Oh, the angst! If you're looking for TLC, take a close look at the title
to this chapter. Take it as fair warning.
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 8: Cold Comfort
Day 6: 0830 hours
Trip carefully pulled on a short-sleeved shirt over his cast, buttoning it awkwardly, one-handed. Rubbing his shower-damp hair with a towel, he tried to feel some excitement about eating breakfast. He could have whatever he wanted, he reminded himself. Chef made good biscuits and gravy.
Trip put his hand on his stomach and closed his eyes against a wave of nausea. Just the thought of putting food in his mouth made his stomach do flips. It was probably better to avoid the mess hall. He didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he didn't feel like eating.
When the doorchime sounded, Trip jumped. He forced himself to relax before calling, "Come in."
The door slid open and Hoshi stepped in, with a smile on her face and a tray in her hand laden down with fruit, muffins, a plate of scrambled eggs, and a messy stack of PADDs.
"Good morning, Commander. I brought you some breakfast."
"Oh, thanks, Hoshi." He dropped the towel on his bed and stepped forward to take the tray, but she set it down on the desk before he could reach her. Trip stared at the slimy, watery pile of eggs that wobbled and slid on the plate as Hoshi tipped the tray slightly while setting it down. His stomach churned and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard to keep from gagging.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm all right." Trip's voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
"The captain said your voice was gone. Does your throat hurt?"
"No, it's fine. Doc says my voice will come back in a few days."
"Good. Do you mind if I eat with you?" Hoshi dropped into his desk chair without waiting for an answer.
"Uh, sure." Trip sat back down on his bed and looked dubiously at the tray. He was positive that he wouldn't be able to keep scrambled eggs down.
"What would you like?"
"How about . . ." Trip considered his choices and went with what looked like the safest bet. "Some fruit salad, I guess."
"You got it," Hoshi said brightly. She handed him the fruit cup and a spoon, and took a muffin for herself.
"I wanted to talk to you about the language," Hoshi said while she peeled back the wrapper on her muffin. Trip cast a glance at the tray. The eggs wobbled again, almost taunting him.
"The language?"
"Yes, I just found the manual component so fascinating that I decided to study it further." Hoshi took a meticulous bite of her blueberry muffin, carefully eating around a particularly slimy grouping of blueberries. The smell from the eggs was starting to attack Trip's stomach and yet he could not look away.
"The-the manual component?"
"Yes, of the language that those aliens spoke. I've never studied a bimodal language before."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't tell me you never noticed!"
Trip was now thoroughly confused. "Noticed what?"
"Their language was bimodal. They used manual signs to supplement the spoken word. Here, let me show you." Hoshi set down her half-eaten muffin and picked up a PADD, which she pointed at the workstation on Trip's desk. A second later a frozen image of one of the furry aliens appeared on the screen. Trip suppressed a shiver.
"Watch this," she said excitedly. She punched in a command and the alien on the screen began to speak and move its hands. Trip swallowed again and forced himself to watch.
"See that?" Hoshi paused the playback. "Did you see how the hand moved across from left to right? That's the sign for 'female person'."
Trip frowned in recognition. That hand motion looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before.
"Your friend qoRa~ used that sign when she introduced herself. You really didn't notice?" Hoshi's hand moved abruptly when she said the name. Trip suddenly had an image flash through his mind, of the monster crouching in front of him, hand moving through the air when she said her name. He flinched reflexively.
She's not my friend, Trip thought to himself. Aloud he said, "I was a little preoccupied at the time."
"Oh. that reminds me, qoRa~ told me to tell you she was sorry, and that her people weren't all evil." With her fingernail she picked a piece of muffin off the hefty bulk still left and tossed it into her mouth.
"You really understood her?"
"Yes, of course. Well, anyway, there's lots more. Watch this one." Hoshi hit a control and the alien on the screen began moving again. Trip couldn't watch anymore. He looked down at the fruit cup in his lap and chewed the cuticle on his right thumb anxiously. The knot in his stomach seemed to have grown.
"I thought you might want to help me translate some of these," Hoshi said eagerly. That was enough for Trip. He stood up hastily and put the fruit cup back down on the tray.
"Look, I, uh, just remembered I was supposed to check in with the doctor, so I gotta--I gotta go."
"Oh, ok. Do you want anything else to eat?"
Trip glanced at the plate with the slightly jiggling heap of eggs and shook his head quickly. "No, thanks."
"I'll take it then. It's nice to have you back, Commander." Hoshi stacked the PADDs on the tray, picked it up and backed out the door with a smile.
After the door closed behind her, Trip sat down heavily on the bed with his hand on his stomach. Well, that went great, he thought sarcastically. He hoped Hoshi hadn't noticed that he didn't eat a single bite of the fruit. He also hoped she hadn't seen the unguarded expression on his face when that monster appeared on the screen.
