Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Enterprise characters, and I'm not
making any money from this story.
Warning: This is another dark story. Contains implications of sexual assault.
+++
Chapter 5: Let my people go
From his seat at a table in the middle of the cafeteria, Malcolm watched Trip who was sitting two tables over. The engineer had his fork in his hand, but he hadn't taken a bite yet, just pushed his breakfast around his plate unenthusiastically. For two days they hadn't spoken. After the first day, Malcolm had stopped trying to draw Trip out, and now they were just avoiding each other. But Malcolm still watched Trip from across the room, which is how he happened to be looking when the giant picked a fight with him again. This time the guard didn't even bother to ask who had started it. She just shoved Trip toward the kitchen. Malcolm forced himself to stay in his seat until he saw Rogin's gang file past the guard, then picked up his tray and walked casually toward the front of the cafeteria. As soon as the guard was distracted, he slipped into the kitchen.
Malcolm spotted Trip right away. Rogin's gang had him surrounded, backed up against the cabinets. Rogin was punching him in the stomach and face while the others held him. Even though he was completely outnumbered and didn't have a chance, Trip was still squirming and fighting to get away.
"Hey!!" Malcolm shouted. "Leave him alone!" He ran across the room and jumped on Rogin's back, arms around the man's throat in a strangle hold. Rogin swung around, trying to dislodge him. One of the other men released Trip and pulled on Malcolm's leg; Malcolm kicked him in the face. The man went down but immediately got back up again, shaking his head to clear it.
Trip took advantage of the distraction by slamming his shoulder into the stomach of the man who was still holding him. The man staggered backwards and fell, dragging Trip down with him. Trip rolled and jumped back up just as Rogin slammed Malcolm into the wall and dislodged him. Malcolm went down on his back. He scrambled back to his feet and attacked again, this time grabbing Rogin around the midsection and driving him back against the cabinets.
Trip caught a glimpse of the murderous look in Malcolm's eyes as he struck. He didn't have time to be surprised because at that moment two of the other men jumped on him. He struggled violently, but couldn't get away. He saw out of the corner of his eye a flash of silver, then Malcolm let out a small noise, almost like a sigh, and slowly crumpled. Rogin pulled his hand away. It was covered in a bright red liquid. He backed up, wiping something on his pants.
Suddenly the attack was over. The men holding Trip released him and took off en masse. Trip stood for a moment, panting, wondering why Malcolm didn't get up. Then his eyes focused on the growing pool of blood around the lieutenant's midsection.
"Malcolm!" Trip dropped to his knees at his friend's side. Reed's skin was pale and clammy. His breath came in short gasps, and blood bubbled from his lips. "Oh, God. . ."
"Can't-breathe," Malcolm gasped. The skin around his mouth was rapidly taking on a bluish tinge.
Trip pushed Malcolm's hands out of the way to see the wound, but there was too much blood. He lifted up Malcolm's head and shoulders onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him, pressing both hands against the hole in his side.
"HELP!!" he shouted. There was no response. "HELP US!!!" Reed groaned in pain.
"It's ok, Malcolm. It's gonna be ok," Trip lied. It wasn't ok. Malcolm was going to die, and he was going to be left all alone in this horrible place.
"HELP!!" The only response was a whining sound, then everything started to go dim. The kitchen seemed to grow fuzzier and fuzzier, until finally it disappeared entirely.
+++
The second Shuttlepod One touched down in the shuttle bay, Archer was out of his seat, opening the hatch and heading toward the bridge with T'Pol on his heels.
"What do you plan to do, Captain?"
"I'm going to do what I should have done over a week ago, get them out of there!" he said over his shoulder.
"How do you intend to accomplish that?"
"I don't know, we'll go down in a shuttle and break them out if we have to! Don't stand in my way, T'Pol."
"May I suggest using the transporters?"
Archer stopped and turned to face her. T'Pol stared back at him blandly. "Good idea," he said.
"May I also suggest you inform Admiral Slocum?"
"What if he tells me to keep sitting on my hands?"
"I did not say to ask him, I said to inform him. Don't you humans have a saying, 'it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission'?"
+++
On the bridge, Captain Archer leaned forward anxiously in his chair. They had been searching for Trip and Malcolm for nearly an hour, scanning every square foot of the prison from one end to the other. Archer was about to order Travis to move in a little closer and start the scan again when Hoshi finally spoke.
