Author's Note: Hello again to all of those who made it. This is a little earlier that I planned to have updated, but I thought with whatever they're doing in the next few days it might be safer to try now and fix later. I hope you enjoy the chapter and R/R please.
And, just for Phaserlady, I went back and fixed of the comments you made. Um, I did go back and watch 'North Star'- you're right, he said he was from New York. But I could have sworn he said he grew up in Indiana. Maybe I was just thinking Sam from 'Quantum Leap'. Who knows? But, thanks for the reviews and to be mean like that. I expect you to continue, it keeps me on my feet.
Summary: As the search for Trip and Selak continues, what will become of the two officers? And how will Archer finally find them?
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Through Fire: For Friends and Finding
-----Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility-----
"Where are my officers?"
"They left, I already told you that, Captain. Please-"
"No, I don't think they did, Delert," Archer interrupted.
"Captain-"
"If they really left, then why did we pick up their shuttle pod in your docking bay?"
Delert seemed nervous- scared like something was going to jump out of the walls and eat him alive. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying desperately to hide their shaking, as he stuttered out, "I-I don't k-know w-what you're t-talking about."
"Oh, but I think you do," he taunted. "Just like I think you know where my officers are."
"I-I, uh, I-" Delert paused, taking a deep, cleansing breath. "I think you should j-just leave now."
His sudden change from stuttering to firm hardly startled Archer, rather the Captain just smiled. Looking over at Malcolm, his nodded. "Very well, if you insist, we'll leave. But we'll be back. Count on it."
Archer marched away, his security officer following behind. Delert turned his head, watching them leave with little relief.
Once outside the door, the beeping of Archer's communicator caught his attention. As the pair turned a corner, he pulled down harder on his zipper than he had intended. Pulling the object out, "Archer here."
"Captain, what has Delert said?"
"Not much except that Trip and Selak left. We're on our way back now. Was there something you wanted?"
"Yes, while running scans of the planet, I discovered a dampening field covering the lower levels of the facility."
"It might be worth checking out," Archer replied, making sure that Malcolm heard what was being said. "We'll be back within the hour."
"Aye, Captain. T'Pol out." Using his thigh to fold the communicator, Archer continued walking, Malcolm only one step behind.
-----Location: Unknown-----Selak dropped to the floor, his arms too weak to blunt the impact, making him land hard on his face. His body throbbed all over, aching from the physical torture he had endured for hours. The old wound on his side had gone numb from pain some time ago and now, he found, that he was paying for it as a feeling, similar to stabbing of needles, slowly woke it up.
Through the soreness of his neck and pounding of his head, he managed to turn it enough to see the Commander being forced to his feet and hauled out of the room, his protests being easily silenced.
Selak's head settled back on the cool metallic floor. He was exhausted, both from the energy of struggling but also of fighting against the memories the place evoked. He just wanted to forget about that place in his mind but he was finding that it wouldn't leave him alone.
With a grunt of effort, Selak slowly managed to push his pained body off the ground. His back leaned against the back wall, his eyes squeezing shut from the pain it cause. His back, he knew, was covered with fresh bruises, over lapping the old, almost invisible scars he already owned.
Running his right hand over his face, Selak noticed the tinted imprints on his wrist. Pushing his shirtsleeve back, his fingers ran over the old scar, his mind racing back to how he had gotten it.
The shackles dug deep into his skin, sending small streams of green blood down his arms. His arms were tired, practically asleep, from being held in an upright position for so long. The strain on his arms grew as they had to support his body for a longer and longer period.
His upper body was cold; they had stripped him of his thin shirt. His eyes stung, dried tears on his checks from when they had watered at the sudden bright lights. His voice he knew must have been hoarse after all his screaming.
The smell of copper hit his nose in steady streams. Thick, green blood covered his torso. Burns had been placed all along his back, glossed with green. His chest was sliced; a sharp knife, he barely recalled, had been repeatedly run across his bronze tinted skin. Light green stained his body; the Vulcan's dried blood was uncomfortable. And, hardly visible through the blood, he knew fresh bruises were growing.
Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. A single tear escaped his hold, streaming down his cheek.
He just wanted it all to end…
-----Location: Unknown-----Trip's resistance faded away, his mind feeling like it was floating or maybe soaring. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about much. His body's struggle against the restraints dimmed, before he went completely limp.
A single tube ran into the vein on his neck, slowly pumping an amber liquid into Trip's unaware body. His vision doubled and unsure. His body was numb, he felt almost nothing. He hardly even remembered struggling against its implantation.
In the distance, he could hear a voice but couldn't put a name or face to it. Whipping his head around, he tried to find the man but couldn't. He wasn't in there… perhaps the voice was a delusion.
Trip tried to blink the haze from his eyes, tring to bring his mind back to reality. But, in the end, the attempt was in vain. Whatever they had put him on, it was far too powerful to fight… to escape from…
-----Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Lower Levels-----"I wonder what's so important down here that they don't want anyone to know about?" Malcolm thought out loud, turning to see if Archer was going to say anything, as the two of them carefully crept down the halls of the lower level. The dark hall unnerved him slightly, kept him on his toes, as they made their way somewhere- nowhere.
"Who knows, it could be as easy as extra dilithium they don't want anyone to know about."
"True. Or maybe-"
Archer cut Malcolm off when he pushed him back, making the security officer hit his head on the metallic wall. With a stifled moan, he looked around the corner, trying to see who was coming.
Both pairs of eyes peered out, watching as two Xindi came out of room off the far wall. The two- seemingly guards or lower ranking soldiers- carried with them an unconscious body. The man looked dead. His thick head of blonde hair and tanned skin indicated that he was definably not one of Delert's people.
"Was that-"
"Two Reptilians," Archer nodded.
"That would be something worth hiding," Malcolm remarked. "That must have been Trip with them; they must be keeping Trip and Selak down here. Sir, we're going to need more back up. We need to bring some backup down here."
"Agreed. Let's get back to the ship."
-----Location: Unknown-----The alien grabbed his face, forcing open his mouth.
His arms dug into the chains, his shoulders slowly ebbing their way out of their sockets. Blood trickled down his arm; another dropped burning his eye.
The alien stepped forward, cutting open his uniform.
The sick, sucking sound pierced the air. A pain throbbed in his abdomen. The knife slowly extracted from his body.
"Cha- for- te."
The man pulled hard on the chain around his neck, cutting the side into his neck.
Pain ran through his chest; the alien machine against his pectoral, his arms bound in front of him.
His face made contact with the rock face. His cheek burned, blood dripping onto his clothes.
His eyes followed the pattern; a beautiful design crafted into the sand around the rocks
"Cha- for- te."
The boy's eyes starred blankly up at him, blood trickling out of his half-opened mouth. Gunfire landed all around him; shouts and screams filled the air.
He lowed himself carefully into the chair, looking blankly up at the table in front of him.
His arms strained as her hung just over the ground. Cold air pricking his bare flesh.
He looked at the monitor, starring at the man. He fell silently, his eyes remaining open even with his death. A loud applause erupted.
His eyes snapped opened. Looking around himself, Selak tried to get his bearings. For a moment, he thought he was there, in the same place in his dreams. His heart was beating feverously in his chest, his breathing fast and shallow.Before he was able to calm himself, his body still trying to fully wake, the door slid open. Almost instinctually, he shrank back into the corner, unconsciously making himself as small as he could. He couldn't help it; it was as if his old habits, his instincts, were taking over and his mind thought he was again at the hell that lived in his dreams.
The Vulcan watched as the limp body of Commander Tucker was tossed into the cell. The two Xindi scowled, mostly emotionless as they shut and locked the door on their two prisoners.
