C-28

Chapter 5

Warning: This chapter contains some violence, but I think the last one did too, so the warning may be unnecessary.

Thanks to all who still review, despite my delays in posting new chapters... ;)

See chapter 1 for disclaimer, etc.

Archer picked himself up from the floor, recovering quickly from the Xindi's hit, just in time to see his attacker disappear through the door.
"What in bloody hell just happened?" Reed asked, walking quickly toward the captain.
"Unless my eyes deceived me, that was Trip who just ran through here and the Xindi was more interested in him than in us. Have any idea why that may be?" The explanation was for Reed, the question for Solead.
"What are you implying, Captain?" Solead demanded angrily.
"I'm implying that you had something, if not everything to do with that Xindi being here, and it hardly seems like a coincidence that you kept demanding Trip's presence and when he shows up the Xindi goes chasing after him."
"That's ridiculous! I am offended!"
"We don't have time for this. Reed, secure Mr. Solead. We'll deal with him later. You two," Archer gestured to Jace and Avery. Search the building. Make sure the Xindi isn't hiding." He tossed his phase pistol to them, then turned to Malcolm, who had just finished tying up Solead. "Come on, we're heading outside.

When Trip came to, the first thin he noticed was the cold. Then, the silence. Where was he? He blinked a couple of times, but something wet kept getting in his eyes. Snow. The memories of stepping into nothingness rushed back, and he remembered flying down the hill. He wondered how long he'd been out, because surely if it had been very long the Xindi would have already found him.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Trip became aware of a faint light coming from above him, or actually, below him from the way he was positioned. Craning his head, he could make out an opening in the snow, where moonlight was shining through. He turned halfway over so he could get his face out of the snow and get more air, and he was just going to begin digging himself the rest of the way out when he heard the faintest of swishing noises.
The sound wasn't' that of crunching, for the snow wasn't packed hard enough, but it was definitely someone walking, and very nearby. Trip froze. If it was Archer, he'd probably yell something, to let it be known it was him. If it was the Xindi, then no sound would be made that wasn't necessary—as was the case currently
Without warning, the blade of a sword jabbed down into the hole, narrowly missing Trip's nose. Trip held his breath. If he made noise now, it was over. The sword was withdrawn, and for a moment Trip thought his anonymous Draden friend was back. Then he caught the slightest glimpse of the Xindi through the hole, however.
What happened then was a good-news-bad-news type incident. Good news being that the Xindi didn't bother to look or shine a light into the hole. The bad news was that he didn't leave either. He walked slowly along, not leaving Trip's general vicinity, and periodically stabbing the snow with his sword, which was presumably the stolen property of a Draden.
Man, was it cold. Whoever had said it was supposed to be warmer underneath a pile of snow was mistaken. Trip resisted the urge to shiver quite easily because most of his body already was beginning to feel numb. He had opted to be cold rather than allow the Draden's coat to slow his progress. It was the numbness that kept him from crying out when the Xindi again drove his sword into the snow. Trip felt a feeling of pressure and then warmth on the back of his calf, but didn't immediately equate it with the Xindi. Nerves were interesting mechanisms when in the process of going num: one didn't always feel in real time. So it was not until he began to feel pain in his leg that he connected the warm feeling with blood.
Trip clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as the cold's numbing effect lost its potency. He fought to stay still, while concentrating on his breathing. When the next thrust also connected, just above his knee, it took every shred of willpower he had to not let sound escape him, even as the Xindi raked the blade through his flesh, seemingly without effort.
Through a haze of pain, Trip realized that the Xindi must have though him to be dead. Either that, or he just couldn't see well enough in the dark to notice the blood on the sword, increasingly more each time he withdrew it from the snowdrift. Trip braced himself as a third jab connected, and wished he would pass out. He had nearly lost control on the last one, and it would be much simpler to resist crying out were he unconscious.
Trip waited, his heart pounding in his ears, for the agony to continue, but after what must have been several minutes with no further contact, he let out a ragged breath. The Xindi must have moved on, thinking he happened upon a dead animal, recently buried in the snow. Trip was taking no chances though. He counted off five minutes in his head before he risked moving. Even then, he only scooped away enough snow so he was able to get a good look around. It was completely dark now, but the crescent moon caused the trees to cast long, eerie shadows down across the clearing. This would make anyone hiding in them practically invisible, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Trip dug the rest of his upper body out of the drift and slowly sat up. His vision swam, but gradually cleared enough that he could move to push the rest of the snow away. In the darkness, he couldn't see his leg all that clearly, but he could see the large tear that went through nearly half of the upper region of his left pant leg. Trip didn't need light to tell him what condition the flesh beneath was in, and figured it was just as well that he couldn't see it.
