Renaisterre
By Lieuten Keen
Chapter 7
Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow
After dinner: Day Two
Reed took the initiative, moving across the compound, barking out commands to MACO's and non-essential personnel to get in closer or get into an escape pod according to their station. Chang and Romero were on sentry duty; already they were taking aim at the creature from atop the closest pods. People were moving in a tangle of bodies, and Reed maneuvered through them with a phase pistol in one hand, marveling at the creature even as he plotted its downfall.
It rather looked like a saber-toothed bulldog. Leathery brown skin was stretched over sinewy muscle all the way to its three-toed paw, which was larger than a dinner plate, although its cutlery consisted of yellowed talons sharpened on rock and tree. Its square brown face was pinched and angry and it pouted through a mouthful of spiny teeth that poked their way out of the square jaw. The lean tail was swishing madly from side to side, warning the onlookers not to reach out a hand to the bristles that thinly covered the tough hide. It was ugly and it was angry.
Andie's dinner tray slipped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers with a muted crash on the dusty ground. She slipped backward, shuffling in the dirt, refusing to take her eyes off the animal. The smell of meat tickled its flat nose and it crouched forward to lap at the meager meal with a long tongue.
"Get out of the way, Doctor."
She heard the clipped British voice behind her. "He's wounded," she stated softly. It was true; there was a deep gash in its hindquarters that bled thickly into the dirt. "We should let it go."
A dark clad marine pressed flat against the pod behind the intruder and the animal seemed to know it was cornered and it hissed and growled in several directions, scouting desperately for a weak spot. Malcolm imagined he could smell the remains of the creature's last dinner on its breath and kept a tight grip on his pistol. More MACO's arrived, slipping in through the narrow cracks between pods and tents, training those few weapons the camp retained on the thing.
"Take it down as soon as the doctor is clear!"!" Reed commanded. He shouted the order so he didn't have to reach for a communicator.
"No!" That damned woman stepped directly into his line of sight, taking her eyes from the danger to glance over her shoulder at the tactical officer. "It needs medical attention!"
"Get out of the way!" he shouted, moving forward to snake an arm around her waist. She screeched like a banshee and struggled in his grip. The phase pistol fell to the ground and Malcolm grunted as she got in a couple of good shots with her elbows and heavy boots. Several blasts lit up the murky air and the creature fell to the dirt.
"You bastard!" One swift kick to Malcolm's aching knee and he dropped her. Andie scrambled through the dirt and pulled out a medical scanner, taking readings on the fallen creature. Without any concern for danger she laid her hand against its heaving side. "It's alive," she noted with shaking voice. "You didn't kill it."
"Of course not," Reed refuted icily. "The rotting carcass would draw attention from other creatures just like it."
Andie didn't spare another dirty look for the tactical officer; she reached into the satchel that was always on her back and pulled out a medical kit. Donning a pair of gloves, she prepared to render aid to the gore-encrusted flank. MACO's gathered around, not to look but to offer military support, keeping their weapons trained on the sleeping creature.
"What the hell is that?" Archer joined the group, peering breathlessly over Reed's shoulder.
The tactical officer reviewed the incident in low tones, adding that they stunned the creature so they wouldn't risk hitting the doctor. He nodded at the woman who was setting out supplies and working on the fallen animal.
"You're offering medical attention?" The captain's tone expressed what he thought of that, and it wasn't good. "Do you really think that's wise?"
"We're on his world, Jon. He's doing what he does to survive. I'm not going to let him suffer for that. If we were on Enterprise, it might be different." She finished running her medical scanner over the creature and reached for her other tools.
At least she wasn't arguing loudly, or shrieking with fear or even wildly giddy as she'd been at breakfast, he thought. "Okay, Androcles," he snorted.
"My name is Andrea," she corrected absently, using a scalpel to open up the dirty tear in the creature's rear haunch in order to remove the intrusive and painful object buried there.
Archer looked nonplussed. "I'll have Malcolm update you on the classics," he sighed, looking determinedly away from the impromptu surgery.
"I see he's already met an archer," Andie punned as she dropped the gory arrowhead in an empty basin that appeared at her elbow. Ensign Black did not look happy to be so close to the dangerous animal, but he offered a suture kit when the doctor held out a hand. It took less than five minutes to repair the hindquarters. Andie pressed a hypo into the tough skin and released a painkiller. "I suggest we get him out of here before he wakes up. His stomach is nearly empty and he's bound to be hungry." She held out the pad to the captain and pulled off her gloves.
"How do you expect us to transport this thing?"
"May I suggest a litter, sir?" Malcolm interjected. "Several men and a large blanket should suffice. We'll drag it away from camp and release it."
