Walk in the Dark
By Drogna
Chapter 3
The attack had come swiftly and out of no where. A race of aliens, calling themselves the Lacadaemonians had appeared and attacked Enterprise for a perceived border violation. There had been no warning and they had taken a lot of damage in the fight. It was only Lieutenant Reed's skill in the Armoury and Trip's quick thinking that had got them out of a nasty situation. Unfortunately Trip's solution to get Reed extra power for his phase cannons had resulted in even more damage in the shape of blown relays and a partially burnt out EPS grid. Luckily the show of force had been enough for the Lacadaemonians to back off and leave them alone, but only after a terse exchange between the Captains of the two ships.
For the third day in a row Trip reached for the com and called Archer. "Tucker to Archer."
"Archer here, go ahead Trip," replied the Captain.
"Permission to work overtime, Captain," said Trip.
"Given the state we're in, I guess I don't have any choice but to let you," said Archer. "Do you have a status report for me?"
"We're about there with replacing the relays and getting the last parts of the EPS grid up and running. The warp engine's probably going to be another eight hours work. I can't guarantee that we'll get much above warp three but at least we'll be moving." Trip looked around him unhappily at scorched bulkheads and the general disarray that was usually his efficient engineering department.
"When did you last get some sleep?" asked Archer.
The one question that Trip had really hoped Archer wouldn't think to ask. "I got a few hours last shift."
"In your bed or at your desk?"
Trip braced himself for a telling off, knowing that it would be hopeless to lie. Archer could easily check up to see if he was telling the truth if he really wanted to. "At my desk, but I can't really leave here at the moment."
Trip heard Archer sigh and realised that he was going to get away with it because the situation was so desperate. Until they got the warp engine up and running again, they were sitting ducks. Although the Lacadaemonians had backed off, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't come back with reinforcements.
"As soon as the warp engine is repaired I want you to take a shift off and get some rest. Phlox is already mad at me for letting you work this long. Please tell me that you've at least eaten."
"If you count coffee and sandwiches on the run," said Trip.
"I guess that will have to do until this mess is dealt with. Archer out."
Trip thumbed the com unit closed again and realised that the shakes were back. He ducked into the cupboard off Main Engineering that was known as his office; it was just big enough to contain a desk and chair and still be able to shut the door. He pulled out the hypospray of blue liquid that he always carried with him. Phlox had upped the dosage again at his last check up and prescribed some other medication so that Trip now had a small collection of hyposprays in his quarters. The cartridge in the hypospray was empty so he went to his desk draw to get out a new one, but found that the draw was full of tools and electronics but no spare cartridges.
"Damn," swore Trip, now he'd have to take time out from the repairs to go and see Phlox. It was either that or risk an injury and end up in sickbay anyway. An injury would of course go on the accident log and then the Captain would know too, and probably never let him work overtime again. The fifteen minutes that he would lose to a trip to sickbay were worth sacrificing given the alternatives.
Trip let Hess know where he was going and then headed to sickbay. There hadn't been any major injuries in the attack so although sickbay had been busy dealing with burns, cuts, concussions and a couple of broken bones, it was now almost empty.
"Hey, Doc," greeted Trip, pulling out his empty hypospray. "Do you think you could do me a refill of mirezatan?" He was becoming well versed in drug names after using them every day for nearly a year now.
"Of course, Commander," said Phlox. "Just wait one moment and I'll get you some replacement cartridges." Phlox disappeared behind some shelves.
Trip took a seat on a biobed while he waited. The sickbay doors swooshed back and T'Pol entered the room.
"Hi T'Pol," said Trip, putting on his best disarming smile.
"Commander," replied T'Pol in acknowledgement. Trip had expected her to make some sort of conversation but she remained silent.
"What brings you to sickbay?" asked Trip.
"I sustained a minor injury during the encounter with Lacadaemonians. The doctor asked me to return for further treatment today," said T'Pol.
It didn't sound as if she wanted to talk about it so Trip changed the subject. "I haven't seen much of you lately."
"We have both been busy," said T'Pol.
"Yeah, we have. Why don't I save a seat for you at movie night next week?" said Trip. "We should be clear of all the repair work by then." He was getting the distinct impression that T'Pol didn't want to talk to him and he wondered if she'd actually been avoiding him.
"I will not be available for movie night," replied T'Pol.
