Tempest
Hammerhead Class Frigate (NC-114)
Sickbay, Deck B

Andrews kept Tucker under for four days. Kept him under until after the temporary bonds had all dissolved, allowing the hastened healing of the capillaries to reach a point where they were more or less set. Nerves regenerated enough where pain would at least be manageable. Muscles stimulated into shape again. Bone density recovered to the extent that was possible, with artificial bonding filling in the rest.

Then another full day, having found himself in the unusual position of arguing for waking a patient up, rather than the other way around. As would be the case at any other time.

The acting Captain, Commander Song, not seeing the wisdom of allowing Tucker to be awake and conscious…and capable of ordering everyone to shut up and fetch him his duty uniform…before that was absolutely necessary. Absolutely unavoidable being the preference there.

He wasn't very happy about it but he'd finally had to cave and let Song have her way. Allowing one more day before Captain Tucker would be allowed to wake. And that day was today.

Everything keeping him comfortably under was terminated at precisely 0600. So it was just a matter of waiting until the Captain's famous sixth sense about when it was time to wake up and go to work finally kicked in.

T'Pol waited patiently, sitting at his side as she had for two of those total four days. Without such authority as to arrange for being released back to duty herself, as she might prefer, there was little else for her to do. So sitting vigil, sneaking an occasional few moments stimulating his nervous system and helping him heal, was the perfectly logical thing to do.

Sneaking those moments on the sly, when Doctor Andrews wasn't looking. Because he was unfamiliar with the discipline and didn't trust it. It made him nervous and he tended to be hypercritical, hypervigilant and…nosy. He insisted on standing there watching and monitoring whenever he caught her doing it.

And so she was forced to do it when he was unaware just to snatch what little privacy the situation allowed. It wasn't at all proper to stand there watching like that.

So she was awake and alert, her own wound already healed enough that it intruded upon her attentions not at all. As long as she did nothing too strenuous that it might be tempted to object it was easily ignored.

She was awake and alert, and quite able to overhear Lieutenant Shran come to visit Tanner and T'Lea. Eavesdropping on those interactions, entirely despite herself. And entirely despite being well aware that doing so constituted exactly the same violation of privacy she so diligently snuck around Doctor Andrews to avoid.

She couldn't help it so much, though, as it offered a ready foreshadowing of the interaction she patiently waited to participate in with Trip when he finally awoke.

Shran approached Tanner's bed first, as that was her duty as a command officer. And Shran being Shran, she was all about putting work and duty first. As T'Pol was only just beginning to become aware, visiting with T'Lea would constitute a personal visit.

She approached Tanner's bed and Tanner immediately stiffened up. Just a bit and noticeably. Because he still hadn't quite adjusted to the new and improved Lieutenant Shran.

"Tanner." Talla said, coming comfortably alongside…even as Tanner put his hands immediately to either side, against the pliable covering of the bed.

Prepared to push up and off the moment that was required. To jump up off the bed and…do whatever it was he was prepared to do. Stand at attention and salute, maybe. Run away and hide, perhaps. Or probably just limp briskly off back to work, begging pardon for having delayed that for far too long…

"Ma'am." He nodded, warily.

"I see your leg hasn't fallen off." Shran said, with a bit of grin. "I've been thinking about getting shot myself, so I can take a little vacation. It seems to be the latest trend and the doctor's cute enough. What do you think?"

"I…can't say I recommend it, ma'am." Tanner said, uncertainly.

Shran shrugged, amused. "Then I guess I'll stick with my current plan. Running around behind you Humans, fixing everything you screw up until I get that mandatory sabbatical for exhaustion. Speaking of which…I need you in Engineering screwing things up so I can get back to that. Doctor tells me you've got another couple of days, though."

"Yes, ma'am." Tanner nodded. "But I can probably…there's a brace I can wear but…I might have a little trouble…"

"Don't worry about it." Shran smiled, waving that off. "Believe it or not we actually haven't gotten in a fight the whole time you've been lounging around in here. If I knew that's how it would be I would have shot you myself and saved us all a lot of work."

"Well…yes, ma'am." Tanner said.

Shran grinned at that. Because that was cute.