"If we use a couple of steaks from the galley to lay a path for it, we could encourage it to leave in another direction!" Andie shot a worried glance at Archer's stern visage.
If that didn't beat all! Archer thought. They were finally working together on something. "If it comes back tomorrow, we'll have to rethink its' continued existence," he warned them. "I'm going to hate to lose the steaks." He sounded woeful at the loss of stores. "Get it out of here, Malcolm."
"Yes, sir!" Malcolm snapped off a salute and signaled some other men to assist.
Andie just tipped her head to one side and looked at the captain thoughtfully.
It took half a dozen men trekking through the growing darkness of an unknown forest to lug the heavy animal outside the campsite. The doctor followed along, fussing all the way. She kept running medical scans of the creature that lay without moving for the duration of the trip. Its tail swished as the men set it down on the ground, causing the grown men to hop backward in concern.
"Let's go, Doctor," Reed indicated that she should precede them back to the Hollow.
"I'm not going back. He's vulnerable while he's unconscious. Someone needs to stay here until he wakes up," she told him, setting her jaw. "I'll be along shortly."
"When he wakes, he's not likely to be in a temperate mood!" Reed argued.
"The agreeability of my patients has never been a priority," she hissed. "Until he's back on his feet, he's still my patient and I'm not leaving him!" Her stance was decidedly stubborn and her hand hovered over her own pistol, strapped to her thigh.
Reed tried to ignore the way that the doctor was fussing over the large cat, smoothing its fur and gently scratching its ears. He weighed the likelihood of getting her out of here before she was ready to go. It just didn't seem worth the struggle. "Sergeant Chang?" Reed waited until the man stepped forward. "See that the MACO's get back to camp and set up a stronger perimeter until we are certain this creature is alone."
"Sir, you can't remain out here with this...thing," Chang disagreed.
"Would you like to drag the doctor back to camp? She's heavily armed and fairly well-trained and she's got a nasty temper!" Malcolm huffed silently, waiting for the sergeant to indicate with his body language that he would back down. "I'll wait with her. If this goes wrong, Starfleet Hollow will need you more than ever." He eyed the men sternly until they turned to depart.
Andie nodded her thanks and waited until their footsteps had died away. There was nothing but the usual forest sounds when she knelt down beside the ugly creature and smoothed a hand gently over his prickly hide, murmuring in his ears as she pressed a hypo into his shoulder. Almost as soon as the stimulant had been released, the creature twitched violently. The female fell backward trying to avoid contact and Reed moved forward with his gun drawn. She waved him away as she scrambled back to the outcropping of rock that presented some small modicum of cover. Reed joined her and ducked his head to wait.
She never took her eyes off the thing, peering around the edge of the rock until its whiskers flickered and a paw twitched. Its head rolled around groggily; the effects of both the sedative and several stun blasts were hanging on tightly. Eventually the thing turned and checked out its hindquarters, offering a few cursory licks to the injured area. It looked around; if it was alert, it probably saw the tops of their heads poking above the stone barrier. Instead of worrying about them, it yawned largely, sniffed the air and climbed slowly to its feet. The thick-clawed paws carried the creature the few steps to Chef's prized steaks. Two swallows took care of the cook's precious meats and then it lumbered off into the deepening darkness.
For the first time since they landed on this planet, Andie sighed with relief. She turned and rested her back against a boulder and stretched out her legs, giggling softly. Reed joined her, thinking they should get back to camp before the creature's family came looking for them.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, concerned about hysterics. He should have known better.
"Doesn't it make you hot to save a life like that?" she grinned, beaming at him giddily.
"No, it doesn't," Malcolm refuted with a sigh. "I keep thinking that thing is going to come back to finish the job and perhaps bring its family along."
Andie was quiet for a moment. "You didn't kill it," she said in a low voice. "Thank you."
Her gratitude was not only unexpected, but rather unwelcome. "No, I don't make a habit of killing everything that crosses my path," Reed snorted.
She didn't overlook the sarcasm as she watched him stand. "It's important that you recognize something," she started carefully.
"What might that be?" Malcolm finished dusting his pants and offered a hand to the woman.
"I did not panic," she stated firmly, ignoring the assistance.
"No, you leaped into the middle of a dangerous situation without thought for yourself or the danger to your companions."
"Exactly!" she grinned. "I'm reckless, not cowardly!" She took her time in regaining her feet.
It had been a very long day. "Doctor, of all the names I'd like to call you, 'cowardly' has never been one of them." He looked at her again as she continued to lean against the rock. "Are you coming, Doctor?"
Something crossed her face. "Yeah," she agreed easily, pushing her body away from the boulder and standing unsteadily on her feet. It didn't take more than a couple of steps to see that she was favoring her ankle.
