“Well, Doc?  What’s the verdict?” 

Phlox did not immediately answer.  Instead, he sat down, facing Archer across the small kitchen table.  “Is that Tarkalean tea, Captain?”

Archer nodded.  “I’ve developed a fondness for it.  Like a cup?”

“Please.” 

Archer poured out a cup, passed it over.  “Still can’t get Trip to like it.  He’s strictly an orange pekoe man.  Not that he’s eating – or drinking – much of anything lately.”

“You’ve kept him hydrated,” Phlox replied.  “And I’ve given him his vitamin shots.  It’s not ideal, but under the circumstances, it’s adequate.”  He sipped his tea.  “This is very good, Captain.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Archer agreed.  “No matter how good the replicators are, they can never quite match the real thing.”  He sipped his tea.  “The, ah, individual who does the housework bought it for me.  Apparently, there’s a shop in the mainland city that imports all kinds of teas and coffees.”

“You should visit it while you’re there,“ said Phlox.

“Pardon?”

“No pardon is required, Captain.”

“I meant – I don’t understand.  ‘While I’m there’?”

“It’s simple, Captain.  You asked me what my verdict was.  And it is that while you have done an admirable job of caring for the Commander, you, too, require a break.  R&R, I believe you call it.”

“I was talking about Trip when I asked you that,” Archer said with some asperity.

“I’m well aware of that, Captain.  And the Commander is, to coin a phrase, doing as well as can be expected.  But I have no wish to care for two patients instead of one.”

“I can’t leave Trip alone here.  And taking him back to Enterprise –“

“ – is not necessary,” Phlox finished.  “No, Captain.  What I am suggesting is that I remain here with the Commander, and you take some shore leave.”

Archer still hesitated.  “Making yourself ill because of your guilt over your perceived role in bringing about his illness will not help anyone,” Phlox told him, “least of all, Commander Tucker.”

Archer smiled.  “I’m that obvious, am I?”

Phlox regarded him calmly.  “Have you forgotten, Captain?  I do have a degree in psychiatry.”

*  *  *

“Have a good time,” Trip said.  “Bring me back a souvenir.”

Archer sighed.  “I wish you could come with me.  You know that, don’t you?”

“I think I’d slow you down,” Trip said, quite seriously.  “From what I understand, the streets over there are awful narrow.  You’d have a hell of a time dragging my stretcher along with you.”

Despite himself, Archer smiled.  Phlox’s urgings aside, he still felt guilty about going off and enjoying himself while Trip was still sick, but he knew Phlox was right.  He also knew the doctor would have no hesitation of turning his suggestion into a medical order.  “I’ll take lots of pictures, how’s that?” he responded.  “And I’ll try and find something interesting for you.”

“Don’t spend all your time shopping for me, Cap – “ at the look on Archer’s face, Trip hastily amended that to, “Jon.  You really do need a break, you know,” he added.

Archer was amused.  “Do I?”

“Yeah,” Trip said, earnestly.  “I’m glad Phlox is making you take some time off.  I’ve been worried, and – “

“Wait a minute,” Archer interjected.  “What makes you think Phlox has anything to do with this?”

Trip simply looked at him.  “Because,” he said, “that’s the only way you would go.”

Archer was once again struck by the shrewd mind behind the young, open face.  He was unable to come up with an adequate retort, so he simply grunted.  Trip grinned in response.  “Have a good time,” he repeated.

“You too.”

Trip’s grin vanished.  “Oh, yeah.  Phlox and me – we’re going to have a ball.”

“I heard that,” Phlox called from the next room.

Trip sighed, rolled his eyes theatrically.  Archer gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  It’s only for a few days.”

“Don’t hurry back because of me,” Trip replied.  “Relax.  Enjoy yourself.  Like I said, I’ve been worried.”

He’s been worried, Archer thought.  You’d think by listening to him that I was the one who was sick, instead of the other way round.  It was typical of Trip, he mused.  The engineer was the one suffering from an illness, and yet he was worried about his captain.

“Your shuttle’s here,” said Trip.  Archer could hear the faint whine of approaching engines.  He picked up his bag, looked at his friend.  “Next time,” he told the younger man, “we’ll paint the town red.”

“Promise?”  Trip suddenly looked very young and vulnerable.

“More than a promise.  It’s a guarantee.”