Since he couldn't risk turning on his light to examine the situation further, Trip decided it was time he tried to get to the shed where he'd be relatively hidden from view so he could contact Archer safely. Using his good arm, he attempted to get to his feet, and nearly made it. His injured leg didn't hurt as much as he'd been expecting, considering, but nevertheless, it buckled beneath him.
It seemed walking anywhere was out of the question with nothing to brace himself on, so he got to his hands and knees—or, more accurately, his left hand and right knee—and just balanced there for a moment. Trip thought it might be possible to crawl in some way if his shoulder and bad leg would cooperate. He tested his shoulder first, placing his right hand down, and gradually leaning some weight onto it. It hurt, but it held. He took a deep breath, then drew his left leg even with the right, not able to prevent the gasp that escaped him when the rest of his weight transferred onto it. It also held. So far, so good.
Trip drug his good leg through the snow awkwardly, then his opposite arm, and once he was stable there, his two injured limbs. Another deep breath and he repeated the procedure. Even though each movement was uncomfortable and seemed to take forever, when Trip looked toward his destination he found he'd already covered about a third of the distance. Using some of the breathing exercises T'Pol had taught him to help manage the pain, Trip continued. At one point the powdery snow deepened and he felt like he was swimming, but he kept on. Time lost meaning as he plodded along, his mind beginning to feel just as numb as the rest of him, but he just kept moving forward for what seemed like days until he actually bumped his head on the side of the shed.
Up close, Trip noticed it was more of a lean-to constructed of wood and protecting several large cases of something or other. He crawled a couple more feet so he was underneath the overhang before he pulled out his communicator. He fumbled with numb fingers to get it open, and succeeded after a while. "Tucker to Archer," he said, his voice sounding much weaker to himself than he would have expected.
After a moment, the captain's voice drifted back to him through the device. "Archer here. Trip, are you all right?"
"Been better, Cap'n, but I'll keep for a while yet I think." I hope, he added silently to himself.
"What's your position?"
"I'm on th' opposite side of th' building from the main entrance, inside the little lean-to. Cap'n, there's a Xindi bounty hunter here lookin' for me in particular, but he'd settle for you an' Malcolm as a consolation prize, so be careful."
"We got information of a similar effect out of Solead, though much more vague. Malcolm and I should be to your position shortly. Stay where you're at, Trip."
"Gladly, Cap'n," said Trip tiredly.
"Archer out."
Trip shoved the communicator back in his pocket and dropped to the ground in exhaustion. He was about to give in to sleep when he noticed the lettering on one of the cases, illuminated by two dim lamps that hung from the overhang. They read: C-28. Inwardly groaning at the thought of getting up again, but his curiosity still getting the better of him, Trip pushed himself off the floor to have a look.
With the support of one of the lean-to's beams, Trip was able to stand unsteadily by the nearest of the stacks of cases. Luckily, the top layer of cases were within easy reach so he could continue leaning against the pole as he undid the latches and opened the lid. Trip grabbed the tricorder from his pocket, the excitement giving him a bit more energy. The trouble was, he doubted it would last for long. His heart began to pound as he saw the readings. It seemed he'd just come across the proverbial 'buried treasure'. Now he just had to make it safe for transport to Enterprise.
Having studied C-28 as much as he had during the past day, Trip noticed immediately the reason that the C-28 was out here unattended. The compound was highly sensitive to warm temperatures. It was also sensitive to any sort of vibration, so were someone to try to steal it just as it was in these cases, they would have a big problem. Thus, there was no need for guards unless a thief knew exactly what C-28 was and how to treat it.
Inside each case was a solid brick of C-28, not well protected or secured. In the other half of the case was a special storage container, very much like the one Solead had placed their sample in earlier. Once placed inside the container, the C-28 was rendered inert by a gas that the container released when it was sealed. The container could then be transported safely. There was just one small problem: in its current state, C-28 was even highly sensitive to the warmth of a person's hands. It hadn't mattered with Solead. Apparently the Draden naturally had very low body temperatures, leaving them almost always with icy hands. Then Trip realized his hands were numb from the cold. It still wouldn't do for him to jar the C-28 by not being able to feel it, though. He didn't have any gloves either. If he waited for Archer though, it was possible they would have to leave quickly if the Xindi was still in the area. Having no idea if that was the case, Trip mad a decision and started rubbing his hands together quickly, forcing warmth back into them. It took a while, but eventually his hands were tingling and had enough sensation that he felt he could safely transfer the C-28. Just in case he'd warmed them too much however, Trip stuck his hands back in the snow momentarily to slightly reverse his work. Wiping them dry, he quickly placed the first brick of C- 28 inside its container. He closed the case, set it aside, and opened the next one in the pile.
After a few repetitions, the process of transfer became routine, and Trip found his mind beginning to go fuzzy again. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to keep the impending drowsiness away and focused harder on what he was doing, surprised to see he was already halfway finished packing the C-28.
