Ulnythian Games
By Lieuten Keen
Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just play with them now and again. What you recognize belongs to Paramount. The names you don't recognize belong to me.
Set in Season 4. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.
The New Doctor takes place in the first two months after Kir'Shara. Renaisterre occurs directly after those events. Ulnythian Games is related to the events in Renaisterre and takes place in late August/early September.
A/N: Drinking, smoking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Please read responsibly!
Chapter One
Starship Enterprise
Mess Hall
Late August 2154
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed had been working in the armory when the computer notified him of the opportunity he had been looking for. He leaped out of his chair and in spite of the repair crews in the corridor made haste straight into the turbo-lift, heading directly to the Mess Hall.
It had been seven days since the starship Enterprise had left orbit around a world known as Renaisterre. Two weeks prior, the NX-01 had encountered a life form so dangerous that the ship had been evacuated for several days. The life forms, dubbed 'space frogs' by the new doctor, had destroyed or damaged a good deal of the ship during their mating cycle before being ousted from the ship with extreme prejudice. Repairs were progressing swiftly; after eight months in the Expanse putting the ship back together again was as familiar to the crew as tying their shoes.
There was just one little problem that remained frustratingly elusive: the condition of the captain. Dragged into a local conflict on the dying planet Archer had been injured, as had several other members of the crew. But unlike the other crewmen, whose conditions were made known to the appropriate department heads, the captain had not been seen since before they left that world. The doctor and the XO were known to meet frequently and speak in hushed tones, but remained maddeningly hard to pin down with a response to inquiries about Archer's recuperation. Dr. Andrea Brainerd, "Dr. Andie" to one and all, and temporary acting Chief Medical Officer while Phlox recuperated from a serious illness on Denobula Prime, could evade and prevaricate with the best of them. She'd certainly been tested this week.
She was about to be tested again.
No sooner had Reed entered the nearly empty Mess Hall that he saw her, tilting dangerously far back in her chair to shout through the swinging door. "I'm serious, Chef! If this burger is this good all the way through, I'm coming in there and I'm going to have, like, ten thousand of your babies! Seriously! Drink some juice! You'll need the energy!" She leaned further back in an attempt to shout that last before the door slid closed to the galley and almost toppled over. She caught her balance and rolled all four chair legs to the floor as Chef's face appeared in the oval window in the doorway. He signaled something to her that made her laugh. Her brief guffaw disappeared as soon as she caught sight of the armory officer.
"Sorry, Lieutenant," she apologized. "I didn't know you were standing there."
"I have the late shift today," Reed prevaricated. "Lieutenant Truax insisted I get some extra sleep. I'm just here for a quick cuppa before duty calls." He offered a courteous nod, hoping to appear congenial and non-threatening.
"Babs is a pistol," Andie agreed, wrapping her hands around an enormous cheeseburger. It looked like something a cartoon character would have to unhinge his jaw to consume, but she managed to get her mouth around it just fine. It didn't leave any further room for conversation though, effectively terminating any decent attempts to chat.
Reed moved toward the drinks dispenser, amused that his equally staid second in command allowed the physician to refer to her as "Babs". Perhaps Barbra Truax didn't know, he mused. Maybe he would mention it to her later, he considered mischievously. Unlike anyone else who entered the dining hall at this time, the doctor didn't appear to be eating from leftovers; it seemed Chef had made her a special lunch. And the doctor seemed to be offering her utmost concentration to eating the giant sandwich rather than socializing with the tactical officer. Malcolm wasn't going to be so easily dismissed. Not after he went to so much trouble to track her down in order to take the doctor by surprise by upsetting her new habit to dine at different hours than most of the crew. He grabbed the steaming mug and returned to the only occupied table in the room. "May I join you, Doctor?"
The inquiry was just as polite as she had come to expect from the unassuming male, but she knew him better now that they had fought together, holding the enemy line from one another's back. His genteel persona was an illusion. He was a predator just waiting to pounce.
It took a while to chew the entire bite, and she eyed him curiously as she finished. "If you like," she inclined her head to the other empty seats before opening her jaw and taking another massive bite of her monster burger. Her cheeks bulged at the size of the bite.
"You must have missed lunch again," Malcolm noted, calmly sipping hot tea and holding a data pad in front of his face as though he was reading reports. "You'll make yourself sick."
Andie swallowed the mouthful and dabbed daintily at her mouth with her napkin. "Are you keeping an eye on me, Lieutenant? I'm flattered by your interest. We only spent one night together. Are you trying to make it two?" Chameleon eyes fluttered shamelessly in his direction.
It was true; they had spooned together for warmth after an unexpected dip in a mountain stream, but it had not been sexual in nature. Her tone was definitely warm enough to make his cheeks flush, but by now he realized that flirting was her way of keeping distance between them and he refused to give in to his unease. He eyed her over the top of his pad as he sipped his beverage. "Actually it was two nights," Doctor," he corrected her. "I know that any disturbances to the peace will most likely occur around you, Doctor. I'm just being thorough in my tactical assessment of the ship."
She smiled sweetly at him as she finished swallowing the food in her mouth. "Yes, I forgot about the night you drugged me; so good of you to remind me." Andie enjoyed the way his jaw clenched in irritation. Sipping her soda, she went on in the same playful tone. "If you need help with your tactical assessment, I'd be happy to assist." She reached for the pad he held with her mustard covered fingers.
Too quickly he snatched it away before she could verify her suspicions that the pad wasn't even turned on. "I'm perfectly capable of managing the tactical assessments, Doctor. That's why they pay me the big bucks." He watched her finish the last of her cheeseburger before attacking the garlic and onion smothered fried potatoes with gusto. "You must be quite busy in Sickbay. You haven't been in the Mess Hall during regularly scheduled meals in some time."
"There's always something that needs my attention," she agreed congenially, popping two wedges into her mouth at a time.