The tight feeling in his stomach was almost unbearable now, and along with it came that same crushing emptiness and hopelessness that he had experienced while locked in that alien room. He didn't understand why he should still feel so empty. He was back on Enterprise, surrounded by friends, and yet he still felt almost as lonely and hopeless as he had after seeing what he thought was the captain telling him they were leaving him behind.
The comm. chirped. "Phlox to Commander Tucker."
Trip reached up and hit the button to respond. "Tucker here."
"Just a reminder that I'm expecting you for a check up this morning."
"I'm on my way, Doc." He punched the button to close the channel and forced himself to stand up and walk toward the door. Try to act sane, he told himself, only half-joking.
Day 6: 1000 hours
"Remove your shirt, Commander, and be seated on the exam table," Phlox said jovially. He began to calibrate his medical scanner while the patient complied.
"How have we been feeling?"
"Fine," Tucker answered tonelessly.
"Hmm." Phlox aimed the scanner at the commander. "Your electrolytes are low again. Have you been drinking plenty of fluids?"
"Some."
The doctor reset the device to scan the engineer's back. "The wounds on your back are healing nicely. I'll just put a little more of this salve on before you leave."
"All right."
Phlox moved around to scan Commander Tucker's arm. "Sleep well?"
"A little."
"And what have you eaten today?"
"I didn't--I didn't feel like eating breakfast."
"I see. Well, at least try to drink something, hmm?"
"I will."
"Voice is still hoarse, I see." Phlox aimed the scanner at Tucker's throat.
"Yeah." Tucker picked at his cuticle without looking up.
"Hmm." The doctor frowned at his scanner. "Is your throat sore?"
"No, it feels fine."
"That's because it is fine."
"Huh?"
"There is nothing wrong with your throat, Commander."
"There must be. Why can't I talk right?" Trip rasped.
"It is occasionally the case that after a traumatic event, hoarseness will remain even though the physical reason for the loss of voice has resolved."
"Oh."
Phlox put down the scanner to visually evaluate his patient. The commander's shoulders were bent, his eyes downcast. He was chewing the cuticle on his right thumb. The doctor could see that the area around the thumbnail was bleeding from Tucker's assault on it.
"Commander," he said gently. Tucker immediately stopped chewing, almost guiltily. He stared down at the blood around his thumbnail as if fixated by it.
Phlox opened a bandage and wrapped it around the commander's thumb. "Commander," he said while he worked. "You have been through a very traumatic experience. It is to be expected that you would have a strong emotional reaction to this experience."
"I'm fine, really," Tucker said, finally meeting the doctor's eye. "I'm not having a 'strong emotional reaction'. I don't feel . . . anything."
"You may not be aware that feelings of emptiness and hopelessness are common aftereffects of lysergic acid poisoning. Have you been experiencing these aftereffects?
"Maybe--maybe a little."
"I have found that humans benefit from sharing their experiences with others. Have you talked to anyone yet about your ordeal?"
"Not really."
"Ensign Sato can be quite sympathetic." Phlox began to spread salve on the wounds on Tucker's back while he spoke.
Tucker shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I already tried talking to her."
"And how did that go?"
Tucker shook his head. "Not so good. She gave me a lecture about how their language had some kinda 'manual component' that I completely missed. I felt like an idiot."
"I doubt she was attempting to insult you."
"I know."
"Perhaps you would prefer to talk to Sub-Commander T'Pol."
"Are you kiddin'? There's no way I'm talking to her."
"The captain, then?"
Trip shrugged without looking up.
"Would you like to talk to me about your experiences?"
"No offense, Doc, but you saw my back. You already know what they did to me. What more do I need to say?"
"Hmm. Well, I highly recommend you find someone to talk to, soon. Your emotional state is likely to impact your physical recovery."
"I'll think about it."
"I can give you something to help you sleep, if you like."
"I don't need any more drugs, Doc. Can I go now?" Tucker was already up off the table pulling his shirt on without waiting for a response.
"Yes, you may. I'll expect to see you back here tomorrow morning, sooner if you experience any lightheadedness or nausea."
"Will do," Tucker finished buttoning his shirt and limped toward the door.
"And Commander," Phlox said to his rapidly retreating back.
"Yeah?" Trip said, stopping, but only slightly turning his head in the direction of the doctor.
"Don't forget your physical therapy routine."
"I won't." The door swished shut behind him.
After Tucker had left, Phlox stood for a moment staring at the door. Although the commander had shown little emotional reaction, that in itself was cause for concern. From his knowledge of the engineer, the doctor had expected anger, or at the very least a little whining. This complete lack of emotion was quite unlike the commander's typical manner of dealing with difficult experiences.
With a sigh the doctor began to clean up the equipment. He knew it was useless to attempt to force the man to talk. He would discuss the matter when he was ready.
Day 6: 1130 hours
Trip left sick bay intending to go to the exercise bay to do his physical therapy exercises, but instead he ended up at the captain's quarters. He didn't know why he was there; he didn't want to talk to Archer about how he was feeling because he was sure the captain would relieve him of duty indefinitely, and right now all he wanted was to get back to work in hopes that he could fill up the emptiness by keeping busy.
