Four hours, Twenty Minutes
The minuscule rupture in the inner hull of the bridge had been plugged with a small, moist piece of chewing gum. It was not something that Captain Archer would be overjoyed to put in a report, but it had worked, at least temporarily. But it still left them with problems to be solved. They had a finite amount of air to breathe on the bridge and no obvious means of letting more oxygen in or getting themselves out. Additionally, their access to the ship's computer was gone and access to communications was limited. Only emergency power kept some of the lights working.
"T'Pol, can you estimate how long our air supply will last?" inquired Archer from the captain's chair. The air on the bridge seemed thinner to him, but he wanted to chalk that up to nerves and his imagination, well aware that it could be either or both and not the sickening reality of the situation.
"I can give you an estimate, sir." said the science officer, who was standing ramrod straight at her post. "It is approximately four hours and twenty minutes until the remaining oxygen becomes unbreathable and we all suffocate."
Malcolm blinked uncomfortably and looked down at the dark tactical station, wondering, "Did I sound like that when I was trapped on the shuttlepod with Commander Tucker? He was a saint not to shove me out the airlock."
"Thank you, T'Pol." said Archer, more than half wishing that he had not asked her. It would have been better not to know.
"You are welcome, captain." she said neutrally.
"What should we do?" asked Hoshi, who had gravitated toward Lieutenant Reed. Despite his rather negative outlook, he continued to exude a demeanor of unperturbable calm and composure.
"I recommend that we avoid conversation and excess motion in order to conserve our limited supply of air." said T'Pol, nodding toward Crewman Monroe as her example. He was sitting in a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest.
"Agreed." said Archer. "Everyone, at ease and take a seat." he ordered, looking T'Pol in the eye as he spoke. She inclined her chin slightly and raised one eyebrow in her uniquely Vulcan way before having a seat on the floor, which was growing slightly cool to the touch by her standards.
Malcolm and Hoshi sat down quietly behind the tactical station with their backs to the bulkhead. The lieutenant could not help but admire her composure. She had come so far in such a short amount of time. No more screaming for Ensign Sato. He smiled at her and lightly patted her hand. A smile touched her lips as she grasped his hand in her own. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she barely suppressed a giggle. He had given her a kiss, a quick peck on the cheek given presumably because she had avowed her confidence in him during trying times. Was it so unbelievable that she might wish to hold his hand during times that were also less than ideal? The shock vanished from his features as swiftly as it had appeared there and he squeezed her hand tightly. It was not unbelievable at all.
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