Title: Another Planet's Hell

Author: Sita Z

Rating: PG 13

AN: Thanks to Tata (I know you've been waiting for the reunion... here goes -) ), Eyes on Tactical for chapters 16 and 17 (glad you like T'Vai... and Trip -will- talk to someone, don't worry), Chriss Corkscrew (glad you like it so much!), Rinne (I got the hint -)... here they go), highonscifi (oh yes they are (going to be sorry)), Maraschino (well, as someone said before, thank God for the Vulcans -)), Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain (thank you, I'm glad the dialogues worked so well), Ocean (I do think that Vulcans are likeable and compassionate - at least in TOS they are), stage manager (yes, I've seen the season 4 episodes... it's true that some of the Vulcans are rather emotional, but I really liked the way they wrote Surak), Gabi (muahahahaha - sorry, aber irgendjemand musste das irre Gelächter abkriegen -). KLAUSUREN SIND VORBEI!), lieutenants-lady (actually, the Vulcans have been at war quite often, even after Surak), KaliedescopeCat (I am, too (cheering for the Vulcans -) ), firechild (thank you -)!), firebirdgirl (thanks for your comments on chapter 15... it's a touchy subject, yes, but I felt it needed to be mentioned even though this is not a slash story), CordeliaBlack (actually, I am wrapping it up -)...), WhtevrHpnd2Mary (well, I hope you won't be disappointed!) and Spike26 (Well, I'd better finish this way too long AN now and get on with the chapter... -) ) for reviewing!

Please read and review!

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Chapter 18

"All set?"

Malcolm nodded and took hold of Trip's arm. "Let's go."

Trip took one last look around the room, not surprised when he saw that Malcolm had even made his bed. The bed spread was somewhat crumpled in places, but for someone who still couldn't see Malcolm had done an amazingly good job. Even the pajamas the Vulcans had given him lay neatly folded on one corner of the bed.

The Lieutenant tugged at his arm. "Come on, Trip, we'll- be late."

T'Vai's voice came from the doorway. "Do not worry, Lieutenant. You still have almost ten minutes until your vessel is here." She entered the room. "I can, of course, understand that you are eager to get back to your ship."

Inwardly, Trip smiled at her careful Vulcan phrasing. "I guess we are," he said. Eager to get back. Euphoric. Floating on air. In the end, it didn't matter which words you used to describe the happy bubble sitting at the pit of his stomach. It had been sitting there all morning, and if he was being honest, most of the night as well. Yes, he was eager to get back. He could hardly wait.

"It's not that we don't appreciate your hospitality," he added. "You've done so much for us these last ten days; it's just that..."

"There is no need to explain." Her left eyebrow twitched slightly, a sure sign that she was amused, not offended. "Let us go, shall we?"

Trip followed her to the door, Malcolm in tow. Before they left, they had offered to change back into their old clothes (which Ship's Maintenance had returned to their quarters washed, ironed and hardly resembling the sweat-stained rags they had tossed down the laundry chute), but T'Vai would have none of that. It was illogical, she said, to wear old, torn clothing when there was no need to do so, and Trip found he couldn't argue that one. After all, the Vulcan robes were rather comfortable.

"How are your eyes, Lieutenant?" T'Vai asked on the way to the turbolift. Malcolm started somewhat guiltily at that, and Trip bit his lip to stop a chuckle from escaping. This morning when he had come to check on the Lieutenant, he had found Malcolm in the bathroom, carefully pulling the eye bandage back into place and nearly jumping out of his skin when Trip came in. Not in the mood for an argument, Trip had pretended not to have noticed, and Malcolm had pretended not to have noticed that Trip had noticed.

Serves him right, Trip thought when he saw Malcolm's cheeks redden. I bet by now his eyes are giving him hell.

"They're- fine," Malcolm lied. Exchanging a glance with the Healer, Trip could see that T'Vai didn't believe Malcolm any more than he did.

"That is fortunate. Remember, you still have to wear the bandage at least another two or three days. I will send my medical data to your ship's physician so he will be able to complete the treatment."

Malcolm nodded. "T'Vai...," he began.

The Healer turned her head. "Yes?"

"I- want to thank you. For- all that you have done- for me. I-"

The words came haltingly, as always when Malcolm was concentrating too hard on what he wanted to say, and Trip saw him scowl in frustration. He did not give up, though, and T'Vai did not interrupt, waiting until he had finished.