Trip was about to ask why when Phlox returned with the hypospray and new cartridges. "Remember, Commander, no more than three doses in a twenty four hour period and please do try to get some rest once the repairs are complete."
"Will do, Doc," said Trip, hopping off the biobed. His left leg landed a little awkwardly and he had to grip the biobed to stop himself losing his balance. Phlox had his scanner out before Trip could even make a start on protesting that he was fine.
"You have some weakness in your left leg," said Phlox.
Trip nodded. "I've noticed it's been a little weaker when I've been down in the gym."
"I can begin a course of physiotherapy with you and there are other treatments that we can try."
"Okay, Doc, let's talk about details later. I've got to get back Engineering," said Trip.
"I will hold you to that," said Phlox. "Now, T'Pol, let's have a look at that burn."
Trip glanced in T'Pol's direction, hoping to catch her eye but she wasn't paying any attention to him. He made his way back to Main Engineering, all the way wondering if T'Pol really was avoiding him for some reason and what he could have done to make her mad at him.
Archer had known that it was going to happen sooner or later. Trip would want to do something and Archer would have to turn him down. Not because it was dangerous, or against regulations, but because his health wasn't up to it.
"You said that you wouldn't stop me going on any away missions," said Trip crossly. He stood in front of Archer's desk in his Ready Room, his posture defensive. A tantalising view of the icy planet Arktos below was the back drop to their conversation.
"I said that I wouldn't stop you going on any away missions as long as Phlox gave you the all clear. The Doctor's worried that you've been overdoing things," replied Archer.
"I've been following the rules," protested Trip.
"I know and it's partly my fault. After that run-in with the Lacadaemonians we needed the warp engine back up and running as quickly as possible. I let you work more than I should. Phlox says that you've been getting dizzy spells."
"He's given me something for that…" started Trip.
"I know but it needs time to work, and we're going down to the surface tomorrow morning. It's just an ice bound city, Trip. You wouldn't have had much fun anyway."
"But Captain, I wanted to see the thermal energy plant. They have a whole geothermal energy thing going down there. It powers the whole damn city. I've been in touch with their Engineer and he promised me a tour."
Trip looked so miserable and Archer hated this. He didn't want to stop Trip doing anything, after all none of them knew how much longer Trip might be able to go on away missions and he hated reminding his friend of the illness that he was fighting. However, it had taken Trip a long time to recover from his beating at the hands of the Colchans, longer than it should have done, and Phlox had told him that it hadn't helped Trip's condition. Archer didn't want to make things worse for Trip by allowing him to wear himself out. That would only speed up the progress of the disease. The better Trip's general health was, the longer it would take before Trip had to give up his position on Enterprise.
"It's been planned for weeks, Captain. If you'll let me go then I promise I'll take things easy." Trip pleaded and then it was as if he suddenly thought of a way that he could get what he wanted. He grinned, his voice cheering up. "And if you could give me a couple of days' shore leave…"
"You're unbelievable, you know that, don't you?" replied Archer.
"Hey, everything has to have an up side," smiled Trip.
"I'll talk to Phlox," said Archer, but they both knew that Trip had won this time. For some reason Archer felt comforted by that.
Trip might have been allowed to go down to Arktos, but only on the proviso that he actually rest. To be honest he hadn't needed much in the way of persuasion on that front this time. He had felt drained recently and he had to agree with Archer that the long hours in Engineering hadn't helped. There were days when he felt more like seventy than thirty-seven, and those days seemed to be becoming more numerous. Once he was done with his tour of the geothermal energy plant, he'd be taking things easy in a nice looking hotel that Hoshi had picked out and booked for him at one of the hot springs.
He bundled a spare uniform, cold weather gear, casual clothes and the small pharmacy of drugs that Phlox had him taking, into an overnight bag and headed for the shuttle bay. He knew he wouldn't be going down to the surface alone, lots of the crew had plans for shore leave or research work, but he hadn't expected T'Pol to be waiting for him. She hadn't spoken to him except during the course of her duties for weeks, in fact ever since Archer had informed the senior staff about his illness.
"Hey," said Trip.
"The Captain has asked me to accompany you to the surface. I have a meeting with some senior Arktoan scientists," said T'Pol.
"Babysitting duty, huh?" asked Trip offhandedly as he entered the shuttle, throwing his bag in front of him. He'd expected something like this. His Captain was well meaning but sometimes he wished he'd just leave him alone. "I told the Captain I'd be fine on my own."
