The Reward of Their Labors
Commander Tucker was talking about time, volume, and oxygen intake with Doctor Phlox when Crewman Jefferies jogged across main engineering to give him some good news, and Trip certainly looked as though he could use some. The instruments told him that time was nearly up for the bridge crew.
"Commander, we are just installing the last two rungs now. Do you want to open the hatch, sir, when that's done? It should be any minute now." Jefferies informed him.
"Sure." he answered, nodding to Phlox as he quickly followed the young technician. "I'll probably need some help evacuating the bridge, Jefferies. I know you've been giving it your all with that ladder, but are you and the rest of the technicians still up for the task or should I have the medical team come in too?" he questioned.
"Just say the word, sir, and we can have them out in a jiffy." said the crewman, his chest swelling with pride.
"Then follow me on up and remember that we're still on a time table." Trip informed him as he started up the ladder.
As he pulled himself up hand over hand through the ventilation shaft, he took every opportunity to steal himself against the possibly that his friend and commanding officer, not to mention Sub-commander T'Pol, could be dead or beyond help already. The hatch of the ventilation shaft was secured tightly, but his hands seemed to know just what to do to open the thing. It was heavy as he heaved it upward, and at first he wasn't sure if he would be able to move it without help from Jefferies or another engineer. But then it seemed to lift itself and move out of his way.
"I thought you would never come." said a faint, but husky voice from the shadows of the bridge. The hatch made a scraping sound as it was moved farther out of his way.
"T'Pol, is that you?" questioned Trip, clambering hastily up the remaining rungs, which were still warm to the touch.
She looked pale to him and very unsteady on her feet. He reached for her, afraid that she might collapse any minute. The air, he could tell, was thin and mostly composed of carbon dioxide. They had come very close to suffocation.
T'Pol permit him to hold her in his arms rather gingerly as both groped for the appropriate words to saw. Looking into her eyes, Trip could see that she was having difficulty focusing.
"You came." she stated as she too looked into his beautiful blue eyes, which were threatening to well with tears.
"Of course I did. Now I have to get all of you out of here." he told her firmly, but gently too.
"The others. Their condition is bad, much worse than mine. They must be evacuated first." she said, becoming slightly more clear-headed and logical again.
Commander Tucker, from his position standing by the duct, clapped eyes on Malcolm Reed and Hoshi Sato first. They looked like a pair of turtledoves in winter. Even though he didn't recognize them, his heart both warmed and ached to see the two of them. Her head fit perfectly against his shoulder, and despite their pallor they both looked at peace and as though they belonged together.
Then he glimpsed Crewman Monroe who had never truly regained consciousness after the nerve pinch. Tucker's eyes did not linger there long.
"Jon." he breathed, coughing in the thick air as his eyes rested on the noble figure of Captain Archer, still seated in his chair as though it were a part of him or he of it.
"Sir?" called Jefferies from the opening in the floor. "Can we begin moving them out?"
"Yes, yes, please, do." said Trip hastily. His arm tightened instinctively, protectively around T'Pol's waist as they both stepped toward the captain.
"He is all right, or rather, he will be with proper treatment." she assured him sleepily. With rescue in sight the last of her mental discipline was beginning to fail her.
"Of course." whispered Trip, deferring to her judgment.
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