*  *  *

“Ah, Captain!” Phlox greeted Archer with his usual good humor.  The doctor was sitting on the front porch of the little house, in an old rocking chair he had found in the storage shed out behind.  He watched as the Captain, laden with bags and parcels, followed by an Enterprise crewman, similarly laden, staggered up the walkway.  “You seem to have returned with more items than with what you set out with,” he observed.

Archer grunted under the weight of his parcels.  “Nothing gets past you, Doc.”  He gestured at the door with his chin.  “Would you mind?”

“Certainly.”  Phlox sprang from his chair and opened the door.  “Do you require any assistance?” 

Archer gave him a look.  “I think I can manage the last few feet, thanks anyhow.” 

Phlox looked slightly abashed.  “Of course.”

Archer dropped the parcels on the couch, and stood aside as the crewman followed suit.  “Thanks.  Appreciate the help.”

“No problem, sir?  Do you need anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.  So you’d better get the hell out of here – and start your shore leave.”

The man grinned.  “Yes, sir!”  And he was gone.

Archer sighed, stretched, and dropped into a chair.  He extended his long legs out in front of him, put his hands behind his head and smiled up at Phlox.

The doctor sat in the other chair.  “You appear to have enjoyed yourself.”

“I did at that, Doctor.  It’s quite an interesting place.”

“And you appeared to have picked up some souvenirs as well.”

Archer grinned.  “Okay – so I went a little overboard.”  He looked over at the closed bedroom door.  “How is he?”

Phlox smiled.  “His condition has not changed since your call this morning.  At present, he’s sleeping.  He said something about Rule Number Two.”

“Good.”

“You know,” Phlox said mildly, “it really was not necessary to call every day.  And even less so to call twice every day.”

Archer looked slightly shamefaced.  “I know.  And I certainly didn’t intend to suggest you weren’t taking care of him.  It’s just – “

“I didn’t think you were, Captain,” Phlox interposed.  “I understand.  You required reassurance.”

Archer smiled.  “Couldn’t enjoy myself otherwise.”

“But you did enjoy yourself, Captain?”

“Like I told you – yes.  Why are you asking again?”

“I simply want to ensure that your time off was effective.”

“Oh, it was.  Did some sightseeing, a lot of shopping, and,” his faced creased into a boyish smile, “ah, interacted with some of the natives.”

“Indeed,” Phlox said.  “I thought you appeared somewhat more relaxed.”

Archer laughed, then sobered.  “Still, I would have enjoyed myself more if I knew that Trip was able to as well.”

“Captain,” the doctor replied.  “As Subcommander T’Pol might say, there is no logic in spending energy in needless guilt.”

“Everyone tells me it’s not my fault,” Archer said.  “But I was the one who sent him over there.”

“Against his will?”

“No.  But ... “

“Captain.  I would suggest that instead of continuing to relive past events that you have no power to change, you use the experience as a learning opportunity.”

Archer stared at Phlox for a moment.  “Look before you leap,” he finally said.  Answering the doctor’s unspoken question, he added, “I’m always telling Trip to do that.  I think I’m going to make it one of my rules from now on.”

Before Phlox could respond, a soft chime sounded.  “Ah,” the doctor said.  “The Commander is awake.”  He looked at Archer.  “I made a few modifications to his monitoring system.”  He then looked at the timepiece which sat on the fireplace mantle.  “He’s had a good sleep this afternoon.  I believe that I will allow him to stay up a little later than usual tonight.  In celebration of your return.”

“Let me guess.  You’ve been putting him to bed at 6 o’clock every night, haven’t you?”

“If you recall, that was my original recommendation.  However,” and he smiled, “I believe it is safe to say that the Commander will be somewhat – relieved – that you have returned.”  And his bright blue eyes twinkled at Archer.

*  *  *

“I thought that was you,” Trip said.  “Have a good time?”

“I did,” Archer told him.  “And you?”

“Oh, wonderful,” Trip said wryly.  “Let me tell you – nobody can party like a Denobulan.”

Archer smiled.  “At least you got some rest.”

“Didn’t have any choice.”

At this, Phlox entered the bedroom.  “It was for your own good, Commander.”

“People always say that,” observed Trip, “When they’re making you do something miserable.  How come you never hear that about something like – oh, I don’t know – an ice cream sundae, for instance?”

“At this point,” Phlox replied, “an ice cream sundae would be for your own good.”