And she put a hand affectionately on his unwounded leg for a moment. With a nice, short pat and rub to help put him at ease.

"Get your rest while you can, Tanner." She said. "I'll get you back in shape, don't worry. Let us know if you need anything and we'll get it right to you. And, by the way, you can expect Ensign James to drop by to spend a little while moaning about how hard I'm working him, to make up for you having taken over his bed in sickbay. You might want to prepare yourself for that."

"Yes, ma'am." Tanner said, a little more easily.

And he actually had relaxed a little. Almost accepting he wasn't going to get snapped at here.

Shran snorted, still smiling comfortably.

"Alright." She nodded. "I'll send Crowley around after Beta with some ops you'll need to go over. I'll drop in again myself tomorrow, if nothing explodes or catches fire. But since I just said that it probably will, so it might be the day after."

Another light, affectionate pat. A quick, easy smile. And she was casually off and away, leaving him uncomfortably comfortable. Simultaneously put at ease and on edge, as no small part of him expected she'd remember she hadn't snapped at him and turn suddenly right back around to do that.

He was left to eventually just accept the short visit was over. And wonder at how he'd almost rather she had stomped in here and snarled at him.

This actually made him more nervous somehow.

T'Lea watched the entire interaction from her own recovery bed, just two beds down from Tanner. Shran's easy conversation and even seeming detachment was noteworthy, presenting a significant departure from practically all her interactions with the crew so far.

So when Shran came to stand beside her bed, she was curious already. And as Shran opened her mouth to speak, T'Lea was already questioning her.

"What has changed?" She asked. "You engage easily, disengage without difficulty and show surprising comfort interacting with the crew. All without any notable hostility."

Shran just sort of stood there for a second. Mouth still open, ready to say, 'Hello, T'Lea…'

Because the girl was laying there, nearly as pale as an Aenar. Only barely conscious, at least by Human standards. Gravely wounded, only just beginning anything that could be called a recovery.

She was just plain laying there looking like crap, in other words. Otherwise and generally looking exactly as you'd expect a person to look who'd undergone two major surgeries almost back to back. Whatever the inherent pun in that.

So Shran frowned. For the first time since entering sickbay.

"You didn't even give me a chance to say 'Hello', T'Lea." She complained.

But T'Lea was just laying there waiting. Patiently staring at her, waiting for her to answer the question…

Shran huffed.

"Fine, then." She said. "I used all your lying tricks. I guess they worked a little. And the crew's worth all the trouble so…I adapted to things. I told you I'd get over it."

T'Lea considered that, eyes assessing her critically.

"You are having no significant difficulty with establishing and maintaining relationship boundaries?"

Shran shrugged. "Not really. Still probably too close to these pinkskins for my own good, but it's not really a problem."

"Do you think you will be able to join another quad when the time comes?"

Shran sighed a little. But she wasn't quite frowning anymore.

She leaned forward instead, draping her arms over the rails of T'Lea's bed. To look down on her and speak directly to her.

"Maybe." She said clearly. "Not that I'm interested."

"You should." T'Lea immediately argued. "It is the logical next step…"

"I'm not Vulcan." Shran insisted. "We don't just jump into that sort of thing."

"Nor do we."

"Yes, you do. You have arranged marriages when you're little children even…"

"That does not constitute 'jumping into…'"

"And if your mate…or fiancé or betrothed or whatever you call him…if he died tomorrow, you just go find another one the next day, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. That is the logical…"

"We don't do that." Shran said, firmly.

T'Lea's brow actually tightened a little.

So Shran figured the doctor must have her on some heavy duty narcotics, seeing as how she was practically getting emotional over here.

Which was actually a little funny.

So Shran smirked then.

"Although…if you've changed your mind…" She smirked, suggestively.

T'Lea's brow tightened more.

"I am already promised." She said. "Nor do I find a relationship of that sort with an Andorian shen especially appealing."

"You don't find a relationship of that sort with anyone appealing." Shran pointed out. "Because you're Vulcan and you haven't had one yet. And you may be promised but you're still not technically…"

"No." T'Lea said. "And you are testing the boundaries of our relationship again."

"Because you're so pretty." Shran said.

And continued on quickly before T'Lea could respond.