Reed sighed. "You've been hurt," he pointed out.
"I twisted my ankle when I fell. It's nothing a little methyl salicylate and an ice pack won't cure," she waved away his concerns.
"You can't walk back to camp," Malcolm guessed.
"I can walk!" she protested. "I just have to walk slowly."
Reed ground his teeth slowly. "This would not have been a problem if you'd just left when I directed you to," he seethed.
She scowled at him, looking more obstinate than usual.
"Lieutenant Reed to Sergeant Chang," he spoke into the communicator. The distance wasn't far but the communicator was still garbling the words through static.
"Chang here, sir."
"I'd like you to join the doctor and me. We could use your assistance." He flipped his machine shut and perched on the rock near the doctor with a huff. They waited in silence for a few minutes.
"Reed?"
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Who's Androcles?" She hated to ask, but the reference was over her head.
"It's a Greek tale. He pulled a thorn from a lion's paw. The lion later spared his life."
She pondered that in silence for a moment. "So maybe we haven't seen the last of him," she murmured hopefully.
"You'd better hope we have. The next time he comes into camp, I'm going to kill him."
Andie's jaw dropped in horror. "You wouldn't!"
"I would," he assured her. "Once is an accident. Twice is a habit. As long as we're here, my orders are to protect the crew."
"You're despicable!" she snapped, and struggled to her feet, just as Change came thundering through the trees. She hobbled her way toward him and briefly explained her injury. Chang sought confirmation from the lieutenant before dipping to lift the doctor in his arms and carrying her back to camp, leaving Malcolm to gather the large blanket and follow behind with his pistol drawn in search of danger.
Malcolm watched her go with mixed feelings. He really would prefer to keep his relations with the crew affable; but his job wasn't conducive to pleasantries. There were times when dirty deeds must be done and he was the one who had to do them. He pushed away the memory of her face softening in relief when the creature got up and walked away. As he entered the perimeter he waved Mackenzie over and made a few alterations to the current security measures.
Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow
Day Two: Just after dark
Camp was unnaturally silent as the crew huddled around their fire pits, craning their ears to hear sounds of invasion that never came. Only Andie made noise, clattering out of the Medical Tent on the arm of Crewman Cutler, and chattering like a magpie. Cutler had performed the scans of the doctor to make certain there was no permanent injury. It really was just a sore muscle and she'd treated herself with the appropriate cream. Trip waved them over to the large bonfire at the center of the clearing and helped Andie settle in beside him. Mayweather brought a small crate covered with a folded jacket to help elevate her foot and Trip shared his blanket.
"Why is Security banging on the pods?" she asked as she caught her breath. Each thump was at semi-regular intervals, made by rocks or branches. The physician snuggled deeper into the blanket she shared with the engineer. The nights were always chilly.
"The noise might keep any other animals from venturing into camp," Reed explained from across the circle, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and trying not to think about his friend's luck with women. Trip only had to be charming; he didn't have to be alert to every danger.
"It's got kind of a nice beat," she snorted, humming idly under her breath in keeping with the tempo.
Across the fire pit, Travis Mayweather suddenly jerked his head upright and stared at the doctor. "Hey! I know that song! You know the Velkasha Ne'tari?" In the nervous stillness of people waiting for danger, his eager voice carried clearly through the camp, startling several of the silent others.
Andie whipped her head around to study the boomer, looking concerned before breaking into a pleasant smile. "Of course I do! Anybody's who's anybody knows the Velkasha Ne'tari!" she grinned widely.
Travis grinned. "I have all their albums!" His glee spread through a night too quiet for the hundred or so bodies. "I never knew any Terrans who knew the Velkasha!"
"I guess I'm not your ordinary Terran," Andie smiled easily. She was keenly aware of Lt. Reed staring at her from across the flames licking the sky. Involuntarily her glance shied sideways at the engineer beside her and she shifted in her seat. Trip and T'Pol might know why she was not an ordinary Terran, but Reed didn't. She accepted the mug of hot coffee that Cutler brought to her and busied herself by sipping slowly at the beverage as Liz waved at Ensign Shannen and headed for another bonfire.
Travis grinned wider. "I almost got to see them once! They were playing just two light years away from Draylax! Dad wouldn't let me go; said I was too young! They are supposed to be amazing in person!" His enthusiasm was contagious.
"What kind of music do they sing?" Tucker asked, craning his neck painfully around to look at Andie. His brain was coming up empty with ways and means to launch a fully loaded and heavily reinforced pod into the air and there was a dull pain building behind his eyes.
"They are empathic vocalists," she answered simply.
"Empathic?" The engineer repeated. His distraction was making it difficult to follow the conversation and he resolved to pay more attention.
