Animals
Written in response to a news report about an animal attack on a researcher; Mentions line of dialog from 'Minefield'.
General content, but caution for violence . . .
OOOOO
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Armory Chief, sat on a chair in the main part of Sickbay and waited for Dr. Phlox to finish surgery on Commander Tucker. He was off duty else he would have been either on the bridge or in the armory itself – waiting was always more tolerable when one had something to do. This sitting was stressful, but necessary.
Necessary because he told Captain Archer that he would stay until Phlox told him what to expect with Trip Tucker. Reed was very specific in his choice of words. The captain needed to rest; the man had been on duty for over twenty hours. The search for the commander, the horrific discovery of the injured man, and the subsequent surgery all took their toll on their commanding officer. Jonathan Archer desperately needed to rest, to sleep . . .
Sub-Commander T'Pol could command the ship in the meantime; Reed would do the 'human' thing and wait for information about Tucker, then let the captain know of his friend's condition. The Englishman personally believed that Archer was not sleeping, but he did hope that the man could express his emotions in a private venue, in his cabin. And he added a sardonic thought, 'Perhaps Porthos can help him relax.'
Animals . . .
Some disciplines require 'compartmentalization' to be most effective. Reed's life both professionally and personally reflected this. Certainly he regarded himself an 'enlightened human being', heir to the best – and worst in human culture. There were lines in his mind; edges where a particular thought and ethic stopped – beyond which, another circumstance and morality began.
At any rate the facts were most clear. Commander Tucker had been attacked by a group of vicious, furred animals on the planet's surface. He had gone down there with the away team 'on a lark'; there was no need for an engineer, let alone 'the chief engineer' to be on that expedition. Trip Tucker had just wanted a little fresh air and met Hell.
Reed thought back to the incident where he was pinned to the hull of the Enterprise by a mine, and had told the captain while in a drugged state something about chef wanting to serve 'roast leg of Reed'. At least that was what he vaguely remembered, then thought dully of the condition of Trip Tucker, his friend . . .
He'd seen less chopped up meat on a butcher's tray; the creatures had bitten Trip savagely – skin, flesh, bone – missing. Reed had had to relieve the security officer who found the man; he had become violently ill, and was almost screaming in distress at the obvious condition of the commander. At least he had pulled a light tarp over Tucker, and only that officer, plus Reed and the medical team were privy to the nature of the engineer's injuries. Not even Jonathan Archer was informed of the true extent . . .
After Phlox and the medical team had taken Tucker back to the ship, Reed brought his security team together. Considering his actions, he thought that 'perhaps I have crossed a line . . .' But what was done; regret in a chosen action is an acid eating away in one's conscious thoughts – unconscious thoughts though were another matter.
He ordered an assault on the creatures. Their biosigns were identifiable using scanners, so he sent his team into the area – the bush, the fields, the woods – to track down the creatures and kill any found - a great hunt. 'I am a vengeful man.'
And in excess of two hundred of the foul beings died.
His security officers didn't question his orders; they were like-minded in this matter. 'You hurt mine – I will hurt yours.' Nothing more complicated than that. 'We are all animals.'
And Malcolm Reed sat in Sickbay, waiting for the official word that only a scrap of Trip Tucker survived, or perhaps not even that . . .