"And if you're so set on my finding another quad…you know, I hear Benning's available. He'd make a very nice thaan for us. Think about that for a moment…"

"Vulcans do not take multiple partners." T'Lea said, firmly.

"And if we move quick, we might have a shot at Tucker. I think your Commander might be marking territory there already but he'd be a perfect chan. Might be worth the fight."

"That would be very ill advised."

"I'm not so sure." Shran said, considering that. "Once you get healed up a little more, I bet we could take her."

T'Lea eyed her speculatively then. Her eyes a little glazed from whatever the doctor had her on…so it took a bit of obvious effort…

"You are being facetious." T'Lea decided, at last.

"Of course I am." Shran grinned. "I'm in a good mood today, you silly klahz. And you really are cute when you're drugged like that. I think your eyes almost crossed once…"

"You should take the matter more seriously. It is an important issue for your continued emotional health."

"Then you'll just have to rest, get your strength back and make me, Subaltern T'Lea." Shran smirked. "Today I'm just in a good mood and there's nothing you can do about it."

T'Lea actually frowned a little.

So, yes. She was on some very impressive pain medication apparently.

"I'm glad you're awake and you're looking so well." Shran said, more seriously now. And more softly. "Get some rest, Subaltern. I'll check in on you again later."

And before T'Lea could object, or even think to, Shran had reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her face. Affectionately, if not at all appropriately. But it was an otherwise benign gesture, so T'Lea was unable to justify being especially offended.

"If you need anything, just let me know and I'll make it happen." Shran said, already pushing away from the bed to depart. "Now get some sleep. As for me, I'm heading to the Mess Hall for some katheka. Maybe I'll eat a piece of cake and smile at people until they get nervous."

And she was off and away again, detaching as easily from her as she had from Tanner. So that remained encouraging to see.

T'Lea watched her leave sickbay, pondering all the while whether it had been wise to pursue anything beyond a working relationship with the Andorian. Establishing an actual 'friendship' had seemed like the intuitively spontaneous thing to do, considering the circumstances at the time.

She'd barely managed to evoke any sense of order out of the thing, though. If she could just get the stubborn shen to acknowledge the logic of pursuing and claiming another quad, at least all her hard work would be perfectly justified. As it was it remained…challenging.

As she watched Shran depart, she found Commander T'Pol watching her in turn, from her chair near the Captain's bed. And her eyebrow clearly communicated her curiosity at what she'd just witnessed.

So T'Lea found herself grateful that at least someone might understand and commiserate with her regarding the inherent difficulties of maintaining these sorts of relationships.

"These people are very difficult to manage." She said, looking back at T'Pol.

T'Pol considered that, eyebrow still at attention.

And she soon tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement of the fact. Because, yes, relationships of that sort did indeed prove difficult to manage. As did the people themselves. One in particular…

That of course brought her attention back to Trip, where he lay on the recovery bed at her side.

And she found that he'd apparently woke sometime while her attention had wandered away to witness Lieutenant Shran's interactions with the others.

He was awake and watching her.

Still somewhat hazy and not entirely lucid…but he was focused on her nevertheless, catching her eye comfortably when she looked back to him.

He…gazed at her, in fact. An odd mixture of wonder, fascination and admiration.

She found she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about being looked at that way.

And all the more…surprised at the thought that immediately crossed her mind because of it.

That if they were bonded, she and Trip, then she wouldn't be in this situation. She'd have known he was awake the moment he had been. Would have known, in fact, that he was waking up long before he actually did. She wouldn't be suffering the uncomfortable feeling of being both surprised and deeply pleased.

Her hand almost reached out for him at that thought. Eager, apparently, to get right to work making that happen. Taking the first steps in the long process of building that bond.

She had to nearly dig her fingers into her knee to keep it from sneaking over there and doing that, in fact. Which was somewhat alarming.

Her alarm and concern…or perhaps merely her surprise…must have shown, though. Because…

"Sorry." Trip said, softly. "Haven't had a chance to really look at you before. I can't believe how beautiful you are."

T'Pol almost started twitching at that.

Very pleased, certainly, but…also entirely and quite suddenly unbalanced.

She had to say something to that, of course. It required a response.