"They can sense what the audience is feeling and they sing it! They just make it up right there on the spot!" Mayweather babbled eagerly. "Their concerts are a scrapbook of everyone who's ever been to hear them!"
"The music is nice, but it's the cascading glass that really makes the concerts worthwhile," Andie added dryly. "A good opera singer can shatter a crystal glass if she hits the right note. Velkasha Ne'tari performs on a stage made of blown glass, and their finale is an operatic cascade that causes the entire stage to disintegrate into a thousand points of light! Everything shatters!" Her smile was far away. "They blow their own glass," she added unnecessarily.
Mayweather's eyes opened wider. "You've seen them in concert?" he questioned eagerly.
"Actually I kind of...traveled with the band for a couple of months one summer," she answered hesitantly, huddling deeper into the blanket she was sharing with Tucker, feeling like she'd backed herself into a conversational corner and wishing she could deflect it.
"Eep! I'm dying!" Travis clutched at his chest in a melodramatic display before toppling over sideways, nearly landing in T'Pol's lap, and lying still on the ground.
Around the Hollow, other crewmen darted to attention, seeing that the helmsman had fallen and presuming something awful. Hoshi's giggle was followed by a series of relieved sighs as they settled down again.
"Great! Now you've killed Travis!" Trip teased, grinning for the first time that evening.
"Damn," Andie exhaled heavily. "The paperwork's going to be hell!"
The Vulcan raised one unsmiling eyebrow at the ensign lying on her feet and lifted her mug of tea out of his way as he muttered apologies and scrambled back into his seated position. Only someone who knew her well would know that she was not entirely displeased.
"How did you manage to travel with the Velkasha?" Mayweather demanded jealously.
Andie hesitated. "I was in this bar…" she started slowly.
"Why do I have the feeling that many of your stories begin with your presence in some disreputable bar?" Malcolm interrupted from his corner of the fire. His mouth twitched.
"Probably the same hunch I have that the stories that start with you in a bar end with you going home alone," Andie retorted with a chilly smirk.
"Not as many as you might think," he answered archly, lifting his mug in her direction and sipping.
Studying the armory officer to see if he would challenge her story further, Andie went on. "I was in a bar….which was not at all disreputable...waiting for a transport, and the Velkasha needed repairs and the bar owner offered to pay for the maintenance on their ship if they'd sing a couple of sets. He was a fan," she added unnecessarily. "They performed a couple of songs until the lead singer collapsed on stage. They called for a medic. I offered my services and they gave me a ride."
"How long were you with them?" Travis asked in awe.
"Only a short time," Andie hesitated again. "I got off at the next port and got lucky. There were lots of musicians looking for extra hands in exchange for a lift." She yawned and stretched. "I roadied one summer. Is roadied a verb?" she glanced at Hoshi who shrugged indolently.
"Where would you find a space port with lots of musicians...Oh my God! The Trazgernie Festival?" Travis guessed, his eyes growing wider again. He made a sound like 'squeep' as he clutched his chest and fell over again, this time onto Hoshi's lap. She rolled him off with a grin. "You've been to the Trazgernie?" he asked from his position on his back looking up at the dirty stars.
"You've heard of the Traz?" Andie queried lightly. Her shoulders tensed up. From across the fire, Malcolm could see the question unnerved her more than it should.
"Um, yeah!" Travis sat up enthusiastically. "Everybody knows the Traz! They redefine music as we know it!" He dusted off his pants and scrambled back into his seat with the air of an eager puppy.
"What's the Traz?" Hoshi inquired, checking her mug for debris that might have filtered in from Mayweather's pratfalls.
"It's a big music concert, like Woodstock, only less civilized," Andie responded carefully.
"My dad wouldn't let me go to the Traz. He said it was no place for a kid," Travis interjected forlornly.
"He's right about that. It's not for the faint of heart." Andie wished her mug wasn't empty. "I was nearly trampled at the Traz myself when the shops opened. It was during my misspent youth. I was younger then and able to get away. Not old, like I am now," she grinned.
"You're younger'n me," Trip pointed out. She shrugged angelically and ignored the dirty look he sent her way regarding the word 'old.'
The helmsman didn't seem to take any of the cues that might have led to a change in conversation. "Man, the last time the Velkasha played the Traz was…" Travis voice drifted away as he tried to calculate. Andie cringed inwardly as he suddenly sat up straighter. "You didn't by any chance get to hear Stratosfearia?" he asked eagerly.
"No," she denied with relief. "I caught a ride before they played."
"Who leaves the Traz early?" Travis squeaked. "In the whole history of the festival, the only people who've ever left early was…." He stopped talking and stared at Andie in awe.