He stared at the door, almost willing it to open so he wouldn't have to ring for the captain. The bland gray door completely took up his field of vision, and he lost all track of time, focusing on it. If the Captain would just appear, ask the right question, he would be able to tell him everything. But it did not open. His finger hovered over the buzzer, hesitating. Finally he pressed it.
"Come in," came the captain's voice.
Trip hit the control to open the door and then just stood in the doorway looking around at the mess covering Archer's desk spilling off onto the floor. The captain appeared to be working furiously on something, because PADDs and papers were strewn around in sloppy piles.
"Trip, come on in. Don't mind the mess," Archer said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Trip responded automatically. He stepped through the doorway and spotted Travis sitting on the sofa with a stack of PADDs piled next to him. They exchanged nods, accompanied by a big grin on Travis' part.
The captain's eyebrows went up. "Still no voice, huh?" Trip shook his head.
"Does your throat hurt?" Travis asked.
"No, it's fine."
"Did you see Phlox this morning?" the captain asked with his eyes glued to the computer monitor.
"Yes. What are you working on?"
"We picked up a stellar nursery, only a couple of light years off our course. T'Pol says there's dozens of infant stars there. Travis and I are plotting a course through it."
"Oh." Trip tried but failed to inject some enthusiasm into his voice.
"Should be able to get some great pictures," the captain said encouragingly.
"Yeah."
Archer turned his attention back to Mayweather. "How close do you think we can get?"
"I'd say about a thousand kilometers to be safe. T'Pol says any closer and we could be sucked into the gravitational field."
Trip turned and took a step toward the door. The captain was obviously busy. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
"How about dinner, in my dining room?"
"Yeah, all right."
"See you at 1900 then. I'll ask Malcolm and T'Pol to come too."
"Ok." Trip turned back to say goodbye, but the captain and Mayweather were already bent over a PADD discussing something intensely. He limped out without another word.
Day 6: 1230 hours
When he got outside the door, Trip took a deep, shaky breath. Dinner with T'Pol and Malcolm was not at the top of his wish list right now. He thought back to what Malcolm had said to him in sick bay after he had woken up. What was it? Something about the monsters looking like Wookies. And then Malcolm had laughed. And Trip had laughed along, because it was the socially appropriate thing to do. He certainly didn't think it was funny.
Trip wandered through the corridors with his head down. Occasionally a crewmember would notice him and say something like, "Welcome back," or "We missed you," but mainly everyone just went about their business and ignored him. Trip didn't mind. He didn't exactly feel social right now, but he didn't feel like going to his quarters alone, either. In fact, he didn't know what he felt, except numb and hollow, like his insides had been scooped out.
He looked up. Without his even realizing it, his feet had taken him to engineering. While he stood staring at the door, it swished open and a member of his engineering crew, Ensign Robinson, exited. She nodded and smiled at him without slowing down.
Trip stepped through the door and looked around awkwardly. Engineering was abuzz with people, all calmly and efficiently going about their jobs. He stood inside the door watching for several minutes before Lieutenant Rodrigues lifted her head from a console and noticed him.
"Commander Tucker!" she cried in excitement. Several others on his crew looked up and smiled.
"It's good to have you back, sir."
"Good to be back, Lieutenant," he responded hoarsely.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine, thanks."
"Does your throat hurt?"
"No, it's fine. How are things around here?"
"Smooth as ever. We've been working very hard to keep everything up to your standards."
"Great. I heard there was a warp coil maintenance scheduled for this morning."
"Just finished. Ensigns Schneider and Marcus are just putting away the equipment."
"Oh." Trip tried not to sound too disappointed. "Do you need any help with anything?"
"I heard you were supposed to be resting for a while."
"Yeah, I just thought if you needed me . . ."
"Nope, we're doing fine! Don't worry about a thing, we'll take good care of your engines."
"I know you will."
"Go. Take it easy. Enjoy your time off, Commander." She made little shooing motions toward the door with her hands.
"All right, thanks, Lieutenant." Trip took one last wistful look around and reluctantly left engineering.
Day 6: 1400 hours
"Ah, Sub-Commander, how can I help you?" Phlox asked cheerfully when T'Pol entered sick bay. He continued dropping mealworms into the tank for his osmotic eel.
"I require an analgesic."
"Oh? Have a seat on the table, please. I like to examine the patient before I start handing out medications." Phlox closed the lid on the tank and washed his hands before picking up his medical scanner and turning to T'Pol, who was now sitting primly on the exam table.
"Where are you experiencing pain?" he asked happily.
"I have a headache. It is not severe. A simple analgesic will suffice."
"I see. Well, you appear to be in perfect health as usual." Phlox prepared a hypospray and administered it to the sub-commander's neck. "This should take care of the headache."
T'Pol scooted off the exam table. "Thank you, Doctor."
