Note: For those of you who have read this installment already (you know who you are), I made some minor changes…. I thought I might as well since I couldn't post it at fanfiction.net for a week!

Hey Everyone!

I'm back!!! Sorry, real life has been getting in the way, and I haven't been able to update this for a few of weeks. Just in case I drop off the face of the Internet for weeks on end again, you will be relieved to know that I have every intention of finishing this fic. The whole thing is planned and practically scripted up in my little ole noggin', so have no fear! It will get done!

Thanks for all of the great feedback…I always get such a warm and fuzzy feeling hearing good things about something that I've put a decent amount of effort into!

And, just in case you're interested, the kitten hasn't fallen into the toilet again!

Okay, well here comes Part Seven. Please forgive any errors, since I'm sure there will be some…me being human and all. (

Enjoy!

Emrys

P.S. I have to say this…poor Trip! I'm so mean to him! Bad Emrys! Bad, bad Emrys!



Disclaimer: See previous installments.

1 Following Orders Part VII

Archer cringed inwardly at the blunt words of his second-in-command and wondered where T'Pol's unexpected sensitivity towards humans had taken off to. Eyeing Trip nervously he was relieved to see that the Commander was too wrapped up in the communications problem he was attempting to solve to even notice T'Pol's return.

With a relieved sigh, Archer turned back to the Vulcan and scowled at her.

"Keep your voice down!" he commanded in a rough whisper. "I don't want him to hear about any problems just yet." He directed T'Pol to a position further away from Trip, but not so far that he was out of eyes' reach.

"What exactly is the problem?" he asked to continue the debriefing of his officer.

"It appears that our captors were mistaken in their estimation of the Renkans, Captain," T'Pol began.

"What do you mean?" Archer, in his anxiety, could not help but think that the Vulcan's incomplete response was a way for her to play on his human emotions. He absently noted that after all these months with T'Pol acting as his Second-In-Command, he still had managed to retain some human prejudice towards the Vulcan. He made a mental note to analyze his lingering prejudices after they got themselves out of the current mess.

"The Renkan city does not meet the definition of "great" by any means; in fact it can barely be called a city. Additionally, the Renkans themselves do not appear to be rich in any monetary sense, and I have observed them to be a relatively primitive society of humanoid hunter-gatherers."

T'Pol's flat statements hit Archer like a blow to his stomach, and he felt the need to sit down. He resisted the urge, yet staggered under the implications of the report. Again he looked towards Trip but with real fear now in his eyes. It was inconceivable that Trip would die, inconceivable that he would lose his best friend.

Harshly, he pushed his frightened thoughts to the back of his mind and returned his gaze to T'Pol.

"Are you sure that these people were Renkans? Are you absolutely certain?"

In response to the sharply asked question, T'Pol cocked her eyebrow to express that she was still unused to having her opinions doubted. But vaguely she recognized that the Captain's concerns originated not from any doubt in her abilities, but from some human emotion of his own. She chose to ignore the insult and simply answered his question.

"Although I am not as practiced in alien languages as Ensign Sato is, I was able to ascertain from conversations I overheard that the village was indeed that of the Renkans, Captain. Yes, I am certain."

Briefly she turned to place her cool gaze on Trip, and Archer had a moment to wonder what she was thinking. But he had no time to make any conclusions regarding her impenetrable mind before she turned back to him.

"Captain, I suggest that we proceed to the village despite my observations. The chances of gaining any answers to our dilemma should improve once we make contact with the Renkans. Being the only humanoids that we have encountered on this planet, there is a small chance that they may be able to aid us," she said quietly.

Although the chances of returning to safety had suddenly plummeted even if they were to manage making contact with the Renkans, Archer had been about to make the same suggestion. It was rare that he agreed so easily with his First Officer, and he allowed himself a moment to feel surprised.

"Agreed," he said and smiled slightly when T'Pol's eyebrow arched even further. He realized that she also was experiencing surprise at their agreement inasmuch as Vulcan's felt surprise.

"We'll have to carry Trip somehow, since he's not able to walk anymore," he said in an attempt to begin planning.

"I suggest a stretcher, Captain."

"I know, I thought of that," Archer answered. "But the only vines around here that are able to keep a stretcher in one piece are so tough they make that alien rabbit skin look like melted butter."

T'Pol inwardly reflected on the memory of trying to skin the "rabbit" with a stick and brute force, and nodded in agreement.