"That I can believe," he noted directly. He delighted in the way her lips pressed together at her unintentional lead. Malcolm delicately took another sip. "What holds your attention today?"
"Burns, bruises, rashes, breaks: the usual," she shrugged indolently. Altering the topic in the hopes that he might become distracted, she opted to inform him about his staff still out on sick leave. "You may be happy to know that Crewman Moreno will be returning to light duties soon, and Corporal Parsons has nearly completed her physical therapy. Your staff will be intact quite soon." Moreno had a large chunk taken out of his shin by the 'space frogs' and Parsons had twisted her knee during a reconnaissance mission.
"What about Corporal Finn?" That inquiry wasn't meant to lead her anywhere. He was genuinely curious about the fate of the young marine felled by the inhospitable atmosphere of the dying world. He had a strong reaction to the lingering radiation in the air.
It shouldn't surprise Andie that he was keeping tabs on all of the crew under his command, but it did. Not all department heads were so considerate of their underlings or conscientious of an unrelated topic in the midst of their interrogation, polite though the inquisition might be. "Not for several days, possibly a week," she answered honestly, finishing her potato wedges and moving on to the bread pudding. "He's responding well to the respiratory therapy."
Once she finished dessert she would be leaving; he didn't have much time. "How's the captain?" he challenged directly. He was tired of stepping gently around her anyway.
"He's fine," she offered shortly. She sucked the last of her soda through the straw, making a loud slurping sound as she reached the ice at the bottom.
"Do you know where I could find him? I need to gain his authorization for some repair work," Malcolm stood when Andie did, as she cleaned up her plate and tableware.
Andie shrugged. "I don't keep tabs on his whereabouts as a general course of business." She dumped the empty plate in the bin for dirty dishes and knocked on the door leading into the galley, waving at the workers inside and giving them a thumb's up before heading back to the table.
"The computer can't seem to locate him," Malcolm pointed out.
"What are you talking about?"
It was quite infuriating that she looked genuinely puzzled; was their conversation so inane that she couldn't keep up with him? "He's not in his quarters, or his ready room. He's not on the bridge or overseeing repairs anywhere on this ship. The computer can't find him."
"Hunh," she grunted, picking up her medical kit and slinging it over one shoulder.
"The last time someone went missing like that, it's because you were playing fast and loose with the bio-sensors," he pointed out.
"I don't play 'fast and loose' with the bio-sensors," she snorted, picking up two large data pads and tucking them under one arm.
"In fact the only person who could verify that he was even on board when we left Renaisterre is you, Doctor," he stated directly, moving to stand in front of her and block her path to the door. "That makes you the last person on board to have seen him with your own eyes."
"That's a dubious honor, to say the least," Andie muttered. Crewman Marcil poked his head out of the kitchen and offered a thermal satchel to the doctor and a suspicious glance at the lieutenant. The young woman's arm sagged as she took the bag; clearly it was heavy.
"So where is he?" Malcolm demanded.
She would have throw up her hands in confusion if she had any left to spare. "I didn't see him in the Mess Hall but I'll keep my eyes peeled," she told him in exasperation. Brushing past him she had to use her elbow to press the button to open the doors. "Happy hunting!" she grunted with a grimace.
Malcolm was reminded that she had suffered an injury while on Renaisterre, and worried briefly that she was carrying too heavy a load for her stitches to bear, but he forced himself to show her no pity. "Perhaps I'll just start interviewing every member of the crew, and see if anyone else has seen Archer recently!" he called after her down the corridor.
"You do that!" she retorted before the turbo-lift doors opened and allowed her to step inside. As soon as she was safely ensconced behind the double doors, Andie juggled items until she could flip open a personal communicator. "I told you Reed was going to be a problem," she told the person who answered. Their conversation was brief.
Malcolm stepped back inside the Mess Hall and returned to his tea. If he really wanted to start an investigation, he could probably start with the galley crew. He wondered what had been in the satchel they sent with her when she had obviously just finished an enormous meal in a matter of minutes. He was just placing his mug in the dirty bin when a call came for him over the intercom.
Commander Tucker's Quarters
01:36 hours
Trip was tempted to ignore the chime at his door. He was exhausted and couldn't think of anything but the comfort of his bed, which had only recently been released from the repair list. The room steward had seen to it that he had clean sheets and all he wanted to do was climb in and dirty them up again. However there was a possibility, no matter how miniscule, that something was about to blow up and the Chief Engineer had to look at it now rather than later. With a hefty sigh he opened the door, weariness making him oblivious to the fact that if his presence had been an emergency someone would have paged him rather than coming to his door.
He was not especially pleased to see Lieutenant Reed on the other side.
"We need to talk," Reed began without preamble.
"Can this wait?" Trip begged. "I'm about beat and..."
"This can't wait," Malcolm interrupted. "I promise to be brief." He pushed his way past Tucker's taller frame and into the snug cabin.
With an extremely deep sigh, Trip closed the door and turned around, folding his hands across his chest and looking impatient. Malcolm wasn't looking too hot either, he noted. He knew that Malcolm's cabin was also cleared of debris; he wondered why the lieutenant wasn't in it.
"The captain is missing and the doctor knows something about it."
Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling tiles before crossing to look at the tip of his nose before finally rolling to a stop, more or less in regular formation. "You have got to be kidding me," he hissed. Those two had been dueling more or less ever since she came on board. It was growing less funny all the time!
"Hear me out!" Malcolm pressed, surprised at Trip's lack of reaction. The Captain was a friend of the Commander's; surely Tucker would be concerned more than any other crewman at the news?
Tucker rolled his head around on his tired shoulders. "I thought you made peace with the Doc so we wouldn't keep havin' these little outbursts of yours," he snapped. "Why don't you just ask her out already?"
"This isn't about...I don't want to date..." Malcolm sputtered. He stopped and tried again. "The captain is missing. Nobody has laid eyes on him since we got back to the ship. The doctor is the last person to see him and she is going to extraordinary lengths to keep from answering any questions about him!"
