Smiling was an effort.
Having done what he could to ease Commander T'Pol's pain and make her comfortable while she slept, Doctor Phlox took a long moment to study the biobed's readouts as he tried to force his face to a more neutral expression. He was confident that she would recover quickly and, knowing her, would be on her feet as soon as the sedatives wore off regardless of his recommendation otherwise. Her neural activity was what troubled him, though; it reminded him far too much of her readings immediately following Tolaris' attack on her so many years ago.
"A Vulcan did this?" he asked as he turned to face Lieutenant Commander Eisler. The tactical officer gave him a short, abbreviated nod as he reached into the cargo pocket of his pants. Phlox felt his eyebrows climb in surprise as he realized what the human had pulled out: fingers.
"Dare I ask how you acquired these?" he wondered aloud and Eisler shrugged, wincing slightly at the motion.
"Laser," the human replied. "I thought you could use them to identify that hurensohn." Although he did not know the word, the doctor recognized a slur when he heard it. Taking the offered digits, he gave them a rudimentary examination as he took a step toward the med-scanner.
"With the Ti'Mur's assistance," Phlox said, "I can indeed." Placing the severed fingers in the scanning tray, he activated it and gave the lieutenant commander an appraising look, noting the slight hunch the human had affected.
"How long will it take?" Eisler asked, frowning at the scanner, and Phlox gave him a small smile.
"Not long, Commander." The Denobulan gestured to an empty biobed as he continued. "Remove your shirt so I can assess your injuries." For a moment, the human hesitated, shooting a brief glance at Commander T'Pol's unconscious form before finally relenting. He began to slowly remove his jacket and Phlox returned his attention to the med-scanner. The doctor was pleased to discover that the computer had already mapped out the mystery Vulcan's DNA sequence and, with an ease borne of long practice, Phlox keyed in an information request to the Ti'Mur, asking to cross-reference the genetic markers with the Vulcan database. The request sent, he turned back to his patient.
As he picked up his hand-portable scanner, Phlox could not help but wince at the angry splotches of purple and brown that covered Eisler's abdomen. The flexible body armor the tactical officer had worn clearly worked as intended; but the kinetic impact of the disruptor shot had still done considerable damage, leaving behind bruising so extensive that the human should have been weeping with agony. Instead, he only hissed in pain and flinched at Phlox's touch.
Eisler's torso was a veritable maze of scar tissue and Phlox paused for a moment in muted acknowledgment of the human's difficult life. Several of the scars he recognized: most were pulse weapon injuries or disruptor burns, but at least three came from archaic slugthrowers and several more from blades. He blinked in sudden surprise at a particularly gruesome ridge that climbed up much of Eisler's right arm in a familiar wound pattern: it had come from a Klingon bat'leth. Lieutenant Commander Eisler, it seemed, had led an ... interesting life.
The hiss of the sickbay doors opening was his first hint that Captain Tucker had finally arrived with Ambassador Soval and Commodore Archer; Master Chief Petty Officer Mackenzie had commed the captain the moment the two commanders were transferred to Sickbayand it appeared to have taken longer than expected to recess the ongoing negotiations.
Releasing a breath that he had been holding, the Denobulan finally let himself relax: though very badly bruised, the tactical officer was not suffering from any internal bleeding or fractured bones. Phlox reached for a hypo as Commodore Archer spoke.
"What the hell happened, Commander?" Archer asked, his tone harsh but controlled. Out of the corner of his eye, Phlox noted that Captain Tucker had made a beeline to T'Pol's bed and now stood there like a statue, staring at his mate without a trace of emotion on his face.
"We were ambushed, sir," Eisler replied as Phlox injected a painkiller into his neck. Giving the doctor a grateful nod, he continued, his voice a little stronger now. "Two lizard aliens and a Vulcan." Ambassador Soval tensed at that. "Both lizards are dead," Eisler continued, "and the Vulcan was injured but escaped."
"Injured how?" the commodore asked.
"I shot him with a type II hand-laser, sir," Eisler responded as he began to pull his tactical vest back on. Phlox frowned at him in the most disapproving manner he could but the lieutenant commander ignored him as he continued to speak. "Took off three fingers and clipped his shoulder."
"I have already sent the Vulcan's DNA sequence to the Ti'Mur for identification," Phlox interjected, still eyeing Eisler.
"According to one of the lizards," the tactical officer continued, "there are between five and eight suicide bombers on the station." Archer frowned as Tucker slowly turned toward the four.
"It just volunteered this information?" Archer asked suspiciously. Eisler gave him a flat look.
"There was some coercion involved, sir," the tactical officer replied.
"And this reptilian," Soval asked abruptly, his eyes narrowed, "how did it die?"