"One moment, Sub-Commander. Have you spoken to Commander Tucker yet?"
"No, I have not. I have been. . . busy."
"Hmm. You may find that if you express your regret to him, your headache will subside."
T'Pol took a deep breath. "I will consider it, Doctor."
Phlox regarded the sub-commander closely. He felt that he had gotten to know her fairly well over the past two years, and his knowledge told him she was hiding something, and not very well. "Was there something else, Sub-Commander?"
T'Pol stared at a point in the distance. "I left him alone," she said flatly. Phlox just waited. "While I was away, he was captured."
"Ah, I see. There is no shame in admitting to another that you regret that your actions caused him harm."
"My. . . emotional reaction in this situation has already done enough damage to Commander Tucker. That is indeed shameful, Doctor."
"I have been observing humans for some time, Sub-Commander," Phlox said seriously. "I have learned that they always appreciate a sincere apology, no matter how grievous the offense."
"Thank you for your advice, Doctor, although it was unsolicited. My headache has resolved." T'Pol swept out of sick bay without a backward glance, leaving Phlox alone with his menagerie.
Day 6: 1930 hours
Archer leaned over to Trip and asked quietly, "Do you like your catfish?"
Trip looked down at his barely touched plate. "It's fine," he replied hoarsely. To convince Archer he was serious, he scooped up a small bite and shoveled it awkwardly into his mouth. He forced himself to smile. "See?"
Across the table, Malcolm continued as if Archer hadn't spoken. "You should have seen Hoshi covered in blue fur, Commander. Quite adorable, really. With those ears, she looked more like an Ewok than a Wookie."
Archer grinned. "You didn't look much better yourself, Malcolm." To Trip he added, "He looked very cuddly."
Malcolm gestured with his fork at Archer. "You're just lucky the doctor didn't get to you! I'm still picking glue out of my hair."
Trip tried to keep his expression neutral while he stared at his plate. He didn't think he could take another bite. The food was completely tasteless to him, although he knew he would ordinarily have found it irresistible. Even the smell turned his stomach.
"Your disguises would have been inadequate," T'Pol said disdainfully. She skewered a carrot on her fork and took a neat bite.
"We could have done it," Malcolm retorted.
"We're just glad we didn't have to," Archer said. Trip glanced up and discovered that the captain was smiling at him encouragingly. Trip felt like some sort of reply was called for, but he couldn't think of an appropriate comment.
"Yeah," he said uncomfortably. He looked down again quickly, pretending to be busy cutting another bite.
"I personally thought they looked more like teddy bears than Wookies, didn't you, T'Pol?" Malcolm continued with a wry smile appearing on his lips.
"I am unfamiliar with . . . Wookies," T'Pol replied properly. There was a clatter as Archer dropped his fork. He snorted with barely suppressed laughter. Malcolm giggled. Trip continued to stare at his plate.
When Malcolm had gotten himself under control again, he said, voice still shaking with laughter, "I thought they were cute. Rather goofy-looking." He turned to Trip. "Commander, you've had first-hand experience. What did you think?"
Trip swallowed hard. "I guess I didn't think they were all that funny." There was an awkward silence, during which Trip laid his fork on his plate and stood. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go lie down for a while. Thanks for dinner." He limped out the door.
The rest of the group sat in stunned silence for a moment, then Archer said, "Malcolm!"
Malcolm looked around the table innocently. "What? What's wrong with him?"
Archer just stared at him for a long moment. Then he tossed his napkin on the table. "Never mind," he muttered on his way out the door. Malcolm and T'Pol could hear his voice in the hall. "Trip! Wait up!"
Trip hurried down the hallway as quickly as he could without running. He was aware that the captain was following him, but he had a good enough headstart that he was already around the next corner before the captain emerged from the doorway. He was pretty sure Archer didn't know which way he had gone.
After a few more turns Trip found himself at the exercise bay. He ducked in the door and found it deserted. For a long moment he stood inside the doorway, catching his breath. His knee throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart.
Across the room Trip spotted the boxing training bag hanging in the corner. Without even thinking he limped toward it. Pressing his left arm in the cast against his body, he balled up his right fist and punched the tough leather surface as hard as he could, again and again, picturing the smug look on Malcolm's face.
The tight feeling in his stomach had spread to his chest; he felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything. Finally he slammed his body into the bag and slid down to the floor, chest heaving as he struggled for breath.
His right hand felt wet. He lifted it and stared numbly at the red liquid dripping down across the heel of his hand. In some detached way he was aware that he had reopened the gash on his palm, but it evoked no reaction from him. Slowly a sensation of pain began to seep its way into Trip's consciousness, breaking through the numbness like the first drops of rain after a drought.
Trip was desperate to feel something, anything. He curled his hand into a fist again and slammed it into the bag. A jolt of pain shot through him like a bullet. Backing himself into the corner, he held up the hand and stared at the streams of blood running across his palm and down his wrist. It hurt, but at least the pain reminded him that he was still alive. He welcomed it like a long-lost friend.
