Interstate 20, West
(Twenty miles east of Atlanta Ruins)
T'Pol drew her phaser and took position at the firing port on her side, peering through to assess the threat herself.
Two vehicles, one apparently nothing more than a seat balanced atop two wheels. That vehicle caught her immediate attention. That anyone would attempt to engage in vehicular combat upon such a thing…
In fact, that anyone would dare ride such a thing at all, especially at such high speeds, was simply astounding.
She winced and ducked suddenly, raising one hand instinctively as a huge noise erupted all around her. She realized then that Clover had begun firing the large weapon on the top of the hauler.
It was loud. Almost painfully so. She could feel the sound of it impacting her chest…
And something began to ting loudly and rapidly along the wall of the compartment, from the outside. Projectiles, striking with tremendous force. Return fire from the similar weapon mounted within the larger vehicle pursuing them.
She looked back through the port, long enough to see the two-wheeled rider coming alongside…then jerked back again when projectiles lanced too near the port itself. Of course, she realized then, that was exactly their purpose. As Trip had said, it was suppressing fire, designed to discourage her from risking return fire herself.
But Trip began firing then, in the same compartment with her, just barely beyond arm's reach. Though the weapon he fired seemed to be somewhat more advanced than those she'd seen up to now…perhaps something he'd brought up with him from the Bunker…it was still uncomfortably loud. Enough that it forced her to pause a moment more to overcome that assault before taking to the firing port again.
There she could see the dual-wheeled rider had nearly pulled alongside the corner of the flatbed, on her side. And the large gun on the other vehicle continued to fire on them from further behind, perhaps little more than fifty yards away. Most of those projectiles impacted and caught within the short wall of sandbags lashed across the rear section of the flatbed. But enough of them still impacted the wall around her that it presented a significant danger…
"Now would be a good time to shoot, T'Pol!" Trip yelled beside her, still firing short bursts himself.
Of course. The situation, most especially the sudden sensory overload it threatened, had caused her to delay too long already.
She took aim through the port, at the front of the larger vehicle. An internal combustion engine, such as that one utilized, would have to be mounted either in the front or rear. Taking up all or most of the space there.
With her thumb, still aiming carefully against the mild swaying of the truck, she dialed the power on the phaser up. As far as it would go…
And fired. Just as Romeo jerked sharply to the right, in the attempt to discourage the dual-wheeled rider from darting forward and coming alongside the flatbed.
So the beam struck the forward hood of the vehicle, rather than the front facing. And lanced off into the air harmlessly after barely scouring a smoking path across that.
It did at least cause the driver to swerve wildly for a moment. And Trip to stop firing to gape at her in surprise.
Even Clover stopped shooting for a moment…
But the dual-wheeled rider took advantage of everyone's surprise, to come alongside and bring his feet up onto his vehicle. Balancing it precariously, crouching atop it rather than sitting. Shocking T'Pol with his very obvious intention of leaping onto the flatbed.
She pulled the phaser up, observing the settings…then thumbed them down quickly, before taking to the port again…finding him just beginning his leap…aiming carefully…
As Clover began firing again from above, and Trip turned back to his firing port to resume combat himself, she fired along with them. And struck the man in mid-air.
Admittedly, a surprisingly good shot. Extremely fortunate.
Except that the man fell smoking to the flatbed, unmoving. Because she'd apparently failed to dial the setting on the phaser fully to a mere stun effect.
She'd inflicted unnecessary harm. Perhaps even killing the man.
That caused her to freeze for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed.
Because she'd never killed anyone before.
Except…she didn't think she had…maybe…she almost remembered something…
"Keep shooting!" Trip yelled.
T'Pol blinked. And shook her head clear quickly. Contemplations would have to wait until after their safety had been assured.
So she dialed the phaser back up again and looked out the firing port. Aiming again at the larger vehicle, as projectiles from above and beside her continued pouring out against it. And return fire continued to dimple the wall in front of her. Hundreds of threatening dimples in the thick metal, all around her.