"It miscalculated, sir, and saw an opportunity that was not there," Eisler said coolly. Both Archer and Soval frowned at that and the tactical officer bristled ever so slightly. "I was doing my job, Commodore."
"Your job," Captain Tucker suddenly growled, his expression dark as he stalked forward, "was to protect T'Pol." Endeavour's commanding officer was flushed with anger, balling his fists so tight that Phlox could see the knuckles go white.
"With all due respect, sir," Eisler responded, his expression blanker than even Soval's, "I am a soldier, not a bodyguard." His words seemed to intensify Tucker's anger and the captain's face darkened with a fury that Phlox had never seen before.
"Commander T'Pol's injuries do not appear to be life-threatening," the doctor said quickly into the moment of silence, hoping to defuse the situation. For a moment, it appeared that his words would have an effect as Captain Tucker gave the still form of his mate another look. Silence reigned for a long heartbeat.
The beep of the med-comp echoed loudly in the quiet sickbay, drawing everyone's attention as it announced the results of his information request from the Ti'Mur. An image appeared on the viewscreen, displaying the face of T'Pol's attacker, and Phlox felt his blood run cold.
"Tolaris," Commodore Archer whispered, his tone anguished as he paled visibly. At his side, Tucker quivered with anger, his eyes narrowed and his face hot with emotion. Soval did not appear to recognize the Vulcan, but their reaction to the image was unmistakable.
"I want Reynolds up here now," Captain Tucker snapped and Eisler went rigid. Even Phlox recognized the captain's insinuation that his senior tactical officer wasn't good enough.
"With respect, sir," Eisler said through clenched teeth, for a moment not appearing to be completely in control of himself. His guttural accent, usually so faint, was thick in his voice. "I am the senior tactical officer. You want this piece of scheissbrought in, then let me do my damned job!"
"Why?" the captain asked with a snarl. "You haven't exactly inspired me with confidence so far!" Eisler tensed, taking a half step forward as if he meant to confront his superior officer, even as Commodore Archer looked at his old friend askance, eyes wide with shock that Tucker would lay into the lieutenant commander with such abandon. Ambassador Soval's eyes quickly darted between T'Pol and Tucker before widening slightly as something occurred to him. It took Phlox a heartbeat longer: the mating bond was fueling Tucker's wrath.
"Ambassador," Phlox said quickly before either man could say or do anything that one or both would regret. "I would appreciate any suggestions you might have in accelerating Commander T'Pol's recovery." The Denobulan gave Soval a wide-eyed stare, hoping that the Vulcan would recognize his intent.
He did.
"Having one's mate present is often the most effective means of treatment for injured Vulcans," Soval replied smoothly. His voice was like a soothing wave of reason, prompting an immediate response that could not be missed by anyone in the medical facility.
Captain Tucker flinched.
"Commander," he said softly, the overwhelming rage appearing to evaporate in the blink of an eye. His eyes flicked to T'Pol's biobed. "I apologize for losin' my temper." Tucker clenched his hands into tight fists once more as he returned his gaze to his tactical officer. "Bring him in."
"I have full command authority?" Eisler questioned, his face once more cold and unemotional. There was something new in his eyes, however: an eagerness or lack of human compassion that abruptly reminded Phlox of a predator. It was chilling.
"You do." Tucker frowned. "Take whoever you need. Do whatever you have to." From where he stood, Commodore Archer tensed, opening his mouth to interrupt but closing it just as quickly. He cast a forlorn look at Commander T'Pol and Phlox could see guilt in his expression.
"I want him alive, Eisler." Tucker speared his tactical officer with a fiery gaze. "Alive."
"Yes sir," the tactical officer said in response as he grabbed the remainder of his gear and headed toward the sickbay door. Phlox frowned at the lieutenant commander; he was in no shape to be heading out again so soon.
"Captain," the doctor said quickly, "Commander Eisler is injured." Both the captain and the tactical officer gave him a look and Phlox pressed on, hoping they would see the light of reason. "He should be resting, not leading an assault force."
"I'm fine, Doctor," Eisler insisted as he disappeared through the sickbay doors. Tucker turned his eyes back to T'Pol, barely acknowledging the tactical officer's departure, and Phlox sighed resignedly; no one ever listened to him anyway.
"How is she, Doc?" the captain asked softly as he approached T'Pol's biobed. All traces of the fury were gone as his eyes drank in her still form. For the briefest of moments, he appeared to be on the verge of emotional collapse, but Tucker blinked the moment away.