~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 8: Cold Comfort
Day 6: 0830 hours
Trip carefully pulled on a short-sleeved shirt over his cast, buttoning it awkwardly, one-handed. Rubbing his shower-damp hair with a towel, he tried to feel some excitement about eating breakfast. He could have whatever he wanted, he reminded himself. Chef made good biscuits and gravy.
Trip put his hand on his stomach and closed his eyes against a wave of nausea. Just the thought of putting food in his mouth made his stomach do flips. It was probably better to avoid the mess hall. He didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he didn't feel like eating.
When the doorchime sounded, Trip jumped. He forced himself to relax before calling, "Come in."
The door slid open and Hoshi stepped in, with a smile on her face and a tray in her hand laden down with fruit, muffins, a plate of scrambled eggs, and a messy stack of PADDs.
"Good morning, Commander. I brought you some breakfast."
"Oh, thanks, Hoshi." He dropped the towel on his bed and stepped forward to take the tray, but she set it down on the desk before he could reach her. Trip stared at the slimy, watery pile of eggs that wobbled and slid on the plate as Hoshi tipped the tray slightly while setting it down. His stomach churned and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard to keep from gagging.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm all right." Trip's voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
"The captain said your voice was gone. Does your throat hurt?"
"No, it's fine. Doc says my voice will come back in a few days."
"Good. Do you mind if I eat with you?" Hoshi dropped into his desk chair without waiting for an answer.
"Uh, sure." Trip sat back down on his bed and looked dubiously at the tray. He was positive that he wouldn't be able to keep scrambled eggs down.
"What would you like?"
"How about . . ." Trip considered his choices and went with what looked like the safest bet. "Some fruit salad, I guess."
"You got it," Hoshi said brightly. She handed him the fruit cup and a spoon, and took a muffin for herself.
"I wanted to talk to you about the language," Hoshi said while she peeled back the wrapper on her muffin. Trip cast a glance at the tray. The eggs wobbled again, almost taunting him.
"The language?"
"Yes, I just found the manual component so fascinating that I decided to study it further." Hoshi took a meticulous bite of her blueberry muffin, carefully eating around a particularly slimy grouping of blueberries. The smell from the eggs was starting to attack Trip's stomach and yet he could not look away.
"The-the manual component?"
"Yes, of the language that those aliens spoke. I've never studied a bimodal language before."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't tell me you never noticed!"
Trip was now thoroughly confused. "Noticed what?"
"Their language was bimodal. They used manual signs to supplement the spoken word. Here, let me show you." Hoshi set down her half-eaten muffin and picked up a PADD, which she pointed at the workstation on Trip's desk. A second later a frozen image of one of the furry aliens appeared on the screen. Trip suppressed a shiver.
"Watch this," she said excitedly. She punched in a command and the alien on the screen began to speak and move its hands. Trip swallowed again and forced himself to watch.
"See that?" Hoshi paused the playback. "Did you see how the hand moved across from left to right? That's the sign for 'female person'."
Trip frowned in recognition. That hand motion looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before.
"Your friend qoRa~ used that sign when she introduced herself. You really didn't notice?" Hoshi's hand moved abruptly when she said the name. Trip suddenly had an image flash through his mind, of the monster crouching in front of him, hand moving through the air when she said her name. He flinched reflexively.
She's not my friend, Trip thought to himself. Aloud he said, "I was a little preoccupied at the time."
"Oh. that reminds me, qoRa~ told me to tell you she was sorry, and that her people weren't all evil." With her fingernail she picked a piece of muffin off the hefty bulk still left and tossed it into her mouth.
"You really understood her?"
"Yes, of course. Well, anyway, there's lots more. Watch this one." Hoshi hit a control and the alien on the screen began moving again. Trip couldn't watch anymore. He looked down at the fruit cup in his lap and chewed the cuticle on his right thumb anxiously. The knot in his stomach seemed to have grown.
"I thought you might want to help me translate some of these," Hoshi said eagerly. That was enough for Trip. He stood up hastily and put the fruit cup back down on the tray.
"Look, I, uh, just remembered I was supposed to check in with the doctor, so I gotta--I gotta go."
"Oh, ok. Do you want anything else to eat?"
Trip glanced at the plate with the slightly jiggling heap of eggs and shook his head quickly. "No, thanks."
"I'll take it then. It's nice to have you back, Commander." Hoshi stacked the PADDs on the tray, picked it up and backed out the door with a smile.
After the door closed behind her, Trip sat down heavily on the bed with his hand on his stomach. Well, that went great, he thought sarcastically. He hoped Hoshi hadn't noticed that he didn't eat a single bite of the fruit. He also hoped she hadn't seen the unguarded expression on his face when that monster appeared on the screen.
The tight feeling in his stomach was almost unbearable now, and along with it came that same crushing emptiness and hopelessness that he had experienced while locked in that alien room. He didn't understand why he should still feel so empty. He was back on Enterprise, surrounded by friends, and yet he still felt almost as lonely and hopeless as he had after seeing what he thought was the captain telling him they were leaving him behind.
