CHAPTER 10;
MAKING SLOW PROGRESS
T'Pol stared discreetly at the terrified figure crouched into a ball in the corner, and cocked her head. This was a fascinating display of human behaviour, and she wanted to take note of it… but something was holding her back from doing so.
She had a respect for Commander Tucker, and she didn't feel that documenting his obviously frightening experience and reporting it to the Vulcan High Command was the best way to show that respect.
She allowed herself a small quiet sigh, and turned her attention back to Captain Archer as he turned to address her.
"What do you think we should do?" he asked her, casting a worried glance over at the other human.
She thought this over for a moment, and then replied, "I am not certain. I have never known of anything like this to happen before, Captain."
Archer looked slightly annoyed by the reply, but chose not to act on that emotion, as he continued, "Well, we have to find out what happened to him, or we'll never know how to help him."
"Maybe he cannot be helped," T'Pol commented, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.
This time, Archer chose to act on his emotions. "How can you say that? He's helped you when you were in trouble, now it's time for you to return the favour."
T'Pol inclined her head slightly. "I was only stating facts, Captain. It is a logical possibility that Commander Tucker will never rec-"
"I don't wanna hear it, Sub-Commander, you understand?" He did not allow her time to respond as he added, "I want you to get on the investigation right away. Find out whatever you can, and report back here to me as soon as you do."
"Yes, Captain," she said calmly, and walked away and out of sickbay without looking back.
Jonathan Archer couldn't believe T'Pol sometimes. Trip could be in real danger, and she was stating useless facts that nobody wanted to hear, least of all the Captain.
If there was a way to help Trip, then Jon would find it. He wasn't going to let something like this tear his friend apart.
He turned his gaze to Mayweather, and said, "Ensign, could you do me a favour?"
"Of course, sir," replied the young officer, nodding his dark head.
Jon smiled ever so slightly, and continued with his personal request, "Could you go to my quarters and fetch Porthos. I have a feeling he'll be able to help Trip somehow."
Jon glanced over at Phlox, who smiled and nodded. "That's a good idea, Captain. I hadn't thought of that. The animal could provide a calming affect."
Jon nodded to Mayweather, who smiled.
"I'll be right back, Captain."
With that, Mayweather left sickbay.
Jon looked down into the corner where Trip was cowering, and walked over, keeping a safe distance, having learned the hard way that getting too close was not a good idea.
"Trip?" he ventured, crouching onto the floor, lowering his head to try and look into his friend's eyes.
Trip did not look up.
Phlox came up behind him. "Captain, may I make a suggestion?"
Without looking up, Jon said, "Sure."
"Commander Tucker's real name is not Trip, correct?"
"Of course not. It's short for 'The Third'," Jon replied, seeing no point in this inquiry.
"Then may I suggest you try using the Commander's real name? It may provoke a response in him… especially if he has reverted to somewhat a child-like state of mind."
Jon nodded, and looked up at Phlox. "That's a good idea. Thank you, Doctor."
"Anytime, Captain," Phlox said, and walked away again.
Jon gave a small sigh, and looked back to his friend. "Charles?"
Trip moved slightly, as though he were considering looking up from his hiding place.
One more try, Jon thought.
"Charlie?"
This time, albeit slowly and warily, Trip looked up at Jon.
"Jon?"
Jon allowed himself a momentary smile, before he continued, "Yeah, Charlie, it's me, Jon."
Trip swallowed dryly, and looked all around sickbay, as though his eyes were searching for something dangerous.
"What are you looking for?"
Trip looked him in the eyes, and Jon could see the terror there.
"I saw him," Trip said, his voice trembling.
Jon's brow furrowed. "Saw who, Charlie? Who did you see?"
Avoiding Jon's gaze, Trip replied, "Malcolm. I saw Malcolm."
Jon couldn't suppress the surprise. Why was Trip scared about seeing Reed? "Where was he, Charlie? Where did you see Malcolm?"
"He was in the corridor, staring…" Trip's voice trailed off.
"What was he staring at?"
Trip looked at him then, as he said, "The place where we found the blood. I called to him, and he didn't speak to me, and then… he, he…"
Apparently, Trip was having trouble finishing the sentence.
"Charlie? Tell me what happened. It'll be okay," Jon said to him gently.
After a deep breath, Trip replied, "He looked at me."
Jon was puzzled. What's so scary about Malcolm looking at him? he thought.
"He looked at me, and," Trip hesitated, looking over at Dr. Phlox briefly, "and half of his face was gone." Trip's voice caught on the last word, and he buried his head again.
"Gone, what do you mean gone?" Jon asked, needing the answers desperately.
Trip didn't look up straight away, but when he did his face was pale, perspiration clear on his forehead. "I mean gone, Jon. It looked like somethin' had torn it away… he looked dead, like Matheson. He reached out to me like a zombie."
Jon placed a soothing hand on Trip's knee, as his friend once more buried his head like a frightened child… and with good reason.
Just imagining what Trip had seen made a chill rise up Jon's spine, as he rose off the floor, leaving Trip alone for the time being.
The door opened, and in trotted Porthos, moving right over to the cowering Trip, as if the young dog had sensed the Commander's need for comfort.
"Is he okay, sir?" Mayweather asked, pausing in the doorway, as though he were afraid to enter.
"I'm not sure. He saw Malcolm… dead."