The doctor silently cursed the helmsman's abundant knowledge of interstellar musical lore.
"Oh, you didn't," he whispered. "You did not! You didn't leave the Traz with Drakken Noiren?" he begged. He didn't need an answer; he just clutched his chest and toppled over again, falling backward this time to stare blankly at the unfamiliar stars overhead.
"Oh for heaven's sake!" Trip burst out giggling. "You killed him again? This has got to be a record! That must be one hell of a concert!"
"You got to be a groupie for some of the biggest names in music during your misspent youth?" Travis repeated weakly raising his head to peek between his upraised boots. "You partied with the Velkasha Ne'tari at the Trazgernie Festival, and then you traveled home with Drakken Noiren." His expression was the perfect blend of agony and ecstasy as he scrambled clumsily to his seat again. "I'm dying to hear everything! You must have some stories!"
Andie smiled slowly, indicating the affirmative. "I misspent a lot of my youth," she added unrepentantly.
"Don't tell me you toured with Drakken Noiren too?" Hoshi inquired politely, cradling the last warmth of her mug between her chilly fingers.
"Our relationship was never professional," Andie demurred. She felt exposed, as though there were too many eyes watching her. The only pair of orbs she could see across the fire were icy blue like a summer sky. All the others were exhaling slowly in the darkness beyond at the lively conversation going on with the senior officers.
Trip looked skeptically at the doc. "You dated Drakken Noiren?"
"Drakken Noiren is the name of the band. I didn't date the whole band; just spent some time with Drak. It was their last tour. I've still got their personal recordings in my quarters. They're rough cuts but I'll make you a copy when we get back to the ship, if you like."
"Do you really think we're ever going to get back?" This last sentence was hesitantly asked by a young Henry Bowman, pausing in his return to his bonfire to inquire as to their collective fate. His bunkmate, Tim Mazaro, stood right beside him carrying two steaming mugs; both their eyes were as wide as saucers. The worry was evident in his quivering voice. His pale bandages glowed dimly in the darkness. Obviously they'd been listening. In a camp this size, it was hard not to hear everything. In fact, all ears were tuned in to the exchange with bated breath.
"Of course we will," Andie answered with a falsely easy grin. "What makes you think we won't?"
"We're shipwrecked! We can't go anywhere!" Tim Mazaro threw out an arm, as though she were dimwitted. His concern carried through the quiet campsite. "There are hungry aliens just waiting to devour us, both out there and up there!" He waved at forest first then starry sky.
"So?" she refused to falter. Waving at the man beside her, she eyed Henry. "Have you met the Chief Engineer? This is Commander Charles Tucker. Look at this big ole brain he's got." Playfully she grasped Tucker's head in her hands and shook it back and forth, eliciting a grin and a grunt from the man.
"Get off me," he muttered, shoving her hands away, feeling the tension that had briefly left his tense shoulders, settle in again. He worried about how he was going to perform this miracle everybody thought he should. He longed for a big warp generated computer to help with the calculations.
Andie obliged him by dropping her hand into her lap but continued to smile encouragingly at the young pair still lingering in the darkness at the edge of the firelight. "We'll be off this rock in no time!"
"Yes, but…" Henry persisted.
Andie cut him off. "I am a pain in the ass and I like things done my way. Have you ever known me not to get exactly what I want?"
"Only Lt Reed's respect," the ensign muttered carelessly, stopping the conversation cold. He was suddenly unnerved at the number of people glaring at him in front of him, and the number of titters coming from behind him.
"Thank you for that insight, Ensign," Trip drawled, while placing a hand on Andie's knee in case she might decide to dive across the fire pit and attack Reed to avenge her honor. "Inni't past your bedtime, boys?"
Tim took the hint and urged Henry back to their smaller fire in front of their tent. They left a heavy silence in their wake, returning the senior officers to their previous status quo. Malcolm refused to look at Andie, and she kept shuffling her feet in the dirt in front of her.
"So did Dräe Rouge ever play at the Traz?" Trip inquired to break the silence. Dräe Rouge was Andie's alter ego. Once when she was stuck in an alien bar she'd made a living as a singer, sticking mostly to rock music and disco.
Andie's mulish glance was ready to attack at the first sign of a sneer, but she relaxed when her gaze only met cautious curiosity. "Dräe Rouge was small potatoes, a garage band. The Traz is the premier interstellar musical festival in the Alpha Quadrant, available by invitation only."
"And you dated Drak?" Travis went back to moaning in awe. "Do you keep in touch?"
"No, we lost touch," she admitted apologetically.