As soon as they had left, the Vulcan unfolded himself and scampered over to his CO. His appearance was daunting; he was haggard and was in dire need of a shower and shave, not to mention change of clothing. Looking the unconscious man over, Selak recognized several familiar factors of illness.
Though the room was rather cool, he was sweating badly and seemed to have a high fever. Checking his eyes, Selak found they were dilated. His pulse was erratic; beating much faster than Selak knew a Human's heart should go.
What he noticed most was the tremors. The Commander's body was shaking uncontrollably and it troubled the Vulcan to see the man in such a condition.
But he found his lack of ability to help much worse. He had no water to cool the man nor did he have any way of knowing what was wrong with him. He could do nothing more than watch him and hope that he would improve.
For some time, Selak watched in hopeless silence as he waited for Trip to wake up. He couldn't know for sure what they had done to the man. His trembling had decreased very little, if at all, and he was still sweating badly in the cold room. Trip's brow was beaded with sweat, his hairline damp making him look as if he had recently gotten out of the shower.
Leaning against the far wall, he looked emotionlessly at the sleeping Human at the other end of the cell. After the guard had tossed him inside, he had positioned him more comfortably over there, no true reason to his action just that they seemed… right to do.
Sighing, he rested his head against the wall. Closing his eyes, he tried hard to stop the onslaught of old memories, trying to control his mind into silence. To meditate, even if it were only for a moment.
But his mind refused to quiet; to give him any moment of peace that he so deserved.
After several minutes of failed attempts, Selak opened his eyes. First, he quickly looked over at the engineer. Unfortunately, he was still asleep. Looking down at his arm folded in his lap, a soft smile graced his lips. It was a smile of satisfaction; of triumph and pride that even a Vulcan felt deep down inside their hearts.
Reaching down the sleeve of his shirt, his hand extracted a tiny, broken piece of haul plating. Lucky for him, the ship seemed to have recently suffered damage on that level, his "failed" attack giving him the opportunity to grab and hide the object. He had planned to use it for his escape but- looking at Trip- it seemed that he might have to adjust his plan. Or, at least, wait until the man could move properly.
Slowly, wearily, Trip's eyes opened. Selak, startled, returned the metal slab to its hiding place before rushing to his side. All the while hoping he wasn't too weak to at least tell him what had happened.
But before he could get his question out, Trip was forcing his tired body away from the young Vulcan. He seemed delirious; his face etched with horror and fear as if he saw some horrible creature instead of the Vulcan that was bending over to help him.
Trip watched through blurred eyes as the distorted form tried to approach him. His head whipped about on its own accord as he tried to understand the frightful tricks his mind was playing on him. His ears could hear a voice, most likely the unknown form, speaking to him. The words were jumbled; confused beyond the man's understanding of the language.
"It is all right. I am not going to hurt you," Selak assured the man, even though he knew his calm words were having little effect on the disturbed man. But Trip continued to fight him. Unfortunately, in his state, his arms continued to try and grab his shirt just as much as they were trying to bat him away.
Selak moved back a bit, not wishing to be hit again by his disturbed CO. But, before he could move too far away, Trip's hand grabbed a hold of his shirt, ripping some of the material in his fit.
Startled, Selak jumped back, not bothering to look at the damage to his uniform. "Calm yourself, Commander," he scolded, trying to push through the- most likely- drug induced haze.
Soon Trip did just that. His flailing calmed; his eyes drooped as body relaxed against the metallic floor. A frustrated sigh escaped the Vulcan as he saw that the Human fell back into unconsciousness.
"Humans," he breathed with a shake of the head. "What did they give you?" Looking at the Commander, it appeared that many of the symptoms- shaking, sweating, and so on- had not dissipated. His mind was still clouded with the drug; it must have been powerful.
Turning his attention away from the sleeping human, he turned back to his former position against the wall. For the first time, he noticed what Trip had done. His shirt had been ripped from the left half of his collar until almost the end of his shoulder. Without knowing it, the Commander had just exposed a touchy part of the Vulcan's past.
