Chapter 2

Sparks, Blood, and Cuts, ooh yay…

Stardate 22693.86

I wake up early to the sound of an alarm bell, which unfortunately as I had learned from Malcolm the day before means that we are under attack, it was Red Alert, the signal of imminent and/or ongoing attack on the ship. I quickly get out of bed, hastily put on my uniform, and run out of my quarters and head for the turbolift. As I run out into the corridor, I nearly collide with a blond man who I had not met before, "Lovely way to start your second day, isn't it," he jokes as we enter the turbolift, out of breath and wide awake with adrenaline. He commands the turbolift to take us to the bridge, and its response is "Unable to comply, power overload in systems." The man standing beside me crouches by the panel and begins to hurriedly repair it, crossing wires and manipulating the orders of clamps. It was obvious that he was an engineer by the ease of which he was able to conduct his repairs. He programs the turbolift so that it will take him to engineering and me to the bridge. When we reach Engineering and the turbolift opens its door, he steps out and wishes me good luck. I am grateful for the great speed of the turbolift as it races towards the bridge, though the small space makes me feel rather claustrophobic. I arrive at the door to the bridge and the doors jam halfway open, I slip through the opening and dash onto the bridge. What I find is chaos, there are people running about, doctors and nurses crouching beside hurt and unconscious crewmembers, and when I gaze out the main viewport, what lay before me is a massive ship that looks as if it could easily destroy three of the Enterprise. I run over to Doctor Phlox who is kneeling beside an unconscious Ensign Sato as Delaney administers the contents of a hypospray into her neck.

"Is she okay?" I ask, concerned for the safety and well-being of my crewmate.

"She got hit on the head, and when she wakes up, she'll have a nasty headache, but I don't foresee any permanent damage."

"Good," is the only reply I give before rushing to my station.

As I arrive at my station, I dismiss the young woman currently working there as the massive ship fires another of its missiles.

Malcolm is relieved to see me, "Good, you made it. I was beginning to worry, are you-" He is interrupted as the missile impacts the ship. The force of the impacting missile rocks the ship and slams me into the bulkhead to my right.

"Shields at sixty percent!" The other ship's phasers are slowly slicing away at our weakened hull as it depolarizes more and more rapidly. The next missile hits our ship shortly after the first, causing the consol behind me to explode in a brilliant blast, the resulting shockwave sends me tumbling over my consol, My arm is savagely cut by a jagged piece of torn steel, and I am brutally slammed into the cold hard metal floor below. A twisted metal fragment cuts my cheek as yet another consol explodes and I scramble back to my feet and hurry back to my place at the workstation.

I check the status of the shields, "Captain, shields are currently at thirty percent, we cannot take another hit like that." I have to shout to make myself heard over the commotion on the bridge.

"Are you okay?" Malcolm worriedly asks me as he examines the cut on my cheek, "That was quite the tumble you took there, did you hit your head?"

"I'm fine," is my terse reply as I look back to the readings on my consol. The Captain has just ordered Malcolm to return fire, and he is distracted by his orders as I examine my arm. The cut is bad, about five inches long and a quarter an inch deep; it bleeds badly but surprisingly doesn't hurt very much, most likely due to the massive amount of adrenaline coursing through my blood. I'm not going to tell anyone about my injuries until after this crisis is over, as long as the adrenaline continues to keep the pain away, than I will be able to do my job without complaining.

"Lt. Reed," even the captain's loud voice is barely audible over the commotion on the bridge, "Use one of the Ramilaway missiles."

"Yes Captain!" replies Malcolm as he returns fire once more. The alien missile is of a strange design and emitted a strange high pitched screech that wreaked havoc on the ears and sense of balance as it streaks out of the launching tube. I stumbled a little and would've fallen had Malcolm not caught me by the waist, I winced as my ears begin to ring so loudly from the noise, that it is making my head throb. When the strange missile that Malcolm has just fired hits the other ship, the result is a spectacular explosion that pulverizes the other vessel instantly. I am having a hard time seeing as I report the damage to the captain, yet the amount of blood gushing from my arm is making it difficult to stay on my feet and my vision is becoming grayer and more splotched with each passing moment. I must be turning horribly pale because Malcolm suddenly turns to me and asks, "Are you sure you're alright? You look very pale," I had collapsed and all had gone dark before I could lie to him again.

