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Star Trek Enterprise

Act Of War

1

Commander Trip Tucker lifted his head and watched the horizon. He saw heavy clouds of dust gathering and darkening the sky. It was a spectacular view, but Trip wasn't here for sightseeing.

He heard rumbling far away and thought it almost sounded like an approaching storm. But it wasn't thunder. It was the sound of grenades. They were in war.

Trip looked at Hoshi who was standing just a few meters away from him, talking to a native in fluent Calusca. He couldn't understand what was said since he managed to remember only so much of the language, but he knew what their conversation was about: Malcolm.

The armoury officer had been reported missing in action for eight days now, lost in the acts of a planetary war.

*

It had all started two weeks ago.

The Enterprise had picked up a distress call by the unstable government of the planet Calusca. There had been a war going on for months now. Rebels had attacked the government, and the attacks had soon turned into street fights and the fights into a war. The major cities were nearly destroyed, very many people had died and by this time no-one could even remember the origin for all of this anymore.

Crewmembers of the Enterprise had gone down to the planet to help in hospitals and refugee camps. Trip and Malcolm had teamed up to help the remaining diplomats of the planetary government and to develop new defense strategies. But the planet's inhabitants were far too agitated from the long months of war to accept help from the outside willingly.

The rebels had attacked again, this time in outer space. The Enterprise had been hit and damaged and Trip had been called back to supervise the repairs. He'd had to leave Malcolm behind and although he hadn't liked it, he'd had no choice.

*

Trip bit his lip at the memory. He blamed himself for Malcolm having gone missing, although he knew that it made no sense.

'Commander?'

Trip jumped. Hoshi was standing in front of him, looking very concerned.

'Yes, Hoshi,' Trip said. 'Did you learn anything useful from the Caluscian?'

Hoshi nodded.

'The government building took heavy damage during the last attack of the rebels. Survivors have been taken to different MASHs.' She sighed. 'MASHs are always on the move; we are still in war.'

Trip took a deep breath.

'Isn't there some kind of... collecting point for MASHs?'

Hoshi shook her head.

'No,' she said. 'I presume we'll have to look for them.'

She sounded frustrated, which reminded Trip of his obligation to be her encouraging Commanding Officer. He straightened his shoulders.

'We'll do that, then,' he said.

Survivors - he thought to himself. He hadn't asked about the dead. He wasn't ready to give up hope yet.

2

He woke up in pain.

It wasn't a dull pain, no: it was a sharp one, hot and gleaming. He was overwelmed by it, so suddenly that he yelled out. Hands pressed him down while the pain became unbearable, even for him.

Malcolm tried to get away, but there was no way he could. He didn't fear for his life, he just wanted the ordeal to stop right now. Then, suddenly, the pain was gone.

Malcolm breathed a couple of times, steadying himself for more. He was right. The pain was back a minute later, more powerful this time. He cried out. Voices talked to him in a foreign language. Malcolm knew it was Calusca and that maybe the voices were trying to soothe him, but it didn't work.

He lost consciousness.

When he woke up next, much later on, the second he came to he felt the pain rising as well. Malcolm tried to open his eyes, but it took quite some effort.

He slipped in and out of consciousness for a long time, maybe for hours, thankful for the breaks when he wasn't awake. Finally he managed to open his eyes, and took in his surroundings. In the semi-darkness he could see a large room with barred windows, two long rows of cots, and people hurrying up and down the central aisle. Caluscians, caring for the injured.

Malcolm could hear cries and yells in many languages. He closed his eyes again, listening to the variety of sounds. He found that he could not remember what had happened to him. But he couldn't worry about that either.

Some time later a face came into his range of view. The face talked to him; it sounded like a question. Malcolm didn't understand what was said and the face vanished. A minute later it was back, talking again. Malcolm closed his eyes, frustrated.

'I don't understand,' he mumbled. 'Na kuram sa.'

'En siriif?' the face asked over and over. Pain-you-are? Are you in pain?

Malcolm nodded. The face was gone; a moment later he felt something to his skin, a sting. The pain dulled; it didn't go away completely, but it was better than nothing.

Malcolm sighed. 'Sa darulum,' he muttered. Thank you.

A little later the fever came; and the pain was back.

Malcolm was left alone for a long time; it was impossible for him to estimate how much. When eventually somebody stopped by his bed, he asked for water in stumbling Calusca, but in vain. He was given painkillers again, but they weren't very powerful.

His world had become blurry and small. His head was pounding, he was light-headed, and started to believe that he was hearing voices. They were mumbling unintelligible sounds. At first they were speaking softly; then they became louder and louder, mixing and mingling; until Malcolm slapped his hands over his ears, causing more pain to flare up in his abdomen, and shouted, 'Stop! All of you!'

Silence.

For a minute.

Then the voices were back, mumbling, soft at first, stronger later. Malcolm didn't fight them anymore. He had no strength left.

*

He was so cold.

He tried to flex his fingers to regain some sensitivity in them, but they were stiff and frozen. He couldn't rub his hands because his midsection was so full of pain that he couldn't raise his arms. He wanted to roll onto his side and curl into a ball, but he couldn't do that either, so he decided to keep very still. The pain was so overwhelming Malcolm didn't even realise he was crying.

Suddenly, he felt a hand against his cheek. It was nice and cool, and that was when Malcolm noticed that he was running a high fever. He breathed in carefully, trembling with cold.

'Malcolm?' somebody asked.

Malcolm smiled wearily without opening his eyes - the voices were back.

'Malcolm, can you hear me?' the voice insisted.

Malcolm cracked his eyes open and found himself staring into a very concerned face.

'Trip?' he croaked out.

Trip turned to talk to someone else and Malcolm let his eyes drift closed again. But hardly a second had passed than he felt Trip shaking his shoulder a little, and opened his eyes again, sighing.

'Stay with me,' Trip urged. 'You've gotta stay awake!'

Malcolm huffed.

More words.

'… Much too weak for... no strong dose... but-I-can't-stand-watching-him-being-in-pain-like-this...'

'Malcolm!'

Malcolm's eyes sprang open again. Trip's face was very close.

'How bad is the pain?' Trip asked him.

Malcolm smiled faintly.

'Bad,' he answered.

Trip nodded. He put his hand on Malcolm's forehead.

'You're running a fever. We'll try to make it more comfortable for you, but we cannot give you strong painkillers.'

Malcolm just stared back, unable to process the information. Trip seemed to understand his irritation and said, 'Try to relax. We're here now.'

Malcolm let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes again, exhausted. He could still feel Trip's hand on his shoulder.

'Easy,' Trip said softly. 'Painkillers are on their way.'

'That would be very nice,' Malcolm answered groggily.

tbc