Let the Dead Bury the Living

By Thalia Drogna

AN: Before I get anymore emails, I am planning to update Red Rain soon, it's just been on hold while I've been finishing off Let the Dead. Thanks again to all those who reviewed, you know you make my day when you tell me what you think.

It had been two weeks since Nash had been found dead in his cell, suffocated mysteriously. There was no evidence of anyone having gained entry or means of suffocation present in the cell. The cameras that were usually trained upon the occupant of the cell had recorded only a blank screen. Even the autopsy had shown nothing. The fact that they knew who had done it didn't make any difference, there was no proof and in any case they currently had no idea where Davis was. Everyone was frustrated.

A team of engineers had been dispatched to the weather station to find and dismantle the weapon. What they had found had been decidedly unsettling. The weather station hid a weapon that had been built using Xindi technology and was programmed to destroy first the Vulcan compound in San Francisco and then would fire on other Vulcan compounds as they came into range. It was Nash's doomsday device, his revenge on a world that he had been unable to change through more subtle means.

Archer had found himself becoming angry that Nash had managed to escape his punishment, even if it had been by being murdered. He knew it wasn't rational but Nash had been someone that he could direct his anger at for everything that had happened to Trip. Admittedly Nash hadn't put the nanites in Trip's veins but he had certainly exploited them. He now found that anger redirected towards Davis instead. He had previously thought of Davis as simply one of Nash's henchmen, just following his master's orders, but now he had no doubt that Davis was just as dangerous as Nash, if not more dangerous.

Trip had been returned to Enterprise two days after his admission to hospital, in the care of Phlox and Reed. He had still looked pale and weak when Archer said goodbye to him on the shuttle pad at Starfleet Medical. Archer and T'Pol had decided to stay on the surface to see if they could assist in tracking down Davis. They were both well aware that it was a futile task. A man who had become part nanite could disable security systems and evade capture almost indefinitely.

Trip found his days had become a dull routine of sickbay for treatment in the morning, followed by returning to his quarters for rest and then perhaps Reed coming to get him for lunch. After which he would then return to his quarters again and try to work, or more likely sleep, until either Reed, Hoshi or Travis would knock on his door to ask if he wanted to go to dinner.

Everyone was trying to keep him occupied, Hoshi had reinstated the evening Mah Jongg games, Reed would bring films for him to watch and Travis had found some old computer games for Trip to play. The problem was that most of the time he just didn't have the energy to do anything, but he still felt that he shouldn't be wasting his time lying around.

As usual Trip made his way down to sickbay that morning and Phlox plugged him into the drip. When he was finished Trip just felt ill. Weak, nauseous and achy. He'd been getting progressively sicker as the therapy had progressed and this time he almost didn't think that he could move. Trip heard Phlox call Malcolm to take Trip back to his quarters. This had become a regular occurrence which he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

A few days ago Trip had felt pretty bad after his therapy but had decided that he was okay to go back to his quarters, not wanting to spend a minute more in sickbay than he had to. On the way to B deck he'd begun to feel worse and he'd known that moving was the worst thing he could have done. He ended up collapsing in the corridor a few metres away from his quarters. Luckily his bodyguard had called Phlox and no damage had been done.

After that Phlox had insisted on a wheelchair to take Trip back to his quarters. Trip had protested half-heartedly, but he knew that he always felt awful after therapy and that the wheelchair was probably a good idea. However the wheelchair required someone to push it, since Trip wasn't up to the task himself. It had been Malcolm's idea that he be the one to take Trip back to his quarters rather than leaving it to the security officer on duty.

Trip heard the Armoury Officer arrive and greet the Doctor. The two of them talked quietly but Trip could still hear what they were saying, whilst he wrestled with his upset stomach.

"He's feeling worse today," said Phlox. "I've given him something for the nausea but it will take a little time to kick in. The therapy has, as usual, left him very tired, so if you could just take him back to his quarters and make sure that he gets some rest."

Trip shifted himself into a sitting position on the biobed. "Hey Malcolm," he said, in what he thought was a cheerful tone but there was a tiredness to his voice that Reed couldn't fail to notice. He was doing his best to keep up a good front but it was becoming harder each day and he was sure that Malcolm saw right through him.

"You ordered a taxi?" Reed said smiling.

Trip gave Reed a wan smile back and pushed himself off the biobed. His legs buckled under him and Reed only just made it to his side in time to stop him from hitting the floor.

"A bit unsteady on your feet today," said Reed, "have you been drinking again, Commander?" he added lightly.

