The New Doctor
By Lieuten Keen
The crew on board the Enterprise was puzzled. In the middle of the exchange of hostile fire, the Klingon ships suddenly stopped their attack. The two Klingons holding their position in the corridor outside Main Engineering and the one still lying unconscious outside Sickbay were transported off the human's ship, along with the four warriors still locked in the brig.
On the bridge, Archer looked puzzled. It seemed unlikely that they would just leave. Hoshi acknowledged that the interference was gone and the scanners were once again receiving information from the surface. She noted the campfire and the Klingon shuttle and Archer didn't waste any time in sending down a message to the landing party. He was relieved to hear that everyone was unharmed and that the shuttle pod was returning. The captain indicated that they should be brought into the Launch Bay. He was relieved when they were cleared by medical without having to go through Decon.
Woods helped Romero into Sickbay followed by Andie and Malcolm. T'Pol pulled the captain aside and they walked together through the corridor to the command center, speaking in hushed tones. By the time the facts of the landing party became clear, the bridge had sent down some more pertinent data.
Archer entered Sickbay in time to hear Andie's voice rising sharply. "You're doing it wrong!"
Phlox's normally even tones were beginning to exhibit stress. "I have been a doctor for many years. I have treated many of these injuries. I am not doing it wrong!"
"Yes, you are!" she insisted. "I'll do it myself!"
"You can't possibly treat your own wounds!" Phlox insisted. He and Doctor Brainerd were hidden behind a thin curtain and only their sharp words gave any clue as to where they were. Malcolm sat on a bio-bed nearby, secretly enjoying the fact that he was no longer the patient on board that gave the chief medical officer the worst time.
"I could do it just fine, thank you very much!"
Archer shared a dubious look with Malcolm.
"Fine! My Denobulan medical ethics forbid me from treating a patient that refuses my care, and if you don't..."
"Phlox?"
"Yes, Doctor?" He turned back patiently, halfway through the curtain, hope lighting his eyes.
"Leave the bone mender." The tool in question was a long needle that inserted a calcium paste into the fractured bone, keeping it together and stimulating the body's own ability to repair itself. On the other bed, Malcolm winced at the thought of Andie poking herself with the needle.
There was a loud snort before Phlox turned over the medical instrument to the patient. He drew the curtain and met with Archer in the middle of the room. "The MACO's have sustained some injuries," he noted. "Corporal Romero suffered some burns on his calf and his shoulder. Coporal Woods had several nasty lacerations on his face, but they have both been released to their quarters to heal."
"Andie?" Jon queried gruffly.
"I've got a cracked rib," chirped the voice behind the curtain. "I fell off a cave. Phlox, would you help me wrap this?"
Phlox sighed and rolled his eyes before entering again to wind a bandage around her middle to keep the bones immobile while mending. He helped her pull on the top of a pair of gray hospital pajamas and she pulled the curtain back, wandering barefoot through the lab.
"See? As good as new!" she announced. "I told you I did it better!" She tossed her hair over one shoulder defiantly, beaming at the Denobulan doctor.
"Let's not start another argument on the folly of being one's own patient, Doctor," Phlox began in a weary tone.
"Sure," she agreed, teasing. "I'm sure you've learned your lesson."
Archer was amused by Phlox's look of resignation, but there were more important matters to discuss at the moment. The Denobulan moved to the other bio-bed to tend to Reed's injuries, which weren't as bad as they could have been.
"When you were down there," Archer began, "how did you get separated from the rest of the landing party?"
Andie was suddenly interested in studying her feet. "I...er...may have...uh, fallen off a cliff," she stammered, a blush coloring her cheeks.
"You fell off a cliff?" Archer repeated.
"The rocks are like shale, slippery and loose. I stood too close and slid over the edge. I caught myself before I fell all the way down and when I climbed back up, everybody was gone." She snuck a look at Reed's face. "Captured," she clarified, watching his eyes narrow at her gentle goad.