"Extraordinary lengths?" Tucker repeated. His brain was too fuzzy to really put this in perspective.
"I asked after the captain when I had lunch with the doctor," Malcolm started.
"I think you're working too hard. You had lunch with me," Trip pointed out. He'd only popped in for a sandwich and a bowl of soup, but he remembered the lieutenant sitting there and watching the door, sitting up sharply every time it opened. If he'd been a guard dog, his ears would have perked up and his tail would have wagged.
"I went back for a cup of tea," Malcolm covered, feeling his face flush.
"You just said you were havin' lunch," Trip pointed out.
"Do you want to hear this or not?" Reed demanded.
"Not!" Trip chose, perking up and moving toward the door again.
Malcolm didn't budge. "When I asked the doctor about the captain, she suggested that she hadn't seen him," he told Trip.
"And?"
"Archer's injuries were extensive. She would have to see him for check-ups," Malcolm pointed out.
"How do you know his injuries are extensive if she's not saying anything?" He was so tired it actually hurt to think logically.
"Because the explosive powder I designed would have caused extensive damage to anybody standing that close to it. Even Sergeant Chang had burns to speak of." Perhaps that was the root of the problem; Malcolm felt like he was the one to have blown up the captain. Which was ridiculous; he hadn't planted the barrels of chemicals in the Great Hall. And he had no proof that the captain had indeed been blown to smithereens.
"Maybe...maybe she thinks his medical check-ups are nun'yer business," Trip pointed out.
"As the doctor was leaving, I suggested I may interview the crew to find his whereabouts. Two minutes later, Commander T'Pol contacted me over the intercom and suggested I personally oversee the cleaning and repair of the phase pistols. I worked on minor problems until long after my shift ended this evening."
Cloudy blue eyes struggled to keep the lieutenant straight. "I don't understand the connection," he finally admitted. "And you're running out of time," he yawned.
"T'Pol and Andie are conspiring to keep the captain's condition away from the crew," Malcolm announced quietly, looking around as though they might be spied upon in Tucker's private quarters. "That's why T'Pol ordered me to complete a task that should have been assigned to a junior member of the armory staff."
There were several reasons the first officer might have wished the commanding officer to see to that task, but Trip was in no mood to rib Malcolm about it. "You think the captain is missing and that T'Pol and Andie are hiding him; is that about it?"
"I don't think; I know the captain's miss—"
"Is that about it?" Trip repeated himself irritably.
"Yes, sir," Malcolm agreed, responding to the crabby tone by standing up taller and squaring his shoulders. He couldn't help it; it was an ingrained response.
Trip sighed and counted to ten silently. "I'll talk to them about it," he conceded defeat. "In the morning!" he added hastily, in case Malcolm expected him to get right on it.
"Thank you, sir! The morning is just fine! T'Pol wants me to oversee the repairs in the aft phase cannon assembly! I'll see you some time tomorrow!" He noticed he was being hastened toward the door. "Is there someplace you'd like to arrange to meet and share information? Do you think you'll get the chance to talk to them in the early morning or the—?"
The door closed in front of his face. He didn't take it personally; Trip had always been particularly prickly when he was tired. Reed was just happy he got all the way through his story before Trip became completely unbearable. Nonetheless he couldn't resist pushing the intercom button. "Thank you, Commander." He released the button and started back down the hall, unaware of the brief bout of cursing that followed his last remark from the other side of that closed door.
Sickbay
Late Morning
Andie looked up as the double doors swung open. Her shoulders relaxed somewhat when she recognized the genial engineer. "Commander Tucker! What can I do for you?" she asked with a smile that was almost genuine. "Another analgesic? Something to keep you sharp?"
"Actually it's what I can do for you, Doc!" Trip grinned. "I hear you're still having trouble with the imaging chamber. I'm here to offer my services."
"Surely the Chief Engineer has better things to do than worry about my little ol' imaging chamber," Andie grinned easily in return even if her smile hesitated. "I can wait for the engineering team."
Trip raised an eyebrow. "Rostov says he's not coming back because he's already fixed this thing three different times already. At the moment you're stuck with the Chief Engineer."
Dr. Andie pressed her lips together and shrugged. "Whatever!" she threw up her hands. "You know where it is." She went back to her station in the middle of the room and started fooling around with one of what looked like dozens of data pads lying there. Flopping down into her chair, she slurped from her thermal mug and propped her feet up on the counter in her customary slouch.
Tucker dropped his took kit and looked surreptitiously around, feeling a little dopey for enabling Malcolm's insanity regarding the doctor to continue. That's when he noticed it; the heavy lock on the isolation room door. Its red lights indicated the lock was engaged. The isolation room was just big enough for one gurney to fit inside and was used for several different reasons. It was an exam room for autopsies in the event of a death. In the event of a contagion, it was meant to isolate one person for the duration of their illness. It was occasionally used as a surgery when stricter sterilization procedures were needed.
Nobody had died. Nobody had the plague and they weren't having surgery because the doctor was out here. There was no reason for that door to be locked. He checked back over his shoulder at Andie, noted her feet were still propped on the table before he scooted across the floor to fiddle with the lock. The usual command officer's override code didn't work on the door. Tucker frowned and tapped the four digits in again.
"Something wrong, Commander?"
The inquiry came from right over his shoulder. Son of a bitch! He hadn't even heard her chair squeak or her footsteps! "Why's this door locked?"
There was a pause. "Is it locked? How odd!" Andie covered hurriedly. "I'll ask Ian about it."
"Don't you have the code? If it's not supposed to be sealed, I can get a tool and cut the door open," Trip offered.
"No worries!" Andie chirped. "I'll ask around. There's nothing in there so it's not a priority."
"Well since I'm here..." Trip insisted doggedly.