Despite his best efforts, the exhaustion continued to gnaw at Trip's body. He was tired and in pain, both from his leg and his shoulder, but he wasn't willing to give in to sleep until the task at hand was completed. Unfortunately, he couldn't risk moving all of the cases to the ground so he could sit down while working. Instead, Trip kept working on the upper part of the pile until he had the stacks down to the height of his knees.
Maneuvering down to the ground, the engineer stopped to rest for a moment. Trip was alarmed at the rush of fatigue and lightheadedness that resulted within seconds of ceasing his activity. He looked down at his left thigh and in the dim lighting was just able to make out the dark splotch that now covered most of his pant leg. Carefully taking hold of the lower portion of the fabric, Trip managed to tear away the material below his knee, as it was already shredded from the Xindi's sword, but not yet saturated. Steeling himself against the pain, Trip wrapped one of the strips around his leg above the gash, one below it, and the last over the wound, tying each as tightly as he could manage. Satisfied that maybe any further bleeding would be slowed, Trip was about to return to his work on the C-28 when he heard shouting in the distance. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't be certain because the words were muffled. One thing was for certain, though. Whoever was making the noise was getting closer.
Suddenly a bright green beam of weapons fire lit up the night from somewhere beyond the lean-to. Trip recognized the glowing orange beam of a phase pistol returning fire. That could only mean that the Xindi was back and firing at the away team. Trip redoubled his efforts with the C-28 while keeping half his attention on the battle outside, in case it came too close for comfort. There were only five cases remaining, but there wasn't a whole lot of time.
He'd just snapped the third case closed when he heard footsteps approaching quickly from outside. He fumbled for his phase pistol, doubting if it would do him any good if it was the Xindi. His hand closed around the grip and he began to draw as two shapes appeared out of the darkness behind two beams of light.
"Trip, hold your fire! It's us," Archer called.
Trip slumped back against the pole for a moment, shoving the phase pistol back in his pocket. "I'm sure glad to see you, Cap'n. I've had about all I can take of that Xindi today." Trip turned back to the last two cases of C-28 as Archer and Reed entered into the lean-to.
"That Xindi won't feel like bothering anybody for a while, not after that hit he took from Malcolm's phase pistol...my God, Trip. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" Archer's eyes went wide with concern as the beam from his light fell on Trip's leg.
"I figured you had your hands full with that Xindi and there was nothing you could do until you got here anyway," Trip shrugged, snapping the fourth case closed. He reached for the last one, but Archer stopped him.
"Leave it, Trip." Archer grabbed Trip's seemingly forgotten medkit from the ground and began scanning his friend with the tricorder it contained. The readings were alarming to say the least. Archer was surprised that Trip was still conscious, but knew he wouldn't be for much longer if they didn't do something about the continuing blood loss and hypothermia that was setting in. "Cap'n, It'll just take a minute. It's the last one."
"I said leave it, that's an order." Taking a pair of scissors from the kit, Archer carefully cut away the lower portion of Trip's pant leg and dressed the wounds. Then he tightened the makeshift tourniquet that Trip had attempted to make around the upper part of his leg. "Here, put this on." Archer removed his jacket and draped it over Trip's shoulders.
Trip was about to protest when he suddenly realized that he was, in fact, cold. Downright freezing would have been more accurate when he thought about it. "Thanks, Cap'n," Trip said quietly, closing his eyes.
"Sir, we haven't been able to locate the Xindi anywhere on the premises," Ensign Avery reported, entering the lean-to followed by Ensign Jace.
"That's because he's outside in the snow. He's alive, but he'll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up," Archer informed them.
"And he will wake up," Reed said. "Which is why I suggest we leave as soon as possible."
"Ensign Avery?" Trip forced his eyes open.
"Sir?" Avery wasn't able to completely hide his look of alarm at seeing Trip's leg either.
Trip put his attention elsewhere, though. "Pack up that last case of C-28, would ya? The rest of 'em are ready to go."
"Yes sir." Avery turned to do as he'd been instructed.
"You just can't be satisfied without the last one, can you?"
"Guess not." Trip gave a half-hearted smile and tried to burrow deeper into Archer's coat. The captain just shook his head.
"Mr. Reed, help Avery and Jace move the C-28. Hopefully we'll be able to take it all the first time," Archer said.
"Aye Captain."
"Trip, what are you doing?" Archer quickly grabbed onto Trip's arm as the engineer attempted to stand by using the support beam for leverage. His attempts were failing quite miserably too.
"Gettin' ready to go."
"Do you really think that leg is going to hold you all the way back to the shuttle?"
"That's the plan, unless you'd like me to hop on my head all the way back, but according to Phlox, my head ain't in the greatest shape either." Trip took a step away from the pole, supported by Archer's arm around his waist. Then he took another, and though his knees wobbled, he managed to keep upright. He raised an eyebrow and looked at the captain with just a hint of a smile.
Archer shook his head in disbelief. "All right, let's go then."

TBC...