"I've found them!" She called excitedly from her station. "They're together. . . Captain, I think one of them is injured."
Archer jammed his thumb down on the commpanel. "Captain to Transporter room."
"T'Pol here."
"We found them. Lock on to the coordinates Hoshi is sending you and beam them up."
"Understood, Captain."
As soon as the coordinates were entered, T'Pol nodded to the security team standing in front of her. They raised their weapons and aimed them at the transporter pad, just in case they ended up beaming up the wrong people. Behind T'Pol stood Ensign Cutler, ready to assess any injuries.
T'Pol manipulated the slides to activate the transporter, and a form began to take shape on the pad. Within seconds, she could make out Commander Tucker, sitting with his arms wrapped around Lieutenant Reed who was lying half in his lap. An instant later she saw the garish red blood, way too much of it, soaking Reed's shirt and covering Tucker's hands.
"Lower your weapons!" she ordered. She quickly ran to the pad with Cutler close behind.
"T'Pol?" Tucker asked hoarsely, brow furrowed in confusion. "What-what. . ?"
"It's all right, Commander. You are aboard Enterprise."
Behind her, T'Pol could hear Cutler calling for the doctor. "Belay that, Ensign," she said. "It will be faster if I carry him. Crewman Santos, please place your hand over the wound."
The young crewman moved in hesitantly. T'Pol seized his hand and pressed it firmly over Tucker's. "Commander, you may let go now."
Tucker gripped Reed more tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort. T'Pol looked into his eyes. "Commander, we need to take him to sick bay to treat his injuries. Please let go."
"Don't let him die." Tucker's voice broke. He released his grip. T'Pol slid one arm around Reed's shoulders and the other beneath his knees and stood. The burden was heavy, but manageable. She headed toward the turbolift, leaving a bright red trail of blood droplets along the floor.
Trip watched them go in bewilderment. He wasn't sure what had just happened. One minute he had been sitting on the cold cement floor of the kitchen watching Malcolm's life drain away, and the next moment T'Pol was leaning over him. Trip wasn't entirely convinced Malcolm was still alive. He hadn't appeared to be breathing and his skin was starting to get cold. Trip looked around the room but couldn't quite process what he saw.
"Commander? Commander!" Trip forced himself to focus on the voice. Ensign Cutler. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away.
"Commander, are you hurt?"
"Malcolm. . ."
"The doctor will take care of him. Come on, I'll take you to sick bay."
"No, I'm not hurt. I don't need to go to sick bay. It-it's Malcolm. . ."
"Commander, let's go see how he's doing, all right?"
+++
Malcolm felt himself drifting. A few moments before sounds had begun to diminish and now he couldn't even hear Trip shouting anymore. The room had grown fuzzy and seemed to disappear, then a bright light had surrounded him, enveloped him. He thought he heard T'Pol's voice, but he couldn't quite make out the words.
Now he felt like he was floating, lights flashing and fading. So this is what death feels like, he thought hazily. Not bad. He could imagine worse. Death smelled clean and spicy, sort of like T'Pol. Nice. Slowly everything faded to black.
+++
When the sick bay doors opened, T'Pol looked up from the cupboard where she had been attempting to locate medical supplies requested by the doctor.
"Ensign Cutler," she said with a slight feeling of relief, "the doctor needs your assistance. He requested an autosuture and dermasealer."
Cutler nodded as she ran to another cupboard and quickly found the items. She entered the surgery bay without a backward glance, leaving Trip staring after her.
"Commander, are you injured?" T'Pol collected a medical scanner and stepped toward him. He shook his head and looked down at his hands.
"No, it-it's Malcolm's blood. I'm fine."
T'Pol held the scanner up and activated it. "Please be seated on the exam table," she directed him.
"I'm fine, really, I just-I just need to get cleaned up."
T'Pol lowered the scanner and really looked at him for the first time. She had been so focused on Lieutenant Reed that she hadn't taken the time to notice Commander Tucker's condition, but now she saw his red-rimmed eyes and blood-smeared face.
"Very well. Over here." She pulled a stool over to the sink and he sat on it. She dampened a washcloth and began to wipe his face gently. The blood and grime disappeared, revealing extensive bruising on his face and neck.