"I wouldn't dream of dragging you away from my imaging chamber!" Andie assured him, scooting him across the floor and back to his tool kit. "I could really use that thing!" she nodded at it, a far cry from her 'whatever' attitude of a few moments ago. "Maybe I can get a code breaker from the Comm. staff to fix that," she pondered out loud.
It was Andie's great misfortune when a member of the Comm. staff entered the medical ward at that exact moment. "Doc? Can I get an analgesic?" Hoshi called out. "I've got a headache from looking at all the array specs."
Trip looked with fake delight at Andie who looked annoyed at the newcomer. "Sure, Ensign," she answered agreeably.
Your timing couldn't be better!" Tucker chirped.
"Shut up, Tucker," she growled.
"The Doc was just sayin' she needed a code breaker," he went on, ignorant or uncaring of Andie's growing temper.
"Don't make me break your code, Commander," she threatened lightly, before stepping over to the newcomer. Trip grinned defiantly as he returned to his work. Andie tested Hoshi with the medical scanner and administered the mild analgesic when she got the results.
The attention Andie gave to the linguist gave Tucker the opportunity to slide off the cover and check the imaging chamber with his scanner. Once he got the results, he rubbed his eyes and checked again. The machine said the imaging chamber was offline, but the power surge in the motor suggested otherwise. In fact, the power surge in one area but not the others suggested a minor relay issue; one that could be misdiagnosed if the attending engineer wasn't looking for something hinky.
Hinky is what he found. He crawled into the inner workings of the mechanism and found that someone had removed several relays deep inside the unit. His hands were too big to fit through the hole and grasp them; though he could guess whose hands had been small enough. He lay there a long moment, thinking about what this meant. First of all, it meant that Malcolm was not blinded by his attractions to the doctor and that she really was up to no good. Second of all, it meant that Archer really was missing and the doctor knew something was going on. Thirdly of all, since T'Pol kept a close eye on the repair logs, she had to know that something was going on with the imaging chamber, and that meant that in all likelihood she was covering for Andie.
It really was a conspiracy. "There'll be no living with him now," Trip huffed in exasperation.
"What?" Andie's voice came from outside the imaging chamber. She must be spying on him to get that close; her exam of Hoshi must have set speed records.
"Talking to myself," he replied before pushing his body back out of the mechanism.
"You can't live with yourself?" Andie queried lightly.
"I'm too damn good-looking," Trip teased in response. "On top of all this gorgeousness I've got a set of brains too!"
"Yeah? Where you keepin' those?" Andie's eyes deliberately drifted down toward his waistline when she asked; using the same southern inflections in her words to him that he used every time he spoke. She had a knack for languages that was rivaled only by her sarcasm.
"In my other pants," he joked. His eyes weren't smiling along with his mouth though. "I gotta get some more conduit. I'll be back." As he knelt down to replace his tools in his kit, he noticed something about the Isolation Chamber. Now it had a bigger lock on it and if the keypad was any indication, it would require a ten-digit code to open. She'd double locked the door while he was occupied elsewhere! When he caught her gaze settling on his, he turned his mouth upwards into a smile as though nothing was amiss. Then he stood up and went to find someone else to give him answers.
Science Lab D
Later that Morning
Since the Bridge was still unfit for personnel and the Command Center was still being used as the temporary Bridge, Trip found T'Pol working in one of the minor science labs. "You still working out the data on that Renais Project?" On a world teetering on the edge of death, a machine had been programmed to breathe new life into the natural order. It was remarkable for a society that still hadn't mastered rudimentary engines. Starfleet had taken many scans of the equipment before they left.
"The science is incredible for such a non-industrialized society," she remarked. "They must have had an extremely advanced civilization once. To rebuild their world from scratch a thousand years after they had passed on would take an aptitude for planning and forethought that is quite impressive."
"I wish we could have spent more time there," he agreed. "It feels like we rushed right out the door when it was getting interesting."
"It was necessary to leave," she reminded him.
"Yeah, well, I would'a liked more time to check things out," he admitted honestly. To be honest, he had been kept so busy with the Renais Project machine that Hess had been left in charge of the repairs on the starship. She'd done a bang-up job too; he was going to have the face the idea that he would lose her assistance soon. She was too good to remain as his second. The Vulcan was looking at him and Tucker realized his mind was wandering. There wasn't much else to do but start in on the deceit. "Speaking of repairs...how's the captain? I haven't seen him lately," he asked breezily.
T'Pol lifted her head from the microscope and tried not to sigh with frustration. "I am certain he is fine," she answered.
"You don't know how he's doing?" Trip lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "I mean, I know I've been busy with the repair schedule, but I would've thought that you would be on top of the Captain from day one!" An especially dour look from the Vulcan made Trip rethink his words. "You know what I mean," he mumbled as a way of apologizing.
"He is fine," she answered, letting the matter go and making a notation in the computer.
"He's fine?" Trip repeated.
"Yes," she answered shortly.
"That's the answer I always get. 'He's fine.' That's all anyone ever says," Tucker grumbled.
"Perhaps it is repeated because it is true," T'Pol suggested.
"I'm a senior officer, and more than that, I'm his friend. You can tell me if there's something going on," the engineer told her, trying not to feel personally slighted for being out of the loop. "I know he was injured."
"Perhaps you should direct your inquiries to the doctor," T'Pol told him.
"Andie said that his medical file is none of my business."
"That is true."
"How do I make it my business?" Unconsciously his body language was growing more threatening.
"Ask the captain and get permission." The Vulcan seemed unconcerned about anything more than her experiment.
"I can't get past the guard at the door!" he burst out. "Why isn't he back in his quarters?"
"Why don't you direct your inquiries to the doctor?" she repeated, feeling bad that she was sending an angry man back to the doctor, but running out of things to use as a distraction.
"Because I'm asking the first officer!" Trip was annoyed enough to run a hand through his already touseled hair.
