CHAPTER SEVEN
John desperately wanted to go, personally, to check on Trip, but with an enemy vessel on their tail and a ship to put back together, he knew his first responsibility was to stay on the bridge. It would serve no one if their pursuers caught up with them.
"T'Pol, get down there and have your head fixed, then let me know how things are." He didn't need to elaborate any further.
T'Pol headed straight for sickbay as soon as the lift stopped. She was surprised to hear the commander's voice, raised and annoyed, as she entered.
"Doc, I'm tellin' ya, I'm ok. I got knocked off my feet an' got a little bump on my head. Now, I've got a whole mess of things to fix in Engineerin' an' we don't wanna be late arrivin' at our destination, do we? Ya remember, 'kaboom'?"
"How could I forget, Commander? However, you've suffered a mild concussion and may experience headaches. I strongly advise that you take some rest, but I know you too well for that, so be sure to come back if you require further analgesia."
Phlox looked up to address the newcomer. "Ah, Sub-commander, you have also received a bump on the head. I trust you will be less vocal and more co-operative than Commander Tucker."
T'Pol crossed to the biobed that Trip was sitting on, his legs dangling over the edge. She took in his pinpoint pupils and pallor, and again experienced that emotional surge. She had to admit to herself that living amongst these humans was having a detrimental effect on her self-control. She would have to increase her meditation time.
"Commander, you do not look well. Perhaps you should return to your quarters and allow your engineering team to effect the repairs without you."
"For the last time, I'm ok, I just need to keep workin'. An' ya don't look so good yourself, T'Pol."
"Vulcan physiology is much more adept at dealing with injury, Commander. I merely require the doctor's assistance to seal the abrasion."
"Yeah, well I've some doctorin' of my own to do, so if y'll excuse me. An' tell the cap'n to quit shakin' us around like that, somethin' might come loose."
T'Pol felt like saying that most likely something had already come loose, between his ears, but the commander, that most quixotically infuriating of all the humans on board, was off with a grin and a wave. Both Phlox and T'Pol expelled sighs as he exited.
Phlox turned his attention to T'Pol's head wound, sealing it efficiently.
"There we are, Sub-commander, as good as new, it won't even leave a scar."
"Thank you, Doctor." She paused briefly. "I realise that doctors take an oath to protect their patients' confidentiality, but the captain asked me to inform him of Commander Tucker's condition. I do not believe he is as well as he pretends."
Phlox nodded glumly, not his usual jovial self. He handed T'Pol a padd.
"As you know most of the details, confidentiality doesn't apply in this case. This implant is starting to cause problems, not that the commander is admitting to that fact. I have to be devious in the way I question him, as he's very good at masking his symptoms. However, he might hide pain from my scanner, but not facts. The commander is having difficulty in focussing and his balance is becoming impaired. According to Crewman Rostov, the shaking we all experienced knocked Mr Tucker off his feet as easily as if he'd been a child."
"I also was knocked off my feet, Doctor. That in itself is inconclusive."
Phlox nodded in acknowledgement of her words. "Agreed, but the fact remains that his balance is compromised, and Engineering is a hazardous place to be if you become dizzy."
T'Pol regarded the doctor intently. "Do you wish me to have the captain confine Commander Tucker to his quarters?"
"I don't imagine he would go quietly! We'll just have to keep an even closer eye on him."
^*^*^*^*^*^
The ship had been very fortunate, indeed, that the Science Officer had called for the hull plating to be polarised. The damage could have been much worse. As it was, a few systems were off-line, needing to be re-calibrated, and crew injuries had been minor. Some of the crew had been in the mess hall, and had sustained minor burns when their soup had landed unexpectedly in their laps. Phlox had assigned Ensign Cutler to deal with the injuries.
T'Pol exited the turbo-lift as she returned to the bridge and found the captain assessing her.
"How's your head, Sub-Commander?"
"I am quite well, thank you Captain. However, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you."
John gestured for her to precede him to the ready-room. "Malcolm, hold the fort."
"Aye, sir."
John ushered T'Pol to a seat and she perched on the edge, her back ramrod stiff.
"Ok, T'Pol, I'm curious to know how you knew to polarise the hull at exactly the right moment? Not that I'm complaining!"
"If you will recall, I was studying the stars, suspicious that something was amiss. I finally realised that the part of the expanse I was looking at didn't contain any stars, and the logical explanation was a cloaked ship. I therefore deduced that if a vessel was as close as that and cloaked, their intentions would be hostile."
John let his breath go in a whoosh.
"Phew, good reasoning, T'Pol. Thanks, you saved our hides."