She just…wasn't sure what…there didn't seem to be any…

"I understand." She said, awkwardly.

Trip grinned and chuckled at that. And T'Pol suppressed no small amount of embarrassment at her failure.

But Trip bridged the gap. Changing the subject to distract from that, knowing quite well enough the discomfort she experienced.

"So, I'm in a recovery bed and a beautiful woman is there watching over me when I wake up." He said. "I think I've had this dream before, except that's not a nurse's uniform you're wearing, Commander. And there's this…"

He raised his hand.

Or rather…raised the hand that wasn't there anymore. A thick lump of bandage and synthetic flesh marked the spot where it used to rest. Medicinal time-released dermals dotted the entire length of his bruised and mottled forearm now, making perfectly clear the damage that had been done…

He stared at that for a short moment.

"…and I guess you're gonna tell me I'm not dreaming." He said, vaguely. Still staring at his arm.

"Unfortunately, no." T'Pol acknowledged. "I understand this must be traumatic for you, Trip."

"Yeah, a bit."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Just…some really big guy in armor. I think I tackled him, so…I'm guessing he didn't take kindly to that and cut my hand off or something?"

T'Pol nodded. She had been prepared for this. The event had been quite traumatic, so it was not unexpected that his recollection of it might prove spotty at best. So she set about immediately filling in the blanks for him. And catching him up on everything else they'd been unaware of at the time in the process of that.

"You've been unconscious for four days." She said. "I'm sure you'll be relieved to know the Tempest suffered no damage during our altercation with the Vahklas or at any time in the interim. We are currently back on mission, with Commander Song assuming the chair in your absence. Additionally, we've managed to replace Shuttle One with a Vulcan shuttle we've claimed and Alice has adjusted well to her new operating status…"

Trip was still staring at his arm, though. Staring at the empty place where his hand used to be.

She wasn't sure if he'd heard anything she'd said at all.

"Trip?" She said, trying a more direct approach now.

He took a deep breath, forcing awareness back on the present with some effort.

"Yeah?" He asked. Then… "Sorry, having a little trouble wrapping my head around this…"

"It's only temporary." She assured him. "There are advanced prosthetics available. I reviewed some of the literature while you were asleep. I think you'll find it intriguing."

He nodded slightly. "Back at Proxima, you mean. Or Starfleet medical."

"Yes." She acknowledged.

"Might not make it back there."

T'Pol hesitated, aware of the thing Song insisted on reporting herself. The thing she hadn't mentioned yet because of that. It was rather a relevant point suddenly. Something she was sure he'd want to know right away, before anything else…

"How many did we lose?" He asked, solemnly.

She hesitated again, but…

"Four." She said.

Trip's brow immediately furrowed in confusion.

"Four what?" He asked.

"Four crewmen."

And now he was surprised.

"Four?"

"Yes, Trip." She said. "And five wounded, including yourself…"

"I can't believe we only lost four." He said, shocked. "How'd we manage that?"

T'Pol suddenly understood.

He'd expected massive casualties.

"Only four, Trip." She assured. "Due in large part to Alice overseeing the boarding action…"

"Wait…we raided them?"

"Indeed. Prompted by Commander Hess's death and our own capture…"

Trip huffed in frustration then.

"Okay, just…start at the beginning." He frowned. "What the hell happened between us getting caught and my hand suddenly disappearing."

She did. Starting at the beginning, relaying everything she'd learned while he was recovering. The assault on the Vahklas and the remarkable showing the crew had made of themselves in the process of that, which she knew he would be greatly relieved at.

Alice's very effective utilization of the security oversight protocols she now had access to, which had not only made the boarding action such a success but had essentially saved them all.

A tally of the lost and wounded, as well the circumstances of each. Trip grieving every one. Even offering apologies to her for Tulok, as if he were responsible himself.

Leading him through everything that had occurred while they were unaware, locked in the brig. Helping him accept it all and reach his understanding of it.

Eventually working her way around to the most relevant point to her personally. Once he had worked through his emotional reactions to everything up to the point.

But addressing that the moment it became appropriate to do so.

"Concerning my…our behavior in the brig." She said, hesitantly. "Considering the situation it was not at all surprising, once examined objectively. However, it remains…"

"Well, I think I got a crash course in that 'very little' that turns you on." Trip smirked. "The vu-katra thing. And it might be a good idea to tell me what that is."