T'Pol stood straight and still for a moment. She picked up another data pad and consulted it carefully. "I see that the imaging chamber is still on the repair list," she remarked.
"I've already sent three teams! What's wrong with it now?"
"Medical results cannot be obtained while the machines are malfunctioning."
She really wasn't going to say a word to him! A cold hand gripped Trip's chest in a frightening clutch. There's really only one reason they would be keeping anything this important a secret from the senior officers! "I'll get right on it then," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Thank you for your big help!" he tossed back as he hit the button and left the room.
As soon as the door closed behind the engineer, T'Pol moved to the comm. "Tucker is going to be a problem as well," she told the person who answered.
"You said it would only be for a couple of days. It's been six. We can't hide from them forever."
"How is your work progressing?" T'Pol inquired stubbornly.
"It would go faster if I didn't have to hide the work I'm doing from all the intrusions." The doctor sounded annoyed.
"We must keep them at arm's length for a short time longer," T'Pol assured her. "It should not be difficult to keep them so busy they will not have time to loiter in Sickbay."
"You and I against the Disaster Twins?" Andie's voice sounded grim. "I think we could take them in a fair fight, but I don't think they're going to play fair."
Reed's Quarters
Evening
This time it was Malcolm that answered the door to find the engineer jostling from one foot to another. His blond hair still bore traces of engine oil at the tips. It had taken him all afternoon, but he was sure he had the Imaging Chamber back online. If he was the paranoid kind, he might think that she had sabotaged it further after he left that morning. In fact, he was certain that was exactly what she had done. He had completed the repairs without a word, but he was fuming at her gall. All this time she had pretended to be not so skilled on mechanical things, but she seemed to have a spectacular grasp of how to screw up the machine in her laboratory!
Tucker stepped all the way inside the room and waited until the door was completely closed before beginning. "T'Pol's lying; I'm sure of it," Trip whispered in Reed's ear.
"They are in it together!" Reed hissed in annoyance, hitting his fist on his open palm.
"Conspiring!" Trip added unnecessarily. He didn't stop moving; his feet were restless.
"We've got to get in there!" Reed began pacing back and forth.
"What do you propose?" Trip snapped. "How do we get in there? They've got it locked up like Fort Knox!" His angry paces brought him to the edge of his room so he turned on his heel and paraded in the other direction, passing Reed as he did so.
Having the third in command on his side brought a small feeling of relief to Reed's mind. He'd spent the afternoon tearing apart the phase cannon assembly and mentally creating some rather interesting possible missions to steal the captain out from under the doctor's nose. In spite of the crowded workspace and the tedious task, Reed had a pretty good afternoon, picturing that damned woman flattened under his onslaught. "She's there at all hours!" Reed fumed, passing Tucker going the opposite direction. "I stopped by at 0200 hours under the pretext of needing a sleeping agent and she was still there even though I know she was also present in Sickbay at 0600 hours the morning before because she administered my allergy shot!"
"What about that access tube where we spied on her and Phlox watchin' movies?" Tucker suggested. In spite of his ire, his mouth twitched. The female had been showing Phlox dirty movies to assist his curiosity about human sexual reproduction. In fact the Denobulan had stopped asking personal questions during routine exams since then. This was not time for laughter, he ground his teeth.
"That's no good," Malcolm shook his head. "She's had the tube sealed off, possibly related to our previous spy work, or possibly because she's living there now." The last came out rather bitter. The doctor never left Sickbay; she just slept on the couch in Phlox's office.
Trip frowned, spinning on his heel again. "If she's not getting enough sleep, maybe I could talk to T'Pol about orderin' some bed rest. Phlox has done that to me a time or two."
Now Reed frowned. "I don't want to put her on alert." He'd reached the end of his pace and turned slowly, lost in thought.
"Well then how do you expect to get that woman out of there?" Trip rejoined. "She's sleepin' in the office! Chef loves her; he brings her snacks in there! She never has to leave the damned medical ward if she dunnit want to!" He stopped in front of bathroom and shoved a hand through his greasy locks, wishing the water was working well enough to take a quick break for a long, hot shower. But that repair wouldn't be completed for another day or so.
Reed sighed in frustration. "She can't just live there! She has to go somewhere!" He spun around and watched Trip roll his aching neck around on his shoulders as the dim lighting from the lavatory haunted his expression. A dim light lit up his brain as well.
"What if there was a medical emergency?" Tucker suggested. "If someone was injured, she'd have to come see...What's on your mind, loo-tenant?" He recognized that triumphant look.
"There is one activity that nobody misses," Reed grinned. "But we'll need to be discreet. If she catches wind of something amiss, she'll change her schedule or her habits and we'll never get in there." He rubbed his chin with his hand. "How much time will you need to cut through that lock?"
"If I get a big enough torch, not long at all," Tucker found himself grinning back, even if he wasn't sure of all the details yet. He didn't have long to wait. Reed outlined a plan that was brilliant in its simplicity.
It also kind of hinged on Reed's compulsion about monitoring the doctor's every move since she came on board. For just a moment Trip was tempted to forget that bit; goodness only knew what Malcolm had found out about him during their first weeks in space. But no matter how paranoid the armory officer was, he was still the man to get the job done.
E Deck, Junction 6
Next evening
Ensign Travis Mayweather was a genial person and a good man to have on your crew, but subterfuge required subtlety and Reed wasn't certain the enthusiastic young man was right for the job, although Tucker vouched for him with ease. Luckily Mayweather's penchant for playing practical jokes came in handy; when Reed was looking for a good reason for the Ensign to walk into the medical lab and make certain the doctor was not in it, Travis didn't ask many questions. He just assumed Malcolm was playing a prank on a member of the medical staff. That was true enough, Reed supposed.
