CHAPTER EIGHT

Phlox had been slightly generous with his estimation of time: it had in fact been only 8 hours before Trip's laboured breathing had necessitated life support. The doctor had kept him sedated throughout, carefully monitoring his biosigns, and making a note of the neurological changes. Finally, as he'd watched his patient's exhaustion deepen, he'd intervened.

"Phlox to Captain Archer."

"Go ahead, Doctor." John replied, his mouth as dry as dust.

"I'm placing Commander Tucker on life support now, Captain. I can, of course, maintain him physically on that, indefinitely, but if we are to prevent further neurological damage, we need to have this implant removed, sooner rather than later."

"Ok, just do what you can for him. Let me know of any changes."

John was in his quarters when the call came through from sickbay. He pondered for some time as to whether he should put a call through to Trip's family. Was it fair to burden them now, if there was even a glimmer of a chance that he'd pull through? And paradoxically, was it fair to not tell them if he wasn't going to make it? Sighing deeply, he fingered the button on the wall.

"Personal log, continued: Dr Phlox has taken the decision to place Commander Tucker on life support for as long as is deemed necessary. We are presently at Warp 5, ETA 12 hours from Hensa. So far, there haven't been any further attacks from our unknown assailants, but I can't help thinking that the attack must have something to do with the information Commander Tucker is carrying. I would like to commend Sub-Commander T'Pol for her quick thinking and continued loyal support. Since the attack, she has only briefly left her post, and continues to scan for the alien vessel's warp signature. It was only her timely intervention which saved the ship…Pause log."

John sat on the bed and fondled Porthos' floppy ears, lost briefly in a moment of carefree joy as he imagined them strolling along through a flower-filled field. There was nothing that Jonathon Archer would rather be than the starship captain that he was, but occasionally the weight of responsibility was almost too heavy to carry. The buzzing of the intercom brought him out of his reverie.

"Captain Archer, please report to the bridge."

When he entered, five minutes later, he could sense the change in the bridge crew. Travis was usually so boyishly enthusiastic about everything; Hoshi was gradually enjoying space a little more with each passing day; Malcolm was as always stiff-upper-lipped reserve; and T'Pol, as hard to read as ever. But now, as he looked at their faces, everyone, even T'Pol, was showing strain and concern. On a vessel the size of Enterprise, the grapevine worked feverishly fast, and he didn't need to tell them about Trip; their faces spoke volumes.

T'Pol smoothed her face back to its normal blank canvas. "Captain, we have Hensa on our long range scanners. Do you wish to hail them?"

"No, for now I think we'll keep our arrival a secret. I don't want to give Mendos' name out until we know whom we can trust. There might be factions on the planet that don't want the commander's information to reach its destination. Find out all you can about the people of the planet…language…appearance…clothing. When we get within range, a landing party will have to transport to the surface."

John scrutinised his Science Officer. T'Pol had remained at her post since the alien vessel had attacked, apart from her brief visit to sickbay, and although she often reminded them that Vulcans required less sleep, he felt that she needed a break.

He spoke gently to her, prepared to quash any arguments. "T'Pol, let Hoshi handle the investigating of Hensa, it's well within her abilities. I'd like you to be 100% fit for duty when we arrive, and for that to happen, you need to take a few hours rest. Meditate, sleep, whatever it takes, but I'm ordering you to relinquish your post."

T'Pol could feel tiredness tugging at her resolve, and realised the logic of the captain's argument.

"Very well, Captain, I will indeed spend some time in meditation. Please call me if you require me to resume my duties."

^*^*^*^*^*^

T'Pol had spent 2 hours relaxing in quiet, undisturbed meditation, and felt much refreshed. At first, she'd had more difficulty than usual in shutting out all thoughts of her fellow crewmembers. She could understand the concerns and anxieties they were all expressing: fear for their stricken colleague and for the journey ahead.

Now that she was refreshed, she resolved to visit the commander in order to quell her own…'concerns' was perhaps inaccurate, but she was certainly aware that she did share the crew's hopes for a full recovery of the popular engineer. He could be a most infuriating human, seeming to effortlessly annoy her at every opportunity, and yet she secretly enjoyed their verbal spats, especially when she gained the upper hand, leaving him speechless.

