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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Trip Tucker sat on a table in an empty, blaringly white room. He shifted uncomfortably in the white robe he was wearing, wishing again for a pair of pants and some shoes. He'd been sitting in the room for hours, while a parade of Jafari scientists marched in and out, poking and prodding at him. They all refused to answer any of his questions. Now, almost thirty minutes had passed since he had seen anyone. 'Patience was never one o' my strong suits.'

He jumped agilely off the table and stalked towards the camera in the corner. Looking directly into the lens, he demanded, "Hey! Somebody better get their ass in here and tell me what's goin' on in about ten seconds, or I'm gonna start to get real pissy."

Ten seconds passed. No response.

"Hey! Jackasses! I wanna see the Captain. NOW dammit!"

Again, no answer. "Ok, you asked for it." Trip turned and grabbed the table, dragging it to the corner. Climbing up, he wrapped his hands around the camera, leaning in close. "I WANT ANSWERS NOW." With that, he ripped the camera off the wall and threw it as hard as he could against the far wall.

Almost instantly, he heard the lock on the single door opening. "About time." He hopped off the table and stood in the center of the room, ready for battle.

He was both relieved and disappointed when Dr. Phlox hurried into the room, alone.

"Commander." For once, the doctor's cheerful smile was gone.

"Hey, doc. What the hell's goin' on out there?"

"I am afraid I do not have much information to offer. The Captain, Subcommander T'Pol, Ensign Sato, and yourself are all being held under observation. Apparently the Jafari are very interested in the effect the Sh'ron has had on you, and have been performing tests accordingly."

Trip pushed up his sleeves, revealing heavy bruises on his arms. "Tell me about it. I was startin' to wonder if they were gonna leave any blood in me."

Phlox frowned. "I have been given permission to examine each of you for my own purposes." He stepped forward and began to scan Trip.

Tucker hardly noticed. "So how's everybody else doin'? How's Hoshi?"

"I cannot say. You are my first patient."

Trip made a frustrated sound and swung away from the doctor. Phlox responded by following him, still scanning.

His smile returned as he studied the tricorder. "Other than the bruises, you are in perfect health, Commander. Although I will need to compare this data to what I recorded during your last checkup, I can say that no harm came to you during your excursion."

Trip waved dismissively. "Where's Malcolm?"

"The Lieutenant and his team have been detained in a room nearby. They are being well-treated, thus far."

"Well-treated? Sorry doc, but I don't consider holdin' us against our will 'good treatment'. In fact, it's pretty LOUSY TREATMENT." Trip looked at the ceiling, yelling the last part of his statement.

"I doubt shouting at them will have much effect," Phlox advised mildly. "My recommendation is that you be patient." Trip snorted and the doctor stepped back. "Well Commander, I have completed my examination. I must move on to the others." He held out his hand, clearly expecting a handshake.

Trip stared at the hand dumbly. He could have sworn someone once told him that Denobulans hated to be touched. Curiously, he reached out his hand and took Phlox's. Giving the Commander's hand a brisk shake, Phlox turned and knocked on the door. It opened immediately. Before he could leave, Trip called after him. "Hey, doc, see what you can do 'bout gettin' me my pants back, ok?"

"I will do my best," Phlox promised, and left. 

Trip ran his thumb over the object Phlox had placed in his hand. He kept his face carefully blank, in case the Jafari were still watching. But his mind danced with glee as his touch identified a slim pocketknife, much like the one Malcolm was known to carry. Indifferently, he dragged the table back to the center of the room, directly across from the door, and sat on it. He waited, staring at the door, casually making note of the details of its lock.

Please R&R!