"Did you happen to see anything out of the ordinary down there?"
"Out of the ordinary?" she parroted sarcastically. "Like a hairy hippo? Like Klingons taking hostages? Like Reed actually hitting the target he was aiming at? You'll have to be more specific." She was downright chipper and this time didn't bother to turn to see Reed's rage. She could hear the indignant sound he made when he heard her jab, and she chuckled. The expression on the captain's face made her humor fade away.
She studied Archer's steady gaze. "I'm sure you have something already in mind, Captain. It'll save time if you just get to the point."
"Did you see anything that looked like a transmitter?"
"A transmitter?" she repeated. A furrow of confusion split her forehead. "Would that be a little house with lots of buttons and lights?"
Archer's frown deepened. "Yes, it would be a lot like that. It's sometimes called a communications array."
"I wasn't getting a reading on my scanner and couldn't communicate with the ship. I followed the source of the interference and found a jamming station," she answered easily. "I think they were using it to interfere with ship to ground communications." She shrugged. "Whatever it was, I turned it off."
Malcolm's jaw fell open. "You turned it off? You didn't even know what it did! Maybe it was the main power station for hospitals and you just turned off everybody's life support!" He brushed away Phlox's attempts to clean the scrape on his cheek.
Andie looked at Malcolm. "It was balanced on the edge of a mountain. Stupid place to leave the main power station for a hospital that must be several hundred kilometers from there." She pursed her lips. "I turned dials and pushed buttons until the lights went off."
"Did you happen to notice the transmission?" Archer asked sternly.
"What transmission?" Andie's gray eyes widened. "Did I send a transmission? What did I send?"
"Hoshi intercepted a code. It was a bunch of random words and numbers. Do you want to know where it went?"
Andie look concerned. "Where did it go?"
"Qo'nos."
Andie blinked once. The confused look never left her face. "I sent a coded transmission to the Klingon home world?" Ignoring the shock that filled the room, she looked to Archer for confirmation. He nodded grimly.
"A General Dhorm sent a message back, indicating that the matter would be taken care of," Archer's tone grew cold. "Do you have any idea what that means?"
Weakly, Andie shook her head, still puzzled.
"Soon after that the Klingons stopped firing and returned to the planet."
"Have they retaken E'ewah's people?" she questioned, never losing that slightly dazed look on her face.
"No," he answered, disgruntled. "They do seem to be packing up their campsite. E'ewah's people have invited members of the crew to break bread with them tomorrow to celebrate. There is expected to be some talk about the dilithium mine. You won't be too upset if I don't take you along with me?" His tone was downright snide.
"No, that's fine," she answered faintly. "I don't know what happened." Her vision cleared. "Do you mind if I go to my room now? I think I need to lie down."
"Go ahead," Jon waved her past him. She wandered out of the room, still looking a little off-centered.
"Do you believe her?" Malcolm asked, free of Phlox's ministrations and pulling his uniform back over the shoulder the doctor had been inspecting.
"I don't know what to believe," Jon answered honestly. "If she did it on purpose, she saved our butts, but to do it in such a sneaky, underhanded way..." His voice trailed off. "The ability to speak Klingon is a rare gift. Why wouldn't that appear on her professional record?"
"She may not want anyone to know she's the personal friend of a Klingon general," Malcolm pointed out.
"How can that be, Malcolm?" Jon asked, falling into step as they walked back to crew quarters. "We were the first people to lay eyes on Klingons."
Malcolm pondered the question in the turbo-lift. "Perhaps she heard of them through her father," he answered.
"I don't like this," Archer stated. "I don't like secrets on my ship. Have you heard anything back from your sources on Earth?"
"Not since this morning, sir," Malcolm answered with a small smile. "When I do, you'll be the first to know." The lift stopped and Malcolm got out. "Coming, sir?"
"I need to send a message to Starfleet Command," Archer explained. "I'll see you tomorrow." The door was nearly closed when Archer stopped it from closing. "You didn't suffer any major injuries, did you?"