The comm. chirped. "Phlox to Commander Tucker."
Trip reached up and hit the button to respond. "Tucker here."
"Just a reminder that I'm expecting you for a check up this morning."
"I'm on my way, Doc." He punched the button to close the channel and forced himself to stand up and walk toward the door. Try to act sane, he told himself, only half-joking.
Day 6: 1000 hours
"Remove your shirt, Commander, and be seated on the exam table," Phlox said jovially. He began to calibrate his medical scanner while the patient complied.
"How have we been feeling?"
"Fine," Tucker answered tonelessly.
"Hmm." Phlox aimed the scanner at the commander. "Your electrolytes are low again. Have you been drinking plenty of fluids?"
"Some."
The doctor reset the device to scan the engineer's back. "The wounds on your back are healing nicely. I'll just put a little more of this salve on before you leave."
"All right."
Phlox moved around to scan Commander Tucker's arm. "Sleep well?"
"A little."
"And what have you eaten today?"
"I didn't--I didn't feel like eating breakfast."
"I see. Well, at least try to drink something, hmm?"
"I will."
"Voice is still hoarse, I see." Phlox aimed the scanner at Tucker's throat.
"Yeah." Tucker picked at his cuticle without looking up.
"Hmm." The doctor frowned at his scanner. "Is your throat sore?"
"No, it feels fine."
"That's because it is fine."
"Huh?"
"There is nothing wrong with your throat, Commander."
"There must be. Why can't I talk right?" Trip rasped.
"It is occasionally the case that after a traumatic event, hoarseness will remain even though the physical reason for the loss of voice has resolved."
"Oh."
Phlox put down the scanner to visually evaluate his patient. The commander's shoulders were bent, his eyes downcast. He was chewing the cuticle on his right thumb. The doctor could see that the area around the thumbnail was bleeding from Tucker's assault on it.
"Commander," he said gently. Tucker immediately stopped chewing, almost guiltily. He stared down at the blood around his thumbnail as if fixated by it.
Phlox opened a bandage and wrapped it around the commander's thumb. "Commander," he said while he worked. "You have been through a very traumatic experience. It is to be expected that you would have a strong emotional reaction to this experience."
"I'm fine, really," Tucker said, finally meeting the doctor's eye. "I'm not having a 'strong emotional reaction'. I don't feel . . . anything."
"You may not be aware that feelings of emptiness and hopelessness are common aftereffects of lysergic acid poisoning. Have you been experiencing these aftereffects?
"Maybe--maybe a little."
"I have found that humans benefit from sharing their experiences with others. Have you talked to anyone yet about your ordeal?"
"Not really."
"Ensign Sato can be quite sympathetic." Phlox began to spread salve on the wounds on Tucker's back while he spoke.
Tucker shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I already tried talking to her."
"And how did that go?"
Tucker shook his head. "Not so good. She gave me a lecture about how their language had some kinda 'manual component' that I completely missed. I felt like an idiot."
"I doubt she was attempting to insult you."
"I know."
"Perhaps you would prefer to talk to Sub-Commander T'Pol."
"Are you kiddin'? There's no way I'm talking to her."
"The captain, then?"
Trip shrugged without looking up.
"Would you like to talk to me about your experiences?"
"No offense, Doc, but you saw my back. You already know what they did to me. What more do I need to say?"
"Hmm. Well, I highly recommend you find someone to talk to, soon. Your emotional state is likely to impact your physical recovery."
"I'll think about it."
"I can give you something to help you sleep, if you like."
"I don't need any more drugs, Doc. Can I go now?" Tucker was already up off the table pulling his shirt on without waiting for a response.
"Yes, you may. I'll expect to see you back here tomorrow morning, sooner if you experience any lightheadedness or nausea."
"Will do," Tucker finished buttoning his shirt and limped toward the door.
"And Commander," Phlox said to his rapidly retreating back.
"Yeah?" Trip said, stopping, but only slightly turning his head in the direction of the doctor.
"Don't forget your physical therapy routine."
"I won't." The door swished shut behind him.
After Tucker had left, Phlox stood for a moment staring at the door. Although the commander had shown little emotional reaction, that in itself was cause for concern. From his knowledge of the engineer, the doctor had expected anger, or at the very least a little whining. This complete lack of emotion was quite unlike the commander's typical manner of dealing with difficult experiences.
With a sigh the doctor began to clean up the equipment. He knew it was useless to attempt to force the man to talk. He would discuss the matter when he was ready.
Day 6: 1130 hours
Trip left sick bay intending to go to the exercise bay to do his physical therapy exercises, but instead he ended up at the captain's quarters. He didn't know why he was there; he didn't want to talk to Archer about how he was feeling because he was sure the captain would relieve him of duty indefinitely, and right now all he wanted was to get back to work in hopes that he could fill up the emptiness by keeping busy.
