It was moments like this that Jonathan Archer hated the most.
The hum of the air recyclers was a comforting sound, a reminder that he was still in space where he belonged, but the absence of the subtle vibration from a functional warp engine bothered Jon more than he wanted to admit. It was surprising – and a little depressing, actually – how much he missed the sounds of a ship.
From where he lay, Dumas yawned widely and Jon gave the puppy a sad look. The young beagle had been a gift from Erika during his recovery, and looked so much like Porthos that Archer occasionally almost forgot that the dog wasn't Porthos. At times, he found himself missing his old pet more than some of the crewmembers also lost at Elysium.
He hated himself in those moments.
"Commodore?" The voice of PO2 Tyner sounded abruptly from the comm panel on his desk and Jon hit the receive button without even looking up from the data he was studying.
"Yes?"
"Captain Tucker to see you, sir," the petty officer announced and Archer smiled, glad to hear some good news for a change. Anything Trip had to say was better than sitting here and reading the latest list of casualties, or another diplomatically-worded report concerning a battle lost.
"Send him up, Tyner," he ordered before rising from his desk and glancing toward the stairwell. Trip's head soon appeared and Jon's smile started to fade at the sight of the sheer exhaustion that seemed to weigh on Tucker's shoulders. A haunted look lurked in the younger man's eyes, one that Archer saw every single day when he himself looked into the mirror.
"Commodore," Trip said in greeting, glancing around the office with something close to wonder. "Helluva view," he commented with approval.
Originally intended to be an observation deck, Archer's office was at the very "top" of the Starbase. Ten meters wide, the deck was a circular room with transparisteel viewports that wrapped around it, providing a 360 degree view of space beyond and an even more incredible view of the Starbase itself. The only entrance was the small stairwell in the floor and, aside from the desk and three chairs that sat in the middle of the office, there were no furnishings or facilities.
Which was exactly how Jon wanted it.
"That it is," he replied to Trip's comment. He watched quietly as Tucker limped straight from the stairs to the wraparound viewport; Trip ran his fingers across the port, pausing to tap in several places, and Jon hid a smile when he realized that his old friend was looking at the whole thing from an engineer's perspective instead of admiring the starfield with the awe it deserved. You can take the man out of Engineering, Archer smirked inwardly as he watched Tucker.
"God, that is an ugly ship," Trip said suddenly as one of the two Daedalus-class ships attached to the Starbase lumbered into view, flanked by a pair of YV-class ships. Fresh out of the shipyards, the Daedalus was slower, less maneuverable, and, in general, all around inferior to an NX-class; but, since they could crank out five Daedalus-class ships to a single NX-class, Starfleet had diverted all resources to their construction. A little larger than the NX, the new ships required only half the crew complement thanks to extensive automation. The extra space allowed the Daedalus to pack heavier armor and larger shield generators. They may not be able to pack as big a punch as an NX-class, but the ugly-as-sin ships were tough.
"Get used to seeing them, Trip," Jon said as he came to stand alongside his old friend. "Starfleet is diverting all resources to cranking them out."
"All resources?" Tucker asked, lips pursed in thought.
"Keeping our NX-classes operational takes priority," Archer quickly stated, recognizing a captain's concern for his ship when he heard it, "but Endeavour is probably the last new one we'll see for a while."
"What about Enterprise?" Trip questioned and Jon couldn't hide the momentary stab of anger that flooded through him.
"Starfleet Command has decided," he all but growled, "that repairing her is not a feasible course of action at this time." Clenching his fists tightly behind him, Archer tried to bring the frustration back under control; that was a battle he'd lost long ago. "Unofficially," he continued, "she's apparently a better recruiting tool as a floating wreck over Earth." He snorted in dark amusement before stating, "Admiral Gardner told me that recruiting drives are particularly effective after they broadcast that damned docudrama about Elysium that's making the rounds on the vids right now."
"I'm sorry, Jon," Tucker said, dropping his hand onto Archer's shoulder for a brief moment. "Doesn't seem right, leavin' her like that." He shook his head before sighing heavily. "Guess that leaves you without a job after all," Trip smirked and Jon returned the smile.
"Officially, I'm still listed as the commanding officer of the NX-01," Archer revealed with a laugh that was equal parts amusement and bitterness. "Starfleet Personnel can't seem to get that straightened out. Knowing how slow they work, it'll be another four or five years before..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing what Trip was doing.
It was something of a skill that Tucker had almost perfected: Completely diverting attention away from any pain he was suffering by focusing on 'being there' for his friends, or hiding it behind a smile and a joke. Jon had seen it before, far too many times; but, just like the other times, he'd very nearly been distracted and drawn into an entirely different conversation than he had intended.
"How are you doing, Trip?" he asked, his eyes locked on the face of his oldest and best friend.
"Leg hurts, but other than that I'm doin' fine, sir," Tucker replied evenly, his eyes never leaving the starfield; but his body language betrayed his tension. For some reason, it reminded Jon of when his friend had requested a transfer to Columbia. It was clear he was hurting inside and refused to let anyone else in to help.