T'Pol's eyebrow rose. "The safety of the ship is paramount for our continued survival, Captain. Your thanks is not necessary."
John let it go, aware that he wouldn't get any further with that conversation.
"So what had Phlox to say about Trip? Was he keeping him in sickbay?"
"Commander Tucker was leaving as I arrived, and refused both the Doctor's and my advice to rest. The alien implant is starting to affect his balance and his eyesight. He stated that he planned to return to Engineering. He does not look well, Captain."
John looked sharply at his First Officer's face. As usual it was an impassive mask, but the words betrayed her.
"You sound concerned, T'Pol. That's not very Vulcan of you."
"Vulcans do experience many emotions, one of which is concern for others, Captain. The fact that we do not allow our emotions to govern our lives enables us to exercise greater control. I am concerned for the well being of the entire crew, but Commander Tucker's circumstances are different. You should try to make him rest."
John stood up with a sigh and crossed to gaze out at the stars.
"Short of ordering him to, I don't think I'll be too successful, and right now, keeping active's important to him. But I'll go have a chat with him, see if I can't make him slow down a bit. You have the bridge."
^*^*^*^*^*^
The accident, when it happened, might have been just that if Trip had been on top form, physically, but he had to admit that his blurred vision was getting worse, and his heart was racing.
'Get a grip on yourself, Tucker,' he scolded himself silently, pushing his body beyond the safety margin he'd promised the captain he wouldn't cross. Taking a deep breath, and even that seemed to require a conscious effort, he climbed the access ladder up the side of the warp reactor. He knew he should get Kelly or Rostov to check the valves, but he hated admitting to himself that something was wrong with him. He'd always prided himself in his physique, regularly exercising in Enterprise's well-equipped gym, and now that his body was starting to let him down, he chose to ignore the signs.
Up on the gantry, John had just entered Engineering and was looking around for the Chief Engineer. He enquired of his whereabouts from a passing crewman, and was horrified to spot him clambering about on the reactor. He was about to call out when, as if in slow motion, he saw Trip lose his footing, make a futile grab for the ladder, and fall in a heap to the deck, a drop of ten feet.
Certain that his friend had perished, John's feet barely touched the steps as he hurried over. Several of the Engineering crew had already reached their fallen Commander and were carefully checking him for a pulse. Crewman Kelly rushed to the intercom.
"Engineering to sickbay."
"Phlox speaking."
"Doctor, Commander Tucker's had a nasty fall. Can you come right away?"
"I'm on my way, crewman. Don't attempt to move him."
John knelt beside the still form of his friend, fearful of what he'd find. Outwardly there wasn't much to be seen, a bruise or two already forming, but no bones sticking out through skin, and as he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Trip's chest, John sat back on his heels in relief.
Phlox bustled in followed by two orderlies carrying a stretcher. The doctor bent over his patient, running a scanner over Trip's body. He looked up at the captain's worried face.
"I was afraid something like this would happen, Captain, but you know how headstrong Commander Tucker can be. Let's get him to sickbay, and hopefully it's not as grim as it sounds."
Phlox supervised the careful transfer of his patient and followed the orderlies out of Engineering. John turned to reassure the crew.
"Ok folks, just try to carry on with your work. Rostov, have Lieutenant Hess report for duty."
"Aye sir, and will you let us know…about the Chief?"
John nodded, understanding their concern. "Just as soon as I know anything…"
By the time John reached sickbay, Trip had already been loaded into the scanner and Phlox was studying the read-outs. The captain paced back and forth, fretfully. Trip hadn't regained consciousness and Phlox wasn't saying anything at all.
The engineer's inert body was retrieved from the scanner and gently placed on a biobed, where the monitors hummed into life. John couldn't wait any longer.
"Doctor, for pity's sake, tell me something!"
Phlox looked sympathetically at the captain. He knew the bond between these two humans was a strong fraternal one, and the captain's concern was almost palpable.
"He's lucky to be alive, Captain. No serious organ damage, just a bit of bruising around the right kidney. But he does have a hairline skull fracture and four fractured ribs, all on the right side from the way he fell. As for his neurological condition, this accident allows me to keep him heavily sedated. Ordinarily with a head injury, I'd be reluctant to do so, but the implant is beginning to affect not only his balance, but also his breathing. How soon will we reach our destination?"
The sudden change in topics momentarily startled the captain. "If we've no further interference, and I hope to God we don't, we should be there in 20 hours. Why do you ask?"
"Because at the rate of decay, I'd say that within 12 hours, I'll need to place Commander Tucker on life support."
TBC
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