“Would you like one, Trip?”

“Maybe later,” Trip said evasively, and Archer suppressed a sigh.  Forced rest or not, it was evident that Trip’s appetite had not improved.  But he would not enforce Rule Number Four on the younger man right now.  Instead, he hefted a large bag onto Trip’s bed.

Trip eyed it.  “What’s all this?”

“A few odds and ends I picked up.  Thought you’d like them.”

“For me?”

“Who else?  And didn’t you ask for a souvenir?”

“I know, but really ... “

Archer reached over, and adjusted the bed so Trip was partially sitting up.  He took a seat in his wicker chair.  When Trip still hesitated, he raised his brows.  “Well?  What are you waiting for?”

Phlox leaning on the brass foot of the bed, concurred.  “Yes.  Go ahead, Commander.”

Trip suddenly smiled his brilliant smile.  It illuminated his face, and for one brief second, made it look as if there was nothing – absolutely nothing – wrong with him at all.  He gave Archer a glance.  “Feels like Christmas.”

“And have you been good?” Archer asked lightly.

“Ask the doc.”

At this, Phlox nodded.  “He has been an exemplary patient, Captain.”

Archer smiled.  “Then I guess you get to open your presents.”

Trip grinned, and Archer grinned back; the younger man’s pleasure was infectious.  “Okay,” he said.  “Okay, I will.”

He opened the bag.  The first thing he pulled out appeared to be simple slab of clear plastic, about 15cm square and 5cm thick.  He looked at its empty surface quizzically, then over at Archer, raising one mobile brow.  Archer simply smiled in response, and leaned back in his chair, preparing to enjoy himself.  He loved watching Trip’s mind at work.

Trip frowned.  He turned the square over in his hands.  Now totally engrossed in solving the problem he had been presented with, he was intently studying the square.  He turned it back over, and tilted it, studying the way the light reflected off of its surface.  At this, his frown cleared, and he looked up at Archer, smiled slightly, and lightly touched a corner of the square.

It was no longer a clear plastic square; a vivid picture had appeared.  It was an aerial view of the city Archer had visited.  Trip was now examining the picture itself.  He smiled again, and fingered an area of the view.  It immediately changed, and was now showing a detailed picture of the area he had touched.

Phlox made a slight sound, indicative of admiration.  But Trip was not finished yet.  After another moment of study, he touched the picture again.  A block of text appeared along one side.  Trip tapped this, and the text began to scroll up.

Satisfied that he had discovered everything the picture block had to offer, he then looked over at Archer, and smiled.  “Thanks, Captain.  I mean, thanks, Jon.”

“You’ll need the UT to read it,” Archer told him.  “They weren’t familiar with English.  Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Trip replied.  “It’s great.”

“Well, hopefully it’ll keep you occupied – and out of trouble.”

Trip merely smiled.

Phlox shifted.  “What else did you bring the Commander, Captain?”

“Let’s find out,” Archer responded.  “Trip?”

“Okay.”  Trip dug into the bag, and pulled out a bolt of cloth.  He unrolled it, revealing a vivid blue blanket covered with hieroglyphics and symbols.

Phlox uttered an exclamation of delight.  Trip stared at him.  “You know something special about this blanket?”

“This is more than just a blanket, Commander!” Phlox cried.  “It’s a Shaman Healing Wrap!”

“That’s right,” Archer said, surprised.

Trip was looking at it.  He ran his hand over it.  “It’s nice and soft,” he said.

“Here,” said Archer.  He stood, removed Trip’s quilt and spread the new blanket over him.

“No, no, no!” Phlox protested.  “This way!”  And he turned the blanket, so that the symbols were facing in the other direction.  “Now the healing energies are properly aligned.”

Archer and Trip both stared at him.  “You go in for this kind of thing?” Trip finally asked.

“Never underestimate the power of the mind,” Phlox told him.  “A patient’s own belief is a potent force in medicine.  I’m sure many were helped to health by blankets like this.”

Archer looked at Trip.  “Won’t hurt,” he pointed out. 

Trip nodded.  “It’s nice and soft.  Feels good.”

“Then leave it on.  Who knows – maybe those healing energies will help out.”

“Maybe,” Trip agreed.  “And like you said – it sure can’t hurt.”

