

*  *  *

“Fascinating.”

“I beg your pardon?”

T’Pol, intent on the lines of code she was scanning, did not look up when Phlox spoke.  “I said it was fascinating.”

“Would you care to expand on that somewhat?”

She pointed.  “Here.” 

Phlox craned over her shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Subcommander.  I have some familiarity with computer code, but not much.  That is why I called you.  But I assume that you have found something?”

“Indeed.  Someone has changed the part of the program that directs the rate at which the nanobots perform.  Initially, they were set to promote bone growth at a rate of 1.5% above normal.”

“Yes.  That was felt to be sufficient, considering the Commander’s weakened state.”

“Understood.  But look here,” and she pointed to several lines of numbers and letters.  “Someone has gone into the program, and rewritten that module.  The program has been altered, so that the rate of production, if you will, increases every 36 hours by .5%.  However, no upper boundary was set, which means that in theory the nanobots would continue to increase their rate of work for an infinite amount of time.  Until they reached the point where they were no longer beneficial, but an actual threat.”

“Precisely.  And then the body’s natural defense mechanisms would respond to such a threat.”

"So the nanobots would either go on until they burn out, or..."

"… Or Commander Tucker's body does."

 “Who changed the program?”  Phlox asked quietly, although he already knew the answer.

“There are a limited number of people who would have access to this code to begin with,” she replied, just as quietly.  “I don’t believe the Captain or yourself would make such a change without consulting anyone.  So that leaves –“

“— Commander Tucker,” he finished, looking over to where the engineer was lying.  He was unconscious, and the Captain was keeping watch over him.  Archer was trying to sit quietly, but Phlox could see it was a strain; the Captain kept leaping to his feet and pacing around his partner’s bed.

“It is a very impressive accomplishment,” she said.  At his surprised look, she clarified:  “He must have used a padd to rewrite the program, and some sort of signalling device – possibly a communicator – to rely the new commands to the nanobots.  All done from his sickbed.  As I said, impressive.”

“Ah, yes,” Phlox agreed.  “Mr. Tucker is a very clever fellow.  Unfortunately, sometimes he is far too clever for his own good.”

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