"Lost your taste in bad boys?" Reed inquired curiously. He couldn't imagine the last time she'd offered this much information without a weapon pointed at her. She was a music lover who got into the best festival and left early with a rock star. He thought it was interesting and wondered if any of her personal background was true. Certainly she had not spent all her time in a private girl's finishing school!
"No, he got arrested after I left his ship," she answered tartly, fidgeting with a string on her sleeve. She really wished they would talk about something else. "And then he got married. Although those two things weren't related," she added.
"Was it drugs?" Hoshi inquired with hushed curiosity.
"I hope so! Have you met his wife? You'd have to be high to hit that!" Andie joked lightly. At the insistent looks, she sighed. "No, he was caught transporting a prohibited substance without a permit across interstellar jurisdiction."
"He was a smuggler?" Reed perked up.
"Not exactly," she hedged. "He wasn't smuggling it; just transporting it."
"Illegally," Reed pointed out.
"Yeah, sort of," she admitted after careful consideration. "It was complicated."
"But you didn't get picked up with him?" Reed pried.
Andie's face hardened slightly. "It was complicated. But no, I didn't get pinched by those authorities."
"Which authorities have you been arrested by?" he wanted to know.
"Perhaps I misspoke. I have never been arrested for smuggling," she stated with certainty.
"Why don't you sing a little something for us?" Trip encouraged, breaking up the intensity. "What kind of music did Darkened Noobie sing?"
Andie and Travis shared a look and a smile. "Loud!" they agreed with a laugh.
"The music of Drakken Noiren is not fit for campfires," Andie went on, emphasizing the name for Trip's benefit.
"What about those Vell…Vel…" he stumbled.
"Velkasha Ne'tari?" Andie considered. "Their music loses something in the translation. It has something to do with the ears."
"Ears?" Trip inquired. He was suddenly deeply aware of T'Pol sitting silently across the fire. She was still wearing her pink cap and keeping silent with her hands wrapped around a mug. He knew she was enjoying the company even if she didn't join in.
"The tympanic membrane inside their ears is…really complex. They have…They have good hearing." Andie finished awkwardly. She shivered slightly. "It wouldn't sound right. I'll let you listen to the recordings when we're back aboard Enterprise." The doctor looked over at Mayweather. "I didn't realize you were such a music buff."
"Oh, yeah, well...You know...It's an old boomer saying. 'Music travels'," he shrugged with a wide grin.
"Ain't that the truth," Andie grinned in agreement. She shivered again in the chilly night air.
Trip noticed the shudder and stepped out of their shared blanket to toss another small log onto the fire pit. He was unaware that the silent first officer watched him closely as he took back his seat next to the doctor and pulled the shared blanket back around their shoulders.
"Not that I'm in any hurry to get back to the ship," Andie noted with a sly glance. "Every time Tucker bends over to pick something up, I get a great view of his tushie."
"What?" Several heads whipped around to stare at Andie as she giggled. Tucker scooted further away from her, taking the blanket they were sharing.
"What?" she repeated with wide innocent eyes. "There's no Movie Night scheduled down here. I have to have something pretty to look at."
"You hate movie night," Trip stated blandly.
"If you ever showed a movie as interesting as your tushie, I would enjoy myself very much," Andie answered sweetly.
Trip eyed her dubiously. "I'm going to bed," he told her firmly.
"All by your lonesome?" she giggled wickedly.
"Yes!" he answered, rising to his feet. The action placed the aforementioned tushie right at her eye level and she smothered another round of giggles as she winked at Hoshi. Trip responded by yanking the blanket from around her shoulders and wrapping it securely around his body before stomping off into the darkness, leaving her to chortle helplessly.
"I could use some water," Travis sighed, rising to his feet. He knew they'd be rising early in the morning. He stepped across the campsite.
"I will turn in as well," T'Pol responded. Hoshi rose with the Vulcan and the pair headed off to their quarters.
Andie eyed Reed over the empty log. "Feel free to show me your tushie, if you like," she suggested playfully as though she hadn't called him despicable just a short time ago.
"You seem quite pleasant," he pointed out.
"Saving a life makes for a good day," she shrugged.
"How did you avoid getting arrested with the smuggler?" he wanted to know.
She sighed heavily. "I was...involved...in returning the...item...to its...proper place," she explained haltingly. "The entire incident was...suppressed. That's all I can say about that."
"There's nobody here but us, Doctor," Reed told her, attempting a winning smile. He just looked predatory.
"I think you and I both know that's not exactly true, Lieutenant," she answered, after looking around at all the people who had not yet turned in. "I don't have anything more to say." Andie sighed. She rolled her head around on her shoulders, wishing someone would work the knots out of her shoulders. It was going to be another long night.
