The MACOs show of force, as well as a fierce and wild-eyed looking captain, engineer and armory officer, helped encourage the Salans to stay still. Without waiting to ensure no one was going to fire, Archer dug gingerly into his pocket – hoping not to disturb the woman that lay in his arms.
"Trip, you're in command. You have an hour to organize the teams to get back to Enterprise. After you reach the ship, set a course for Tellar."
"Yes, sir."
"Archer to Enterprise. Two for emergency transport. Tell Phlox to meet us at the transporter. T'Pol's --"
"Yes, sir," Hoshi said.
Keeping his gaze firmly ahead, the two were beamed onto Enterprise. Phlox met them with a gurney and some assistants in tow.
Lamely Archer spoke up. "T'Pol's been hurt."
Phlox scrambled up to them and waved a medical scanner over her.
"Set her down, Captain."
Like setting down a baby for a nap, he carefully scooped her neck and laid neatly on the bed. Phlox quickly strapped her in and his team ran the bed to Sickbay, with the captain right behind them. As they sprinted through corridors, Archer noticed a few expressions from his fellow crewmen. Relief: they'd finally found her. Horror: the woman was covered with bruises and burn marks, green blood covered her (and him now) and there were tatters that used to be her long, slender ears.
He barely registered the gasps; his main concern was to get this woman to Sickbay and well on the road to recovery.
She'll be all right.
The Sickbay doors shot open and the team, with Archer's help, hoisted her on the bio-bed. Immediately, Phlox began reeling off the litany of injuries that she'd incurred to his assistant.
"She's broken three ribs, her wrists, ankles, elbows and knees are shattered. She's punctured a lung. Her abdomen is …."
He drowned out the information that reeled on for at least a few minutes. Reaching down his fingers, he stroked her forehead lightly.
"You'll be all right," Archer said. The patient was unconscious, but for some reason the captain felt the need to say those words.
The screen whined and complained behind T'Pol. The doctor made a few demands, barking out his orders without the usual ease and sweetness and suddenly the captain found himself pacing behind them as they worked.
"She's been poisoned."
Archer hung on the balls of his feet wondering how much worse it could get. "What the hell haven't they done to her?"
Phlox, focused on the task at-hand, didn't bother to answer. Instead, he shot a hypospray into her neck, which caused some of the dials above her head to droop dramatically.
"Chlorine," the doctor said. Grabbing another vial, he reloaded the hypo and forced it into her neck again.
Her body convulsed as if to object, and the captain felt relieved that it showed some form of life … as if she were going to put up a fight before death took her.
As soon as she's stabilized enough to address the captain, Phlox turned around and updated him on the patient's condition.
"Her condition is tenuous at best," Phlox said. The doctor's frown grew until it enveloped his entire mouth. "I think –"
For the first time since he'd picked T'Pol up in his arms, he realized something that made his stomach hurt: she could die. By the grimace on the doctor's face, in fact, it seemed to be inevitable.
During his time on Salanacon, he'd bargained with himself that as soon as he found her, she would fine. He'd take her back to the ship, Phlox would miraculously cure her and she'd eventually recover to take her place back at the science station where she could monitor the universe's wonders again.
"No," Archer disagreed.
"Captain –"
Staring down at her and then at the board behind her, he shook his head. Her heart still beat and her chest rose and fell; it seemed unlikely she was going to die. And yet, Phlox – who'd never lied and was considered the best physician probably in Starfleet – said she might … and so he had to consider the possibility.
No.
As captain, he was everyone's father – he looked after the crew, rewarded them, disciplined them, asked them to perform chores and bargained to keep them safe from harm. He likened T'Pol's role, sometimes, to something along the lines of his spouse – the crew's mother. After all, she took on the very same duties that he did, with the addition of providing him guidance – a sounding board – and disagreeing with him when she thought he was wrong. And occasionally, he let down his guard in front of her, divulging information that no one on Enterprise ever knew about him or would ever know (maybe not even Trip), and at times she would reciprocate.
"She's going to be all right," he said.
Trip coughed; he'd entered the room at some point, which meant an hour must've already come and gone.