"Very funny Malcolm," replied Trip as Reed guided him to the wheelchair. One of the things Trip was not allowed to do at the moment was drink alcohol.

"So what did the doctor say?" asked Reed as he pushed Trip down the hallway towards his quarters.

Trip knew that Reed was asking about the daily nanite count that would let them know that the therapy was working. At the start of his therapy Trip had clung to the count as a way of cheering himself up, almost becoming obsessed by the number. Every day Phlox took the nanite count before Trip started his therapy, and every day it went down a little, but there were billions of nanites in Trip's system and it was going to take a long time to purge them all. Phlox seemed pleased with the progress but these past few days the count usually just depressed Trip further. The impact they were making was so small.

"The usual stuff. We're making progress but we'll have to wait and see if it's enough. Probably feel worse before I feel better," said Trip in dismal tones.

Reed's heart sank, he had desperately hoped for Trip's sake that he would start to feel better soon and there would at least be some sign that the treatment was working. Trip had become very ill, very quickly and his rapid deterioration had surprised Reed, especially since it seemed to be continuing even now treatment had been underway for over four weeks. The incident with the nanites at the Space Traffic Control centre hadn't helped either, it had weakened Trip further and caused him a great deal of emotional pain. On top of all that, Trip never had put the weight back on that he'd lost after his time with the Xindi and now the anti-nanite medication meant that he'd lost his appetite again. Phlox was trying to keep him topped up with vitamins and making sure that he took in plenty of liquids, but it wasn't enough. Trip had taken on a frail appearance that Reed didn't like at all.

"You've got through the first month," said Reed, which he knew wasn't much comfort but was about the best he could come up with.

Over the past two weeks Reed had watched his friend descend into a deep depression. Trip tried to hide it, but it was becoming more obvious by the day. Reed knew that at least part of it was because Trip blamed himself for firing the weapon, even though he'd eventually wrestled through the nanites control to give them the override code. Reed recognised self-recrimination when he saw it, he'd done it enough to himself to know how unhealthy it could be. He had also discovered that Trip wasn't sleeping well, having caught a little of Trip's conversations with the doctor over the past few days. Reed had seen the results of that lack of sleep manifest itself in Trip's energy levels.

Trip didn't seem to want to talk about any of it. When he had still been in hospital at Starfleet Medical Archer, T'Pol and Reed had all attempted to make Trip understand that he wasn't to blame for what had happened. Trip brushed off their enquiries saying that he would be fine once he was back on Enterprise and out of the hospital. Given what he'd said when he'd first awoken, they were all worried, but unless Trip would talk to them there was nothing that they could do. Trip had hated the hospital, and had perked up a little when he'd been put on the shuttle to go back to the ship. However it wasn't long before Reed had noticed Trip becoming more and more withdrawn. His mood wasn't helped at all by his increasing dependence on others, which was pure torture for someone as independent as him.

"You know you didn't have to come and take me back to my quarters," said Trip, "Phlox has got plenty of assistants to do this sort of thing and I know you're needed in the Armoury."

"It's not a problem," said Reed. He felt very strongly that Trip should have friends around him at a time like this. He couldn't think of anything worse than being sick and alone.

"I just feel so damn helpless," said Trip, "and you shouldn't have to push me around in a wheelchair."

Reed stopped pushing the wheelchair and moved around in front so that he could crouch down and be on the same level as Trip. Trip's face was pale and he looked anxious. This was the closest that he had come to expressing any feelings about his situation so far.

"Trip, for a start you didn't ask for this to happen, you didn't want to be sick. And secondly, I'm your friend and you're the one who taught me just what friendship means. It means being there for someone when they need you and it means letting your friends provide help when you need it."

"Malcolm, just because you're my friend, doesn't mean you have to do all this for me. Every day this week you've come by to pick me up after therapy," said Trip. "If you're doing this as penance for what happened with Davis, then you can stop. I forgave you for that and you've got no debt to be paid."

"I'm not doing this because I feel guilty about what happened, I'm doing it because it's what friends do. It takes me, at most, twenty minutes to collect you, take you to your quarters, get you settled and make my way back to the Armoury. It's not exactly onerous. Besides the Captain practically ordered me to keep an eye on you while he's busy with the search," said Reed. He moved back to continue pushing Trip to his quarters.

"And that's another thing, it should be me trying to find Davis, not the Captain. I know more about these damned nanites than anyone else. I'm sure I could manage to go down to HQ," said Trip.