Malcolm was touched by the concern of his captain. "No, nothing serious," he answered. He hesitated to add, "I would have been in trouble out there if it weren't for Doctor Brainerd. Her aim is better than I gave her credit for." That was another little detail that wriggled in the back of his mind.
"Good to know," Archer acknowledged. "See you tomorrow."
He should probably let her sleep after the long day they'd had, but he found himself stopping at her door on the way to his own.
Malcolm studied her as the door opened. "You brought down a Klingon invasion nearly by yourself," he told her, uncertainly.
"I didn't do it by myself and they weren't an invasion," she told him. "They were renegades. Didn't you see their gear? It was all worn and old. They were mercenaries who were drummed out of decent society for failing their duties as warriors. They were just trying to find a way to buy their way back into their families' good graces." She still wore the gray pajamas from Sickbay.
He raised an eyebrow and studied her curiously.
"I spent a lot of time hearing about Klingons when I was a kid," she added self-consciously. "Dad had a lot of time to tell stories. I heard about the distant bastard cousins of Klingon lore."
Malcolm smirked. "Humans didn't know that Klingons existed until four years ago," he reminded her.
She lifted her chin defiantly and sniffed at his presumption. "You didn't know that I existed until a few weeks ago, and yet I did not spring into creation at the moment you knew of me. I existed without you just fine." Her chin lifted higher as she teased, "Too bad you can't say the same about me!"
He leaned in very close to her. "What did the transmission say?" he asked in a low voice that made goose bumps rise on her arms.
"I don't know. What did it say?" she leaned in and repeated the question.
"It said that your days on this ship are numbered." His smile was chilly.
She scowled and pushed him gently back into the hall. He heard her muttering as the door closed, "Next time I'll just let them beat you silly."
"I heard you had a big day," Trip leaned against her door when she finally opened it.
"I thought you might be Reed again, but Leon didn't make a peep." She sighed and smiled.
"Your cat sure doesn't like Malcolm," he noted.
Andie bent and scratched the furry head idly. "Leon's a good boy, isn't he?" she cooed. The cat preened. In spite of the late hour, Trip noticed the tight tee shirt and loose pants.
"Are you headed for the gym?" he asked.
"Yeah," she grimaced in disgust. "I think I pulled a muscle wrassling with aliens, and I thought a little yoga would stretch it out before bed."
"You want some company?" Trip asked, wondering what ever possessed him to set foot inside the gym without a direct order from the captain or the chief tactical officer.
"Sure," she grinned. She glanced at his jumpsuit. "Shall we stop by your cabin first?"
"Sure," he mimicked.
They stepped out into the hallway. In the somewhat brighter light in the corridor, Trip noticed a dark stain on her shoulder and he yelped and grabbed her arm. Pushing the sleeve up to inspect the mark, he took a careful peek at the darkening bruise.
"What the hell happened to you?" he roared.
"You should see the other guy," was the noncommittal reply she offered before pulling the shirt back over the blemish. A noise caught their attention. A thump resounded against the inside of the door. They both looked back at the portal they'd just come through.
"I don't think my bodyguard likes you manhandling me," she persisted with her lightly teasing tone, turning a quick grin at the suddenly scowling man.
"You look like you took a couple good punches," he gritted out, ignoring her efforts to turn the conversation away from her injuries. He felt protective towards her, like the time when he was little and he got into schoolyard fights trying to protect his sisters.
"Nah," she protested. "He only hit me once. He threw me pretty far though. I think I landed on a rock at any rate." Another thump tried to drive through the door. "It's no big deal. I pushed him down a hill."
Both blond heads turned toward the door. Trip glanced at Andie. "You don't think they're hurting themselves, do you?" The tight pain in his chest didn't recede, but if she wasn't worried about her injuries, he didn't think his objections would help.
