by Macx
A soft hum permeated the air. It was ever-present, deep, resounding,
never too obvious though, and part of his life. It was his pulse, every
beat of his heart. It was his first and last thought on duty, it was his
secret security blanket at night. It was the life of this artificial world
around him, the heart of a lady he cared for deeply, and it was finally
beating strongly again.
Trip Tucker walked along the banks of monitors and display units in
the engine room, visually checking every single one, adjusting what needed
adjustment. Sitting dominantly in the room was the warp core, the central
part of Enterprise, the piece that made her what she was: Starfleet's pride
and joy. The warp 5 engine. His baby; his worry. And lately, the sole purpose
of his existence.
He had forgotten lunch completely -- again -- and now he was hungry,
but he wanted to finish what he was currently doing. He briefly wondered
whether he had had breakfast or not, but he couldn't remember. Probably
not.
The days had been hell. After the warp engines had received some serious
damage, the engineering crew had been running around the decks with a fierce
single-mindedness. Enterprise had flown straight into what had been a minefield.
According to T'Pol, it had been ancient, probably the remains of an even
older war, but the mines had functioned -- and they had wreaked havoc with
the ship. It was essential that they got the warp drive back up and running,
so double shifts were nothing out of the ordinary. Among the men and women,
Trip was an often-seen participant in repairs and general checks. He caught
brief intervals of sleep, sometimes a meal or some coffee. He was ever-present.
The danger of being caught with their engines down was too great. Some
systems were back after a day, but the warp drive was still flashing errors
into their face.
Tactical was the same mess as the engine, so Trip often worked side-by-side
with a harried and exhausted looking Malcolm Reed, who was as tight-lipped
and strained as the rest of them. Malcolm had received light burns on his
hands and lower arms when his station had blown up in his face. In the
last twenty-fours though, he had seen neither heads no tails of him. After
a grueling thirty-six hours, the warp engines went back online for more
than brief spurts, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief, most of all
the engineers.
"Commander?"
"Hm?" He looked up and found Travis Mayweather standing almost right
next to him.
"I asked if you wanted to come to the Mess Hall with us and grab something
to eat," Mayweather repeated.
"Uh, no. I want to finish the checks first. Thanks."
"You might want to take a little break and eat, sir." Travis gave him
an almost critical look.
Trip grimaced. "I don't have the time."
"Sir, I beg your pardon, but you look like hell and you haven't been
seen in or around the mess hall for ages, not to mention anywhere else."
Tucker sighed. "The rigors of rank," he quipped, dredging up a smile.
Mayweather shook his head. "Okay, suit yourself, but it won't help
if you collapse from exhaustion, sir." Then he left.
Trip leaned against his engine, briefly closing his eyes. He felt a
wave of dizziness pass through him. He needed to sleep, but there was so
much more work to do.
* * *
Trip had really fallen asleep throughout his work. When he woke, his
head resting in an uncomfortable position on the table of the engineers'
tiny mess hall, it was close to midnight. His PADD was still switched on
and next to him, but he hadn't finished his report yet. Cursing himself
for sleeping so long he got up. He ordered a large cup of coffee from the
dispenser and walked back into the engine room - right into Captain Jonathan
Archer.
"Hello, Trip. You look dreadful."
Tucker grimaced. Just who he had been looking for. "Captain."
Despite the brief rest, he was still feeling tired.
"How's work proceeding?" Archer asked conversationally.
"Pretty good." Trip stirred his coffee, debating whether to have something
to eat or not. He settled on not. "The last checks came out with almost
perfect scores, so it shouldn't be too hard to get the last glitches fixed.
Enterprise will be back to her old self by tomorrow."
Archer nodded, then his all-too knowing eyes rested on his chief engineer
again. "You need rest."
"Oh, please!"
"What day is today?"
The question startled him. "Huh?"
"You heard me," Archer said. "What day is today?"
Trip wrinkled his forehead in a frown. "Uhm...." To be completely honest,
he had no idea at all. He hadn't had much time to look at a calendar --
or a watch -- lately.
"And when did you last have a normal day, consisting of breakfast,
lunch, dinner and a good night's sleep?" his friend went on.
"Uhm, I had all of it.... some time."
The critical expression stayed, the captain not the least bit convinced.
"You call coffee food?" Archer raised an eyebrow. "You are working too
hard, Trip. You've been pulling shift after shift."
"This is important."