"Remove your shirt, Commander, and wash your hands. I will find you something clean to wear." T'Pol turned away to search through the cupboards again. She finally located a door labeled "scrubs" and opened it to find stacks of green cotton shirts and pants neatly folded inside. Selecting a shirt at random she turned toward him and stopped. He was faced away from her bending over the sink, giving her an unobstructed view of his bare back which was covered in partially healed contusions. One large bruise was clearly shaped like a bootprint.
"Did ya find me a shirt?" he asked without turning around.
"Yes," she answered quickly. She brought the shirt to him. He dried his hands on the towel she had laid out on the counter, then took the shirt and pulled it on over his head.
T'Pol washed the blood from her own hands, then picked up the scanner again. "Please lie down on the exam table, Commander."
"I said I was fine. Maybe I'll just go to my quarters." Tucker's eyes darted around the room as if he was searching for the exit.
"Commander Tucker," T'Pol said calmly. She caught his eye and held it. "That was an order, Commander."
Tucker's breathing became shallower and faster. After a few seconds he broke the eye contact and reluctantly lay down on the table. T'Pol activated the device and began scanning his chest. The scan quickly revealed he had no broken ribs, so she moved down to his abdomen. His breathing changed again, this time sounding shaky and irregular.
Finding no internal injuries, she moved up to scan his face. No broken bones there either but she did find that he had decreased levels of several neurotransmitters in his system, which indicated severe exhaustion. Seeing the dark smudges under his eyes, she did not doubt that diagnosis.
Tucker turned his face away from her but not before she had seen the look in his eyes, a mixture of fear and-something else. Shame? Guilt? T'Pol deactivated the scanner and set it aside. She very gently pushed back his hair and laid her fingertips lightly on his temple.
"Sleep," she whispered. His eyes drifted shut and his body slowly relaxed. T'Pol stood for a moment watching him, then she fetched a blanket and covered him. The doctor could finish the scans later. Right now rest was what he needed. T'Pol lowered the lights as she left sick bay and headed toward the bridge.
+++
"Captain," Hoshi said with a touch of anxiety in her voice. "We're being hailed, from the surface."
"Put it on the main viewer," Archer responded grimly. A woman's face appeared on the viewscreen, and it was clear before she even spoke that she was not happy. Archer recognized her as the Administer of Tourism, but he couldn't remember her name.
"Captain Archer," she said firmly, "the warden of SouthEast prison informs me that your two crewmembers have disappeared from the grounds. Prison internal sensors picked up some sort of energy beam just before they went missing."
"That would be our transporters. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are now on board Enterprise."
"I demand that you return them immediately!"
"I'm sorry, Administer, but I can't do that. We have evidence proving their innocence."
"Captain, you have violated interplanetary law. Those prisoners belong to us!"
"Well, I have them and I have no intention of returning them. Archer out."
Archer leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. Crewman Baird spoke up from the tactical station. "They're launching ships, sir. Five of them, armed and headed right toward us."
Shit. It didn't look like they were planning to just let them go, as he had secretly been hoping. Archer looked up as the Turbolift door hissed open and T'Pol entered. She nodded at him on her way to her station.
"What are your orders, Captain?" asked Baird.
"Let's get out of here. Travis, take us to maximum warp."
"Aye, sir." Almost instantly Archer felt the slight tug as the ship jumped to warp, leaving the planet far behind.
"Crewman, are they following us?"
"Yes, Captain. They've gone to warp as well, but I don't think they can match our speed.
"Maintain present course then. Let's see if we can outrun them."
"Aye, sir." Everyone on the bridge waited in tense silence as their pursuers slowly fell farther and farther behind, until it was clear they would not be able to close the gap.
Finally, Baird said triumphantly, "They're breaking off pursuit, Captain!"
"Excellent. T'Pol, how are Trip and Malcolm?"
"Lieutenant Reed is in surgery. Commander Tucker is sleeping."
"You have the bridge. If anyone needs me I'll be in sick bay."
+++
A/N: only a couple more chapters to go. I considered having Trip carry Malcolm to sick bay, but then I wouldn't have gotten to put in that little vignette with Malcolm thinking he's dying while T'Pol is carrying him. If you think it should be the other way, feel free to rewrite it in your head cuz I'm leaving it the way it is.