"I am not "babysitting", I simply need to go down to the surface and so do you. It would be impractical to make two trips."
Trip shook his head. "Do you want to drive or shall I?"
"I will take the controls," said T'Pol, slipping into the pilot's seat.
Trip sighed and took the navigator's seat behind her. They both concentrated on the consoles in front of them as T'Pol lifted them off the deck and set their course down to the planet.
"Haven't seen you around much," said Trip, making conversation.
"I have been occupied," replied T'Pol, concentrating on the controls.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I have not been avoiding you."
"Sure felt like you were avoiding me," said Trip.
"If that was the case, then I apologise," said T'Pol.
"Clarke's Syndrome isn't contagious," said Trip.
"I am aware of the attributes of Clarke's Syndrome. I have conducted extensive research."
"Then what's wrong? Why aren't you talking to me? After the Captain told you, Lieutenant Reed and Lieutenant Hess, they both came to see me to talk it over, but you stayed away. I thought we were friends, T'Pol."
T'Pol set the shuttlepod's auto-pilot and turned to face Trip. It seemed to Trip as if she searched for the right words for a moment before she spoke.
"On Vulcan a disease of the nature of Clarke's Syndrome is a very private matter. Most Vulcans would be unhappy discussing it with anyone other than their physician. It would be considered disrespectful to mention the illness to the person who is ill. Obviously as your crewmates, we needed to know your circumstances, however I did not think you would want to discuss it further."
"You're not on Vulcan, T'Pol, and I don't have pointed ears," replied Trip and almost immediately regretted his remark. This wasn't easy for any of them to deal with, but at least Hess and Reed had some baseline human emotions to work from. T'Pol hadn't got the advantage of cultural home turf. "Maybe you should explain a bit more," suggested Trip.
"For a Vulcan, our mental discipline is the most precious thing that we possess. We suppress our emotions to maintain control over our base impulses and it is acutely embarrassing to lose that control. Often Vulcans afflicted with neurological conditions remove themselves from mainstream society. For this reason, I was uncomfortable socialising with you and I apologise. I should have realised that you would require support from your friends and your reaction to the situation would not be that of a Vulcan. I contracted Pa'nar's Syndrome some years ago, so I should have been aware of my own prejudices in this regard."
"What's Pa'nar's Syndrome?"
"It is caused by an improperly performed mind-meld. It leads to degeneration of the neural pathways of the brain and loss of emotion control. Such loss of emotional control is very distasteful to a Vulcan and we find it hard to witness in others. At that time, many Vulcans were unwilling to even acknowledge the existence of a disease of the mind that might strip us of the emotional control we possess."
"But you're okay now?" asked Trip, concerned.
"T'Pau was able to repair the damage through a healing mind-meld. However the stigma attached to the disease is still prevalent, despite changing attitudes towards mind-melds and new interpretations of the teachings of Surak."
"So you never told anyone?"
"I informed the Captain but, other than that, only Doctor Phlox was aware of my condition," said T'Pol. "There are other neurological diseases that affect Vulcans and usually are not discussed openly."
"So you assumed that I wouldn't want to talk about it either?"
"That was my belief. Obviously it was incorrect."
"I don't know if I want to go into an in depth discussion, but I wouldn't mind you coming by like you used to. I just want things to be normal, like they were before I found out about the CS."
"It seems that humans don't attach the same stigma to diseases of the mind that Vulcans do," said T'Pol.
"I wouldn't go that far," said Trip. "Humans can be pretty uncomfortable with mental illness. There are going to be people who don't understand and are going to act differently around me. I guess I'm going to find out who my friends are."
"You already know who your friends are," said T'Pol.
"Yeah, I suppose I do. Hey, do you want to join me at the hot springs later? Hoshi said they have plenty of space, I'm sure that we could get you a room too."
"I have meetings planned with various scientists. I doubt that I will have much free time." She returned her attention to the controls as they approached the planet's atmosphere.
"Come on, T'Pol. Even you need a break now and then," said Trip, refusing to take "no" for an answer.
T'Pol glanced back at Trip, and he knew that he had tempted her. "I had planned to find accommodation for this evening on the planet. There is no reason we shouldn't stay in the same place."
