CHAPTER SIX

Three days had elapsed since the ship had started on its new heading. So far, nothing untoward had happened to Trip, apart from a deterioration in his normal good humour. He would be the first to admit that he tended to get cranky if he didn't get adequate sleep, and he was having a great deal of difficulty in relaxing on the biobed in sickbay.

'I've spent way too much time in here, as it is, without sleepin' in here, too,' he thought to himself.

The biobed was a lot narrower, higher and less comfortable than his bunk, and more than once Trip had found himself on the floor, having rolled over too far.

The noise was another problem; Phlox required little or no sleep and tended to regard the wee small hours as just another part of the day to continue his work and hobbies. He had chatted and chirped to his menagerie of exotic pets, until Trip had eventually yelled at him to 'gimme a break!'

The doctor had been momentarily alarmed, thinking the commander was unwell, but had then remembered that his guest was only human and needed sleep to recharge his mind and body.

"So sorry, Commander, I'll be right next door should you need me."

"Some chance of that," Trip had muttered, tiredly.

With that, Phlox had withdrawn to the glazed area beyond the biobeds. That way, he was able to observe his guest without being observed, himself.

__________

Now, as Trip sat at his desk in Engineering, he shook his head to clear the fog that sleep-deprivation was causing. He was having difficulty in focussing on the schematics he was trying to study. Thinking a cup of coffee would help, he made his way along the quiet corridors to the mess hall, smiling tiredly as he saw that Crewman Rostov was tailing him at a discreet distance.

At the drinks dispenser, he sagged wearily against the wall as he waited for his coffee.

"Commander, are you alright?" His Chief's pallor concerned Rostov.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Want a piece of advice, Rostov? Don't change your name to 'Tucker', 'cause there are people out there who've declared open season on the Tuckers, an' don't try sleepin' in sickbay. Come on, let's get back. I don't know about you, but I've got a whole heap of work to do…Oh, I forgot, I'm your current assignment!"

The crewman had the good grace to redden under his commander's gaze. Trip sighed as he blew across the scalding drink, and made his way back to Engineering. There wasn't any point in getting angry with the man for following the captain's orders.

"Trip, how are things down here?"

John had arrived whilst Trip was out of the department. As he took in the engineer's pale face, he was concerned. Trip's desk was piled high with work, and although he was normally a workaholic, just right now he needed to be taking things a bit easier. Trip gave him a weary grin.

"Just fine, Cap'n. The engines are purrin' like kittens."

"And you?"

"I don't go in for purrin' much, it tends to alarm the crew. But, I'm bearin' up, thanks."

The fact that he was having difficulty in bringing the captain into sharp focus was something he was going to keep to himself, otherwise he knew he'd be spending more than just nights on a biobed.

"Can't you delegate some of this work?"

"Jus' keepin' busy, Cap'n. I won't overdo it, I promise."

John gave him a sceptical look, but dropped the subject and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Ok, but take it easy, huh?"

Trip gave his trademark quick, dipping nod and with a worried sigh, John left engineering. He called into sickbay to talk with Phlox.

"Commander Tucker left without an examination, this morning. I had been called away to the mess hall where chef required treatment for what turned out to be a minor injury. You know how much he's given to histrionics; anyone would have thought his life was in danger. Whilst I was away, the commander took the opportunity to slip away. I was just about to hail him, and I'll let you know my findings after I've examined him."

____________

On the bridge, T'Pol occupied the command chair, looking intensely at the starry expanse visible through the main viewer. There was something about the view that puzzled her, but as yet, it was intangible. This inability to define annoyed her and her delicate eyebrow arched.

John exited the turbo-lift and appeared at her elbow. As she rose to relinquish the chair, she indicated the viewer.

"Does anything appear unusual, Captain?"

John studied the stars, a perplexed frown on his brow.

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking for, T'Pol?"

"Something out of place. I am unable to explain any further, Captain."

She moved across to the Science station and activated the scanner. Studying intently for a few moments, she suddenly raised her head and addressed Tactical.

"Polarise the hull plating!"

"Sir?" Malcolm looked to the captain for guidance.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant. T'Pol, care to fill us in?"

Before the Vulcan had a chance to reply, a ship decloaked in front of them, and fired repeatedly. They were caught flat-footed, the speed of the attack leaving no room for return fire. Had it not been for T'Pol's sudden statement, things would have been very ugly. The hull plating protected them from serious damage, but the ship rocked heavily under the repeated bombardment. Circuits blew with great displays of fireworks, smoke belched from disrupted panels, and the klaxons blared throughout the ship.

John had been fortunate to have been sitting when the attack had begun, but others hadn't been so lucky. Malcolm had been thrown across his weapons console, but appeared to be just winded, but T'Pol was picking herself off the deck, a nasty cut oozing blood steadily above her eye. Travis had grabbed fiercely to the edge of the helm console and now struggled to bring the ship under control again.

"All hands, battle stations!" John yelled into the intercom. "Malcolm, can you get a lock on anything?"

"The sensors took a hammering. They'll need recalibrating, Captain. I can try, but I couldn't guarantee I'd actually hit anything."

"Give it your best shot, it's better than nothing. Try aiming for their weapons and main propulsion."

Malcolm bent over his console and fired off the forward phase cannons. Two shots ripped out from Enterprise's bow, but one went wide of its target. The other found a target and Malcolm looked up with satisfaction.

"That connected with their propulsion, Captain, but I'm afraid their weapons are still on line. They've been slowed down, but probably not too seriously."

"Ok, let's not hang around, then. Take a reading of their warp signature in case we encounter them again, then let's put some space between us. Travis, warp five, resume heading. I guess we've just had our first encounter with the people who don't want Commander Tucker to reach his destination."

John turned to regard his second in command. "Sub-commander, might I suggest you pay a visit to sickbay?" He indicated the area above his own eyebrow when she gave him a slightly quizzical look.

T'Pol put her hand to her forehead and was surprised when the fingers came away sticky with green blood. She nodded in agreement and headed for the turbo-lift as John started to check all decks for injuries and damage. The call from Engineering sent an unexpected emotional reaction through her. She had to admit to herself that she was worried for the commander, and the attack would probably give his department an extra workload.

"Captain, we got badly tossed around, down here…well, the commander did, anyway. He's just been taken to sickbay."

TBC

Thank you, kind people, for all your reviews. Every one is helpful, even the critical ones.