Warning: This is another dark story. Contains implications of sexual assault.
+++
Chapter 5: Let my people go
From his seat at a table in the middle of the cafeteria, Malcolm watched Trip who was sitting two tables over. The engineer had his fork in his hand, but he hadn't taken a bite yet, just pushed his breakfast around his plate unenthusiastically. For two days they hadn't spoken. After the first day, Malcolm had stopped trying to draw Trip out, and now they were just avoiding each other. But Malcolm still watched Trip from across the room, which is how he happened to be looking when the giant picked a fight with him again. This time the guard didn't even bother to ask who had started it. She just shoved Trip toward the kitchen. Malcolm forced himself to stay in his seat until he saw Rogin's gang file past the guard, then picked up his tray and walked casually toward the front of the cafeteria. As soon as the guard was distracted, he slipped into the kitchen.
Malcolm spotted Trip right away. Rogin's gang had him surrounded, backed up against the cabinets. Rogin was punching him in the stomach and face while the others held him. Even though he was completely outnumbered and didn't have a chance, Trip was still squirming and fighting to get away.
"Hey!!" Malcolm shouted. "Leave him alone!" He ran across the room and jumped on Rogin's back, arms around the man's throat in a strangle hold. Rogin swung around, trying to dislodge him. One of the other men released Trip and pulled on Malcolm's leg; Malcolm kicked him in the face. The man went down but immediately got back up again, shaking his head to clear it.
Trip took advantage of the distraction by slamming his shoulder into the stomach of the man who was still holding him. The man staggered backwards and fell, dragging Trip down with him. Trip rolled and jumped back up just as Rogin slammed Malcolm into the wall and dislodged him. Malcolm went down on his back. He scrambled back to his feet and attacked again, this time grabbing Rogin around the midsection and driving him back against the cabinets.
Trip caught a glimpse of the murderous look in Malcolm's eyes as he struck. He didn't have time to be surprised because at that moment two of the other men jumped on him. He struggled violently, but couldn't get away. He saw out of the corner of his eye a flash of silver, then Malcolm let out a small noise, almost like a sigh, and slowly crumpled. Rogin pulled his hand away. It was covered in a bright red liquid. He backed up, wiping something on his pants.
Suddenly the attack was over. The men holding Trip released him and took off en masse. Trip stood for a moment, panting, wondering why Malcolm didn't get up. Then his eyes focused on the growing pool of blood around the lieutenant's midsection.
"Malcolm!" Trip dropped to his knees at his friend's side. Reed's skin was pale and clammy. His breath came in short gasps, and blood bubbled from his lips. "Oh, God. . ."
"Can't-breathe," Malcolm gasped. The skin around his mouth was rapidly taking on a bluish tinge.
Trip pushed Malcolm's hands out of the way to see the wound, but there was too much blood. He lifted up Malcolm's head and shoulders onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him, pressing both hands against the hole in his side.
"HELP!!" he shouted. There was no response. "HELP US!!!" Reed groaned in pain.
"It's ok, Malcolm. It's gonna be ok," Trip lied. It wasn't ok. Malcolm was going to die, and he was going to be left all alone in this horrible place.
"HELP!!" The only response was a whining sound, then everything started to go dim. The kitchen seemed to grow fuzzier and fuzzier, until finally it disappeared entirely.
+++
The second Shuttlepod One touched down in the shuttle bay, Archer was out of his seat, opening the hatch and heading toward the bridge with T'Pol on his heels.
"What do you plan to do, Captain?"
"I'm going to do what I should have done over a week ago, get them out of there!" he said over his shoulder.
"How do you intend to accomplish that?"
"I don't know, we'll go down in a shuttle and break them out if we have to! Don't stand in my way, T'Pol."
"May I suggest using the transporters?"
Archer stopped and turned to face her. T'Pol stared back at him blandly. "Good idea," he said.
"May I also suggest you inform Admiral Slocum?"
"What if he tells me to keep sitting on my hands?"
"I did not say to ask him, I said to inform him. Don't you humans have a saying, 'it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission'?"
+++
On the bridge, Captain Archer leaned forward anxiously in his chair. They had been searching for Trip and Malcolm for nearly an hour, scanning every square foot of the prison from one end to the other. Archer was about to order Travis to move in a little closer and start the scan again when Hoshi finally spoke.