"It's a date then," replied Trip, not letting T'Pol rethink her decision. He hadn't spent any quality time with her for a while. He was going to put that right and make her realise that he'd forgiven her for avoiding him. He couldn't blame her for a cultural misunderstanding.
T'Pol was swimming in a hot spring, surrounded by melting ice. The cold air hit her skin pleasantly as she emerged from under the warm water. Steam rose around her and she felt at peace. The pool was quiet and a comfortable temperature to her Vulcan sensibilities. She allowed herself to relax into serenity and enjoy the water. Her peace was broken by a body diving into the water. Water sloshed around her and got in her eyes. A blond head emerged from the water beside her and grinned at her.
"Sorry, I'm late," said Trip.
"I would have appreciated some notice of your presence," replied T'Pol as she blinked water from her eyes.
"You have to live a little, T'Pol."
"Living does not require the excessive displacement of water," said T'Pol.
Trip gave an exaggerated sigh. He set off down the pool, doing an effortless front crawl. T'Pol thought she detected a little unevenness in his stroke, almost as if he was slightly stronger on his right side. He did a few lengths of the pool and then dived under the water and came up beside her again.
"Aren't you going to swim?" he asked.
"I have already completed several laps," replied T'Pol. "Whilst I enjoy the water, Vulcans are not natural swimmers."
"I love swimming. Where I grew up you learnt to swim when you learnt to crawl. Did I ever tell you that I taught the Captain to dive?"
"I do not believe so," said T'Pol.
"He wasn't real keen on the whole thing. You'd have thought that being on Stanford's water polo team he'd have jumped at me teaching him, but it took a hell of a lot of persuasion."
"I have come to realise that you are nothing if not persistent," replied T'Pol.
Trip smiled. "Yeah, I guess I am. Come on, I'll race you to the end and back, then we can dry off and go and get some dinner."
"I do not believe we need to race."
"Do I have to explain the concept of fun again?" asked Trip teasingly.
T'Pol cocked her head. "You only wish to race because you know that you will win."
"Now where would the fun be in that? Come on. Ready, steady, go!" Trip set off down the pool once again, T'Pol launching herself into the water behind him.
Trip was ahead as they turned around at the end, but not by much. T'Pol had caught his grin at her as she too turned to go back down the pool. She felt sure that if she put on a burst of speed she could equal his finishing time. She put all her strength into her strokes.
Suddenly Trip disappeared under the water in front of her. She assumed that he was just diving under to disorientate her and put her off her stroke, but he surfaced a moment later, gasping for breath before sinking under again. T'Pol realised that Trip was in trouble. She dived under the water herself and swam towards her companion. She grabbed him under his arms and kicked hard upwards, pulling him with her. They broke the surface together, Trip spluttering and coughing, T'Pol gasping for breath. She dragged her charge to the side of the pool and deposited him on the side with some difficulty. Trip was mostly muscle and therefore quite heavy.
Trip lay on the edge of the pool and drew in oxygen as quickly as he could between coughs and spitting out water. T'Pol pulled herself out of the pool and noticed that his left leg twitched, the muscles in spasm. It was obviously causing him some pain and had been the reason why he had disappeared under the water.
"Is there anything that I can do?" asked T'Pol.
"Just a bit of cramp," Trip got out through clenched teeth and watery coughs. "There's a hypospray, with my towel." His eyes closed as another wave of pain hit.
T'Pol noted that Trip was beginning to shiver in the cold air. She went to where he had left his towel, next to her own, throwing both over her arm before she located a small drawstring bag that contained two hyposprays. She returned to Trip and helped him sit up, wrapping a towel around his shoulders.
"Which one?" asked T'Pol.
"Blue one first," Trip indicated, shivering. T'Pol administered the hypospray, noting that it was already set to deliver a specified dose of the drug. "Then the red one," Trip continued. T'Pol pressed the second hypospray to Trip's neck. She noted that the muscle spasms began to subside and Trip's breathing eased as the pain also receded.
"Sorry," said Trip. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I guess when Phlox said gentle exercise he didn't mean racing up and down the pool."
"Perhaps not," said T'Pol. She would have chastised Trip for ignoring the doctor's instructions but he had already realised his own mistake. Her main priority was to get him inside and warm again. "We should not remain outside. You are becoming cold."