His inquiry was answered with a whoosh. The door swung open to reveal Napoleon sitting with his tail wrapped around his feet, waiting for the sliding obstruction to move. Next to him, on the inside, Josephine licked her white paws and panted from her exertions.
Napoleon stepped into the corridor like he owned it, and Josephine went back to her quiet bed.
Andie glared at the cat while it was Trip who chuckled. "I think she jumped at the button until it triggered the door."
"You put her up to it, didn't you?" she questioned the orange cat in aggravation, who paused like a deer in the headlights when he realized the humans had not yet cleared the hallway. "You little dictator!" she hissed at him, followed by a humored tone. "And I only add the 'tater' because you're family," she assured him severely.
The feline did what every feline does when they're caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. He sat on his haunches and began licking the base of his tail.
Trip giggled. "Looks like he doesn't want to remain in your quarters," he observed.
Andie rolled her eyes. "No man wants to stay too long with one woman," she pretended to moan, complete with an exaggerated pantomime of holding her hand to her forehead. She sighed and prepared to pick up the cat, who in turn, prepared to run away.
Trip stayed her arm. "He's all right. He won't hurt anybody. I'll get someone down from Engineering tomorrow to work out a cat proof door." He sounded bemused.
"Thanks."
They walked around the corner and Andie lingered in the doorway as Trip picked up some clothes and slipped into his bathroom. Noticing the pictures stuck onto his bulletin board, and
tucked into crevices, she stepped further inside the room. Trip found her perusing his photos when he returned, wearing sweats and a tee shirt.
"Some of these are very good," she admired them quietly. "You like to scuba dive?"
"Yeah. You?" He blushed to be showing her his pictures. There were several of his family and one of him posing with Jon in their wetsuits, and several more of the crew in various exotic locations.
"Nah," she refuted. "I surf. But not very well," she added.
"Where do you surf?" he asked, curious.
"Southern California, most recently." She nodded, taking in the old fashioned scuba diver's helmet and Frankenstein monster.
"That would explain the occasional 'dude' that drops into your conversation," he teased.
"Dude," she obliged, slipping into a surfer's drawl. "It, like, totally would."
"You ready?" he waved her out the door. It had been quite a while since anybody but T'Pol had seen the inside of his cabin, and right now, he didn't want to think about that anymore. He'd been terrified when he heard that the landing party had lost communications and he'd nearly torn the head off his engineering team when he hadn't been allowed to go after them. He could use a little relaxation right now. "Want to blow off the gym and go for ice cream instead?"
"Sure," she nodded. "I might need to hear about your most unfortunate scuba accident."
"As long as you share stories about your surfing safaris," he agreed easily.
"Awesome, dude!" she grinned. "Your scuba stories wouldn't happen to involve you losing your pants, would they?" That irrepressible grin was firmly in place. "If they don't, they should."
"You pay too much attention to my pants," he told her dryly, making her giggle again.
Malcolm was up late in spite of his long day. He changed into a fresh uniform and headed down to the Armory to inspect the damage. He called Ensign Burrows out of bed to get a detailed verbal report, before reminding the young man that he expected the written report on his desk in the morning. He made his way to the bridge to check on Hoshi Sato, notorious for being uncomfortable in combat situations. He found her replacement was already on duty, and made a note to see her tomorrow. He made his way to the Mess Hall to pick up a quick sandwich from the cooler to tide him over until breakfast.
In spite of all his dithering, he soon found himself back in his cabin. He slipped into a loose pair of pants and climbed into bed. His mind raced around, filing away several problems and making a mental list of details to see to tomorrow.
When he finally fell asleep, he had nightmares. Even in sleep, he couldn't escape from those dark years of his youth and his most tragic mistakes replayed over and over again in his mind. It was something that occurred more and more frequently since entering the Expanse, but even now, when that mission was over, he couldn't rid himself of the nightmarish terrors that woke him in a cold sweat with one name falling from his lips.
He couldn't escape Eleanor.