"I- just wanted to say- I appreciate- what you did."

"It is my profession to help sick people, Lieutenant," she said gently. "But I am glad I could be of help."

Malcolm nodded. "More- than that."

They found Captain Sorvik and his first officer waiting at the airlock when they arrived. The Vulcan Captain had donned his dress uniform, a black ceremonial robe, and looked even more intimidating than usual.

"Healer," he said. "Commander, Lieutenant. I have been contacted by your Captain several minutes ago, and he said they will be able to make it "on time"." Sorvik raised an eyebrow. "He seemed somewhat... agitated to me. I hope there have been no problems."

Trip bit back a grin. "I'm sure there haven't, sir."

Sorvik's eyebrow climbed even higher, and T'Vai came to her Captain's aid. "I believe Captain Archer is only looking forward to seeing his officers again, sir."

"Ah." It was obvious that her explanation had not enlightened Sorvik in any way. He was saved from further confusion, however, by the Vulcan guard announcing that the docking procedure was complete.

Sorvik straightened his posture. "Open the lock."

"Yes, sir."

The yellow light next to the door indicated that the sealing mechanism was being deactivated, and Trip felt Malcolm's hand tighten on his arm. A silly grin spread on his face. Guess we're a little agitated ourselves, Captain.

The bulkhead slid aside, and a moment later Jonathan Archer came walking in - or rather barging through the door with very little of the decorum Enterprise's Captain usually maintained in the presence of alien dignitaries.

"Trip! Malcolm! You two alright?"

Jon seemed to have trouble deciding which one of them to hug first, and solved the problem by pulling them both into a hug at the same time. For once, Malcolm did not shy away from the touch, grinning like a fool as he hugged his Captain for the first and probably only time in his life.

"Never been better." Trip stepped back, and noticed that both of Sorvik's eyebrows had disappeared under his gray bangs. "It's good to see you again, Jon."

"Same- here, Captain."

"What's with your eyes, Malcolm?" The Captain exchanged a worried glance with Trip. "You're not..."

"I'm blind," Malcolm confirmed calmly. "But- my eyes are- going to heal. It's- only a few more days- now."

Jon seemed to have noticed Malcolm's speech problem, but didn't miss a beat. "That's good to hear."

"I have prepared a report for your physician," T'Vai joined in. "With your permission, Captain, I will send it to your ship as soon as I get back to sickbay."

"Of course." Jon turned to Sorvik. "Captain, I guess I owe you an apology. I'm very grateful for your assistance in this, and-"

Sorvik held up a hand. "As I already told your Commander, Captain, no thanks are necessary. And as to your... excitement at seeing your officers, my Healer assured me that this is normal human behavior."

"Indeed it is." Subcommander T'Pol, who had been patiently waiting next to the airlock, stepped forward. "Commander, Lieutenant. It is... agreeable to see you again."

Trip grinned. "Not gonna get rid of me, are ya, T'Pol?"

Her eyes sparkled with secret amusement. "As you are so fond of saying, Commander, I never bothered getting my hopes up."

Malcolm chuckled, and Trip scowled in mock outrage. "Now that's what I call a hearty welcome."

"Time to get back, I think, " Jon interrupted, seeing that his First Officer and Chief Engineer were warming to another one of their famous repartees. "Admiral Forrest is expecting your call, and I believe there are quite a lot of people waiting to say hello as well." He looked at Sorvik. "Captain, Starfleet Command convey their thanks..."

"...which are not necessary," Sorvik finished mildly. "The Vulcan High Command will contact you after your officers' testimony has been presented to the High Council."

Trip was surprised that Jon would know about their conversation with Selin. That's a new one, he thought. Vulcans discussing their plans with Starfleet before a decision has been reached.

Archer, however, didn't seem to find anything unusual about the Vulcan Captain's statement.

"Good." He raised a hand in the Vulcan greeting. "Captain..."

Sorvik mirrored his gesture. "Live long and prosper, Captain Archer. Commander, Lieutenant..."

Trip knew what Sorvik's answer would be if he thanked him, so he tried to spread his fingers in the traditional greeting instead. "Captain Sorvik..."

After the final formalities had been exchanged, the humans left, Malcolm holding on to Trip's arm as they followed Archer through the airlock. A second later, Trip stopped short in his tracks, causing Malcolm to bump into him.

"Trip, what..."

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the cheers coming from the crowd gathered in front of the airlock. Judging from the racket they were making, it seemed like the whole crew had come to welcome their Chief Engineer and Armory Officer back home.