Trip nodded and T'Pol helped him to stand shakily on his weak left leg. He leaned on her a little as they went back into the hotel. T'Pol helped Trip to get to the changing room and then left him to dress himself, acknowledging that he required his privacy, however she kept an ear attuned to his movements in case he should require further help. He emerged a few minutes later, dry and dressed tidily in casual clothes.
"What do you want to do for dinner?" he asked, and before T'Pol could mention the incident again, he was already making suggestions for restaurants that they could try. T'Pol thought that perhaps Trip was more like a Vulcan then he was willing to admit. He was doing a good job of suppressing his emotions. However, she couldn't fail to notice how drained and tired he looked, that was something that even the charming smile couldn't hide.
T'Pol realised that she was witnessing first hand the toll that the disease was taking on Trip. She had wanted to ignore it and pretend that her friend wasn't ill, but that was impossible. Avoiding him wouldn't make the disease any less real or prevent Trip's death. Trip was human and because he was human he needed emotional support. T'Pol wasn't certain that she was the best person to provide that support but she could only try.
They tried to have a quiet, sociable dinner together but Trip was obviously tired. He didn't really seem up to conversation and almost fell asleep in his soup. They left the restaurant before dessert and Trip's left leg was noticeably dragging by the time they made it back to the hotel through freezing blizzards of snow.
"Why were you late to meet me at the hotel?" asked T'Pol as they entered the lobby.
"The tour took longer than expected," replied Trip.
"That seems unlikely," said T'Pol. He had answered too quickly and she knew he was lying. They reached the elevator and T'Pol pressed the button for their floor. She gave Trip a look that demanded truth and he caved under her glare.
"Okay, so they had a problem with the transfer circuit. It looked easy enough to fix so I gave them a hand." Trip leaned against the railing as the elevator car moved upwards.
"You are meant to be resting. The last month has been stressful, especially for the Engineering department."
"Yeah, yeah. Fixing a transfer circuit wasn't exactly taxing. I mean, I knew what had to be done and I don't mind getting my hands dirty. It just took a little longer than I thought it would."
"Which would explain why you are now more tired rather than less," pointed out T'Pol.
"You're not going to tell on me, are you?" asked Trip.
"I don't believe I will need to. You will be reporting this matter to the doctor yourself."
"T'Pol…"
"If you don't report it yourself then I will be forced to do so on your behalf."
"You don't play fair," replied Trip.
"On the contrary, I believe that I am playing more than fair. However, we can discuss that when you are rested," said T'Pol. The elevator stopped at their floor and the two officers disembarked.
"Why can't you all just see that I want things to be normal?" said Trip.
"Normal is relative. I have yet to experience normality whilst serving aboard Enterprise," said T'Pol.
"Yeah, well I liked the way things were," replied Trip.
"Nothing remains the same," said T'Pol.
"Is that some sort of Vulcan philosophical statement? Because it doesn't help me." They were finally at the door to Trip's room.
"You are tired and need to rest. We can continue our discussion in the morning,"
Trip nodded half-heartedly. "G'night, T'Pol," he said and shuffled through his door. Not waiting for T'Pol to reply, Trip shut his door behind himself. T'Pol stood outside the door listening for a moment in case Trip needed her, but after a few minutes she moved away to her own room. An extended meditation session would be required to deal with today's events. She wished with all her heart that she could do something to help her friend, but other than assisting Phlox in his search for a cure there wasn't much to be done. That in itself would add twenty minutes to her usual meditations.
Trip threw his key card down on the bedside table, removed his shoes, and flopped down on the bed. He felt worn through to the bone, as if he was paper thin and would break at the slightest movement. He knew he'd blown it, he and T'Pol had finally got a chance to spend some time alone and he'd been grumpy, tired and sullen. She certainly hadn't seen him at his best. The swimming had been such a bad idea, but he really hadn't thought that he was so tired that it would be a problem. Swimming was something that he'd done for as long as he could remember and he'd rarely, if ever, cramped up as badly as this afternoon.
There were things to do before he could sleep and the most important of those was medication so that he could get up in the morning. He could already feel the weakness in his left leg that was made worse by fatigue. Phlox's drugs improved things and helped his brain to send the right signals again to get his muscles moving. Whenever he got tired it was always the left side of his body that started misbehaving first. It still wasn't anything that he couldn't deal with, or at least Phlox's hyposprays couldn't deal with, but it was becoming progressively more intrusive on his life.