-----Enterprise, Conference Room-----All the senior staff, Commander Tucker's position replaced by Major Hayes, huddled around the conference table. Looking over the schematics to the mining facility, their rescue plan to retrieve their officers underway.
"You said there's no guards to the lower levels- a few of my men could beam down and retrieve them," Major Hayes announced, looking to Archer for permission or some type of acceptance of his idea.
"Captain, it may not be that simple."
"What do you mean, T'Pol?"
"With the dampening field over the lower levels," she said, adjusting the screen to show a visual, "we can neither beam in nor out of that area of the facility. In addition, it will not allow our weapons to work. Your men," she told Hayes, "will be defenseless. I doubt they are prepared for hand to hand against Reptilian soldiers."
"Then how do you propose to get the Commander and Lieutenant?" Hayes retorted. T'Pol only rose an eyebrow, not dignifying his remark with a response.
"Doctor?" Archer suddenly spoke, an idea coming to mind as he turned to the Denobulan. "Is there anything that could knock out the Xindi? Something we could release into their ventilation system? Something that won't harm our officers?"
Phlox though for a moment. "I might be able to synthesize something, but-"
"Good, get working on it," Archer ordered, turning away from Phlox in fashion to dismiss him. With a sigh, Phlox walked out, missing the last half of the meeting.
"If a small team beamed here," Malcolm said, pointing to a section of the facility, the computer zooming in on the area. "They could release the gas into the ventilation, then beam out as the second team beamed down… here. It's the best access to the lower levels, the same one we used to get down there."
Archer nodded, the plan set. "Malcolm, you lead the second group. Have two MACOs escort an engineer for the first group. You, Hayes, and two other MACOs will retrieve the Commander and Selak. Get masks from Dr. Phlox to protect you from the gas. Dismissed."
-----Location: Unknown-----Trip's body trembled violently as he slowly surfaced into consciousness. His first instinct was to just turn over and vomit, the thought only stopped by his inability to stop shaking and to move his body.
He could faintly hear someone else in the room; another body moving around. Maybe closer to him. Maybe away from him. Maybe he was just imagining it. Trip couldn't tell.
Turning his head to the side he found that the effort of doing so was hardly worth it as his vision was too blurred to make out any more than an outline of something. A black figure… moving closer and closer, at least he though it was coming closer. Maybe away from him…
Trip wasn't sure. He just wasn't sure of much…
He couldn't remember much.
A low murmur… distorted words, perhaps… echoed in his mind. None of the sound made sense to him… meant anything to him. The dull sensation of someone touching his shoulder registered somewhere in his mind.
Slowly- very slowly- the words started to clear out. Started to sound like words. Something- the figure- was telling him to stay calm. His features began to clear, become less distorted. Soon Trip was able to see a Vulcan standing over him.
Selak…
The word came to mind. The name… he knew him. Knew the man but couldn't place it.
"Commander. Commander?" The figure asked again. Trip tried to respond, his mouth moving but nothing coming out. "I'm right here, Commander. I'm right here."
Trip tried to focus on his face, on his voice. He tried to recall where he knew him from, who he was, and where they were. But all he could focus on was something on his chest. A design… a picture of something.
The longer he looked at it, the more pronounced the lines became. The lines were thicker… connected in loops… straight lines here and there connecting everything together. His eyes followed the lines, his mind trying to use it as a focal point. His mind absorbing the image.
"Commander? Can you hear me? Please answer," the man coaxed. A moan escaped his lip as he tried to answer. "I'll take that as a yes. Commander, what happened to you? Do you remember?"
Trip tried to remember… to work back further into his mind to recall what had happened to him. Did something happen? He couldn't remember. Maybe he didn't want to remember.
His eyes drooped closed. The dark was much more peaceful, there was nothing there to remember… just the darkness. Just the peace.
