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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
By the time the door opened again, Trip had been staring at it so long he was starting to go cross-eyed. A Jafari woman entered and held out a stack of clothing, which he recognized as his own.
"Finally!" He bounded off the table to grab the clothes; the woman jumped back, eyeing him nervously. Trip took a step backwards, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. "Whoa. Sorry 'bout that. Just got excited is all; didn't mean ta scare ya."
He reached out, more slowly this time, and she allowed him to take the clothes. Trip whirled, dropping them on the table. While he sorted through them, he remarked, "Guess the doc came through, huh? So when ya think I can get outta here?"
His answer was the sound of the door clicking shut. He looked around to see the woman had left. "Friendly bunch, aintcha?" He made a face at the door and went back to dressing. He quickly pulled on the pants and shoved his arms through the shirtsleeves without bothering to tie the shirt shut. Preparing to put on his socks and boots, he sat on the table.
He fell right back off when the entire room shook. Scrambling to his feet, he stood still, listening. Outside the room, he could hear people shouting and running. "That sounds like my cue," he decided. He yanked on his shoes and socks, and hurried to the door, pulling out Malcolm's knife.
He set to work on the lock. After several long, curse-filled minutes passed, he heard the lock release. Grasping the handle, he stood and pulled the door open slightly. A surprised Jafari face came into his line of vision. They stared at each other; Trip recovered first, popping the Jafari in the face with his fist. The man landed on the floor and Trip stepped out around him.
Glancing down, he saw that he had stunned the guy, but he was already starting to move around. As a precautionary measure, he grabbed the Jafari's shoulders and rammed his head into the wall. The Jafari stopped moving.
Satisfied, Trip trotted down the hallway, looking for Hoshi's room. He had no idea where to start. One white door looked like the next. The overhead lights were flickering; the resulting effect reminded Trip of the strobe lights used in dance clubs. He had always found that particular effect creepy. 'Time to get outta here.' Realizing there were no Jafari in sight, he took a chance, calling out to her as he jogged. "Hoshi! Hoshi! Where are you?"
"Trip!!" He heard her muffled reply at the far end of the hall. Breaking into a full-out run, he skidded to a halt outside the door.
"Hosh?"
"Yes, I'm in here! Can you open the door?"
"Hold on!" Trip knelt in front of the door and inserted his knife into the lock. He wiggled it around. A snapping sound stilled his hand. He slowly pulled the knife back out—minus its blade.
"Shit!"
"What is it?" Hoshi called.
"Um, nothin', just a minor setback…" He looked up and down the hall. Seeing nothing he could use as a tool, he decided to try a new approach. "Hoshi, hon, stand back from the door."
He stood and rammed his shoulder into the door. The effort only earned him an aching shoulder. Standing back, he raised his foot and began kicking the door at the handle level. Frustration built up, and he bellowed at the door in time with each kick. "OPEN…YOU…SONOFA…"
"Trip!" He was immensely relieved to turn and see Malcolm dashing towards him, two crewmen following. Malcolm slid to a stop beside him and lifted his chin at the door. "Hoshi?" he asked, panting.
Trip nodded.
"Right then." Malcolm stepped back to the opposite side of the hall, looking expectantly at Trip. Seeing his plan, Trip took his place beside him.
"On three, ok?" Trip did the count. "One…two…three!" The two men ran forward, throwing themselves hard against the door. Their combined weight did the trick; the door crashed into the room, taking them with it. They landed in a heap on the busted door.
Raising his head from Malcolm's chest, Trip moved his eyes from a set of pretty ankles, up a red Jafari-style dress, to dark, amused eyes. He returned her grin. Under him, Malcolm groaned and shoved Trip off. He rolled onto his stomach and looked up, relaxing a little when he saw Hoshi smiling at them. "Are you all right?" he asked huskily.
Hoshi nodded, smile fading a little. "What's going on out there?"
Trip looked at Malcolm with interest.
"Civil war," Malcolm summarized. "We have to get back to the shuttlepod—the Captain is only going to wait another 40 minutes."
Hoshi stepped over the reclining officers and out the door. They heard her greet Delacruz and Myers, who she knew vaguely. Then, "Well, let's go!"
Trip smirked at his friend. "The chief has spoken." He stood, pulling Malcolm up beside him. Malcolm just smiled and shook his head.
"I see some things haven't changed."
***
The shuttlepod stood in the center of an open launchpad. Jon cursed when he saw it; they were going to have to dash over at least 50 meters of exposed ground. There was absolutely nothing around it that could serve as cover.
The five of them crouched behind a trash dispensary at the edge of the launchpad. They could hear weapon fire and explosions all over.
"Ok, we're going to have to make a run for it," he said, looking at Fehr and Russo. "We all go together, but I need you two to provide as much cover as possible." They nodded their understanding—they had managed to snag several hand weapons from the bodies of Jafari rebels on their way to the pad. "Doctor Phlox, can you make it on your own?"
"Yes, Captain," Phlox said. Jon thought fleetingly that it was the most taciturn he had ever known the doctor to be. He turned to T'Pol. She looked at him through dim eyes. Without asking, Jon bent down and tossed her over his shoulder. "Ready?" he said to the rest of the group. "Go!"
They tore across the ground, heading for the pod. Fehr and Russo ran on the outside, weapons ready.
'Almost there…' Jon thought as they closed on the shuttlepod. He didn't even hear Fehr shout "Captain!" But he felt it when she threw herself into him, sending T'Pol and him sprawling. Weapon fire whizzed around him, smacking against the ground. Phlox was already at the shuttle, opening the door before he turned back.
Jon surged to his feet, gathering T'Pol against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Russo snag Fehr's lax body by the collar. He dragged her after them, still returning fire with his free hand. Jon dove into the pod; Russo tossed Fehr in and plunged in after her. Phlox slammed the door shut. They could hear shots thumping against the hull, but they weren't strong enough to penetrate the plating.
Phlox set to work on Fehr, who appeared to be the most critical. "Is she…?" Russo asked.
"She is alive, but she has sustained a serious wound." Phlox stripped the Ensign's uniform down to the waist and rolled her onto her stomach so that he could treat the severe burn on her back.
Jon propped T'Pol in one of the seats. Reassuring himself that she was all right for the moment, he moved to the pilot's seat. "Archer to Enterprise."
Mayweather's voice came back instantly. "Enterprise here, Captain. What's going on down there?"
Jon shifted, trying to position his robe in a more dignified manner. "It's a long story. But we're under a lot of fire right now, and we can't take off yet—our whole team hasn't arrived."
Phlox interrupted, "Captain, we cannot afford to wait much longer. I need to get Ensign Fehr to Sickbay as soon as possible."
Jon started at the Denobulan, his mind working. "Travis?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"I want you to grab a few crewmen and head down to the launchbay. Prepare Shuttlepod Two for launch. I've got hurt people down here that I need to get back to Enterprise, but someone needs to be here to pickup Malcolm and the rest of our people."
"Aye, sir. And…sir?"
"Yes, Travis?"
"Are Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato some of those people we're picking up?"
Jon smiled. "That's affirmative. They're back. Now get down here, Ensign, double time. We'll wait to leave until you tell us you've launched."
"Yes, sir," Travis answered cheerfully.