He peeled himself off the bed and towards the bathroom where he'd stowed his hyposprays. He pulled out the padd that he carried with his medication and ran a finger down it to check what he needed to take. Then he remembered that he'd already taken some pain medication and the anti-spasm medication. He couldn't take any more unless he checked with Phlox first and that would mean calling the ship. Trip sighed. He turned to go and find his communicator but his left leg didn't quite move quickly enough, catching on the long carpet in the hotel room. He went down hard, putting a hand out to stop himself and immediately felt pain lance down his arm.
He lay on the floor and swore. It just wasn't his day. This was meant to be a relaxing holiday and so far it was nothing but trouble. He righted himself enough that he could lean against the wall. He had no right to be this tired. He remembered when he and Malcolm had partied the night away on shore leave only just last year. There had been a lot of drinking and some female company, there had even been singing. That had been when he'd discovered that Malcolm did a good impression of the Captain, something that he denied vehemently when he was sober again. They had gone back to the ship without even having slept and then he'd worked a full duty shift. He'd been tired, naturally, but he'd been fine. He certainly hadn't ended up on his ass on the floor.
Now that he was on the floor he had to work out how to get off it. He had no strength and his wrist was throbbing. All he really wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn't face a night on the floor of his hotel room. His communicator was on the bedside table and it really wasn't that far away. If he could walk two steps, he could get the communicator and call Phlox. Then Phlox would come and sort him out and he'd be lectured about trying to have a good time. That was not something that he wanted to happen.
Really, he decided, he was just tired and that didn't need a call to Phlox. If he took the rest of his medication, he'd probably be fine. His wrist was hurting but he'd most likely just jarred it in the fall. He used the wall to support himself and he gingerly got to his feet. The room whirled around him and he leaned against the wall. Anti-dizziness medication, thought Trip, so far he hadn't taken it today and that was probably why he felt so bad. He was meant to be taking something else as well, anti-inflammatory or something. There were other things that he had to take every six hours. Things for his balance, to stop the aches, to improve his muscles and drugs that were supposed to help with his brain chemistry. Trip lost count, which was why he had the padd to keep track of them all.
He got himself into the bathroom and found the hyposprays that he needed. He injected the two into the upper arm and the one that went into his neck, then he turned to go back into the bedroom. Suddenly he felt sick and before he knew it he was throwing up in the toilet.
"Just what I need," mumbled Trip as he carefully stumbled to the bed. He didn't even bother to undress properly, he just pulled off his jeans, lay on the bed and passed out.
Someone was knocking loudly on his hotel room door. Very loudly. It sounded as if they would beat the door down. Trip sat up a bit too quickly and the room spun around him. He tried to stand but his bad leg gave way under him and he quickly discovered that his wrist had swollen over night and become even more painful. He fell to the floor tangled in his bed sheets, unable to stifle the exclamation of pain caused when he hit his wrist.
Trip heard the sound of raised voices arguing. Finally the door was opened and Trip found himself staring up at T'Pol, Archer, the hotel concierge and Phlox. His unexpected visitors looked rather surprised that the person that they had come to see was on the floor. He thought that T'Pol's single raised eyebrow was about to disappear into her hair.
"Hey," said Trip, weakly. Archer thanked the concierge for opening the door, as if nothing was wrong, and the Arktoan bowed politely before disappearing.
"Trip, what are you doing on the floor?" asked Archer. Phlox was already approaching Trip with a medical scanner.
"I fell over trying to get to the door, okay. Now are you just going to stand there, or is someone going to help me up? What are you doing battering down my door anyway? It's not like I'm supposed to be anywhere."
"I knocked on your door earlier and there was no answer," said T'Pol. "I became worried and contacted the Captain to check whether he had heard from you."
"We tried to wake you, but you still weren't answering," said Archer as he positioned himself ready to give Trip a hand up. "What happened to you wrist?" Archer had noticed the swollen joint and Trip knew that he wouldn't be getting out of an explanation.
"I hit it last night. It didn't seem so bad then," replied Trip. He carefully didn't exactly say how he'd come to injure his wrist. Archer took Trip by his elbows and pulled him into a sitting position while T'Pol sorted out the tangled covers. Trip saw them both notice that his left leg was twitching and curled in towards his right leg, but Trip refused to comment on it. They all knew that he was sick, verbal reminders were not necessary.