He stared at the door, almost willing it to open so he wouldn't have to ring for the captain. The bland gray door completely took up his field of vision, and he lost all track of time, focusing on it. If the Captain would just appear, ask the right question, he would be able to tell him everything. But it did not open. His finger hovered over the buzzer, hesitating. Finally he pressed it.
"Come in," came the captain's voice.
Trip hit the control to open the door and then just stood in the doorway looking around at the mess covering Archer's desk spilling off onto the floor. The captain appeared to be working furiously on something, because PADDs and papers were strewn around in sloppy piles.
"Trip, come on in. Don't mind the mess," Archer said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Trip responded automatically. He stepped through the doorway and spotted Travis sitting on the sofa with a stack of PADDs piled next to him. They exchanged nods, accompanied by a big grin on Travis' part.
The captain's eyebrows went up. "Still no voice, huh?" Trip shook his head.
"Does your throat hurt?" Travis asked.
"No, it's fine."
"Did you see Phlox this morning?" the captain asked with his eyes glued to the computer monitor.
"Yes. What are you working on?"
"We picked up a stellar nursery, only a couple of light years off our course. T'Pol says there's dozens of infant stars there. Travis and I are plotting a course through it."
"Oh." Trip tried but failed to inject some enthusiasm into his voice.
"Should be able to get some great pictures," the captain said encouragingly.
"Yeah."
Archer turned his attention back to Mayweather. "How close do you think we can get?"
"I'd say about a thousand kilometers to be safe. T'Pol says any closer and we could be sucked into the gravitational field."
Trip turned and took a step toward the door. The captain was obviously busy. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
"How about dinner, in my dining room?"
"Yeah, all right."
"See you at 1900 then. I'll ask Malcolm and T'Pol to come too."
"Ok." Trip turned back to say goodbye, but the captain and Mayweather were already bent over a PADD discussing something intensely. He limped out without another word.
Day 6: 1230 hours
When he got outside the door, Trip took a deep, shaky breath. Dinner with T'Pol and Malcolm was not at the top of his wish list right now. He thought back to what Malcolm had said to him in sick bay after he had woken up. What was it? Something about the monsters looking like Wookies. And then Malcolm had laughed. And Trip had laughed along, because it was the socially appropriate thing to do. He certainly didn't think it was funny.
Trip wandered through the corridors with his head down. Occasionally a crewmember would notice him and say something like, "Welcome back," or "We missed you," but mainly everyone just went about their business and ignored him. Trip didn't mind. He didn't exactly feel social right now, but he didn't feel like going to his quarters alone, either. In fact, he didn't know what he felt, except numb and hollow, like his insides had been scooped out.
He looked up. Without his even realizing it, his feet had taken him to engineering. While he stood staring at the door, it swished open and a member of his engineering crew, Ensign Robinson, exited. She nodded and smiled at him without slowing down.
Trip stepped through the door and looked around awkwardly. Engineering was abuzz with people, all calmly and efficiently going about their jobs. He stood inside the door watching for several minutes before Lieutenant Rodrigues lifted her head from a console and noticed him.
"Commander Tucker!" she cried in excitement. Several others on his crew looked up and smiled.
"It's good to have you back, sir."
"Good to be back, Lieutenant," he responded hoarsely.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine, thanks."
"Does your throat hurt?"
"No, it's fine. How are things around here?"
"Smooth as ever. We've been working very hard to keep everything up to your standards."
"Great. I heard there was a warp coil maintenance scheduled for this morning."
"Just finished. Ensigns Schneider and Marcus are just putting away the equipment."
"Oh." Trip tried not to sound too disappointed. "Do you need any help with anything?"
"I heard you were supposed to be resting for a while."
"Yeah, I just thought if you needed me . . ."
"Nope, we're doing fine! Don't worry about a thing, we'll take good care of your engines."
"I know you will."
"Go. Take it easy. Enjoy your time off, Commander." She made little shooing motions toward the door with her hands.
"All right, thanks, Lieutenant." Trip took one last wistful look around and reluctantly left engineering.
Day 6: 1400 hours
"Ah, Sub-Commander, how can I help you?" Phlox asked cheerfully when T'Pol entered sick bay. He continued dropping mealworms into the tank for his osmotic eel.
"I require an analgesic."
"Oh? Have a seat on the table, please. I like to examine the patient before I start handing out medications." Phlox closed the lid on the tank and washed his hands before picking up his medical scanner and turning to T'Pol, who was now sitting primly on the exam table.
"Where are you experiencing pain?" he asked happily.
"I have a headache. It is not severe. A simple analgesic will suffice."
"I see. Well, you appear to be in perfect health as usual." Phlox prepared a hypospray and administered it to the sub-commander's neck. "This should take care of the headache."
T'Pol scooted off the exam table. "Thank you, Doctor."
"One moment, Sub-Commander. Have you spoken to Commander Tucker yet?"