But Selak's words didn't stop. He kept talking to Trip, tried to wake him back up… but Trip tried not to listen. He wanted to tell him to shut-up and go away; to leave him alone. But the words wouldn't come… they started to slip from him mind, he was no longer able to make out what Selak was saying, what he was asking.
He just let the darkness engulf him…
-----Enterprise, Sickbay-----"Captain, I must remind you that I am still protesting against using this, it could be very dangerous for all concerned," Phlox stated when Archer entered the room, Malcolm and Lieutenant Valiente right behind him, and two MACOs on their tail.
"Your concerns are duly noted, Doctor, but this may be our only option."
Phlox's nod was solemn as he handed over the gas, knowing he would get it back for they would only need a third of what he had created.
"Thank-you, Doctor." Archer took the container, looking down at the silver cylinder. For a split second, he almost entertained the thought that nothing was inside, but, just as quickly as it came, it left.
Valiente stepped forward, taking the object from Archer, looking it over. "Lieutenant, release only 200ccs. Anymore can kill everyone; it may even complicate the filters on the masks."
"And the masks?"
The British accent reached Phlox's ears; he recognized it as Malcolm's voice. "Those two crates; I modified them already. They should be able to filter out the gas efficiently for… at least an hour. But I wouldn't push it much past that."
Malcolm gestured to the crated, the MACOs grabbing a side to carry them out. The Britishman followed, clearly keeping an eye on the crates he was now in charge of.
"Go to the transporter room," Archer ordered the Lieutenant, the man nodding to both of them.
"Captain," Phlox said, his voice almost dismissive.
"Doctor." Archer turned, walking away, he would talk to Phlox about this later.
-----Location: Unknown-----Selak pivoted on his heels, turning to face the other wall. If his counting was accurate- as he was sure it was- it was the 258 turn. He sighed- that meant it was his 1,290th step… 1,291st…
Pacing. He found it was quite useless, pointless thing. A waste of time, a waste of energy. It solved nothing, it accomplished nothing. Just a waste of energy…
But, then, perhaps that's what it was meant to do… help clam the adrenaline rush in times that you could do little more than pace… had little more than enough room to pace…
… 259th turn…
Perhaps he was only doing it because of his nerves; his anxiety… or even boredom. He still- ever since a few years ago- dreaded small spaces. A turbolift or the cell he and Trip shared could be managed- albeit a large annoyance. But anything smaller- such as a crawl space- scarred him to death. He was lucky enough to be spared, to have his own people understand, just as he could weasel out of such things on the Enterprise.
… Maybe it was just the waiting… maybe he only paced because he had nothing else to do but wait…
… 260th turn…
… Maybe it was his fears of the Commander never walking again. Or just waiting for him to do so…
… 261st…
'Maybe they will come for us soon,' Selak thought, pausing on his 1,309th step. Even after he thought it, he couldn't decide who he meant: the Xindi or the Enterprise crew.
He turned, not taking the final step in his pace…
… 1,310… 1,311… 1,312… 1,313… 263rd turn…
Trip moaned, stopping Selak. The Vulcan turned toward him, surprised by his sudden movement. He knelt down, once again checking the Commander's pupils and then pulse. His fingers pulled away, satisfied with the results.
But it was just then that he noticed something on the tips. Something red- blood… human blood, he had seen enough to know.
Selak tried to move his head, carefully as to not cause him any more pain. There it was, a small stream of blood trickling down his neck. He pulled away at the Commander's shirt collar, trying to find the source. A small, but noticeable cut was placed just at the base of his neck- he couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed it before.
The cut was deep and not bleeding a lot. The Vulcan noticed that there was no dried blood; an easy assumption that the Commander had move, braking opened whatever had held it closed.
Selak looked around; he needed something to stop the bleeding and cover the wound. Looking down at the Commander, his eyes caught the seam of his shirtsleeve. It might be tricky with the placing of the wound, but he could manage.