"I'm afraid that it's badly sprained. There's a small tear in the ligament," said Phlox, looking from the wrist to his scanner.
"It doesn't hurt that much," replied Trip.
"You are taking pain medication, so I would hope that it isn't as painful as it could be," said Phlox. "Speaking of medication, I assume that you haven't taken anything yet this morning?"
"I've only just woken up, Doc," replied Trip.
"If you wouldn't mind retrieving the Commander's medication, T'Pol? I believe it's in the bathroom." said Phlox. T'Pol inclined her head in the affirmative and went to find the bag of pills and hyposprays.
"How on Earth did you sprain your wrist?" asked Archer. "T'Pol said that the two of you went to a restaurant and then came straight back."
"We did. I was just a bit tired and I tripped on the carpet coming out of the bathroom," said Trip. "I must have put my hand out to stop myself."
"T'Pol told us about the swimming and the work at the geothermal plant," said Archer.
"I didn't break any of the rules," said Trip, quickly, knowing where this conversation was going.
"Let's see, so far you've worked overtime without permission, failed to take your medication on time, and you lied to us about your condition." Archer didn't seem at all happy.
"Okay, maybe I did break a couple of the rules," Trip admitted grudgingly.
"Tell me exactly what happened last night after T'Pol left," said Archer.
Trip sighed and decided on the abbreviated version. "I was on my way to the bathroom and I guess I turned a bit too quickly. My foot caught and I went down. I put my hand out to stop myself and that must have been when I hurt my wrist. I picked myself up and took my medicine like a good boy. Then I went to bed. The exciting story of my evening. I took medicine, and I fell on my ass."
T'Pol returned with Trip's medication. Phlox looked through it and pulled out what Trip needed to take.
"Why didn't you call Phlox after you fell?" asked Archer.
"I didn't think I needed to, my wrist wasn't that bad. I was tired, I just wanted to go to bed and sleep." Trip tried to look contrite, but he wasn't sure that it was working.
"You took your sericol after the cramping at the pool?" asked Phlox.
Trip nodded. Phlox examined the hyposprays that he had removed from the bag and checked his notes.
"Commander, how did you feel after you took your evening medication?" asked Phlox.
"Kind of nauseous. Why?" Trip wondered how the doctor had known to ask him that.
"I'm detecting too much analgesic in your system. Perhaps in your tiredness you confused the hyposprays. You must be more careful, Commander. If this had been one of the more potent medicines then I might now be treating you for an overdose," said Phlox. "Luckily it simply meant that you slept longer and more soundly than usual."
"Sorry, Doc, I'll be more careful next time," said Trip. He couldn't believe that he'd taken the wrong medication, usually he was more attentive than that. The small collection of drugs that he took were all that stood between him and a posting to Research and Development.
"You don't need to apologise to me. I'm only your doctor. If you had called me last night then I could have told you how much extra coretine you could safely take. You would not be experiencing this level of tremors."
The last thing he needed now was a guilt trip, but the Doctor seemed determined to give him one. Suddenly he was worried. "Getting confused, and forgetting stuff, is another symptom of CS, right?"
"It can be, but you haven't shown any other signs of progression to that stage of the disease yet. I expect that you were just overtired." Phlox softened his tone, realising that Trip was now genuinely concerned.
"Yeah, just tired and not thinking straight," said Trip, not really reassured.
"You can't do this sort of thing, Trip," said Archer.
"It's not like I planned for this to happen," said Trip. Did they really think that he'd done this to himself on purpose? He certainly hadn't enjoyed waking up to find his Captain, T'Pol and Phlox all standing outside his door because he'd overslept. If he could have avoided this scene in the hotel room then he would have.
"This is why it's important that you don't tire yourself out. You have to look after yourself," said Archer.
"We need to get the Commander back to Enterprise," said Phlox. "I need to re-assess his medication and brace his wrist."
"Oh no, I'm on holiday, I'm not going back to Enterprise. Just give me my meds, tape the wrist and I'll be fine."
"Don't start, Trip. You're hurt, we're going back to Enterprise," said Archer.
Trip glared at his Captain and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, whatever you want."
Archer gave Trip a pat on the shoulder and he helped his friend to stand rather shakily. They collected Trip's belongings, got him dressed and departed the hotel. It was the worst ending to his shore leave that he could possibly have imagined.