"Trip." His tone told Tucker everything, and Endeavour's captain visibly deflated.
"How do you think I am?" he asked grimly. "I just lost my chief engineer, my damage control officer, and my entire alpha shift engineering staff." Emotion was thick in his voice but, to Jon's surprise, Trip's expression never changed and he spoke in a calm, measured tone. "Three hundred and seven Boomer ships followed me from the station." He closed his eyes, as if to block something from sight. "One hundred and twenty-two survived. One hundred and twenty-two." His eyes popped open and he speared Archer with a hot look. "A hundred and eighty-five didn't make it. God only knows how many died..."
"You did your best," Jon said softly.
"And it wasn't good enough!" Trip snapped. He took a steadying breath and, just like that, the simmering fury seemed to vanish; it was absolutely amazing, Archer thought with a sliver of awe, just how much Trip had changed since Enterprise first launched. As if he had reached a decision, Tucker turned to face Jon, pulling out a PADD from the right cargo pocket of his duty uniform pants. "Sir, I'd like to tender my resignation effective immediately," he said calmly, offering the PADD without a trace of emotion on his face.
"What?"
"Sir, I'm the wrong guy for this job," Trip declared firmly. "The Boomers trusted me and now ... now, they're dead." He ran his hand through his hair and the haunted look in his eyes redoubled. "We lost a station – and a system! – because I screwed up."
"That's bullshit, Trip," Jon replied angrily. He took the PADD from Tucker and tossed it aside, ignoring the clatter of it hitting the deck. "Thor's Cradle was lost before Endeavour even showed up, and the Admiralty knows it." He grabbed Trip's arms to make his point. "How many would have died if you hadn't been there?" Jon didn't let Trip answer that. "Every damned one of them, that's how many!"
"Sir," Tucker started to say.
"You listen to me, Captain," Archer interrupted, intent on getting through his friend's thick skull. "There was nothing you could do for the people we lost, and the fact that you got out of there at all with the information on these new Romulan ships is amazing!" Trip frowned, glanced away, but Jon kept on talking. "I have dozens of statements on my desk from the survivors and every one of them singles out Endeavour's actions as the only reason they got out of Thor's Cradle alive. I've personally spoken to a half dozen captains today who want to sign on with Starfleet immediately because of what you and people like your Lieutenant Li did." That caused Tucker to look up with surprise on his face, an expression so amusing that Jon very nearly laughed. "Hell, I talked to Paul Mayweather this morning and he asked about signing up!"
Finally, Trip gave a slow nod, his expression twisting into one of grim acceptance. Once more, Archer recognized the expression as one he wore far too often.
"All right," Tucker said sadly, "you've made your point." He took several limping steps away and retrieved the PADD before shooting Jon a frustrated look. "Sorry about that, sir," he muttered as he returned the PADD to his pocket.
"I've felt the same way, Trip." More times than I want to admit. "That chair isn't as comfortable as it looks, is it?" Jon asked with a sad but knowing smile. Tucker shook his head.
"No sir," he replied glumly, "though I think it's the rank more than the chair." A smile appeared, despite the sadness. "Mayweather, huh?"
"Yep," Archer said with a grin. "I'm thinking about suggesting that Starfleet give him one of the YVs currently on Homeworld Defense."
"The Horizon?" Trip asked with a weary grin.
"Ironic, huh?" Jon chuckled at Trip's headshake but sobered a moment later. "I think Travis would approve." He gave Tucker an appraising look. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I will be, sir," came the serious response. "Don't worry about me."
"You're my friend, Trip. Worrying comes with the territory." Archer smiled as Tucker rolled his eyes. "Have you gotten any sleep?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.
"No sir. Too much work to do." As Archer watched, Tucker became the battle-weary starship captain once again, and Jon silently lamented the change in his old friend. He missed Trip. "I've got progress reports to review," Tucker said, "not to mention repairs to oversee and letters to write." Archer flinched at the last words; he knew all too well how difficult that task was. "T'Pol's keeping the fort down right now, but she's not at a hundred percent yet."
"Speaking of which, how is she?" Jon asked as he walked back toward his desk. Without asking for permission, Trip dropped into one of the chairs in front of it; he leaned forward to rub his sore leg as he spoke.
"Phlox gave her a clean bill of health," he replied. "That Vulcan physiology is nothing short of amazin'," Tucker remarked with a tired smile. "Woman's in better shape than I am."
"That's not what I meant." Archer took his seat, glad that all but the slightest twinges were gone from his chest injury. "How is she ... emotionally?" It was weird, asking about a Vulcan's emotional well-being, but Jon had come a long way himself in recent years.
"She's okay," Trip responded. He paused, and then continued, "We did this mind meld thing that helped out a lot." He gave Archer a sad smirk. "I'll tell her you asked."
"While you're here," Jon said, already hating the direction that the conversation was going to take, "you can take a look at these possible replacements for your chief engineer." Tucker winced almost imperceptibly at the pair of PADDs Archer pushed toward him. As Endeavour's captain exhaled a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes, Jon leaned back in his chair and wondered whom he could recruit to help him convince Trip to get some rest.
It was a short list.