He would have to manage…
-----Enterprise, Transporter Area-----Lieutenant Valiente trembled as he stepped onto the transporter pas. He had, of course, heard of and studied them but he had never before been through one. As an engineer, he knew that he would- in theory- be fine, but- in reality- he was petrified of the thing.
He turned around, a clear view of the transporter room. His hazel eyes took in the room around him, watching the MACOs opening the two crates they had just set down.
His eyes turned away, his nerves amplifying the sound of someone walking into the room into far more eerie noises. Captain Archer walked in, looking around the room- most likely checking their progress.
"Here, Dixion, you're gonna want this," Gary joked, shoving one of the masks into Valiente's hand. "Don't worry about this; trust me, I've been through this thing a couple-o-times. It's a piece of cake."
"Right," Dixion sighed, his breath coming out in shaky rasps. Even with his friend's assurances, he wasn't sure about transporting; it just wasn't right to have your body scrambled and put back together.
Passing over the cylinder to White, he slipped on the mask, finding it odd to breathe with the thing on. He took back the cylinder, amazed that he was less frightened by that than the transporter.
"Good luck, you three," Captain Archer told them, nodding at them as he spoke. Valiente looked to his left, noticing that a second MACO had joined them, his own mask hiding most of his face.
"Don't forget, we'll beam you down right where the environmental system is. On your signal, we'll beam you back up. We'll be waiting."
"Yes, sir."
Archer nodded; the transporter chief beaming them away. Dixion swallowed, trying to keep his breathing even and steady; all the while unsure if it was the butterflies in his stomach or his molecules being scattered that was bothering him.
Dixion's breath caught, only releasing itself after saw that he was no longer in the transporter room. He looked down at himself. Well, at least he didn't materialize backwards. Everything seemed ok.
He barely heard the quick movement of the MACOs as they secured the area, the other guy guarding the door as Gary beckoned him into the small room. Gary's weapon was pointing at the far wall, his eyes taking in the area in record time- they both knew this had to go quickly.
"Do what you have to do but make it fast," he warned, stepping closer to the door.
Dixion nodded, trying to shake off his nerves from the transporter and now the danger he just realized he put himself in.
Taking a deep breath he moved over to the control panel. It was easy enough to access what he needed, but much harder to try and figure out the language. As far as he could tell, he did it right; but they would find that out in a few minutes, wouldn't they?
Dixion looked over at Gary, everything was going smoothly as far as he could tell. Now just to release the gas… right, what did the doctor tell him again? 300ccs? No, no it was lower than that. Not 100, that couldn't do much, could it? Was it 200 or 250?
Dixion's heart quickened. He couldn't get this wrong. The Doctor had said that he would kill everyone if he went over, including the Commander and Lieutenant they were trying to help. Not to mention that he could harm himself and the rest of the teams.
This had to go right…
He wanted to say 250, it sounded right. But what if it was too much? 220ccs, that would have to work well enough. Right? He hoped.
Dixion opened the valve, watching the numbers carefully. At 220, he stopped it, closing the valve quickly. There, they were still alive… but, then, he'd imagine that it'd take a few minutes to work.
"I'm done," Dixion reported through his mask, his voice odd, even to his own ears.
Gary nodded, pulling out his communicator as Dixion finished off the last few details. "Captain? White, here. Valiente's finished with the gas, we're ready to get out of here."
Captain Archer listened from the transporter room, looking up at Malcolm and his team up on the pad. He nodded to the transporter chief, telling him to beam them down first- it was better to get moving before the gas's effects had even a slight chance of wearing off.
The five crewmembers disappeared before him, all of them armed with weapons, though they knew they would do little good. It still seemed a prudent idea and it made them feel better.
"We're locking onto you now." Archer looked to the chief, waiting for him to ask permission to beam the small team up. But the request never came. Instead, the engineer seemed confused, frantically trying to figure out what was wrong. "Ensign?"
"I've lost their signals, sir. I can't get a lock."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I don't know, sir. It looks like some kind of energy field is blocking the scanners," the Ensign reported, looking to his Captain.