T'Pol shifted uncomfortably.

And very obviously twitched a wary little glance over her shoulder.

So Trip cringed a bit himself, realizing immediately he'd not only just stepped all over her very Vulcan sense of privacy here…he'd practically jumped on it and done a little jig.

They were sitting in the middle of sickbay, for crying out loud.

"Sorry." He said, quietly. "But I'm guessing we're about to have that talk now."

T'Pol looked uncertain.

"Which talk?"

"The one where you lay down all the conditions under which that 'behavior in the brig' can ever be expected to happen again."

She considered that for a moment.

"Yes." She said, firmly.

And…okay. That was noteworthy. T'Pol didn't say much of anything without a whole lot of syllables thrown into the effort. A single word, and a monosyllabic word at that, was rare.

Which, in this case, quite obviously indicated she'd made a decision.

Period.

And, also, deal with it.

"Okay." He said. Because he'd been here before and he knew the ropes.

Step one. Agree completely to everything. Do so in an easy manner, if at all possible.

"Besides," He added, grinning ruefully and raising the stump where his right hand used to be. "This was my Vulcan kissing hand anyway."

"We'll adapt." T'Pol said, instantly. Presenting her left hand for consideration. Holding it up, index and middle finger locked. And he was more than a little amused how compelling he already found that gesture to be.

Because, yes, she'd apparently grieved that particular point already and was indeed prepared to work around that. Eager to, it would seem. If only up to that one particular line in the sand she had no intention of crossing again anytime soon.

Trip grinned.

"Okay, T'Pol." He said. "Consider me fully behind that idea, ready to give it the sum total of my support."

She nodded, accepting that.

So he offered his addendum. Step two.

"Right up until the point where you change your mind, in which case I'll be right behind that idea, giving that all my support. So you'd better be sure. Because I'm going to support the hell out of that idea."

T'Pol considered that.

And…swallowed a bit. And cleared her throat a little.

"Agreed." She said, once she was able to speak clearly.

So, okay then. Step three now. Where he laid down his own conditions here…

But Commander Song entered the sickbay before he could do that. And she made straight for him the second she cleared the threshold.

He put two and two together on that one quick enough, sparing Doctor Andrews a glance, over there where he was checking on T'Lea. Someone had obviously called Song to let her know he was up and around again.

And, now that he thought about it, Song had apparently waited to give him and T'Pol time to talk before running down here. Else she'd have been here a whole lot sooner.

So…those two were working together here. And Song had important things to tell him. Hence everything in the last thirty minutes or so being coordinated as it had been.

He wanted to jump her the second she got within range of his voice. Cut right to the chase and have her spell it all out for him. But he played along instead.

Because she was the shrink around here and maybe she knew what she was doing.

"Keyla," He smiled, once she arrived at the bed. "Heard you guys kicked ass and took names. I'm impressed."

She smirked slightly at that.

"We did and of course you are." She said.

Trip chuckled at that. As he was expected to.

"How's your shoulder?" He asked. "T'Pol tells me you a had a close call yourself."

"It's not a problem, as long as I don't move or breathe at all." She said, with a slight grimace. "And a pat on the back's just going to get you punched in the face, so let's not do any of that."

Song looked between the two of them as he offered his second expected chuckle of appreciation.

And there was the short, subtle bit of non-verbal communication between she and T'Pol that he wasn't supposed to notice.

"How are you holding up, Captain?" She asked, turning back to him. Leaning up against the bedrail to get comfortable. And to get him comfortable.

He held up the stump then.

"Think I left something back on the ship." He said. "I don't suppose we can turn around and go back?"

That surprised her.

"You're joking about it already?" She said, tilting her head a little.

"Just trying to keep things in perspective, Keyla."

"No, don't get me wrong, Captain." She explained. "I'm impressed myself now. Keep it up. I just thought I'd find you in here crying about it."

Trip stared for a second.

"Wow." He said, flatly. "I see your bedside manner's as stellar as I always figured it would be."

"I'm not a physician, dumbass." She smirked, immediately. "So did T'Pol manage to talk you into a prosthetic yet? She was going on and on about it before."