He reached into the bag again, pulled out another bundle of cloth.  This turned out to be a hooded robe, made of the same cerulean blue material, and covered with the same glyphs.  Archer shrugged.  “The shopkeeper told me that the wrap would be more effective if you had the matching robe.”

Trip smiled.  “Nice material,” he said.  He slipped it over his shoulders.

“You can wear it outside,” Archer told him.  “Keep those healing energies going.”  He pulled the hood up over Trip’s head, and grinned.  “Built-in sunscreen.” 

Trip grinned back.  He removed the robe, wincing slightly as he did, and laid it over his lap.  Archer and Phlox exchanged a glance.  “Joints hurting?” Archer asked lightly. 

Tripped nodded.  “Starting to, yeah.”  He flapped an impatient hand, dismissing this.  “Let’s see what else is in here.”

The next item he produced was a brightly colored box.  “Is that what I think it is?” Phlox asked Archer.

“Yep,” Archer replied.  “It’s – “

“—fudge!”  Trip exclaimed.  He had opened the lid, and was looking inside at the small squares of chocolate.

“Not just any fudge,” Phlox corrected.

“It’s Algasoria chocolate fudge,” Archer told Trip.  “Supposed to be the best in, well, in the galaxy.”

“No supposed to be,” Phlox stated.  “It is.  Believe me.”

“For that sweet tooth of yours, Trip.”

Trip proffered the box to Phlox.  The doctor leaned over.  “Thank you, Commander.”  He took a piece and chewed on it, and a ridiculous look of bliss spread over his round, genial face.  Trip and Archer shared a smile, then Trip offered Archer the box.  “Thanks, Trip.  Now you have some, too.”

Trip took an experimental bite.  “Wow,” he said.

“The candy maker claimed it was better than sex,” Archer said.

Trip finished his piece.  “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s pretty damned close,” he remarked.  He put the box on his bedside table.  “Thanks, Jon.”

“Only a piece or two a day,” Phlox admonished, falling back into doctor mode.  "It’s true you need the calories, but you also need nutrition.  I don’t want you filling up solely on sugars.”

“I’ll make sure he behaves,” Archer said.  “Won’t you, Trip?”

“It’s pretty sweet,” was Trip’s response.  “I won’t need too much.”

He looked at the bag.  It wasn’t empty yet.  “More?” he asked in a wondering tone.  “Didn’t you do anything else but shop?”

“Never you mind,” said Archer with mock severity.  “Let’s just say I kept busy.”

Trip gave him a sly look.  “Really,” he said.  Archer shook his head, pretending annoyance, but inwardly he was delighted that Trip was feeling well enough – for however long it lasted – to be up to a little teasing.

Trip next pulled out a long flat box.  He opened it and frowned.  Two pairs of rubbery looking disks, one pair large, the other small, plus a remote control of some sort, rested within.

“Captain!”  Phlox was delighted.  “Where did you get those?”

“I can tell you where if you want,” said Archer.  “But I already took the liberty of sending a shipment to Enterprise.”

“Excellent!  Thank you!”

“Will someone,” Trip asked plaintively, “tell me what’s so special about these things?”

“Later,” Archer said mysteriously.  He took the box out of Trip’s hands.  “Doc, will you?”

“Of course,” Phlox replied.  He took the box from Archer and closed it.

Trip looked from one to another.  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he finally asked.

“You’ll find out,” Archer promised, “later.”

Trip sighed and shrugged.  He reached into the bag for his last present.

*  *  *

A burst of music filled the evening air.  Archer looked up from his book, let out a breath, and shook his head.

From beside him on the verandah, Phlox looked up from his work.  It was a pretty evening; the setting sun cast a soft, coral-pink glow over everything, and the air was heavy with the sweet green scent of growing things.  From inside the house, Trip chuckled, and then another, more complex melody floated out.

“Sounds like something Sun Tauii might have written,” Archer said.  He shook his head again.  “Unbelievable.”

Trip’s last gift had been a simple looking crystal ball which had come with a number of colored crystalline pegs.  Arrange the pegs on the sphere’s surface to represent a mathematical expression, and if the pegs were aligned correctly, the puzzle solver was rewarded with music.  The complexity of the equation was reflected in the resultant melody. 

Trip had been immediately entranced.  He had played with his new toy the rest of the afternoon, pausing only to eat a hurried, distracted supper, and then immediately returning to the puzzle, and had been happily engrossed all evening.