"She is currently sedated." Phlox offered the captain a smile that he did not feel. "Commander T'Pol was shot twice by a disruptor; one of the blasts did damage to her biceps femoris muscle ..." At the look of incomprehension on the faces of the humans, the doctor quickly amended his explanation. "... ah, the left hamstring but I have already created a muscle graft and cleaned up the damaged tissue. The second shot was considerably worse." He paused, his smile fading quickly. It was fortunate that the weapon had been set to narrow beam as a normal disruptor shot dispersal would have likely been fatal. "The beam punctured the pectoral muscle and the right lung but fortunately missed the major blood vessels and did not penetrate through the chest. I've already reinflated her lung and begun the muscle regeneration process; she should be up and around in forty-eight hours or so." Mobility would be hampered and there would be considerable pain, but Phlox suspected that T'Pol would not let that slow her down; he could already imagine her displeasure at the additional physical therapy that would be required for full recovery. "Three bones in her left hand were fractured and …" He paused, not looking forward to his next words. "And I have detected neural activity comparable to an aborted mind meld."
The reactions from the three could not have been any more different: Commodore Archer hung his head in shame, no doubt blaming himself for not dealing with Tolaris more harshly the first time, while Captain Tucker winced with empathic pain, reaching out with his hand to caress his mate's cheek. Ambassador Soval ...
Ambassador Soval got angry.
Phlox had never seen Soval lose control, had never thought it was even possible despite having seen T'Pol in fits of artificially induced rage, but the Vulcan now turned hot eyes to the image of Tolaris on the viewscreen. Visibly, the ambassador fought for control as he glared at the features of the younger Vulcan, his own expression darkening to something ... bleak. Eisler had looked dangerous when he stalked out of the medical bay but Soval ... Soval looked positively primal. For just a moment, he appeared ready to storm from the medical facility himself, to join the commander in the hunt for the rogue Vulcan, to tear the offender limb from limb.
The moment passed.
"Oh, darlin'," Tucker whispered softly, his anguished words not meant for anyone but his mate, as he stroked her face with two fingers - the index and middle fingers of his right hand - and the gesture seemed to affect Commodore Archer like a physical blow. Phlox could not recall ever seeing him so disconsolate, so broken.
"You said aborted mind meld," Soval pointed out, his control once more in place. "Are you sure the apostate did not touch her katra?"
"No," Phlox replied sadly. "I'm not." Archer seemed to wilt even further and Phlox gave him another appraising look. He really didn't look very good at all.
"Soval." Tucker's voice was calm and collected, completely at odds with the tortured expression on his face. "Can you ... find out? Find out how we can help her?"
"If that is your wish," Soval replied softly, his eyes gentle. The captain gave a small nod and moved slightly to one side. Without a word, the Vulcan took his place. "A complete meld is ill advised," he informed Tucker. "I will merely ... Touch her to ascertain her condition." He paused for a moment. "She should recognize me and I will convey your concern." Again, Tucker nodded and Soval reached out, touching the unconscious Vulcan's face with his long fingers. He murmured something in his native tongue, allowed his eyes to slide shut, and, for a long moment, was silent.
"Her katra is unharmed," Soval announced as he opened his eyes and pulled his fingers away from her. Phlox felt relief wash over him, relief he saw reflected in Commodore Archer's face. The ambassador continued. "The attacker was injured before he could complete the forced meld upon her." The ambassador frowned for a moment. "Her mind was stressed by the wound he received. He transferred his pain to her." Incredibly, Soval reached out, dropping his hand on Tucker's shoulder. "Your mate will fully recover, Captain." Tucker slumped in sudden relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. "You should meditate," Soval suggested abruptly as he pulled his hand back. "I will join you." The captain gave him an incredulous look.
"Meditate?" Tucker asked, anger tightening his features. "All I wanna do is rip that bastard's arm off and beat him to death with it." The captain began to stroke T'Pol's arm and Phlox suspected it was an entirely unconscious action. "What do you do when you're that pissed?"
"I meditate," the ambassador replied calmly, and the two locked gazes.
"It's a good idea, Trip," Commodore Archer said softly, his voice tight with barely restrained anger and sadness and pain. "There's nothing for us to do but wait," he continued. "And we could all use a little rest."
"Indeed," Phlox agreed, smiling slightly. "Commander T'Pol will not regain consciousness for several hours." He pinned Archer with a firm look. "And I want you on that," the doctor said, pointing to an empty biobed.
His mouth creased in a frown, the commodore opened his mouth to respond, no doubt to argue that he was fine, but Phlox crossed his arms and gave Archer his most unyielding gaze. It was an expression the doctor had perfected with his children, one that brooked no dissent, and worked equally well on recalcitrant patients. As Ambassador Soval and Captain Tucker settled into chairs alongside T'Pol's bedside, obviously preparing for mediation, the commodore sighed and relented. Phlox smiled tightly as Archer leaned back onto the bed, and once more silence filled the sickbay, broken only by the muted beeps of med-consoles. As the doctor had hoped, the silence worked its magic on the still recovering commodore.
He was asleep in minutes.