If he were to…die, or even lose his mental faculties, she would miss him most sincerely. These thoughts unsettled her, as she realised that she didn't have the same feelings for the captain, or any of the others. She respected Captain Archer, and was totally loyal to him, but it was the Chief Engineer she looked for on entering a room; she didn't always seek him out for conversation, but merely acknowledged to herself that he was there.

Of course, he could usually be heard long before he was seen, amusing all around him with tales of derring-do, and T'Pol accepted that his continued presence was essential for crew morale.

With little effort, she found herself making her way to sickbay. Inside, the lights were dimmed and the single occupant was lying still on the biobed, surrounded by the paraphernalia essential to keep him alive. Phlox looked up from his patient to regard his visitor.

"Sub-Commander, is there something I can do for you? Are you suffering from you head injury?"

"Thank you, I am quite well, I came to see how the commander is."

"I've been giving him stimulants in order to keep his neural pathways active, but there's only so much I can safely inject him with, so we have to provide external stimuli. And so I've been my usual garrulous self. I'm quite sure that when Commander Tucker awakens from this…adventure…he'll not want to hear me talking for a long time. Now that you're here, perhaps you would like to spend some time with him. Talk to him. I'm certain that another voice will be a welcome change for him."

"Why would I talk to him? He is unable to respond."

"That's right, but it is a firmly held belief that even in a deeply unconscious state, we can still hear the spoken word. Many a coma patient has rallied to the sound of a loved-one's voice."

"I hardly think I qualify for that category, Doctor."

"I know he regards you as a good friend. Encourage him to hold on, to keep fighting."

T'Pol was unnerved to be asked to do this, but short of a flat refusal, she didn't see how she could get out of it.

"What should I talk about?"

"Anything at all. Let's see, his favourite subjects are Warp engines, food and baseball, so pick something from that list, or choose something yourself."

Phlox grabbed the opportunity to move away whilst T'Pol sat with a perplexed look upon her countenance. He was beyond earshot, but close enough to keep vigil over his patient.

T'Pol's eyes held a slightly startled look, but she took a deep breath and stood beside the bed, looking down at the gentle face of a…friend. She admired the contours of his face, his strong jaw and soft lips, the blond eyelashes that were closed over his blue eyes; he'd called eyes the 'windows of the soul'…Mentally, she berated herself for her lack of discipline, at allowing herself to indulge in what she'd overheard Ensign Sato refer to as a daydream.

"Commander Tucker, Dr Phlox has asked me to talk to you. I must tell you that your condition is placing great emotional strain on the entire crew."

She paused as she thought how her words sounded too much like a reprimand. It was true that the commander had a cavalier attitude towards his own safety at times, but he could hardly be held responsible for his present predicament. She tried a different tack. Her voice softened as she continued.

"The crew need you, Commander, you must not give in to your infirmity. If you succumb, Captain Archer will be overcome with grief, as will many of your fellow crewmen. They have come to depend on you not only for your engineering expertise, but also for your ability to lift their moods."

She was warming to her task now, a faint flush appearing on her throat. Phlox observed her changing appearance with interest, but said nothing and continued to keep his distance.

T'Pol continued. "Last night, the captain refused his steak, and I have been informed that that is a sign of his concern for you. Indeed, I have noticed this loss of appetite affecting other crewmembers, too. You must therefore recover, not only for your own sake, but also for that of the crew. Lieutenant Reed is experiencing difficulty in sleeping, as is Ensign Sato, and efficiency is down by 12%. Lieutenant Hess is an adequate deputy, but she lacks the leadership your job demands. Your continued absence from Engineering means that efficiency there is also effected."

T'Pol stopped when she realised that the doctor was standing across the bed from her, looking with interest at Trip's EEG.

"Very good, Sub-Commander, whatever you've said, it was most certainly stimulating. You must continue."

T'Pol straightened her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her. "I must return to my post, Doctor. However, I will endeavour to return at the end of my shift. Please excuse me."

She looked down at the sleeping form of the man she was coming to regard as a friend. He suddenly seemed very young and vulnerable, all of his usual bravado a sham. On a whim, she gently touched his hand with hers, surprising not only the doctor, but also herself. Turning away abruptly to keep Phlox from seeing that her composure was unstable, she walked out of sickbay."

"Fascinating!" Phlox observed, behind her retreating back. "And who said that Vulcans were emotionless?"

TBC

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