CHAPTER ELEVEN

Three hours had elapsed, the longest three hours of Malcolm Reed's life, as they moved away from the search parties time and again. They were now back inside the old quarters of the town, taking a risk by hiding in a building that had already been searched.

Malcolm couldn't help but wonder how Trip was holding up, and what was happening to the ship. During their last communication, he'd longed to suggest to T'Pol that she enquire after the commander, but he knew they'd had to keep their transmission as brief as possible to avoid detection.

"Commander Tucker is a fighter, Lieutenant. Try not to concern yourself about things over which you have no control."

T'Pol's voice startled him out of his ruminations. He'd forgotten that Vulcans possessed a degree of telepathy. He tried a smile, but it felt half-hearted.

T'Pol was glad that Lieutenant Reed didn't share her telepathic abilities, or he would have felt her own turmoil as she thought of the commander. She worried that the delay would prove to be his undoing, and she had to steel herself not to contact the ship and demand to be transported.

"Do you think they're ok, Sub-Commander?" Malcolm interrupted her thoughts.

"We must hope so, Lieutenant, as the alternative is unacceptable. Should our vessel be destroyed, we would be stranded here with an outnumbered Resistance party. Our survival chances would be slim."

"Trip should add you to his list of 'grim reapers'. Captain Archer is a fine tactician. I'm sure he'll find a way to defeat the enemy."

"Agreed. I believe we should attempt to contact the ship again. Given the time lapse, they may be in a position to assist us now."

She flipped open her communicator and spoke softly. The answer to her hail was the sweetest sound Malcolm had ever heard.

"Enterprise, go ahead Sub-Commander."

"Captain, were you successful in battle?"

Jon's voice carried a half laugh as he thought of the somewhat illogical question. Had they been unsuccessful, would he be answering?

"Yes, eventually we were able to get a lock on their true configuration. Their engines were definitely less sophisticated but that didn't stop them from running rings around us. We just had to have patience until we could target their propulsion and weapons arrays. So, if you've all had enough of dodging the militia, you can come on home."

^*^*^*^*^*^

"Captain, do you really think it's wise to let this man inject even more chemicals into Commander Tucker?" Malcolm asked, anxious for the man who lay deathly pale before them.

Mendos looked at each of the two men. "Captain, you asked me to remove the implant. This chemical I'm preparing is the code to do just that. It is imperative that I be allowed to continue."

"Ok, go ahead."

Jon, Malcolm, T'Pol and Phlox stood around Trip's biobed as Mendos touched his neck with a hypospray. T'Pol was disconcerted with her lack of composure as she looked at the young engineer, so close to death. His skin had taken on a translucent quality, almost as if his blood had been drained, and the dark shadows under his eyes, together with several days' beard, seemed to make him gaunt. Mendos looked up from his patient.

"There won't be any visible response for several hours. The changes taking place are physiological. Analysis of Commander Tucker's blood will tell us when the implant can be safely removed. I'll remain here with Dr Phlox, and as soon as there's anything to tell you, you will be informed."

He turned his back on the officers, taking readings from Trip's biosigns. Jon was more than a little miffed by the alien's attitude. This was his friend, his ship, but he was being made to feel as if he was in the way. Sighing, he turned to Malcolm and T'Pol.

"I'll be on the bridge. Post a guard outside this door, and then get some rest, both of you. You've had a long day."

"I will remain here, Captain. I may be of some help to Dr Phlox." T'Pol spoke with determination. Jon regarded her, half suspecting that he saw concern on her normally composed face.

Jon nodded his head in weary gratitude for the offer; another friendly face for Trip to see, if and when he awakened, would be welcome.

As the two men left sickbay, T'Pol sat beside Trip's bed, watching the monitors intently. She recalled being in a similar position less than 14 hours ago, when Phlox had encouraged her to talk to the commander. Tentatively, she touched his cold hand with her soft warm one, as if she could breathe life into him through physical contact.

"Commander, the implant will be removed from you very soon, and then you must come back to us. Your time to leave is not yet here." She spoke softly, her words inaudible beyond the bed.

Phlox watched her lips moving, her hand still resting on the human's. He thought they made an enchanting couple, but it was highly unlikely that anything more than friendship would develop between two such strong-willed characters. For sure, the Sub-commander was here by his bedside when she could have been resting, but their normally volatile relationship seemed to make the possibility of romance remote. How much more simple was the Denobulan way of love. Still, he was fascinated by inter-species relationships, and he would keep a close eye on this one, nurturing it in any way he could, providing they both survived!

TBC

Please read and review, thank you. And I promise more of Trip soon. He's had to take a back seat for a couple of chapters. (Well, he is unconscious, after all.)