Seeing their dumbfounded expressions, Archer smiled. "Well, at least I could talk them out of the 'Welcome back' banner."

Hoshi came forward to hug both of them, and only a moment later they were surrounded by a noisy crowd, people clapping their shoulders and telling them over and over again how good it was to have them back. Malcolm seemed a little overwhelmed at first, but he bravely held his ground, smiling and shaking the hands of his Armory staff who knew better than to hug their Chief (Trip's engineering crew, of course, had no such inhibitions).

"Alright!" Archer raised his voice to be heard over the laughing and shouting. "We're all more than happy to have Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed back, but give them some room please. Doctor..."

Phlox had pushed to the front of the crowd, beaming all over his round face. "Commander, Lieutenant, I'm delighted to see you. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me..."

Malcolm opened his mouth to protest, but the doctor cut him off, still smiling. "Only a brief examination, Lieutenant, to make sure that everything is alright. There'll be no need for you to stay in sickbay."

"Are your eyes going to be alright, sir?" Lieutenant Schwarz wanted to know.

Malcolm nodded. "I'll- be able to take off the bandage- in a few days."

His answer was met with relieved smiles, and none of the crewpeople commented on Malcolm's halting speech, although Trip saw Hoshi exchange a glance with the Captain. Reluctantly, the crowd backed off, and Trip felt Malcolm take hold of his arm again. On their way to sickbay, they kept meeting people who broke into broad grins when they saw them, rushing forward to shake their hands or give them a quick hug. Malcolm was asked again and again about his eyes, and by the time the sickbay doors had closed behind them, the Lieutenant was exhausted enough to allow himself to be guided to a bio bed without so much as a token protest.

Trip sat down on the adjoining bed, and nodded when the doctor cheerfully announced that he was going to be with him in a minute.

"That's okay, doc."

He watched as Phlox began to examine Malcolm, hoping the doctor wasn't going to make him take off his shirt. His back had healed, thanks to T'Vai's ointments, but the scars were still visible, and Trip wasn't in the mood for concerned questions and looks of pity.

He became aware of Jon watching him. "Cap'n?"

"Sorry, Trip." Archer hesitated. "I was just thinking... you look tired."

Trip realized that "you look tired" was only a nice way of saying "you look like shit." He knew he did; despite T'Vai's efforts he was still several pounds too light, and sometimes startled when he saw his own haggard face in the mirror.

He forced a smile. "Guess I've still got a lot of sleep to catch up on."

Jon laid a hand on his arm. "I'm so glad to have you back, Trip." He looked over at Malcolm who was being a model patient for once, allowing Phlox to scan him without a single word of complaint. "Both of you. When we found the empty shuttle pod, we had no idea what had happened. We thought you were dead."

"I know." Trip met his eyes, and this time he didn't have to force his smile. "You have no idea how good it is to be back, Jon."

XXX

Ten hours later, Trip still wasn't able to shake off the feeling that this couldn't actually be real. Eating in messhall, joking with Travis and Hoshi, taking a stroll through Engineering to see for himself how things were going... similarly to his first few days on the Vulcan ship, it seemed like a happy dream to him.

Nothing had changed, and it wasn't hard to pretend that they had never been away, that the last three months had never happened at all. That was, until he entered his quarters and saw the two neatly sealed cardboard boxes standing next to his bed. There was a letter taped to the top of one of the boxes, and Trip knew without looking that it was a note from Jonathan Archer to Mr. and Mrs. Tucker.

Dear Susan and Charles, I have packed Trip's things and added the letters he wanted you to have. It is hard for me to find the right words at a time like this...

Jon had once told Trip that he always felt he had to apologize in those letters, beg the parents' forgiveness because he had not been able to protect their son's or daughter's life like a good captain should. It didn't matter that most people wouldn't blame him, knowing that their children had been fully aware of the risks when signing up for this mission. Jon felt responsible, always, and this time it must have been particularly hard, since he knew Charles and Susan Tucker personally, not just as two names in an electronic file.

Carefully, Trip removed the letter and placed it in a desk drawer. Maybe he was going to give it back to Jon, or open it one day to read what the Captain had written; today, however, he only closed the drawer again, and sat down to begin unpacking the boxes.