Most of the crew was still double-bunked and even fewer had their personal lavatories back online. The only showers that were working with any efficiency were the six stalls in the MACO gym. T'Pol had made a schedule that offered six people thirty minutes every other day to take a shower. The schedule was adhered to with a strict zero tolerance policy for loiterers and late-comers. Reed just happened to know that Andie's shower session was schedule forty-five minutes away, and he wanted Mayweather to let him know when she left the medical lab.
Tucker arrived in his appointed holding pattern, bearing the materials that were necessary to the sting. He felt a little silly hunkering down over his tool kit and trying to look casual, but these were desperate times. Travis passed him as he walked toward the medical wing, winking with a conspiratorial grin. Tucker absently nodded his head in acknowledgment. Reed passed by the T-junction at the end of the corridor after Mayweather had turned the opposite direction and offered a subversive nod to acknowledge his partner's presence as he approached.
"Are you ready, Commander?" Malcolm inquired. His nerves had settled into a state of calm frenzy, waiting tensely to be called into action whether that be fighting or fleeing. Butterflies wrestled his insides and his heart pounded in his chest. He loved a good offensive. The game was nearly afoot when his communicator chirped.
"Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant." The voice belonged to Crewman Foster, the security agent in charge of overseeing the shower line this evening.
"Go ahead, Foster," Reed answered in a clipped tone. At the end of the corridor, Mayweather stepped back into view and shrugged his shoulders; he looked perplexed.
"There's a disturbance down here and I thought...-"
"Damn and blast!" Reed hissed, snapping the communicator shut. "I don't know how she did it, but she's gotten out of our net again!"
"You have no way of knowing that," Trip pointed out. "He just said it was a disturbance! You didn't even give him a chance to tell you who..."
"Oh, believe me, Commander. It's her!" Reed turned on his heel and stomped down the hall to the MACO gym.
MACO gym, F Deck
Evening
Malcolm Reed brushed past the line of ladies queuing at the door and spoke quickly to Crewman Foster. His suspicions were confirmed and he slapped the button that allowed him to enter. "Doctor?" He all but bellowed the word. He didn't have to look very hard to find a familiar pair of soft-soled shoes poking out from under one of the partitions and flung open the door. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
A slender hand reached out from behind the rubbery curtain and a wet head followed. "It's not rocket science," Andie purred, peering out of the curtain with one eye squinting against the spray of water. Soap drizzled down her neck from her lathered hair. "If you're not here to wash my back, do you mind closing the door? This isn't a peep show." She chuckled when he pulled the door closed before interrogating him from behind her curtain. "The question is what are you doing here?"
For just a second he faltered, but he gathered himself and jumped in. "There was a complaint made that a crewman had jumped the queue, and as you know, Commander T'Pol has instituted a strict schedule that allows..."
"I read the memo!" she snapped. Her voice was muffled as she rinsed the suds out of her hair. "I didn't jump anything! I followed procedures! Didn't I, boys?" she called out.
"Yes, Ma'am!" several voices chorused from the other shower stalls.
Her voice was mushy as she continued doing whatever she did in the shower and Reed's overactive imagination was happy to fill in the blanks. "Crewman Ross came into Sickbay with a cut on his arm. It wasn't serious, but he needed a couple of stitches. I suggested he keep it dry and he said he'd miss his turn in the shower. I had just finished one project and if I started the next one, I would have missed my turn, so I asked him if he'd mind if I took his turn."
Corporal Romero started the recitation in the strict cadence of a marine sounding off for his superior. "Doctor Brainerd was escorted to the room by Crewman Ross, sir!"
"She was announced before she entered and her request was put before us all, sir!" That came from Ensign Tanner, one of the pilots in another stall.
"We all agreed it was fine, sir!" That was Ensign Jenkins, from engineering, in the cubby at the end.
"And then the question was put to Dr. Andie how she'd feel being naked in a room full of virile and delectable men, sir," Corporal Woods purred.
"I told him I'd been surrounded by well-armed men before. This wasn't all that different, except for the size of the weapons," Andie responded saucily. "It's not like we're all in the same bathtub. The partitions leave plenty of privacy." The water stopped flowing in her cupboard and Malcolm became acutely aware of the high humidity in the air around him. A trickle of sweat trailed down his spine as he heard her wet foot step out of the shower followed by the sounds of clothing being rustled. He cursed his brain some more for filling in pictures that were irrelevant to his current operation.
"Who made the complaint, Lieutenant?" Crewman Rostov's voice was clearer now that the water had shut off in his compartment as well. "Was it Haley?" Michael Rostov was dating Haley Carter and she seemed to hold a grudge against the doctor.
Malcolm shifted his weight. "I don't think that matters," he answered in a strangled voice.
"It matters to me, sir" Rostov muttered, opening his door. He had pants on but his chest was bare. Woods had a towel wrapped around his waist but flicked the end of another towel at him. Rostov ducked and smoothed his hair back with his hands.
"Anyway," Andie cut in, "I had every right to be here and you came all this way for nothing." She opened the door to her dressing area, dressed in scrubs and dragging a comb through her wet hair. "I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important, Lieutenant," she smiled.
"Not at all, Doctor," Malcolm shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I was nearby when I heard the call. I'll leave you to finish dressing." He also had to get to Commander Tucker before Tucker started working on the locked door in Sickbay. They'd never get done before Andie got upstairs to Sickbay.
"Don't trip on your way out," Andie smirked.
Was that his guilty conscience or did she just make a smart remark?
"There's enough steam in here to make you think it is May weather."
That was definitely not an innocent remark. She knew! God only knew how, but she knew what they were planning! His eyes narrowed and his features hardened. In an instant he had moved beyond vexed and straight into furious. With crisp movements he turned on his heel and left the room without another word.