She fired again. And failed to pierce through the armor to the engine. The beam slicing along the front face of the vehicle, up across the hood and lighting on the turret there instead. Immediately in front of whoever must be manning it from the passenger side of the vehicle.
But there at least it struck something that proved helpful. Because sparks and small explosions erupted immediately. And the gun fell silent.
"She got it! She got it!" Clover screamed from above.
The raider swerved, threatening to spin out of control before he managed to straighten up again. But there was no further incoming fire from his vehicle.
Trip continued to fire on it, seemingly all the more aggressively. And Clover turned her attention from firing on the front window area of the vehicle to firing instead at the road before it. Possibly attempting to damage the tires.
As she watched, considering whether and where to fire next, the driver of the vehicle seemed to realize at last the only logical choice available to him. With an audible screeching sound, he decelerated rapidly, turning sharply once he'd slowed enough to do so safely.
And so was quickly left behind, where he'd come to a smoking halt in the middle of the road.
They continued onward several more miles before stopping alongside the interstate. To be sure there would be no further pursuit to contend with.
As soon as the truck came to a complete stop, Trip swung open the armored door on his side and leapt to the ground, his weapon still in hand. Somewhat shaken from it all, T'Pol did the same, with Clover already crawling carefully out of the turret housing to follow them.
Outside Trip climbed quickly up onto the flatbed, forcing her to do so as well in order to see what he intended. But once there it was obvious he was assessing the cargo for damage. Quickly, in case anything needed immediate intervention.
Romeo appeared alongside, standing on the road to lean up on the flatbed.
"Hey, Trip!" He said. "Duct tape, in the first locker there."
Trip stopped and turned to rummage in the steel locker bolted to the front of the bed. There he produced a roll of gray adhesive tape, which he tossed to Romeo. Who then jogged off with it toward the sandbag emplacement in the rear.
On hand, still a little shaken and unsure what she should be doing, T'Pol did her best to ignore the corpse still laying there. No more than twenty feet away from her.
"What do you need me to do, Trip?" She said.
She found the slight tremor in her voice entirely unacceptable. And he glanced over at her, clearly having recognized and understood that she was…disturbed. A little.
"Just keep that ray gun of yours handy." He grinned, speaking calmly. "We're safe now. Just patching things up a little."
And T'Pol found herself amazingly relieved by that somehow. As if that simple assurance had validated her in some way.
Clover suddenly dropped out of nowhere, onto the flatbed near her. Having leapt from atop the truck, she had to assume.
"Clover, check those fuel drums…" Trip said.
"Fuel drums. Got it."
Clover set about unfastening the Kevlar tarp from the drums to inspect them for damage. While Trip drew a multi-tool of some sort from his belt to adjust something on the still that must have been knocked loose. Romeo, she could see, was applying the adhesive tape in large quantities to halt the flow of sand from the sandbags in the rear, where projectiles had pierced them.
Finding herself the only one not engaged in anything productive, T'Pol drew her phaser again. It was what everyone seemed to assume she should be doing. Watching for threats and protecting them as they worked. But that only served to attempt to draw her attention to the corpse again. To the man she'd killed with that same phaser.
Clover was looking at the man, though. So T'Pol watched her instead. So she wouldn't have to look at him herself…
"Hey, Trip?" Clover said.
"Yeah."
"Guy's not dead there."
T'Pol's attention leapt to the corpse…and found the man moving. Only slightly, weakly. Attempting to crawl away from them…
"Son of a bitch." Trip muttered, flashing past her to go after the man.
Romeo likewise stopped what he was doing abruptly, dropping the tape onto the road in order to vault up onto the flatbed. Both of them moved quickly over to the man there, who stopped moving again once they'd approached. He rolled over onto his back to face them, in obvious pain. Groaning.
T'Pol started moving in that direction before she realized it. Or even understood what she intended to do when she got there.
"No. Don't do that." Clover said, evenly.
So she stopped, looking back at her. Seeing the warning on her face. Not a threat, exactly, just…a warning.