"We'll carry him together," she stated. "When should we proceed?"

"As soon as possible. I don't know how much time…."

He was interrupted by a sharp cry from Trip.

***

While the Captain and T'Pol were planning their next move, Trip was continuing to make progress in increasing their chances of making contact with Enterprise. Early on in his pursuit, he had discovered that the limitations of the equipment did not allow for any direct contact, yet he could create a beacon directed at one of the subspace channels commonly used by Enterprise. It was a long shot given that he had no idea if Enterprise was one light-year away or one hundred, but a primitive S.O.S. call was better than nothing.

He looked ruefully at the scattered circuits and hoped that their greedy little friends orbiting around the planet didn't decide to make contact with them anytime soon. He didn't want those bastards becoming antsy and coming down to check on them when they couldn't make contact.

Although he had been making progress, it was slow going for him. He tried to tell himself that he was limited only in lack of tools and proper equipment, but his deteriorating body continued to put in its own two cents. The ache in his head was becoming unbearable as he felt each pulse of blood pump heavily and rapidly through it. And although the medical recorder could no longer tell him, he was also certain that his fever had spiked dangerously. Neither symptom helped his nausea, and he had to constantly hold down his gorge to keep from vomiting.

And yet he had still managed to make progress. He had remained calm in the face of his decline and had been able to practically complete the job. He just needed to create a few more new circuits out of wire and components from the medical recorder, and the job would be completed. He just needed a few more minutes before his body could have its way.

But then all the muscles in his right arm and hand unexpectedly clenched furiously, and he dropped the equipment he was holding as he cried out in alarm and pain. As the pain intensified, he slumped over his arm in an almost instinctual attempt to ease and protect it.

By the time Archer and T'Pol reached the agonized engineer, the pain was so intense that he was barely able to hold onto consciousness. But he was aware enough to recognize with relief that T'Pol had returned and he greeted her with a stilted nod.

"Commander," T'Pol said by way of acknowledgement.

Meanwhile, Archer grasped Trip's shoulder to lend support to his friend and felt the muscles there bunch into a tight ball. He was so surprised at the suddenness of the muscle contraction that he pulled his hand away and took a half step back.

"Trip?" he asked worried and unsure what to do.

"Damn it, I was…almost done," Trip whispered between clenched teeth. "I just…needed a…little more time."

T'Pol moved and bent down over the mechanism that Trip had been working on to study it critically. She had the general experience of most Vulcan and Starfleet officers in the field of subspace communication and recognized immediately that the Commander's words were truth. The remainder of the work was uncomplicated and, although it would take her more time than the few minutes Trip required, the work would be relatively easy for her to accomplish.

"Commander, I believe that I can finish the work on the communicator. You should rest," she announced.

Archer, now back at Trip's side, was grateful for T'Pol's words. The thought of failure would only add to the medical problems facing Trip and would wound his terrific Southern pride further.

"Good job, Trip," he said and hoped that the sick man could hear him. "Rest now, and let us help you."

But Trip was practically unconscious from the intense muscular pain that spanned the distance between the upper right quadrant of his back and right hand and could not reply other than to mouth incoherent words. Slowly Archer rubbed the tightened muscles on his friend's shoulder in an attempt to soothe them, but the muscles refused to relax even after Trip sank all the way into unconsciousness a few minutes later. Afterwards, Archer sat heavily on the ground and put his head in his hands. He fought back the hopelessness he felt, and despite Trip's pale face and seemingly lifeless body, managed to push it completely out of mind.

"How long will it take you to finish the communicator?" he asked T'Pol roughly.

In spite of her own Vulcan emotional ambiguity, T'Pol recognized that the Captain was under incredible emotional strain. Having something of an idea of the intensity with which humans responded to stressful situations, she was considerably impressed by Archer's ability to maintain focus on their objective.

"Not more than three hours," she answered simply and with nothing of the newfound respect coloring her tone.

Archer looked down at Trip and wondered how much more the commander's body could withstand and if any new side effects to the alien poison would arise within three hours. He practically itched with the desire to do something instead of waiting three hours helplessly while T'Pol finished working. But he also saw that having a working communicator was the best chance they had to getting Trip to safety.

"Alright, we'll wait here until you finish. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," he said even though he knew that more than one person working on such delicate equipment would be awkward and time consuming.

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol said and bent her head to the work.