She'd gone too far, mocking him like that. "Damnit!" Andie hissed. She dropped her comb, snatched her towel and took off at a run, stretching out her legs to the limit to catch him, but even though she shoved her way past the women in the hall outside, she wasn't in time to do more than watch the double doors slide shut on the turbo-lift. She didn't wait for his return; just made a beeline for the nearest vertical access tube, yanked off the door and climbed like a monkey, unmindful of her bare feet or dripping hair. It was a race to the finish and she refused to come in last!
Sickbay
Dr. Andie cleared the doorway with her bare feet slapping the tiles to find Tucker holding a plasma torch and conversing with Reed at the entrance to the isolation room. Reed stood behind him and both wore stone faces. They each spared her a dark glare before Reed hissed in the Commander's ear, "Do it!"
"Step away from that door!" Andie growled.
Tucker ignited the torch and bent to his task while Reed crossed his arms intractably.
"I mean it, Tucker! Stop what you're doing or else!"
"Or else what, Doctor?" Malcolm challenged, placing his body between the angry woman and the engineer. "Are you going to lock us up as well?"
Her furious glower never wavered as her hand disappeared into the pocket of her lab coat hanging on its hook, and came back with a familiar piece of equipment that whined as the power cell charged up. Reed was offended that she continued to keep a weapon close, but not really surprised. She took it personally when she was attacked, and this was just proof that she had a lot to lose.
"Are you going to shoot me, Doctor?" he queried icily.
"Get away from the door," she hissed.
"You will go on report for this," he assured her. He watched her finger tense over the trigger and tried calculating the odds. Would she really shoot him? Her electro-mag pulse pistol was something he had never seen before and he wondered how the sting would compare to a regular phase pistol. Then he wondered if she'd ever told him that her weapon had a stun setting.
Behind him Tucker stopped welding. "Put the gun down, Andie," he warned her.
"Step back from that door," she repeated again. She didn't have to tell them it would be their last warning; they could see that in her eyes.
The door to Phlox's officer slid open. "What is the problem here?" Commander T'Pol sized up the situation in an instant.
"They are breaking into a room that has been sealed by the Chief Medical Officer," Andie informed her curtly.
"Temporary. Acting. Chief," Tucker corrected her belligerently.
T'Pol stopped beside the physician. She studied Tucker and Reed solemnly for a moment. "Put the gun down, Doctor." Her voice was quiet and not at all troubled.
Andie hesitated for a fraction of a second before she did something that Reed had never seen her do. She complied with the order without arguing, flicking the hammer loose and letting the whine die away before slipping it back into a holster hidden under her coat.
"Step away from the door, Commander." T'Pol was quiet but firm. She waited until Tucker begrudgingly complied. "You said this could not last forever," T'Pol reminded the physician in a low voice.
"Because they cheated!" the doctor hissed, planting her fists on her hips. She may be disarmed but she was still plenty angry.
"Nevertheless, it is time." The Vulcan shrugged. "Tell them."
Andie cocked an eye at the woman beside her. "Tell them everything?" she inquired archly.
T'Pol turned her head slowly to look at the doctor. "It is time they knew about the captain."
Tucker moved to stand beside Reed while watching both women communicate in that silent way that women had, and wondering how bad it was going to get.
The doctor dropped her hands to her sides and with that action her anger evaporated. One hand slipped into a pocket and removed a data card. She nodded at T'Pol, who moved to lock the doors of the medical ward, while the physician inserted the information into the main computer. A variety of images appeared on the main monitor; images that could only be obtained by a functioning imaging machine, Tucker noted, furious at the thought of wasted hours spent fixing something that didn't require fixing. She was a lot more technologically savvy than she pretended to be.
Ruthlessly Dr. Andie dropped the bomb without softening the blow. "The short answer is this: the spinal cord was severed beneath the eighth thoracic vertebra, leaving the captain unable to move his lower extremities."
"He's paralyzed?" Reed repeated dumbly. He hadn't just failed to protect the captain from injury; he'd actually performed actions that led the captain to permanent damage. He could feel the blood draining from his face.
"Is there some kind of surgery for that?" Tucker asked. It was even worse than he feared.
"There is some debris left inside the spinal canal," Andie answered dispassionately. "Due to its position and the harm it has done, there isn't a way to remove the debris without causing more damage. The bones in the spinal column are fractured and modern medicine has failed to find a suitable substance to repair them that won't cause further problems with mobility and durability. As it stands now, there are no standard procedures to repair his injuries."
"What did Starfleet Medical say about that?" Trip demanded. "They have specialists and alien doctors and other means that you could use."
She glanced at T'Pol who nodded. "If this information were to be transmitted to Starfleet Medical, the captain would be removed from his post immediately. It is doubtful he would ever heal sufficiently to reacquire it."
"You haven't informed Starfleet Medical?" Reed asked for clarification.
"The communications array is temporarily disabled," T'Pol filled in. "It was impossible to send word to Earth."
"Forget about his post!" Tucker burst out. "He needs medical attention! If you can't provide him with the best possible care, then he needs to be taken somewhere where he can get it!"
"If we were on Earth, it is likely that he would be referred to me anyway. I am the foremost expert in prosthetics and emergency medicine," Andie told him.
"You're trying to make a name for yourself?" Tucker expressed with outrage. "This isn't about fame and fortune! This is his life! He deserves the best that he can get, not to be stuck with the closest doctor with a chip to grind!"
"I did not intend to keep him from any necessary medical care. I only wanted to offer my best efforts at correcting the damage before his career was ruined." Andie's chin lifted in the air and she regarded the men without flinching, struggling to retain control of her temper.
"You kept this from us. How does that aid your best efforts?" Malcolm inquired.
"The fewer people who knew about his condition the easier it would be to ensure secrecy. The decision was made to parse out information on a need to know basis. You didn't need to know. It wasn't personal," she answered coolly.
"It's personal to me!" Tucker bellowed. He felt like the room was spinning. He'd looked up to Jonathan Archer for years, and the idea that he had been suffering from this predicament without anyone to lift his spirits was terrible to imagine. "I want to see him!"