But T'Pol turned back and approached the men. Because she couldn't do otherwise.
Trip and Romeo were standing over him, looking down on him. And he looked back up at them as he lay there. T'Pol approached closely enough to see that the wound she'd inflicted had cauterized, at least. So it was possible the man might survive.
So she approached no further than that.
The beam had struck his thigh and traveled up across his stomach. So he must be in significant pain, and would likely require several weeks worth of extensive medical treatment in order to recover. If he recovered at all.
But for now he required a pain suppressant of some sort more than anything else. And first aid intervention, in case of continuing damage associated with the injury…
"There is a medical kit in the truck." T'Pol said. "I'll get it. Do not elevate his legs. He has suffered an abdominal injury."
"T'Pol…" Trip said, looking over at her. Staring.
"He requires a pain suppressant. And he is undoubtedly in shock." She said, already turning to return to the truck.
"T'Pol…" He said again.
But there was no time for discussion. The man required first aid, as soon as possible.
"T'Pol!" He yelled.
So she stopped and looked back.
But he was only staring at her again.
"There is little time." She said, urgently. "He may succumb to shock before his injuries are treated."
He just stared at her. As if he didn't understand what she was saying.
Until she began to suppress frustration. Because there was little time to waste.
Then he nodded lightly.
"Okay." He said, quietly. "You go do that."
So she did. Turning quickly to leap down and return to the truck, climbing back up into the rear compartment. She grabbed the green bag stuffed beneath the seat there. Manipulating the zipper fastening open, digging desperately for the medical kit within. Because there was little time.
Finding it and taking it in hand in time to hear the shot ring out.
She held onto the medical kit as she sat and waited. Some vague part of her hearing the Humans return to the truck. Climb in. Seat themselves again. The truck's engine activated and the vehicle beginning to move.
But she remembered now. Remembered Jossen. That she had killed him, never truly knowing if he'd even posed a threat to her.
And that she'd dishonored his memory by burying it. Spending months of her life in the pursuit of that, at P'Jem. Forgetting him. As if his life was nothing more to her than a discomfort to be disposed of. As the wounded Human, presumably now dead on the side of the road behind them…just as he had been disposed of.
Something cracked lightly somewhere. And T'Pol realized after a moment that she'd grasped the medical kit too tightly. That she'd fractured the case.
Gazing at it mindlessly, some part of her recognized that it wouldn't close securely anymore, now that it had been broken. That seemed unfortunate. And she wondered idly if the Humans would disapprove of her carelessness.
She looked over at Trip, seated across from her. In case he intended to frown at her for what she'd done. But he was…slumped against the armored door there. One hand raised to cover his face. Looking very fatigued.
With sharp, nearly painful, clarity she realized he'd been the one who'd killed the man. And that he was suffering largely the same reaction to that as she had in killing Jossen.
Guilt. And despair.
Or perhaps some Human equivalent of that.
And suddenly her own guilt seemed lessened. And she was moved by his.
"The spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own." She said, softly.
She hadn't intended to say it. And it had fallen halfway from her lips before she fully realized it. But it had been said, and it was appropriate enough.
Trip sighed softly. And his face tightened beneath his hand.
His voice was hard and cold as well. "Is that supposed to be some kind of goddamned poetry?"
T'Pol saw that Clover was staring back at her from the front compartment of the truck. Just watching her. Not threateningly, for a change.
"Perhaps." She said, returning Clover's gaze.
Trip snorted. And, looking back at him, she could see his face had softened a little again.
And he removed his hand, revealing the pain there to both she and Clover.
"French poetry?" He asked.
"Of course."
And he smirked mildly, considering that for a moment.
Then suddenly called out. "Romeo."
"Yeah?"
"Just so you know, I got girls back here reciting poetry at me." He said. "French poetry."
"Yeah, screw you, Trip!"
And he grinned, winking at her.
His eyes were blue, like Andorian ice. And they were still filled with pain, despite his humor.
But he grinned and winked at her nonetheless. Which she supposed was acceptable.
