A Tight Fit
*Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Enterprise or any of their characters, I only own my original characters.
Twenty-one Hundred (09:00pm), Tuesday, 05/08/2052.
He was hot. The air uncomfortably warm and thick with smoke as he breathed in and out. He was laying on his stomach, the side of his face pressing against the rough texture of a floor grate. His head felt heavy, throbbing painfully with every beat of his heart. Trip fought to pry his weighted eyelids open, having to take a second and allow the fog in front of his eyes to clear. Slowly lifting his head, he brought his right hand up. With great effort he lifted it closer and turned his head slightly, trying to find the source of the throbbing. Gasping in pain, he jerked his hand away from an extremely tender spot above his right eyebrow. His swift movement caused the throbbing in his head to double and a faint stinging in his hand registered in the back of his mind. Faintly he realized that he had scraped it against a wall when he jerked it away from his head. Moving his hand closer and slightly turning his head, he gingerly touched around the tender spot above his right eyebrow. Slowly moving his hand away from the painfully tender spot, he realized that it was covered in a thick, sticky substance. The thick air was heavy with a distinct coppery smell. Staring at what he could make out of his hand in the dark space, he realized that the substance was his blood, it covered his hand and most of the grate that his face was laying against. Attempting to raise himself up into a sitting position to see through the surrounding darkness, he was stunned by a searing pain across his abdomen and he realized that there was something heavy pinning him to the ground. When he tried to lift his head he was hit by a wave of dizziness and felt as if a thousand knifes were being plunged into his torso. The smell of blood again assaulted his senses and he gave up his attempt to right himself. He attempted to ignore the throbbing pain by focusing on evening out his breathing, but the thick, smoky air was making it difficult. The pain continued to throb harder in his head and across his abdomen, causing the darkness to grow, as if it were alive and attempting to consume him where he lay…
Twelve hours earlier…
Zero Nine Hundred (09:00am), Tuesday, 05/08/2052.
"Archer to Commander Tucker." Crackled loudly over the intercom in Engineering, the voice competing with the sound of the rattling warp engine. "Yes Cap'n." Trip replied through clenched teeth as he lifted his knee, allowing his leg to hang in the air in an attempt to alleviate some of the sharp pain from the toe he stumped in his haste to reach the com button. "How are the repairs coming? We need to be able to reach the Vulcan home-world by zero eight hundred tomorrow morning." Archer asked, too consumed by his thoughts on the new treaty between the Vulcans and Andorians to notice the underlying pain in Trip's voice. "It'll take roughly five hours to finish the repairs. But once we're done we should be able to travel at Warp 5 and make it there with a few hours to spare." Trip said, slowly lowering his foot back onto the ground. "Is there any way you can speed up the repairs, Commander? How many engineers are working on the repairs right now?" Archer asked with a little impatience seeping into his tone. "I'm giving it all I got Cap'n." Sighing, Trip continued, "I've got every engineer on board working, some even double shifts. That meteoroid field really did some damage, not to mention the fire fight with those Zullonos. It's like a circus down here, everyone's been working all night, and let me tell you some of us have gotten real grumpy…" He smiled as he said this, but an impatient cough from Captain Archer brought him back on track. "We should be done with the repairs before supper time, and without to many mishaps we should reach Vulcan in no time." There was a delay, then Archer replied, sounding slightly distracted again, "Thank you, I expect an update in two hours." "Yes Sir. And Sir? Don't worry about the treaty, everything will work out just fine." "I'm not worried, just concerned is all, but thank you Trip." Archer replied with genuine gratitude. Trip sighed and with a tired determination returned to his work.
Fourteen Hundred (02:00pm), Tuesday, 05/08/2052.
Five grueling hours later, the repairs finally done, Trip was sitting in sickbay waiting for Phlox to finish bandaging his left hand. They had been almost done with the repairs, with only a few minor incidents along the way, when Ensign Sam Fezzo, one of his fellow engineers, had been passing a panel over the head of another engineer. Sam's tired fingers had suddenly lost their grip and the panel slipped. Trip had been standing nearby and seeing the panel slip, had acted on instinct. Reaching out to catch the wayward panel, a sharp corner ripped through the palm of his left hand, ignoring the pain, he managed to stop its descent with his other hand. Checking to make sure that the other engineer was fine, he handed the panel back to Sam. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed a rag and attempted to stanch the flow of blood, using the time he spent wrapping his hand to fix his face into a neutral mask in order to hide the intense pain that had begun radiating from his hand. Sam stepped down from where he had been standing and approached Trip, apologizing profusely. "Don't worry about it Sam, we're all tired. As soon as the repairs are finished make sure everyone gets some food and rest." Trip had said, tying the rag with a rubber band and applying more pressure with his right hand. With a nod in Sam's direction he turned to finish the task that he had previously been performing. "Um Sir?" Came Sam's voice from behind him after a few seconds. "Don't you think you should go to sickbay and have that looked at before you continue working?" He asked hesitantly. "I'll be fine till I finish this, then I'll head that way Ensign." Trip said without turning away from his now onehanded work. After several minutes of trying to reconnect the wires, he gave a frustrated growl when he attempted to use his left hand and it only resulted in more pain. "Sir, I've just completed the section that you assigned to me earlier and I can finish up those wires if you'd like." Sam said as he stepped to Trip's right side, "Besides, I'd feel horrible if you got an infection or something because of a mistake I made." Trip looked over at Sam and when his resolved to keep working vanished he realized that he had made a mistake in looking at Sam's face. Sam had that way about him, maybe it was his eyes or something in his stance, but he always had the ability to get others to do something to spare him from some guilt or hurt or other such nonsense. Maybe it was the way that he stated what he knew would be better for others so that it seemed like they would actually be doing him a favor, instead of the other way around. Shaking his head with a frustrated sigh, Trip gave a stiff nod and, with a resigned look on his face, started towards sickbay.
A sharp prick in his neck brought Trip back to the present and he looked up as Phlox stepped away from the bio bed to place the hypo-spray with the anesthetic back in its place. "You need to rest Commander Tucker, your body is fatigued and your immune system isn't at its optimum. I do not want you back here with an infection. That would not be a pleasant experience." Phlox stated with a stern, yet concerned, tone in his voice. "Straight to bed, won't argue with that." Trip's southern drawl thick with exhaustion, the fact that he didn't put up any resistance to the mandatory rest alarmed Phlox more than anything else. "I expect to see you back here in the morning Commander." Phlox said, folding his hands as he turned back. "Sure Doc, I'll see ya in the morn'n." Trip said, holding his injured hand to his chest as he slid off the bio bed and walked tiredly out of the infirmary.