"I've found them!" She called excitedly from her station. "They're together. . . Captain, I think one of them is injured."
Archer jammed his thumb down on the commpanel. "Captain to Transporter room."
"T'Pol here."
"We found them. Lock on to the coordinates Hoshi is sending you and beam them up."
"Understood, Captain."
As soon as the coordinates were entered, T'Pol nodded to the security team standing in front of her. They raised their weapons and aimed them at the transporter pad, just in case they ended up beaming up the wrong people. Behind T'Pol stood Ensign Cutler, ready to assess any injuries.
T'Pol manipulated the slides to activate the transporter, and a form began to take shape on the pad. Within seconds, she could make out Commander Tucker, sitting with his arms wrapped around Lieutenant Reed who was lying half in his lap. An instant later she saw the garish red blood, way too much of it, soaking Reed's shirt and covering Tucker's hands.
"Lower your weapons!" she ordered. She quickly ran to the pad with Cutler close behind.
"T'Pol?" Tucker asked hoarsely, brow furrowed in confusion. "What-what. . ?"
"It's all right, Commander. You are aboard Enterprise."
Behind her, T'Pol could hear Cutler calling for the doctor. "Belay that, Ensign," she said. "It will be faster if I carry him. Crewman Santos, please place your hand over the wound."
The young crewman moved in hesitantly. T'Pol seized his hand and pressed it firmly over Tucker's. "Commander, you may let go now."
Tucker gripped Reed more tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort. T'Pol looked into his eyes. "Commander, we need to take him to sick bay to treat his injuries. Please let go."
"Don't let him die." Tucker's voice broke. He released his grip. T'Pol slid one arm around Reed's shoulders and the other beneath his knees and stood. The burden was heavy, but manageable. She headed toward the turbolift, leaving a bright red trail of blood droplets along the floor.
Trip watched them go in bewilderment. He wasn't sure what had just happened. One minute he had been sitting on the cold cement floor of the kitchen watching Malcolm's life drain away, and the next moment T'Pol was leaning over him. Trip wasn't entirely convinced Malcolm was still alive. He hadn't appeared to be breathing and his skin was starting to get cold. Trip looked around the room but couldn't quite process what he saw.
"Commander? Commander!" Trip forced himself to focus on the voice. Ensign Cutler. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away.
"Commander, are you hurt?"
"Malcolm. . ."
"The doctor will take care of him. Come on, I'll take you to sick bay."
"No, I'm not hurt. I don't need to go to sick bay. It-it's Malcolm. . ."
"Commander, let's go see how he's doing, all right?"
+++
Malcolm felt himself drifting. A few moments before sounds had begun to diminish and now he couldn't even hear Trip shouting anymore. The room had grown fuzzy and seemed to disappear, then a bright light had surrounded him, enveloped him. He thought he heard T'Pol's voice, but he couldn't quite make out the words.
Now he felt like he was floating, lights flashing and fading. So this is what death feels like, he thought hazily. Not bad. He could imagine worse. Death smelled clean and spicy, sort of like T'Pol. Nice. Slowly everything faded to black.
+++
When the sick bay doors opened, T'Pol looked up from the cupboard where she had been attempting to locate medical supplies requested by the doctor.
"Ensign Cutler," she said with a slight feeling of relief, "the doctor needs your assistance. He requested an autosuture and dermasealer."
Cutler nodded as she ran to another cupboard and quickly found the items. She entered the surgery bay without a backward glance, leaving Trip staring after her.
"Commander, are you injured?" T'Pol collected a medical scanner and stepped toward him. He shook his head and looked down at his hands.
"No, it-it's Malcolm's blood. I'm fine."
T'Pol held the scanner up and activated it. "Please be seated on the exam table," she directed him.
"I'm fine, really, I just-I just need to get cleaned up."
T'Pol lowered the scanner and really looked at him for the first time. She had been so focused on Lieutenant Reed that she hadn't taken the time to notice Commander Tucker's condition, but now she saw his red-rimmed eyes and blood-smeared face.
"Very well. Over here." She pulled a stool over to the sink and he sat on it. She dampened a washcloth and began to wipe his face gently. The blood and grime disappeared, revealing extensive bruising on his face and neck.