MAKING SLOW PROGRESS
T'Pol stared discreetly at the terrified figure crouched into a ball in the corner, and cocked her head. This was a fascinating display of human behaviour, and she wanted to take note of it… but something was holding her back from doing so.
She had a respect for Commander Tucker, and she didn't feel that documenting his obviously frightening experience and reporting it to the Vulcan High Command was the best way to show that respect.
She allowed herself a small quiet sigh, and turned her attention back to Captain Archer as he turned to address her.
"What do you think we should do?" he asked her, casting a worried glance over at the other human.
She thought this over for a moment, and then replied, "I am not certain. I have never known of anything like this to happen before, Captain."
Archer looked slightly annoyed by the reply, but chose not to act on that emotion, as he continued, "Well, we have to find out what happened to him, or we'll never know how to help him."
"Maybe he cannot be helped," T'Pol commented, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.
This time, Archer chose to act on his emotions. "How can you say that? He's helped you when you were in trouble, now it's time for you to return the favour."
T'Pol inclined her head slightly. "I was only stating facts, Captain. It is a logical possibility that Commander Tucker will never rec-"
"I don't wanna hear it, Sub-Commander, you understand?" He did not allow her time to respond as he added, "I want you to get on the investigation right away. Find out whatever you can, and report back here to me as soon as you do."
"Yes, Captain," she said calmly, and walked away and out of sickbay without looking back.
Jonathan Archer couldn't believe T'Pol sometimes. Trip could be in real danger, and she was stating useless facts that nobody wanted to hear, least of all the Captain.
If there was a way to help Trip, then Jon would find it. He wasn't going to let something like this tear his friend apart.
He turned his gaze to Mayweather, and said, "Ensign, could you do me a favour?"
"Of course, sir," replied the young officer, nodding his dark head.
Jon smiled ever so slightly, and continued with his personal request, "Could you go to my quarters and fetch Porthos. I have a feeling he'll be able to help Trip somehow."
Jon glanced over at Phlox, who smiled and nodded. "That's a good idea, Captain. I hadn't thought of that. The animal could provide a calming affect."
Jon nodded to Mayweather, who smiled.
"I'll be right back, Captain."
With that, Mayweather left sickbay.
Jon looked down into the corner where Trip was cowering, and walked over, keeping a safe distance, having learned the hard way that getting too close was not a good idea.
"Trip?" he ventured, crouching onto the floor, lowering his head to try and look into his friend's eyes.
Trip did not look up.
Phlox came up behind him. "Captain, may I make a suggestion?"
Without looking up, Jon said, "Sure."
"Commander Tucker's real name is not Trip, correct?"
"Of course not. It's short for 'The Third'," Jon replied, seeing no point in this inquiry.
"Then may I suggest you try using the Commander's real name? It may provoke a response in him… especially if he has reverted to somewhat a child-like state of mind."
Jon nodded, and looked up at Phlox. "That's a good idea. Thank you, Doctor."
"Anytime, Captain," Phlox said, and walked away again.
Jon gave a small sigh, and looked back to his friend. "Charles?"
Trip moved slightly, as though he were considering looking up from his hiding place.
One more try, Jon thought.
"Charlie?"
This time, albeit slowly and warily, Trip looked up at Jon.
"Jon?"
Jon allowed himself a momentary smile, before he continued, "Yeah, Charlie, it's me, Jon."
Trip swallowed dryly, and looked all around sickbay, as though his eyes were searching for something dangerous.
"What are you looking for?"
Trip looked him in the eyes, and Jon could see the terror there.
"I saw him," Trip said, his voice trembling.
Jon's brow furrowed. "Saw who, Charlie? Who did you see?"
Avoiding Jon's gaze, Trip replied, "Malcolm. I saw Malcolm."
Jon couldn't suppress the surprise. Why was Trip scared about seeing Reed? "Where was he, Charlie? Where did you see Malcolm?"
"He was in the corridor, staring…" Trip's voice trailed off.
"What was he staring at?"
Trip looked at him then, as he said, "The place where we found the blood. I called to him, and he didn't speak to me, and then… he, he…"
Apparently, Trip was having trouble finishing the sentence.
"Charlie? Tell me what happened. It'll be okay," Jon said to him gently.
After a deep breath, Trip replied, "He looked at me."
Jon was puzzled. What's so scary about Malcolm looking at him? he thought.
"He looked at me, and," Trip hesitated, looking over at Dr. Phlox briefly, "and half of his face was gone." Trip's voice caught on the last word, and he buried his head again.
"Gone, what do you mean gone?" Jon asked, needing the answers desperately.
Trip didn't look up straight away, but when he did his face was pale, perspiration clear on his forehead. "I mean gone, Jon. It looked like somethin' had torn it away… he looked dead, like Matheson. He reached out to me like a zombie."
Jon placed a soothing hand on Trip's knee, as his friend once more buried his head like a frightened child… and with good reason.
Just imagining what Trip had seen made a chill rise up Jon's spine, as he rose off the floor, leaving Trip alone for the time being.
The door opened, and in trotted Porthos, moving right over to the cowering Trip, as if the young dog had sensed the Commander's need for comfort.
"Is he okay, sir?" Mayweather asked, pausing in the doorway, as though he were afraid to enter.
"I'm not sure. He saw Malcolm… dead."