"No, I have not. I have been. . . busy."
"Hmm. You may find that if you express your regret to him, your headache will subside."
T'Pol took a deep breath. "I will consider it, Doctor."
Phlox regarded the sub-commander closely. He felt that he had gotten to know her fairly well over the past two years, and his knowledge told him she was hiding something, and not very well. "Was there something else, Sub-Commander?"
T'Pol stared at a point in the distance. "I left him alone," she said flatly. Phlox just waited. "While I was away, he was captured."
"Ah, I see. There is no shame in admitting to another that you regret that your actions caused him harm."
"My. . . emotional reaction in this situation has already done enough damage to Commander Tucker. That is indeed shameful, Doctor."
"I have been observing humans for some time, Sub-Commander," Phlox said seriously. "I have learned that they always appreciate a sincere apology, no matter how grievous the offense."
"Thank you for your advice, Doctor, although it was unsolicited. My headache has resolved." T'Pol swept out of sick bay without a backward glance, leaving Phlox alone with his menagerie.
Day 6: 1930 hours
Archer leaned over to Trip and asked quietly, "Do you like your catfish?"
Trip looked down at his barely touched plate. "It's fine," he replied hoarsely. To convince Archer he was serious, he scooped up a small bite and shoveled it awkwardly into his mouth. He forced himself to smile. "See?"
Across the table, Malcolm continued as if Archer hadn't spoken. "You should have seen Hoshi covered in blue fur, Commander. Quite adorable, really. With those ears, she looked more like an Ewok than a Wookie."
Archer grinned. "You didn't look much better yourself, Malcolm." To Trip he added, "He looked very cuddly."
Malcolm gestured with his fork at Archer. "You're just lucky the doctor didn't get to you! I'm still picking glue out of my hair."
Trip tried to keep his expression neutral while he stared at his plate. He didn't think he could take another bite. The food was completely tasteless to him, although he knew he would ordinarily have found it irresistible. Even the smell turned his stomach.
"Your disguises would have been inadequate," T'Pol said disdainfully. She skewered a carrot on her fork and took a neat bite.
"We could have done it," Malcolm retorted.
"We're just glad we didn't have to," Archer said. Trip glanced up and discovered that the captain was smiling at him encouragingly. Trip felt like some sort of reply was called for, but he couldn't think of an appropriate comment.
"Yeah," he said uncomfortably. He looked down again quickly, pretending to be busy cutting another bite.
"I personally thought they looked more like teddy bears than Wookies, didn't you, T'Pol?" Malcolm continued with a wry smile appearing on his lips.
"I am unfamiliar with . . . Wookies," T'Pol replied properly. There was a clatter as Archer dropped his fork. He snorted with barely suppressed laughter. Malcolm giggled. Trip continued to stare at his plate.
When Malcolm had gotten himself under control again, he said, voice still shaking with laughter, "I thought they were cute. Rather goofy-looking." He turned to Trip. "Commander, you've had first-hand experience. What did you think?"
Trip swallowed hard. "I guess I didn't think they were all that funny." There was an awkward silence, during which Trip laid his fork on his plate and stood. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go lie down for a while. Thanks for dinner." He limped out the door.
The rest of the group sat in stunned silence for a moment, then Archer said, "Malcolm!"
Malcolm looked around the table innocently. "What? What's wrong with him?"
Archer just stared at him for a long moment. Then he tossed his napkin on the table. "Never mind," he muttered on his way out the door. Malcolm and T'Pol could hear his voice in the hall. "Trip! Wait up!"
Trip hurried down the hallway as quickly as he could without running. He was aware that the captain was following him, but he had a good enough headstart that he was already around the next corner before the captain emerged from the doorway. He was pretty sure Archer didn't know which way he had gone.
After a few more turns Trip found himself at the exercise bay. He ducked in the door and found it deserted. For a long moment he stood inside the doorway, catching his breath. His knee throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart.
Across the room Trip spotted the boxing training bag hanging in the corner. Without even thinking he limped toward it. Pressing his left arm in the cast against his body, he balled up his right fist and punched the tough leather surface as hard as he could, again and again, picturing the smug look on Malcolm's face.
The tight feeling in his stomach had spread to his chest; he felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything. Finally he slammed his body into the bag and slid down to the floor, chest heaving as he struggled for breath.
His right hand felt wet. He lifted it and stared numbly at the red liquid dripping down across the heel of his hand. In some detached way he was aware that he had reopened the gash on his palm, but it evoked no reaction from him. Slowly a sensation of pain began to seep its way into Trip's consciousness, breaking through the numbness like the first drops of rain after a drought.
Trip was desperate to feel something, anything. He curled his hand into a fist again and slammed it into the bag. A jolt of pain shot through him like a bullet. Backing himself into the corner, he held up the hand and stared at the streams of blood running across his palm and down his wrist. It hurt, but at least the pain reminded him that he was still alive. He welcomed it like a long-lost friend.
~*~*~*~*~