"Remove your shirt, Commander, and wash your hands. I will find you something clean to wear." T'Pol turned away to search through the cupboards again. She finally located a door labeled "scrubs" and opened it to find stacks of green cotton shirts and pants neatly folded inside. Selecting a shirt at random she turned toward him and stopped. He was faced away from her bending over the sink, giving her an unobstructed view of his bare back which was covered in partially healed contusions. One large bruise was clearly shaped like a bootprint.
"Did ya find me a shirt?" he asked without turning around.
"Yes," she answered quickly. She brought the shirt to him. He dried his hands on the towel she had laid out on the counter, then took the shirt and pulled it on over his head.
T'Pol washed the blood from her own hands, then picked up the scanner again. "Please lie down on the exam table, Commander."
"I said I was fine. Maybe I'll just go to my quarters." Tucker's eyes darted around the room as if he was searching for the exit.
"Commander Tucker," T'Pol said calmly. She caught his eye and held it. "That was an order, Commander."
Tucker's breathing became shallower and faster. After a few seconds he broke the eye contact and reluctantly lay down on the table. T'Pol activated the device and began scanning his chest. The scan quickly revealed he had no broken ribs, so she moved down to his abdomen. His breathing changed again, this time sounding shaky and irregular.
Finding no internal injuries, she moved up to scan his face. No broken bones there either but she did find that he had decreased levels of several neurotransmitters in his system, which indicated severe exhaustion. Seeing the dark smudges under his eyes, she did not doubt that diagnosis.
Tucker turned his face away from her but not before she had seen the look in his eyes, a mixture of fear and-something else. Shame? Guilt? T'Pol deactivated the scanner and set it aside. She very gently pushed back his hair and laid her fingertips lightly on his temple.
"Sleep," she whispered. His eyes drifted shut and his body slowly relaxed. T'Pol stood for a moment watching him, then she fetched a blanket and covered him. The doctor could finish the scans later. Right now rest was what he needed. T'Pol lowered the lights as she left sick bay and headed toward the bridge.
+++
"Captain," Hoshi said with a touch of anxiety in her voice. "We're being hailed, from the surface."
"Put it on the main viewer," Archer responded grimly. A woman's face appeared on the viewscreen, and it was clear before she even spoke that she was not happy. Archer recognized her as the Administer of Tourism, but he couldn't remember her name.
"Captain Archer," she said firmly, "the warden of SouthEast prison informs me that your two crewmembers have disappeared from the grounds. Prison internal sensors picked up some sort of energy beam just before they went missing."
"That would be our transporters. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are now on board Enterprise."
"I demand that you return them immediately!"
"I'm sorry, Administer, but I can't do that. We have evidence proving their innocence."
"Captain, you have violated interplanetary law. Those prisoners belong to us!"
"Well, I have them and I have no intention of returning them. Archer out."
Archer leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. Crewman Baird spoke up from the tactical station. "They're launching ships, sir. Five of them, armed and headed right toward us."
Shit. It didn't look like they were planning to just let them go, as he had secretly been hoping. Archer looked up as the Turbolift door hissed open and T'Pol entered. She nodded at him on her way to her station.
"What are your orders, Captain?" asked Baird.
"Let's get out of here. Travis, take us to maximum warp."
"Aye, sir." Almost instantly Archer felt the slight tug as the ship jumped to warp, leaving the planet far behind.
"Crewman, are they following us?"
"Yes, Captain. They've gone to warp as well, but I don't think they can match our speed.
"Maintain present course then. Let's see if we can outrun them."
"Aye, sir." Everyone on the bridge waited in tense silence as their pursuers slowly fell farther and farther behind, until it was clear they would not be able to close the gap.
Finally, Baird said triumphantly, "They're breaking off pursuit, Captain!"
"Excellent. T'Pol, how are Trip and Malcolm?"
"Lieutenant Reed is in surgery. Commander Tucker is sleeping."
"You have the bridge. If anyone needs me I'll be in sick bay."
+++
A/N: only a couple more chapters to go. I considered having Trip carry Malcolm to sick bay, but then I wouldn't have gotten to put in that little vignette with Malcolm thinking he's dying while T'Pol is carrying him. If you think it should be the other way, feel free to rewrite it in your head cuz I'm leaving it the way it is.