"Well, then I suppose our conversation is also at an end. Good night, Doctor," Reed stated firmly. He took himself and his mug of cold tea back to his tent. It didn't take a security specialist to recognize a cover up. She was André Brainerd's daughter after all. Politics and special favors were no doubt involved in suppressing her youthful indiscretions. He was disgusted with his own interest in the disruptive woman. It wouldn't do to be distracted by her; he had to worry about his extra turn at guard duty right now. He washed his mug and gathered up his gear before relieving one of the MACO's.
Captain Archer watched the interactions around the fire from the door of his own temporary quarters. He didn't dare take part in their firelight talk, in part because he didn't think he'd be good company. The mantle of leadership always felt too heavy for his shoulders, and he'd acquired a habit of retreating to his own quarters on board when he wanted to get away from the watchful eyes, but there was no such luxury here. They were all trapped together.
The burdens were feeling especially heavy tonight. The local population was preparing to go to war. Hopefully they were not headed up here, but he couldn't be certain. They were outmatched and possibly susceptible to the strange vagaries of the planet. The air made it hard to breathe. Now there were wild animals that could break into camp and devour people almost without warning.
Puzzlingly, the worse their situation got, the cheerier the doctor seemed. She was in good spirits tonight. As soon as the senior staff left her, she was surrounded by a handful of off-duty MACO's who settled at the large fire and began joshing her.
"If I'd know all it would take to drag that stick out of your butt was an attack on your person, I would have sicced Woods on you a couple days ago!"
"I do not have a stick up my butt!" Subdued chuckles drifted on the night air. "Well, not anymore!" She grinned ruefully.
In moments they were chuckling and laughing over something that failed to catch Archer's ear. Several minutes after that somebody, he thought it might be Woods, somebody started tapping out a beat on his knee in cadence with the random banging from the guards and in minutes the group around the large fire had started a haphazard rendition of Styx's Too Much Time on My Hands. That song was more appropriate than they could possibly know; it was difficult keeping one hundred people busy when there wasn't much to do other than worry. But the worry was beginning to bring the crew down. And now wild animals had become a new concern, even if the joviality of the senior staff had managed to belay that for an hour or so.
The deep voices gave way from Styx to Aerosmith and their conversation grew just a little raunchy in the deepening night. Archer wished they would start an old-fashioned sing-a-long; he knew quite a few old campfire songs that had entertained travelers since the first seaman had taken off in the dawn of time to seek out new territories. He was tempted to go over and join them; he had been told that his singing voice was quite nice. But he stayed where he was. It was easy to be their leader when it came to singing songs in front of a tent; but tomorrow he may be required to offer uplifting words to them over a hole dug in the cold and stubborn earth to inter one of their own that might have been devoured by something out there in the darkness. In spite of the close quarters, he didn't feel he could draw closer to any of these people. At the moment, he could barely breathe.
When he couldn't take the loneliness anymore, he picked up his empty mug and headed into his escape pod. It didn't help. He could still hear the rounds of music and their slightly hysterical cadences of marching tunes and drinking songs that kept time with the random thuds against the pods by security and Archer was conscious of the moat of power that kept him at bay. Porthos sought warmth under one of his arms and he cradled his mutt and waited for sleep to come, wiggling his toes to keep them warm in the chilly air.
Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow
Four Hours Later: Day Two, barely
Reed stepped out of the latrine and carefully washed his hands in the basin that had been set out. The water was close to freezing and he stuck his hands in his pockets to warm them when he was finished. His toothbrush was also in his jacket, but he thought he'd wait for a clean mug of water for that task. Guard duty had been routine and calm, for which he was grateful. He looked over the fire pit which had died out when the singers had headed for their quarters, then obsessively checked the condition of the Medical Tent. There was no telling what mischief that woman had gotten up to since he'd been gone.
A thin stream of light fell through a crack in the tent flap that had not been completely fastened. Inside he could see the doctor was still awake; quite a surprise considering how early she'd been up this morning. She pulled open a medical case and removed a bottle. She tipped something into her palm and replaced the bottle and closed the case. She placed the pill in her mouth and chased it with something from her mug.
There was something furtive about her movements; he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Casually he strolled across camp to her door. "Good evening, Doctor," he greeted her, ducking under the flap.
She whirled around and looked surprise. "Reed!" she noted. "Are you injured?"
"No," he refuted. He struggled for the right words. He should have thought this through. "Are you injured?" He worked hard to buy time.
"No," she responded slowly, as though he might have a head injury. "I work here."
Ridicule should be expected with ridiculous question like his. "I meant, I am not injured but..." He risked a closer look at her features in the pale illumination.
Her eyes were abnormally dark. He squinted, thinking it might be the lighting inside this tent, but he was certain it was not. Her pupils were dilated. The color was high in her cheeks. If he had to guess, she was high as a kite.