"Don't be ridiculous, you can hardly stand. Just forget about what's going on down on Earth and concentrate on getting better," said Reed.

"Yeah, I know, positive mental attitude," said Trip in a resigned tone.

"Exactly," said Reed.

"It would have been nice to get some proper shore leave though. I haven't been anywhere on Earth except Starfleet HQ and I guess I'd been looking forward to some holiday. Nothing I can do about that now, until I can get rid of the nanites I'm stuck here. Assuming that they let me stay on Enterprise once the repairs are done."

Reed had almost forgotten amongst everything else that had been going on that Trip's position on Enterprise was yet to be confirmed and that was another thing Trip was probably worrying over. The holiday thing was also a sore point with three quarters of the crew away on shore leave.

"I think half the crew will resign if they don't delay the launch," said Reed. He said it half jokingly, but he suspected that it might be the truth. His would be the first resignation on the table if it came to it. He didn't want to work for an organisation that wouldn't give someone like Trip the time they needed.

"I might never get better, Malcolm," said Trip, which they both knew was a very real possibility. Phlox had warned that the anti-nanite therapy's side effects could be long lasting and Trip might never recover his former health. The odds were in Trip's favour, he had mostly been healthy before the nanites started causing problems which gave him a good chance of complete recovery, but there were so many unknowns in the equation.

"Then you'll cross that bridge when you come to it," replied Reed. "It isn't worth worrying about until then. Forrest said that you'll always have a job at R and D no matter what."

"I suppose," said Trip, but he didn't sound convinced. Research and Development wasn't going to be much of a consolation prize for someone who had been Chief Engineer of Enterprise.

They reached Trip's quarters and Reed helped Trip move to his armchair, put a blanket over his lap and found him an engineering journal on a padd to read. "I'm sure Phlox wouldn't approve but I don't count reading journal articles as work."

"Thanks Malcolm, now go, get back to the Armoury," said Trip.

"Okay, but don't forget to rest as well," said Reed. "I'll pop by later to see if you want to get some food."

"I doubt I will but you can always try," said Trip with a sigh.

"Will do," replied Reed and left for the Armoury. He knew something had to be done to help Trip's mood but at the moment he wasn't sure what it was. The Captain was due to check in later, and Reed hoped that the two of them could come up with something.

Trip started to scroll through the padd but despite his best efforts he just couldn't concentrate on the warp theory paper. He was still finding that he was getting to used to the silence in his head. It was a strange experience now, not hearing the constant background chatter that he'd got used to. He was also finding that he missed the constant updates on the ship's condition and their internal calculator, that had come in very useful on several occasions.

He put the padd down and pushed himself out of the chair and over to the bed. He lay down, feeling more tired than he ever remembered feeling before. His limbs ached and his stomach was still rebelling against breakfast, despite Phlox's medication. He closed his eyes, not expecting to sleep but he was so tired he drifted off almost immediately.

He dreamed of fire and flames. He saw his sister engulfed in an inferno as the beam of the Xindi probe cut closer, but this wasn't his usual dreams of the Xindi attack, this was the one he'd been dreaming the last two weeks. In this dream he was the one who had ordered the probe to fire and it didn't stop with the death of his sister, it went on to destroy the Vulcan compound, and standing at the window of the Vulcan compound was T'Pol.

T'Pol died and it had been him who had killed her. He had pushed the button to signal her death. The nanites were in control of him and there was nothing he could do. Everyone was going to die and there was nothing that he could do. He awoke sweating and fearful, sleep once more his enemy. He desperately wished that T'Pol would get back soon, he needed her now, more than ever. Not least because he had an irrational urge to call her and check that she was still alive and not burned to a cinder as she had been in his dream.

Archer and T'Pol had been having almost no luck tracking down Davis. They had set up their base of operations at Starfleet Headquarters to assist the Security detail who were nominally in charge of the search. Occasionally there would be a report of something unusual that would send them scurrying after a lead but usually it amounted to nothing. Archer suspected that Davis was playing with him. They'd been trying to catch him for two weeks and so far they had nothing to show for it.

It was time for him to call home. He hailed Enterprise and waited to be put through to his ship. His hail was answered by Hoshi who patched him through to Lieutenant Reed.

"Good evening, Captain," said the clipped British tones of his Armoury Officer. "How goes the hunt?"

"Not so well. Both leads that T'Pol chased up turned out to be false alarms. Her detector only works when the nanites are in two mile radius and so far it hasn't picked up anything. How are things on Enterprise?"