"That's not a good idea," Andie refused gently. The captain had been informed of his condition just a few days ago and it hadn't been pleasant.
"It wasn't a question!" Tucker got right up under her nose. "I demand to see him right now, or I go straight to your boss and have you removed from this ship!" He wasn't referring to T'Pol but to the head of UESPA, the organization that had seen to her education and her placement on board. It was not an idle threat.
Rather than answer his angry remark, Andie just turned her head to look at T'Pol. The Vulcan seemed to consider the silent request for a long time before nodding in resignation. Andie moved carefully around him to press the sequence of buttons that would remove the lock from the isolation door.
Tucker seemed to realize the Commander was still in the room. "I can't believe you went along with this ridiculous idea! You're the first officer! You should have his best interests in mind, not be led around by her!" He whirled around without waiting for an answer and nearly ran smack into Andie.
The doctor stood directly in his path. "Do not agitate him further," she advised firmly. She might be shorter than he was, but she could knock him on his butt without breaking a sweat. Her resolute posture gave him a slight moment of pause; long enough to get his emotions under control and not go bursting in there like a bull in a china shop.
Nodding curtly because he didn't trust himself to speak to her, he ducked around and entered the captain's room.
T'Pol looked ill at ease. "We will speak further in the morning," she decided. "I'll be in the lab."
Andie eyed her evenly. "I'll see you for breakfast," she agreed stiffly. The Vulcan released the lock on the outer door and left. At this time of evening, there weren't many crewmen wandering about in need of medical attention, so their meeting had been unobserved. Now the doctor was alone with the tactical officer. Her shoulders stiffened slightly before turning back to face him.
Reed had realized recently that brute force just makes her plant her feet more intractably than before so if he wanted information he would have to approach her gently, in spite of the churning in his gut. "How could you keep this a secret? How could you expect to get away with it?" he burst out. Inside he ground his teeth at his inability to keep calm.
"I felt it was in his best interest," Andie answered without hesitation. "I thought he would prefer to have a complete medical diagnosis before making any decisions."
"I don't think you give a damn what he wants," Reed informed her. "I think you'd just load him up and ship him out in a cargo container if that's what you thought was best; never mind what he wanted!" He took a deep breath. "So why would you go to all this trouble, if you think the best care he could receive is not here on this ship? What would make you take on this responsibility?"
Her lips were clamped tightly shut and she didn't make a move.
"Commander T'Pol made the request," Reed guessed softly, thinking of the silent communication that was evident in every look they exchanged. "She made it an order and you complied with her wishes."
"I've never seen a Vulcan come to the defense of a human like that," Andie admitted with difficulty. "How could I refuse?"
"You let Commander Tucker believe that this was your doing," he pointed out.
"It doesn't matter who made the choice," Andie shrugged. "The outcome is the same."
Reed squinted, trying to fit the pieces together. "Trip's going to be very angry with you." Another detail presented itself. "He will be angry with you and not with T'Pol. You're trying to salvage their relationship."
"If Archer falls, she's in command. He'll become her second. It wouldn't do for him to resent her."
Malcolm's head was swirling. Trying to get a grip on his emotions, he turned back to the body scans still on the main monitor, forcing himself to look at the facts instead of running on empty hot air. "You performed more than one surgery."
"Two and a half," she answered, pouring a clean beaker full of dark, hot coffee, grateful for the excuse for her hands to be busy. She poured one for Malcolm too and added to it from another container behind his back. "I had just started the third last Thursday when you entered Sickbay, and it took a while to get rid of you. His medication wore off and I chose not to dope him up again so quickly."
"You could have told me!" Malcolm burst out desperately, taking the glass container she offered.
"I could have, but open communication is not really our style, is it?" She sipped her beverage.
Malcolm sipped too and the brief taste of whiskey added to the brew burned all the way down to his stomach. He wasn't in the mood to cite her for intoxication. "Was there damage to the internal organs?"
"Shards of the barrel were embedded in his body," Andie explained. Archer had been standing close to a wooden barrel full of explosive chemicals when it blew up. His injuries had been sustained when he threw his body on top of Sergeant Chang's in order to spare his crewman. "The MACO's weren't as careful as they could have been when they dragged him off the transporter pad and it drove the slivers in deep." The transport out had spared Archer and Chang from serious burns and ultimately saved their lives, but the ship had still been under attack by the space frogs and getting him into Sickbay hadn't been easy, as both Chang and Corporal Romero could attest. "Some of the slivers punctured his intestines and his kidney. I performed surgery to remove them. One surgery was completed on Renaisterre and the second was performed here in Sickbay."
"But his condition remains unchanged?"
Andie sipped quietly. "One sliver remains tangled in the nerve fibers. I can't take it out without severing the fibers, leaving him permanently paralyzed." Andie looked at the medical scans still on display. "I am not out of options yet. I may have access to medical knowledge that Starfleet may not," she offered hesitantly. "There's still a chance he could recover a certain amount of mobility."
"I'm not a doctor," Malcolm began. "But my uncle Archie wore a back brace to compensate for a spinal injury."
"Archer's problem is a little more complicated than a simple back brace can repair. In many cases the weight of synthetic spinal prostheses has compressed the natural vertebrae, if they haven't broken them outright, and the danger is compounded in this instance by the sliver of wood that cannot be removed." She sighed. "At the moment I'm stumped, but there are still some options I might pursue."
Reed drained his coffee with a heavy heart. "My father suffered an injury that would not allow him to serve on board ship. The Royal Navy is his life. For a time he was beside himself with grief and quite unpleasant." He forced his eyes to meet Andie's. "How is the captain's mental state?"
A sudden crash from the isolation ward made them both flinch. "Get out!" The captain's voice was strained. "Get out and leave me alone!"
Tucker came high-tailing it out of the small room, his face even paler than usual. Andie just shrugged at Malcolm. There didn't seem to be much more to say.