"...but you have brain damage anyway?" she finished for him.
What reason would the doctor have for taking medication? The dark circles under her eyes were a good indicator; in this dim light they were particularly pronounced. Had the injury to her ankle been more serious than she'd claimed? "I'm having trouble sleeping," he finished. If he was lucky, she kept her medications together and he would get to see the bottle she'd taken her pill out of when she went to get one for him.
"You just got off guard duty," she pointed out. "You haven't been to bed. Give your body time to adjust to the hour."
"Trip...snores," he fibbed again. "I know that when I get to our tent, I will lie awake because he snores and I'm a light sleeper. I was hoping that you had something mild that won't keep me from missing breakfast in the morning."
Now Andie squinted at him skeptically. "Okay then," she responded slowly, deciding he must be telling the truth. She stepped into the exam pod and typed on the keyboard there, checking his medical files for instances of insomnia and allergies to medications.
"I'm surprised to find you awake," Malcolm said out loud in the empty anteroom. "You were awake all day. Have you slept at all?" He attempted a joke. "Maybe you should be taking the sleeping agent!"
"I'm fine," she told him simply. She lifted the lid of a case and pulled out a bottle. Reed hovered closely over her shoulder and caught a quick glimpse of the correct bottle before she turned around, nearly bumping into him in the close quarters. Clearly she thought he was up to something, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She tapped out one small pill into his waiting palm. "Don't operate any heavy machinery. Or your phase pistol," she added. "It's very mild; you should get a couple hours rest."
"Thank you." He noticed that she was swaying just a little on her feet. If he had checked the right bottle, then it was a stimulant she had taken. He shouldn't worry; he'd taken stimulants himself on occasion. But why wouldn't she want to go to sleep? He thought about the fear she'd experienced earlier, followed by her encounter with the animal. Was someone threatening her when she was dead to the world? Was it just an ordinary case of nerves in a strange situation? He noticed she was eyeing him curiously again. "Good night, Doctor. If there's anything I can do for you in return, just let me know."
"Don't worry, Lieutenant. You don't owe me anything. It's my job to dispense medication. There's no charge." Her eyebrows were arched high as she watched him take his leave. Obviously she thought he was nutty.
Because she was still watching him, he headed straight for his tent and slipped inside. Trip turned over in his sleep and mumbled unintelligibly.
"Trip?" Malcolm whispered. He hated to wake the engineer who desperately needed his sleep, but he really wanted a second opinion about the doctor's state of mind. Trip would know her better than anybody else. "Trip, are you awake?"
There was a long pause before the answer came. "No," grunted the annoyed sleeper. Trip rolled resentfully onto his back but didn't open his eyes.
"When's the last time you remember the doctor sleeping?"
"Mean 'sides this afternoon?" Trip garbled.
"I don't think she's been sleeping well at all. Just a few moments ago I saw her taking what I think might be stimulants to keep awake. I really don't think it's a good idea for her to prescribe her own medication, and she should really be more concerned about getting a good night's sleep and if anybody knew anything about her state of mind, I thought it would be you..."
"Is it possible that you're keeping tabs on the doctor so you don't have to think about our predicament?" Trip groused sleepily.
"I hardly think that's the problem at issue," Malcolm protested.
"Malcolm?" Trip interrupted. "Leave the doctor alone. She'll be fine."
"It's just that I really think..."
"Get off the doc, Malcolm," Trip muttered crossly, turning over onto his side.
"I will if you will." Reed's jaw clamped shut just a half second after the inflammatory words fell out of his mouth. He waited with his eyes closed in recoil, waiting for the engineer to avenge his lady's honor or something, but a light snore indicated that the tongue lashing would probably not be forthcoming this evening. Trip was already asleep again.
With a deep sigh Malcolm took the pill out of his hand and looked at it. He had no intention of consuming it, but he didn't want to leave it lying around. Obviously Trip had no use for sedatives at the moment if the heavy rhythm of his respiration was any indication. Patting his pockets with one hand took some wriggling, but he heard a familiar crinkle in one pocket and pulled out a small square of paper. It was just the familiar warning label that came standard in every new case opened on board ship, noting that it was packed and inspected by a numbered crewman in a warehouse. Malcolm folded the tiny pill into the small scrap of paper and discarded the notion of tucking the package into the basic first aid kit kept standard in all tents for emergencies in case Commander Tucker decided to paw through the next day. Instead he tucked it into his breast pocket, zipping the fastener closed.
Then he lay on his back with his head cradled in his hands and considered all the possible problems the doctor might be having with any number of crewmen that might be keeping her awake at night. He fell asleep before completing even half the list.