Reed stood at the end of the table, scrutinizing every crewmember present.
For what reason, Travis honestly had no idea. All the department heads were there, as ordered. And now the lieutenant was probably evaluating their preparation and attentiveness, while God knows what was happening to the Captain…
Trip vaguely felt himself being lifted off the table, or torture chair, whatever it was. He didn't much care right now, not about anything really.
He had slowly come to the conclusion that he was seriously high, or maybe doped. Damn, which one was it?
They had somehow ended up in different room. The bewildered Trip attempted to formulate how exactly that had happened, it didn't seem to make much sense. But seriously, he was just in the room with four purple coils, now there were like, seven. No, make that ten, twenty, oh God! His world was spinning, he couldn't even make out the individual surfaces anymore. The floor was blending with the wall, and the wall with the transporter thingy. Wait, transporter?
And at that moment the beam out was completed, leaving Trip on the Enterprise bridge, where he promptly threw up...
Lt. Reed and Ensign Mayweather rushed out of the turbo-lift, followed by two medics. The Captain was there alright, true to the communication they had just received. His condition, however, appeared to be lacking.
Trip gripped the communication console, holding on for dear life as another wave of nausea hit him. Another burst of vomit was expelled from his throat, he swayed uneasily, before toppling backwards, landing with a thud on the ground. These lights are too damn bright.
Looking straight at the ceiling, he gazed dumbly at the faces starting to pop in around him, obscuring his view as they looked on with concerned expressions. The room was getting darker, and with no will to fight it, he slipped into unconsciousness…