Phlox gave Archer an inquiring look.  “Listen to that,” the Captain said in explanation.  “You know, it took me 20 minutes to figure out 1 + 1.”  He smiled.  “The shopkeeper at the games store told me that was very good; it took most people at least 45 minutes.  Made me feel pretty damned smart.  Until he,” he jerked his thumb towards the house, “figures that out in five minutes.  And an hour later, he’s doing algebra.  Now what – probably geometric algorithms.”  He shook his head.  “Brilliant.  Not that I’m all that surprised.”

Phlox began his work on the control box again.  “Nor am I.”  He saw Archer’s questioning gaze upon him.  “I have,” he said mildly, “seen the Commander’s IQ scores.”

“I’ll bet they’re impressive.”

“You don’t know what they are?”

“I’d imagine they’re off the scale,” was the reply.  “But Trip has never told me, and I’ve never asked.  His mother once told me that when he was a kid, she and his father refused to know what the results of his IQ tests were.  She felt that such scores only hobbled the expectations and perceptions of both parents and teachers.”

“Wise attitude,” Phlox said.

“I think so,” Archer said.

There was a moment’s silence.  Then Phlox asked, “Captain – if I am not asking you to violate any confidences – I would like to know...  Considering the Commander’s intellect, and obvious healthy family background, why – “

“Why is he so – inexperienced – shall we say?”

“I was going to use the phrase ‘young for his years’, but ‘inexperienced’ is also accurate.”

“It’s no real secret,” Archer said, “But Trip doesn’t like to talk about it.”  He put his book down.

“When he was about 12 or 13, he got sick.  Really sick.  Thyrene’s Syndrome.  They can cure it more easily now, but back then, he had to spend a lot of time either in bed or in the hospital.  The drugs they had to use had some pretty horrific side effects.  He once had to spend 3 months at one stretch in isolation.  Family visits by videophone only, that kind of thing.  Tutors instead of regular school.  Basically, he went through puberty alone.”

“I begin to understand,” Phlox said.

“Right.  When he finally was cured, he still had a tough time.  Oh, they did all they could for him – counseling, peer group interactions, that kind of thing – but it was still rough.  He played sports, so that helped, too.  But high school was just not a good time for Trip.  I remember he mentioned once that one of the side effects of the drugs they made him take was that his complexion was really bad until his first year of college.  Acne,” he added.

“I’ve noticed some faint pitting,” Phlox replied.  “It explains a great deal.”

“I think Trip still thinks of himself as that pimply, gangly, awkward new kid on the block,” Archer agreed.  “He doesn’t seem to realize how much all that’s changed.  If he’d just relax,” he smiled, “he’d find out differently.  I know that there are plenty of women on Enterprise who’d be happy to screw the socks off of him.  I’ve seen the way they look at him.”

Phlox nodded.  “Pheezal found him to be remarkably attractive.  And my wife has an extremely good aesthetic sense.”

Archer coughed.  He still had difficulty sorting out Denobulan social mores.  “Right. Yes,” he said.  “Anyhow, right after school, he worked down in the Florida Keys.  Ocean reclamation project.  It was pretty work-intensive.  Diving 8 – 10 hours a day; spending time in decompression, and then aboard the rig to eat and sleep, and back in the water again.  Not a lot of time for socializing. 

“And then Starfleet recruited him.  More training; more study; lots of work.  When I first met him, he was a looey, but still as gee-whiz and gung-ho as the greenest cadet.

“He’s become a little more seasoned now.  Space travel has a habit of doing that.  But he still hasn’t lost that sense of wonder.  I kind of hope he never does; it’s a nice quality.”

“I agree,” said Phlox, as another melody filled the air.  He stretched.  “I’ve finished programming these, Captain.”

Archer looked at his chronometer.  “And it’s almost bedtime for Mr. Math in there,” he said.  He stood.  “Let’s give Trip his gift, okay, Doc?”

*  *  *

Trip looked up at their entrance.  “It’s not 9 o’clock yet,” he protested.

“I know,” said Archer.  “But now’s a good time to try out your other present.”

“What other -- ?  Oh.”  But Trip still looked longingly at the sphere.

“Tomorrow’s another day,” Archer reminded him.

Trip sighed.  “You’re right.”  Nevertheless, he watched wistfully as Archer carefully removed the math sphere and placed it atop a chest of drawers – well out of Trip’s reach. 