"I know it is, but you've been working like a mad man to get all systems
up, even though you had help, and now you are burying yourself in new work.
Get something to eat. Go to your quarters, Trip. Sleep. That's an order."
"But..."
"They won't fall into total disorganization without you."
"Captain...."
Archer just gave him that Look. Trip knew it well. He sighed in resignation.
"Okay, okay... just let me check...."
"Commander...." Archer put a lot of warning into his voice.
"Sheesh!" He put down the coffee and turned. "I'm going, I'm going!"
Archer smiled. "Good."
A rumble from his stomach informed the commander that food might not
be so bad after all. Oh well... then food it was.
*
Jonathan Archer watched his best friend walk out of engineering, nearly
colliding with the door as he barely managed to remind himself to open
it before walking through. He shook his head. His senior staff was dedicated,
and he knew Trip had done more than was humanly possible for the ship,
but he needed sleep.
Walking out of the engine room he found himself suddenly close to Malcolm
Reed's quarters. The lieutenant had gone off duty about two hours ago and
he had looked a bit tired, too, but Archer knew that the armory officer
hadn't gone for more than two shifts today. He was still realigning the
targeting grid and sensors, but he was almost done. And Malcolm had learned
the secret of delegating work, the captain mused with a faint smile. Something
Trip still had to learn.
On an impulse, he pushed the button that announced a visitor.
"Come," someone called and the door opened.
Malcolm shot him a look of surprise when Archer entered. He was already
out of uniform and had apparently decided to catch up on some reading,
if the novel on the bed was any indicator.
"At ease," Archer said as the younger man rose. "This isn't an official
matter."
"What can I do for you, Sir?"
"A lot, actually." He smiled. "It's about Trip."
Malcolm frowned slightly. "Something wrong?"
"You could say that."
The frown took on a worried quality and Archer bit back a chuckle.
He knew about the relationship between the two men; the quite intimate
and personal relationship. As he had told them, he didn't care what his
officers did off duty as long as it didn't influence their performance.
So far, nearly eight months into the men's relationship, everything had
gone smoothly. Archer hadn't seen a single sign of Reed using his closeness
to his superior for personal gains, and both men were working as efficiently
as always. Smoother, even. The verbal fights were still there, each arguing
his case and for his department, but the edge was gone.
"I caught Trip nearly walking into a closed door with his eyes open,
Malcolm. He's been on shift after shift since the run-in with the mine
field and I had to order him to get off duty and eat something just now."
Reed nodded slowly. "I know. He has been... stubborn lately."
"So I noticed. Trip being stubborn is nothing new for me." Jon smiled.
"But he's destroying himself and I can't use a chief engineer who ends
up flat on his face due to physical and mental exhaustion. I'd like you
to... well... take care of him." Archer shrugged briefly.
"Sir?"
"He listens to you a whole lot more in that matter, Malcolm. I can
pull rank, but you can get him to unwind, get the sleep he needs. I don't
want to see Commander Tucker anywhere on the bridge or in the engine room
within the next twenty-four hours." Archer raised his eyebrows. "I believe
you understand me?"
"Perfectly, Captain." Reed smiled slowly. "I think I can manage that.
Even if I have to tie him to the bed."
Jon laughed. "I really don't want to know."
Mischief danced in the gray-blue eyes for a second and Archer felt
a brief wave of gratefulness. Trip's influence had brought out the lighter
side in his armory officer, had made him open up to the world. Reed had
been so intense, so focused on his job and nothing else, it had made him
an excellent Tac officer but his people skills had been mediocre at best.
He had changed a lot, subtly but still a lot, and Archer knew it had been
thanks to his relationship with the engineer.
"Yes, sir," Malcolm now only said.
"Well, good luck."
With that the captain left the quarters, relieved to have that matter
taken care of.
* * *
Trip walked tiredly toward the mess hall, nodding at people he met in
the corridors, without even realizing who they were. He knew their faces,
but names evaded him. As he entered the mess hall, the hum of the conversation
washed over him, making him dizzy again. He was on automatic as he ordered
a coffee, additionally a soda, and then got himself a sandwich. Turning,
he discovered that a lot of seats were taken and somehow something informed
him that if he sat down, he might just not get up again. And he would very
likely end up face first in his sandwich.
Okay, his quarters. He had had his meals there before and it wasn't
all that far.