"No, didn't get that far." He said. "And let's talk shop before we get off track any further. T'Pol's caught me up on most of it, but you've got a few things to say yourself."

Song nodded and left it at that. Never mind that he'd jumped ahead on her that way. She hadn't expected she'd be able to ease into things here exactly.

"First little tidbit." She said. "Alice speaks Romulan now. Guess how that happened."

"Heard the Vulcans speaking it over on the Vahklas."

Song frowned, more than a little disappointed.

"You already knew." She accused. "Thought I'd get to tell you myself. You know that means they were working for the Romulans, don't you? High Command's going to have a fit about that."

"Not something we want to miss." Trip grinned. "We'll just have to do our part so they have the opportunity to do that then. What else you got?"

"We started getting transmissions from Celestial Station and Coleman a couple of days ago." Song said. "I guess we're taking too long out here. He's demanding we return to Proxima so the matter of an unusual supply requisition and suspicions of tampering with sealed documentation can be addressed. We've conveniently failed to receive any of those transmissions, though. But still, that's a reminder that we'll need to prepare to face the music if we do actually make it back home."

"Okay, noted. Expected that. What else?"

Song frowned. And chewed her lip a little.

"Song, give it up." Trip said, more firmly now. "What is it?"

"You sure you want me to just jump right into it…?"

"Yes." He said. "I've been out for four days now. Kinda need to catch up on things, Keyla."

She nodded. Reluctantly.

And took a breath.

"We've got 'em, Trip."

Trip stared at that. And he waited impatiently.

He could have done the obvious and asked who. He wanted to ask. But he knew the instant she'd said it.

So he waited, to let her go on ahead and lay it out there.

"Picked up their ion trail three days ago." She said. "Moving at 2.5 at the time, under cloak. But we could track them and make an educated guess at distance. T'Pol says the latest Vulcan intel has their passive lateral sensor auto-detection at maybe a million kay, so were keeping just outside that. They haven't actually pinged along their wake yet…"

"How long have we been on them?" Trip asked, tightly.

Song hesitated.

Because what he was asking…he wanted to know how long they'd been following them. Because any Captain worth the rank dropped out of warp and pinged their trail every now and then. Usually every day or two, just in case something was creeping up on them.

A fleet, on the move? They'd do no less.

So she hesitated, but…

"Two days now." She said.

He was pushing up off the bed before she finished speaking.

Already heading for the bridge. Because two days was plenty of time for the fleet to have pinged their warp trail. And if they hadn't yet, that only meant that they hadn't yet. So they needed to be ready for that.

Which meant he needed to be on the bridge.

T'Pol was prepared and in position. And she had him pinned before he could get up.

Trip sighed harshly.

"Let me the hell up." He demanded.

"Captain." Song said, intently. Demanding his attention.

And he knew that tone. So he stopped and listened. Granting her exactly just as long as needed to make whatever point…

"Captain…they dropped cloak a few hours ago. They're full warp four for Proxima now. ETA's about nine days."

He froze. Because that took a second to wrap his head around.

"I'm sorry, Trip." Song said, frowning. "I thought it'd be best if you healed as much as you could before I let Andrews wake you up. I just didn't expect…"

Trip closed his eyes and stopped trying to get out of the bed anymore.

He just lay back and let himself relax for just a second. Close his eyes and absorb what that meant.

Nine days to Proxima. Moving at full warp four.

"How many, Song?"

She hesitated again.

But again, he already knew.

"Thirty-two." She said. "Six packs of five. Warbirds leading the packs, two trailing. It's the main fleet, Trip."

Right. Of course it was.

So Coleman saw them coming now. And he was already scrambling defenses into place. Already sending the report to the Fleet Admiral. Way too late for any hope of a response.

Too late even to get the first ship back to Earth to defend.

Nine days to Proxima.

And the Tempest was on their ass, just a million kay out. Still hadn't been spotted because the Romulans were so focused on the system they were rushing ahead to rip to shreds.

So they had to hit them now.

Hit them right now and do every bit of damage that they could before they could get a single light-year closer…so Coleman would have enough time to take advantage of what he was about to do to that fleet.