Phlox stepped up to his bed.  “I think you’ll enjoy this as well, Commander,” he said with his usual good cheer.  “Now, if you’ll kindly turn onto your stomach ...”

Trip looked inquiringly at Archer.  “It’s all right,” Archer encouraged him.  “Go ahead.”

Obviously puzzled, Trip nevertheless obeyed.  Phlox leaned over, undid the back of the engineer’s hospital gown, and then removed it.  Trip tensed in response.  Archer quickly reassured him.  “Trust me.  It’s going to be fine.”

Phlox took the two larger disks out of their box, and placed them on Trip’s shoulders.  He took the remote and activated it.  A low hum was heard.  The disks began to vibrate and move across Trip’s shoulders.  He gasped in surprise, but then began to relax.

“Massage, heat and ultrasound,” Phlox told him.  “Set on relaxation mode.  These two are for automatic use.  The smaller are designed to be used in conjunction with manual massage.”

“How do they feel, Trip?”

“Pretty good,” was the response.

“Just relax and enjoy it,” Archer said.  “The heat and ultrasound should help those sore muscles of yours.”

“Yeah,” murmured Trip.  His eyes closed as the disks began to slowly traverse back and forth across his shoulders, and then started moving at a leisurely pace down his back.

“I’m going to make some tea.  Care to join me, Doc?”

“Yes, I will.  I’ll make up a cup of the Commander’s special blend as well.”

Trip opened his eyes.  “Special blend?”

“I asked the Captain to pick me up the ingredients during his shopping spree,” the doctor replied.  “It will help you sleep.”

Trip rolled his eyes.  “Doc – no offense, but ...”

“It tastes pretty good,” Archer said.  “I had a sip or two myself.  Give it a chance, okay?  And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to have it.  Deal?”

“Deal”, said Trip.  He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Archer and Phlox left the room.  As they did, they heard Trip groan faintly, but it was a groan of pleasure, not pain.

“That’s much better,” said Archer.

*  *  *

Trip was half asleep.  Archer hated to disturb him, but he had to.  “Trip,” he said.

“Um,” Trip replied drowsily.  Archer could see by the faint vibrations under the blankets that the disks were now working on the engineer’s legs.

Phlox came up behind Archer.  He lifted the blankets and removed the disks that were now wrapped around Trip’s ankles.

Trip’s eyes flew open.  “Hey!”

“Roll over,” Phlox said.  Trip obeyed, and the doctor placed the disks on his shoulders, where they began their soothing work once more.

Trip shifted slightly.  The disks were crossing across his chest.  “Kind of sensitive there,” he explained to no one in particular. 

Phlox ignored this.  Instead, he lifted Trip’s head, held a cup to his lips.  “Drink,” he ordered.  His patient took a cautious sip, and looked surprised.  “Not bad,” he admitted.  “In fact, it’s pretty good.”

“I won’t say ‘I told you so’,” was Archer’s response.

“You don’t have to,” Trip replied.  “’Cause you already did.” He finished his tea, and laid his head down, closing his eyes.

Phlox and Archer shared a brief smile.  Phlox took Trip’s empty cup and left the room, while Archer seated himself in his wicker chair.  Trip sighed deeply as the disks continued to work.  Archer leaned back, closed his own eyes.  A companionable silence descended.

Suddenly, Trip’s eyes flew open, and he gasped.

“Trip?” Archer opened his eyes, looked over at the younger man in alarm.

“Oh, my,” Trip said, somewhat breathlessly.  Archer saw where under the blankets the disks were, and smiled in understanding.  “When it’s inevitable,” he began.

“Lie back and enjoy it,” Trip finished for him.  “Is that an order?  Or a new rule?”

“Does it have to be?”

Phlox appeared from the other room.  He saw what was happening to Trip.  “Ah, yes,” he said.  “I neglected to mention that these can be used for, ah, other forms of stimulation.”

“I’ll bet,” Trip said, still somewhat breathless.  “Um, Captain ...”

“After what you’ve been through, I think you should enjoy your massage,” Archer said.

By now, the disks had migrated further south.  Trip relaxed somewhat.  “Just in the nick of time,” he said.  “I don’t think I could take much more,” he added with a rueful smile.  “I’m not exactly 100% right now.”

“Give it time,” Archer said gently.  “Just give it time.”

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