Archer nodded, telling him to work on it. "White. Are you still there? We're having a problem with the transporter. We can't beam you up. Did you get that?"
-----Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Lower Level-----"Do you have any idea where they might be kept?" Hayes asked after they had materialized, as his men- or rather Glen Anthony and Nila Eveleen- secured the area.
"No, the Captain and I only saw Trip for a short time on the lower level. We didn't follow."
"Than we have a lot of ground to cover in the short time we have," Hayes stated, some of his words messed up by the mask over his face, Malcolm able to figure out he meant without them.
"We should go right… I think that's where they went."
"Ok, let's go. Eveleen, take point. Anthony, watch our six." Malcolm watched the Major walk away, following Eveleen. He scowled, annoyed at how he always seemed to find some way- even if it was only a small thing- to take over command.
-----Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Environmental System-----"Captain? Captain, are you there?" White asked into the communicator, his cries catching the attention of the other two.
"What's wrong?" The other MACO asked, not letting his fear get in the way of his duties as he continued to stand at his self-ordered position.
"I don't know. We've just lost contact with Enterprise."
"Which means they probably can't lock onto us. They won't be able to transport us," Dixion stated, feeling like he couldn't breath with the bulky mask over his face much less talk.
"Then we should try to find some way off the planet. That, or Major Hayes. They might be able to contact the ship," Gary suggested.
"It might be a temporary glitch; Enterprise might fix it in a few minutes. If we move around they might not be able to find us."
"The only problem with that, Samson, is that whole 'might' part. They might, they might not. We need to get out of here, we only have an hour with these things. That's not a lot of time for those engineers to work their magic," White retorted, seemingly solving their problem.
"I agree with Gary, we should try to find the Major and Lieutenant. That or the shuttle pod."
"What do you mean, shuttle pod?" Samson asked, looking at him.
"The Shuttle Pod Commander Tucker used to get down here. It's still here. We could use that to get back to the ship. Maybe our communicators will still work internally. We could tell Lieutenant Reed where we are and what's happening."
Gary looked from Samson to Valiente. He smirked, amused with his friend. "Damn, you're good. Lead the way, I don't have a clue where the pod might be."
-----Location: Unknown-----Selak's head leaned back against the cool surface of the wall. All he wanted was to fall asleep; to never wake up again. He wished that he could just stopped remembering, that his dreams could be blissfully nothing… that he could have something remotely close to rest.
But it seemed that, especially where he was, that was close to impossible. With a sigh, he opened his eyes again, looking up at the Commander. He was still out since the last time he had slipped into unconsciousness.
Ever so slowly, trying not to agitate his pained shoulder or aggravated ribs, he crawled over to Trip. He had had much experience with Humans- with many species- enough to know how to check the pulse and a few other vitals.
Pressing his fingers to Trip's neck, he felt a steady- albeit slightly fast- beating. But it had begun to slow some, he assumed that was a good thing. Carefully, he opened each eye, finding that the pupils reacted properly to the light. Which meant there was no brain trauma- at least that what he thought it meant.
Falling onto his side, Selak realized just how tired he really was. How much he needed to sleep. But, he sighed, knowing that would be near impossible with how on edge he was- how much adrenaline was pulsing through his veins.
He took a deep breath, hoping it would calm him. But the action made him cough, an odd feeling at the back of his throat. His lungs seemed to itch, the sensation growing, making them feel as if they were on fire. His breathing became more labored, the burning making it hurt to breathe.
A sharp pain filled his chest, as if he were having a heart attack. But, somehow, he knew that was not true. The pain dulled; as it did, his mind blanked out, his vision blurring. He just concentrated on breathing, trying to keep from slipping into unconsciousness.
As the pain grew to almost nothing, he realized how impossible that goal might be. His eyes slipped closed…
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How was it? I know how their plan might sound, but trust me…
Please R/R and tell me how it's going.