He had talked to his parents earlier today, in the Captain's ready room; they had laughed and cried and in the end he had cried as well, the excitement of the day catching up with him. Still, Trip had found himself strangely hesitant to answer their questions. To his parents, who had been away from Earth only once before (a day trip to Lunar station on their thirtieth wedding anniversary), his and Malcolm's story must sound like a wild tale out of a adventure novel, not something that had happened in reality. They would be shocked, horrified, and - worst of all - they would feel sorry for him, but they would not know how it had been. They couldn't. So, for most of the time Trip had let them do the talking, had smiled and nodded when they told him over and over again how happy they were to know that he was alright. And when he closed the channel, he had been surprised how much it meant to hear that.

From the little Malcolm had told him, his own call home had gone surprisingly well, all things considered; his mother and Madeline had cried, and Stuart Reed had expressed his hope that Starfleet was going to take military action "before those bastards abduct any more of your officers." Malcolm said this was his father's way of telling him that he was glad to have him back.

Trip took a picture out of the first box, wiping the glass framing with his sleeve. It was a photo taken at the Academy - his graduation class standing in front of the main building, smiling and holding up their Cadet diplomas. Trip studied it for a while, trying to remember what Cadet Tucker had been planning to do after the photo session. Probably paint the town red together with his fellow graduates, or something similar that involved beer and girls and partying all night.

Trip stood the picture on the shelf next to his bunk, then reached back into the box to get out another bundle of his civilian clothes which Jon had carefully stacked at the bottom. He was on his way over to the cupboard when the door signal sounded.

"Come," he called, not looking to see who had entered. "Sorry for the mess, I'm only just straightenin' up."

"That's okay. After all, I'm the one who messed up your stuff in the first place."

Trip closed the drawer and turned around. "Hey, Cap'n. Thought you were still busy takin' the flitter apart."

Sorvik had agreed to have the Sar'veen flitter taken to Enterprise's shuttle hangar, on the condition that Starfleet allowed the Vulcans access to the data they gathered on Sar'veen technology. To Trip's disappointment, Phlox had strictly forbidden that he come anywhere near the shuttle hangar today, insisting that he still needed several days of rest before he resumed his duties. Half-time duties. The doctor had been quite emphatic on that point.

"I left the job to Travis," Jon said, sitting down on Trip's bunk between a pile of socks and a stack of engineering journals. "He said he's never seen anything like that navigation system before. Practically kicked me out so he and Lieutenant Hess could take a good look at it without me breathing down their necks all the time."

Trip raised his eyebrows. "He said that?"

Jon grinned. "No, he was very polite about it. Said he was going to notify me if they found anything that would be of interest to Starfleet."

Trip smiled, though his heart wasn't in it. He could sympathize with people getting all enthusiastic over a piece of fascinating technology, but it was quite a different story if that technology had originally belonged to the Sar'veen Dominion. If he was being honest, his main motivation to help with the flitter had been to see the damn thing taken apart and scattered all over the shuttle bay floor.

"How's Malcolm doin'?" he asked, picking up another pile of clothes so Jon wouldn't see the expression on his face. "He's gone to bed?"

"Yeah." Jon leaned back, and rested one foot on the edge of the bunk. "I offered to help him unpack his stuff, but he said he was going to be fine. I've no idea how he manages, but..."

"He'll be okay," Trip said quietly. "He's learned to do most things on his own, back in the camp and on the Vulcan ship. Says he doesn't want to be a burden."

Jon sighed. "It's almost as if he were ashamed."

"In a way, I think he is." Trip paused. "He's never talked to me about what they did to him at that lab. He says he doesn't remember, but I think he does. Back on the Vulcan ship, I checked on him one night when he was already asleep, and he was cryin' again, beggin' someone not to hurt his eyes. When I woke him, he said he didn't remember what the nightmare had been about, but I knew that he did. He refused to talk about it, though."

"Give him time, Trip. He's only had a few weeks to deal with it. I'm sure he'll talk to someone, eventually."

"Yeah," Trip said, although he had his doubts. Malcolm had a way of not talking to people when he needed it the most, of shutting them out and keeping his hurt inside.

"Trip..."

He looked up. "Yeah?"

Jon hesitated. "In her report, T'Vai mentioned some extensive scarring on your back and that you were going to need laser treatment to remove it." Trip averted his eyes. "You didn't let Phlox take a look at it back in sickbay."

Yeah, because I knew he hadn't read the report yet.

"I forgot."

Jon refused to acknowledge his curt tone. "Trip."