Trip had no recollection of getting there at all. Suddenly he was keying
in his personal entry code and the doors slid open. He placed the food
and drink on the table and undid the zipper of his uniform, peeling out
of the upper part. He unceremoniously bound the sleeves around his waist,
then scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes.
Food, his overtaxed brain informed him. Food, bed.
The door chime let him groan softly. Who could that be? Had something
blown again? If yes, why hadn't they paged him through the intercom?
"Come in," he called, trying to sound more awake than he actually was.
His visitor wasn't the harbinger of catastrophe news. Lieutenant Malcolm
Reed let the door close after him and shot the engineer a critical look.
"You look like something the cat dragged in... after it died out in
the rain," the Brit commented wryly as he let his eyes rake over his lover.
"Why thank you, Mr. Reed, that's just what I needed," Tucker drawled,
grimacing.
Malcolm chuckled. "I won't hedge any bets as to how much you actually
slept since the last crisis. I'd lose." He walked over to the table and
inspected the food and drink. "You aren't planning on having coffee, now
are you?"
"What's wrong with a coffee?"
"In your condition? Just about everything." Malcolm shook his head.
"Water would be better. You need to sleep."
Trip sighed. "Tell me somethin' I don't know."
Reed went over to him and slipped an arm around the slender waist.
Trip sighed and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, reveling in the
feeling of the warm body he had missed a lot lately. Malcolm had been busy
in his own department, but unlike the commander. There was a faint shadow
of a beard visible on the naturally pale features, but Trip knew his stubble
was much more prominent. His hair was tousled, his uniform wrinkled; he
really did look like hell. Malcolm had actually slept between shifts; it
had done wonders.
A feathery kiss was bestowed on his lips, then Reed moved behind him,
hands resting on the tight shoulders. His lover started to carefully knead
the tense muscles and Trip groaned. He leaned into the warmth, eyes sliding
shut. Tucker started to sway slightly and Malcolm's grip tightened. He
had the feeling as if the ground beneath him was suddenly gone. Eyes snapped
open and he held onto the chair as he nearly collapsed. Sleep deprivation,
he realized.
"Whoa," Trip murmured, trying to stop the world from tilting.
"You are dead on your feet!" Malcolm muttered.
"I'm fine..." Shaking his head, the commander straightened, pushing
away from the support, only to nearly fall. He gritted his teeth, furiously
blinking his eyes.
"Right!" The armory officer snorted. "I know your 'fine'."
"Look who's talking," Trip shot back, briefly roused by the small argument.
"You were the one who proclaimed he was 'all right' after he was shot in
the leg!"
"That was different," Reed grumbled.
"Uh-huh...."
Malcolm gently pushed the other man to the bed and started to undo
the knot in the sleeves to undress him. "It was. Now shut up."
"Hope you're not plannin' somethin' for tonight," Trip mumbled.
"All I'm planning, commander, is for you to sleep. Eight hours straight.
More, if you need it."
"Ah'm back on duty soon," Trip drawled, his accent thickening.
"You want me to call the captain and confirm that?"
He rolled his eyes. Or at least he thought he did. Trip wasn't sure
his muscles obeyed his commands any longer. A yawn threatened.
"There are very capable people down in engineering, perfectly able
to take care of Enterprise until you have recovered from playing super-engineer."
Trip stumbled out of the uniform and Malcolm steadied him as he effectively
stripped him down to his underwear. Then pushed the unresisting man onto
the bed.
"You aren't needed for now. If there is an emergency, they'll call,
rest assured."
"Com might not work."
"Bloody stubborn Yank!" Reed muttered.
"Mother-henning Brit," Trip shot back, no fire in his voice. He was
too tired.
The blond fell heavily back onto the mattress, his body feeling heavy
and uncooperative.
"Stay with me?" he mumbled.
Malcolm smiled. "I thought you weren't up to anything," he teased.
"Ha-ha." Trip forced heavy lids open. "Please, Mal? Want you here.
Been too long."
Malcolm's smile widened and he undressed as well, then crawled in.
He kissed his exhausted lover, their tongues touching briefly. Reed had
no intentions to arouse him, and he doubted Trip would even last long enough.
Tucker smiled as he took him into his arms.
"Y'know, been suffering from Reed deprivation," he murmured sleepily.
"Might be coming down with something even worse…."
"That can be fixed." Malcolm softly kissed his head as he snuggled
close. "Sleep," he advised. "I'll be here."
And Trip did just that. Feeling safe, warm and content, he let the
world slip away and sleep claim him.