Later that day

I wake up and look around me; everything is bright white and the reflectivity and brilliance of the dazzling lights worsens my headache. My right arm has been swallowed up by bandages, and is completely numb. I look over to the door as Malcolm walks into the doctor's office, "Is she awake yet Doc?"

"I don't know, I haven't been in to check on her for a few hours, but you can look in her room if you like."

I know that Malcolm will be coming into my room to see me, I don't really want to see him because I don't want to have to explain why I lied and told him I was fine when my arm was bleeding massively, I didn't want him to think that I didn't trust him because I will most likely end up needing him to trust me, and in order to gain his trust, he will probably want me to trust him first. As he enters my room I try to sit up, but the intense pain in my head is nearly unbearable without the adrenaline, and I am having a hard time sitting up for very long.

"Oh, good, you're awake now. Don't sit up; don't sit up, you need to stay lying down so you can heal." I reluctantly do as he says and lay back again, and as I do so another wave of pain shoots through my head. "Why didn't you tell me about your wound Rayla?" I feel a flash of anger.

"Because I didn't want you to, what you are doing now, feeling sorry for me. I don't need to be treated differently than anyone else because of a few scratches." Malcolm looks hurt and I immediately feel remorse over my harsh words. "I'm sorry; I didn't really mean to say that the way I did."

"No, it's okay," was his reply, but I could tell from his face that it wasn't. "It's good to get your feelings out there, so I'm just going to leave now so you can get your rest. I hope you get to feeling better."

I didn't want him to leave so suddenly, but I let him because I hadn't the strength to argue with him at this point.

Before he can leave, I call him and he turns, "Malcolm? Thanks for coming." His only reply is a slight smile as he leaves.

Stardate 22721.4

It took a substantial amount of both begging and promises to get Doctor Phlox to authorize me to return to my duties. I have been in the sick bay recovering for a couple of weeks now, and have been going crazy in here. I have scheduled myself to return to my duties today, at 08:00. I reminisce over the last couple weeks as I fold up my clothing and pack my things in the small room. It is difficult to put things away considering the fact that my still injured arm hurts slightly with every small movement; the cut has healed rather well yet still hurts on occasion. Dr. Phlox wanted to put my arm in a sling to minimize movement, but I wouldn't let him because I see no reason to. I zip up my small suitcase with some difficulty and am grateful for the lack of button-pushing needed to open the door, for that is one less painful movement. As I am stepping out of sick bay, I see Malcolm walking down the corridor towards me, "Where do you think you're going? You're supposed to be in there getting better." His tone is serious yet affectionate as he tries to take the suitcase from me. He isn't very happy that I am returning to work today, it is his belief that I should stay in sick bay until there is no more pain in my arm, but he is beginning to understand me and has realized that he will not have his way this time.

"I'm fine, I was going crazy in there, and I need work to focus my mind."

"I've heard that one before; fine if you must work then at least I'll be able to keep a close eye on you. Come on, or we'll be late to your third shift."

A few minutes later

Everyone looks over as Malcolm and I step out of the turbolift and onto the bridge, "Well, well, well, look whose back. None of us expected you back here this soon, well some of us didn't expect you back at all." The captain looks over at Ensign Mayweather, whose already dark complexion turns slightly red as he smiles sheepishly at me. "Welcome back Lieutenant, but you really shouldn't be out of sick bay yet."

"I know captain, but I just need something to do."

"I understand."

After a while, each member of the bridge crew slowly turns back to his or her own work and Malcolm and I are able to focus on ours. The pain of using both arms is worth it, as it makes my job possible. I move my arm about, trying to work out the daily stiffness and Malcolm looks over at me with a slightly annoyed expression, "You're supposed to minimize movement of your arm, not cast it about and cause more nerve damage."

"I can't work with only one arm, I need my hands."

"Well I suppose since it is your body that you are torturing, than you can do what you want, but don't complain when it starts to hurt." His tone is like that of a father allowing his child to do something she shouldn't, knowing she'll get hurt but wanting her to learn the lesson for herself. We continue to work quietly for a while; and my arm begins to hurt even worse, but I am not going to tell Malcolm because he will take too much joy in saying that he told me so, and I am not in the mood to hear it right now.