"The repairs are complete and they're proceeding with the retrofit. They estimate another three weeks and we'll be ready to go," said Reed. Usually that would have been good news, a Starfleet ship sitting in dock wasn't exploring, helping anyone or making first contact. On this occasion it just meant less time for their Chief Engineer to get well.

"How's Trip doing?" asked Archer, already knowing part of the answer from the last time he'd spoken to Reed.

"Not so good. He isn't sleeping and his mood is getting worse. He seems weaker every day and last night he hardly touched his food. He's heard about the estimate for the completion of the retrofit and that's made him even more unhappy. He's trying to put a brave face on things but Phlox thinks he's clinically depressed and you know that he said it would help if Trip could keep up a positive attitude," said Reed.

"Maybe I can talk to Starfleet about rescinding the order to keep Trip on Enterprise. Perhaps if we got him off the ship he'd start to feel better about the whole thing," said Archer.

"It's worth a try. He mentioned how much he'd been looking forward to a holiday when we got back to Earth. At the moment he spends all his time either in sickbay or his quarters. He's usually too tired to go out and he doesn't feel much like eating. Perhaps a change of scenery is what he needs," said Reed.

"I'll see what I can do," said Archer. "Don't mention anything about this to Trip for the moment just in case I can't pull it off. The last thing I want is for him to be disappointed. I'm coming back to Enterprise in a couple of days and hopefully I'll have some good news then."

"Well we have to do something, sir. None of this is helping him with his therapy," said Reed.

"I know, Malcolm. I'll do my best. See you in couple of days. Archer out."

Two days passed very quickly for Archer. There were so many things that required his attention and he was very glad that T'Pol was staying on Earth a little longer to continue to pursue the leads that they had. She expected to join Archer later if nothing came of the search soon. They had wasted enough time with it and they both needed to concentrate on readying Enterprise for departure. Archer was also very conscious of the fact that Trip needed him more than ever now. His obsession with bringing Davis to justice would have to wait.

Archer suspected that Davis had gone to ground until the heat was off. If Archer had been in his position then that was what he would have done. He had no idea what kind of supplies Davis now required to keep his body functioning. He wondered if food was all Davis required or even if he needed it at all. He had witnessed Trip's nanites metabolise metal and plastic. That was one of the things that was making him so hard to track, they had no idea what the limits of his powers were.

Archer and T'Pol had spent some of the last couple of days talking to the required people about rescinding the order for Trip to stay on Enterprise. They'd even gone back to Starfleet JAG in the hopes that they could help him, but Captain Tate, whilst sympathetic, had been unable to find a way, so far at least. Archer was out of favours and out of friends, no one was willing to put themselves on the line for Commander Tucker. T'Pol's contacts at the Vulcan Embassy were even less willing to get involved. Luckily Archer still had one trick up his sleeve, which was why he now found himself running late.

Travis Mayweather stood waiting beside the shuttle on the pad when Archer was eventually ready to leave, later than he had planned.

"Sorry for the wait, Travis. The Admiral called just as I was about to leave and I didn't think I could ignore him," said Archer.

"That's okay, sir, it gave me a chance to catch up on my reading," said Travis, with a bright smile.

"Let's get back to Enterprise," replied Archer, with an answering smile. He was about to climb on board the shuttle when he heard a shout behind him. He turned around to see T'Pol running across the tarmac of the shuttle pad.

"T'Pol, what's the problem?" asked Archer.

"There is no problem," said T'Pol. "I simply wished to give you this for Commander Tucker. It is directions on how to perform a simple neuropressure exercise that will help him sleep."

"I thought neuropressure needed two people?"

"This uses pressure points that he should be able to reach himself," replied T'Pol. "If he combines it with the meditation exercises that I taught him then it should ensure a restful night."

"Thanks, T'Pol. Malcolm said he still isn't sleeping well," said Archer.

"We are all concerned for his health," said T'Pol. "Please give him my regards."

"Will do. I'll see you in a few days," said Archer as he climbed back aboard the shuttle and shut the hatch behind him. He gave T'Pol a quick wave which she acknowledged with a nod before running to the side of the pad so that Mayweather could take off. She watched the shuttlepod rise into the sky and then turn so that it could launch itself upwards.

The scanner at her belt suddenly began to beep at her. She removed it from it's carrying pouch and looked at the readings. What she saw shocked and surprised her. She ran back inside the Starfleet buildings as quickly as she could manage and hailed Enterprise.