"What's the prognosis?" he asked.
Phlox's piercing blue eyes leveled on Trip and he shook his head.
Slumping his shoulders, Trip nodded. After moments of silence, he eventually mentioned, without his typical zeal, the status of Enterprise … as if the information not only wasn't important, but wasn't interesting.
"We're en route to Tellar. Should be there in about six hours at maximum warp. Dr. Phlox should probably start preparing for the --"
Without warning, the captain's feet suddenly marched forward to the nearest terminal. Punching a few buttons, his voice commanded the communications officer.
"Get me the admiral."
"Yes, sir," she said.
When Forrest's visage appeared on screen, the captain began right away. It wasn't how they typically spoke to each other – without smiling, small talk and first names.
"Admiral, we found my first officer."
"I'm glad to hear it. I'll pass that information onto the Vulcans."
Archer continued. "She's badly injured." Looking behind him at Phlox, he stared back at the screen. "Very badly injured."
Forrest's eyes closed at the news. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Archer shook his head; that wasn't what he wanted to discuss. "Sir, I'd like to request Dr. Phlox stay aboard Enterprise instead of helping with the –"
"Captain—"
"Admiral, from earlier reports you already have some of the brightest doctors and scientists helping the Tellarites. I'm sure they won't miss one doctor who –"
"Captain—"
"Who is needed … whose presence is vital … aboard my ship. T'Pol's life is in danger, sir. I'm willing to help out in any other way, but Dr. Phlox is needed aboard Enterprise. I need him here. If Starfleet has a problem with that --"
Forrest squinted back and finally raised his voice, interrupting Archer. "Captain, I was about to tell you that we just got a report five minutes before you contacted me. The epidemic seems to be under control. It's no longer spreading, and they've begun inoculating those who aren't sick. All they need is people to administer the vaccines."
Archer swallowed.
"We'd still like you to rendezvous at Tellar, but … we don't need your physician. I'll send you further instructions when you reach the planet."
"I'm sorry. It's –"
"I know."
He sighed. "Thank you, sir."
Forrest frowned. "I understand you care about your people, Jon, but part of being a captain is caring about many lives instead of just the ones under your command."
Archer would normally agree – vehemently so; he didn't today. "Yes, sir."
Forrest punched the button in front of him and Archer's head hung against his chest. Padding up behind him, he heard the engineer.
"I'll let you know when we reach Tellar," Trip said. His misty eyes danced over the woman that at one point he'd been intimate with. "Lemme know how she's doing."
The captain nodded slowly and shut his eyes as he heard the Sickbay doors open and close. Feeling the expanding and contracting of his lungs and attempting to control them so they happened less often, he eventually turned around. Phlox was quietly working over the Vulcan.
When Archer managed to turn around and fall back at T'Pol's side, the doctor finally looked up and stood next to him.
"I think –"
Two glassy eyes, hoping water wouldn't spill over, waited on every word the Denobulan said. And to show comfort and understanding, the doctor's own eyes a little teary, he put a hand on his shoulder.
"Jon, perhaps it's for the best if …"
Archer wet his lips, wanting to reply, but couldn't clear his throat to say the words.
Phlox brows connected and he looked down, eventually letting his hand fall away. "Her stomach lining was eaten away, her esophagus burned – she may need feeding tubes the rest of her life. Her bones have been crushed, possibly beyond ever using them again. And the list goes on. I've never seen a patient with this much trauma live. I'm not sure I'd want to."
Hoarsely, he managed to whisper out a few words. "We're talking about T'Pol. She'll make it."
"Her emotional condition may not help. Having been tortured, raped and …."
Unable to breath from the lump in his throat, he choked for breath. Tears trickled down his face and his fingers brushed a lock of her hair away from a bruise on her forehead.
She made it back on Enterprise just to die.
As his hand joined his side, away from T'Pol, Reed entered and his face fell immediately.
"I wanted to see how she was," he said.
Without a beat, obviously gauging the solemnity of the room, Reed offered a comment with a hoarse voice himself.
"Someone should contact her parents."
Archer nodded.
TBC