Suddenly Trip felt angry. There it was again, that careful tone of voice (How to Talk to a Traumatized Victim), and the mixture of compassion and curiosity underlying the words. Come on, talk to me. Tell me about it. I know it'll make you feel better.

"What d'you want me to say, Jon?"

Archer startled at his angry tone, then opened his mouth, but Trip cut him off.

"If you really want to know, yes, I was whipped, and no, I don't want to talk about it. It was nothin' unusual, y'see, that's just how they treat their slaves back on that planet. It was nothin' I couldn't handle."

"I never said that, Trip." Jon refused to react to his anger, and for some reason, his calm tone infuriated Trip even more. "You coped better then anyone could have expected you to. You survived and you even managed to escape. You can be proud of yourselves."

"Proud?" Trip laughed angrily, knowing he was being unfair to Jon, and at the same time furious with him for saying such a ridiculous thing. "Do you know why we ran away in the first place, Jon?"

"Tell me," the Captain said, still in that maddeningly calm tone of voice.

"It's not a very nice story, I'm afraid. The guy we belonged to decided he needed some money, and his ex-wife told him she knew someone who'd pay a nice sum for one of us. Malcolm overheard them talkin', and so we found out before it was too late. He was gonna sell us as prostitutes, Jon!" His voice cracked, and he angrily wiped a hand over his eyes. "It'll make a nice paragraph in the official report, won't it? Forrest's gonna love that one: two of his officers narrowly escape being sold as wh-"

"Trip."

He had not noticed that Jon had gotten up, and startled when he was suddenly pulled into a firm hug.

"Stop it. Don't do this to yourself. I'll understand if you hate those people for the rest of your life, but don't take it out on yourself."

Despite Trip's weak struggles, he wouldn't let go, and after a moment Trip gave up trying to free himself from Jon's embrace, embarrassed and at the same time relieved that he could finally say these things aloud instead of simply pushing them out of his mind.

"I... I keep thinkin', what if Malcolm hadn't overheard them talkin' in the kitchen... or what if..."

"But it didn't happen," Jon said quietly. "You managed to get away in time. And you survived. Both of you. Maybe you don't feel that way right now, but you've got a lot of reasons to be proud of yourselves." Jon led him over to his bunk, sitting down next to him without removing his arm from Trip's shoulder. "And as for the report, there is no reason to mention any of this. I'm beginning to understand what you went through, and I'll do everything I can so you won't have to testify before Starfleet Command."

Trip nodded quietly, accepting the Kleenex Jon had picked up from his nightstand. Damn, he was making a mess of it. He'd been so happy to be back, and now the first thing he did was shout at Jon and allow his demons to catch up with him when he'd been trying so hard to forget about them.

"I'm just so tired of it all."

Jon's arm tightened around his shoulders. "It's okay, Trip. We don't have to talk about all of this tonight. If you like, I can ask Phlox to come here and give you something to help you sleep."

Trip shook his head. "Nah, that's okay. I'll be fine."

"Whatever you say." Gently, Jon pulled back his arm, and started gathering up the rest of the things that lay scattered on Trip's bed. "Why don't you finish this tomorrow, and try and get a good night's sleep. You look like you need it."

Trip managed a faint grin. "That bad, huh?"

Jon smiled in response. "Worse." He stood up, placing Trip's things on the floor next to his bed. "Hit the sack, Commander. That's an order."

Trip nodded, but made no move to get up. "Jon?"

The Captain, who had been on his way to the door, turned around. "Yeah?"

"I'm... sorry. Didn't mean to shout at you."

"I know." Jon smiled. "Good to have you back, Trip."

Trip answered his smile. "G'night, Cap'n."

"Night, Trip."

The door closed behind Archer, and after a moment Trip got up, slowly making his way around the cardboard boxes over to the bathroom. Too weary to take a shower, he only washed his hands and face and brushed his teeth, then dug through one of the cardboard boxes until he found an extra blanket somewhere at the bottom. For some reason, he always felt rather cold at night.

After he'd crawled under the sheets, Trip lay still for a while, enjoying the feeling of lying in his very own bed. The familiar humming of the warp engine helped him relax, and he found his thoughts returning to what Jon had said. Maybe what was true for Malcolm was true for him as well. Maybe he just needed a little more time. Trip closed his eyes, and before he went to sleep, he decided to see Phlox first thing in the morning. Maybe there was something the doctor could do about those scars, after all.

Last chapter soon coming up!

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