Thanks to my beta reader, Pelbarigan, for she is of the nifty!
Chapter Fifteen: The Slave
Trip got out of bed two hours before his shift was supposed to start. Hoshi was still asleep; that suited him fine. She needed her rest.
And although he and Travis had kept fairly quiet last night, he didn't know what she thought of their late meeting … and he didn't want to hurt her feelings by being evasive. It was better to talk to her later. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her everything. On the one hand, she would be a useful addition to the little team he was assembling, and telling her would definitely be the right thing to do … but at the same time, envisioning the conversation that would take place, after what they had shared – what he had stolen from her – did not leave him feeling particularly anxious for it to occur. So he put it off, buried it in the back of his mind, and decided he'd deal with it when it became necessary to do so.
In the meantime, he had to let Phlox know what was coming.
Whether or not this was the most intelligent thing to do he didn't know; but he wanted Phlox to be prepared for whatever happened. And more than that, he couldn't bear the thought of the cheery, cheeky Denobulan, with his engaging curiosity about everything, being held down and beaten and treated like garbage by a pernicious system … he had to give him what hope he had to offer.
Sickbay was deserted when he got there except for Dr. Phlox's thinner, meeker doppelganger and a security guard whose apparent duty was to keep an eye on him; Dr. Singerra was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the Doc?" Trip asked.
The guard grinned nastily. "What's the matter, Commander? Got morning sickness?"
Trip felt his ears burning at the cruel and unexpected jibe; he'd thought his rank carried some weight around here. He stared at the man, trying to be as cold and intimidating as he could, and held absolutely still. "Do you find something funny, Mister?"
The guard stared back. "No."
Trip raised an eyebrow with Vulcan-like calm. "No?"
"No, sir," the guard replied, after he realized what Trip was waiting for.
"I've really got to talk to Malcolm some more about his men's discipline. I had no idea he'd grown so lax with his men," Trip drawled, with a nasty edge to his voice that he found himself enjoying more than he felt like he ought to.
The guard blanched. "That won't be necessary, sir," he said. "You were never bothered by a little fun before, sir."
"Well, maybe I am now," Trip returned, wondering what in the world his other self had been up to. That he had accepted "a little fun" from the security men told him that maybe he'd been trying to build up support in the ranks. Malcolm had seemed to expect laxity from him as well. That actually explained a few things … if his alternate self, the one who belonged here, had been deliberately insolent to regulations and played up an undisciplined, more "fun" way of life, maybe he'd been trying to earn the support of the underlings …
Trip felt his mind spinning and decided that there was no point trying to figure out what his other self had been up to. He didn't need to know what his opposite number was like. He just needed to get out of here.
And to rectify a few problems.
"I think I need an examination," Trip said, glancing at Dr. Phlox. "Are you capable of that?"
The Denobulan nodded blandly, his expression registering no emotion whatsoever … except for the tiniest flicker of something quite familiar in his eyes. Curiosity. It looked like Phlox really was in there somewhere … Trip just hoped that he could bring him out.
"But I don't think I need this guy in the room while I'm taking my trousers down, if you know what I mean," he said, shooting a glance at the guard.
"Sir, Lieutenant Reed and Dr. Singerra –" the guard started to say.
Trip turned to stare at him. "You weren't so concerned about what Lieutenant Reed might have thought when I came in here this morning, were you?" he said.
"But Commander –"
"Do I look like I want to hear excuses from you? Man deserves some privacy when he's undressed, crewman!" Trip snapped. "I can take care of myself. And if anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility for it. Got it? Your ass is covered."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," the guard said, and let a hissed breath out through his teeth that said, quite plainly, that he was not particularly pleased with these orders … and then vacated the room.
"Well, Commander?" Phlox's voice was soft, expectant. His eyes were steady on Trip's face, but he seemed as though he were on the verge of flinching away from him. "You've maneuvered to get me alone."
"I've got a story to tell you, Doctor. And I want you to tell me if I'm crazy," Trip said.
"Very well," Phlox said carefully.
So Trip told him; he told him that there was another place, another reality, where everything was much the same as in this one, except for certain details that made it very, very different. He told him that he thought his consciousness had been exchanged with the Commander Charles Tucker III that worked as the Chief Engineer for this Enterprise back at the planet whose atmosphere had been severely distorted by ionic storms. He told him that on his Enterprise, there was no Dr. Singerra and that Phlox was the Chief Medical Officer of the ship, and that he had joined the crew as part of the Medical Species Exchange and that had fast become a much-loved and trusted member of the crew.
"And I can't take you back with me," Trip said.
"Surely not," Phlox said mildly, his expression surprisingly resigned. "There is another me there, where he belongs, enjoying the benefits of his free and peaceful existence."
Trip couldn't tell if that meant Phlox was accepting his story or was just attempting to placate him. "You believe me?" he said.
"I am willing to accept the possibility of an alternate universe where events are much like those that exist here," Phlox said. His voice sounded tired, but there was a hint of the old cheeriness there that it seemed came out when he was presented with such a problem. "Such a concept is well within the realms of quantum physics under its current frame of study. Of course, physics is not my field, and quantum physics is quite bewildering under any circumstances."
"But you don't believe that I'm from another reality?" Trip said.
"Your behavior certainly suggests that you believe you are from another reality," Phlox said carefully.
"You think I'm delusional," Trip said.
"As a doctor, I can't rule that out," Phlox said, with just a hint of amusement in his voice. He made a kind of facial shrug.
Trip sighed. "So I'm crazy," he said.
"Not necessarily," the Denobulan said. "However, if you are from an alternate reality, I can't fathom your purpose in telling me about it."
Trip stared at him, momentarily flabbergasted. "I want to change things here," he said. "You shouldn't be enslaved."
Phlox looked amused, in a disturbingly cynical way. "Well, of course I shouldn't be," he said. "Slavery is a barbaric concept. I'm glad you've come around. But since I don't believe you have the power to free me, your purpose in coming here and telling me that you'd much prefer it if I were freed is …?"
"To tell you that you will be freed," Trip said. "Because I'm going to fix it. I'm going to get rid of Dr. Singerra and … make it better here …"
But Phlox was shaking his head. "A noble enterprise," he said. "But ultimately futile."
"Why do you say that?" Trip asked. He felt as though the wind had been taken out of his sails.
Phlox smiled sadly. "Because unless I'm very much mistaken, Crewman Burke summoned his commanding officer when you summarily dismissed him from this room, and as we speak Lieutenant Reed is standing right outside this Sickbay with an audio recording device …" He spread his hands wide. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Commander. But I'm afraid I was given no choice."
Trip heard the sickening sound of the doors sliding open and Malcolm's brisk, military step as he strode into Sickbay, which suddenly seemed a much darker, drearier place.
"A miscalculation on your part, Commander," Lieutenant Reed said mildly, tapping the recorder in his hand. His voice was rough with suppressed emotion. Most of it, Trip suspected, was glee. "Well done, slave."
"Pleasure to be of service," Phlox mumbled. He glanced back at Trip, unhappily. But there was nothing he could do.
"Mister Tucker," Malcolm snapped. "Come with me. I believe you have some questions to answer in the armoury."
Trip went with him, unresisting. What point was there in trying to escape? There was nowhere to run to.
