The Sacred Grounds

Her name.

Someone was calling her name.

From far away. She tried to turn her head, but the effort was too much.

Suddenly arms were around her. She knew that smell, she knew the sound of that breath, she tried to focus but she couldn't, "Trip?"

It came out as a question, but she knew deep in her bones that it was him. She was safe. He would see to it. She melted into his arms, not fighting so hard to remain upright.

xxx

"Malcolm!" Trip bellowed over his shoulder as he cradled the slumping form, "The canister!"

"Got it!" The armory man slipped it out of his shoulder bag and proffered it to Trip. The engineer looked at the oblong form uncertainly then up at Malcolm.

"Here!" Malcolm snapped, "Let me!" He almost shoved him out of the way then stood looking down at T'Pol's. He frowned. Something was off. The robe. Why did she have her robe on? Oh, yes... obviously.

Malcolm shook himself mentally. Just what he needed, on top of everything else. He stared a moment at the garment, then found the closure and the robe yielded softly. At least that part went without any issues. And now he was looking at... he stared dumbfounded at the slip. Like the robe, the garment shouldn't be there. T'Pol didn't have it on when they were switching the canisters. Unless of course... It felt like it was the universe's idea of a joke. Now what was he going to do...

Malcolm didn't dare look at Trip. He took a deep breath and glanced over at Archer, but it was obvious there would be no help coming from that quarter. He looked imploringly at Hoshi, beseeching her to understand. She was a woman, couldn't she see he had an issue here...? But Hoshi simply stared back at him quizzically, waiting for what came next. Malcolm sighed. There'd be no rescue from that side either.

'Here goes nothing...' He braced himself and grabbed fistfuls of the slip, tearing with all his strength. Shhrrrkkk... The garment split straight across the middle.

"Hey!" Trip yelped. What the hell was Malcolm doing?! "What the...!" he exclaimed again.

Malcolm shrugged half-apologetically. Yeah, he could understand Trip wasn't exactly sanguine about his wife's chest being exposed, but he'd get over it. Not that he had a choice, really. Her skin had turned a deep bronze, mottled with green. There was no time for modesty. He'd already settled the new canister into its holder, was deftly pulling the lines to the canula. Now where was that darn opening? He quickly pushed the material away, looking for it. He could feel Trip's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Ah, found it... But now he couldn't see the guiding lines. He squinted, drawing closer, trying to make sure to get the lines to match.

Hoping Trip wasn't going to deck him from behind.

Not that either of them had anything to worry about, Malcolm'd never been able to perform with an audience. Still, he was getting annoyed. Couldn't Trip focus on the fact he was saving his wife?! Part of him wanted to lash out at him for making the whole thing a bigger deal than needed. 'Well, that's what happens when you leave your wife behind.' The thought came unbidden to his mind and he almost said it. But he'd never be able to walk it back with his friend. Plus, a certain Vulcan might not be particularly amused by the whole thing, and that also was something he was not sanguine about. And then, there was Hoshi... Somehow he doubted she'd be amused either.

The lines matched, he could feel the air flow through his fingers on the line. He waited a couple of seconds to make sure, then leaned back on his heels, staring at the scene. Trip was holding T'Pol in a possessive embrace, glowering at him. Hoshi was glaring at him also, not looking too pleased either. How could that be? She'd never had issues with nudity before. Once again, Malcolm felt like everything that could go wrong this trip did. One wrong thing piling on top of another...

"What is going on, hmm?!"

That voice! Malcolm sprung to his feet, whirling around. He must be hallucinating.

But no, it was Phlox there! The sight filled him with relief. He stepped to the side as the doctor knelt by a hardly aware T'Pol, her breath coming in sharp gasps that were painful to hear. He swung his tricorder in a wide arc over the unprotesting Vulcan, before producing a hypo. The hiss as he held it against her neck seemed to rouse everyone from their stupor.

"Phlox!" Archer exclaimed, What are you doing here?!" And if he was here, who was manning the ship. Archer shot a quick glance at the rest of his officers, not wanting to show his hand too clearly. If Phlox was here, it meant the only officer left aboard was Mayweather. After they'd be sent to their almost death by the Eylordenes, he didn't trust them. He'd never trust them fully, not after what happened.

"The Eylordenes informed me my services were needed," the doctor told the Captain, unaware that only deepened the other man's unease. "I need to get her back to the ship right away."

Archer nodded. At least that would be two senior officers on Enterprise. Hoping that the Eylordenes let them go. He wasn't so sure, after Malcolm debriefing during their flight over, how they'd insisted both T'Pol and he come down. But Malcolm'd said the ceremonies were already underway, so perhaps they were not needed...? Archer looked at the large platform, squinting to try and see what it was they were doing. It looked like... it couldn't be, could it?...

The diminutive sable-robed alien that suddenly showed up at his elbow diverted his attention. "Now that the dignitaries are here, waterflow," her robe was striated with pride and pleasure, "they are no longer necessary." The edge of her robe took on a pink hue as she made her plea that the other aliens would depart, hoping it would be understood. It was so difficult to know what the aliens were thinking when they didn't having an expressive exoderme.

"Who is no longer necessary?" asked Hoshi, looking in fascination at the alien. She hoped they were not telling them to go back to the ship, she really wanted to stay and study this species that communicated via their skin.

"I'll go back!" Trip announced from where he was holding T'Pol. It sounded like he might be free to do, he'd only be too happy to get off this damn planet.

The smallish Eylordene's robe deepened to a brown muddy with embarrassment. Why wasn't it clear to these aliens? They were supposed to be civilized... But hers was not to question, it was to be of service. "The replacements can go," she said, her voice like the surf against rocks. She stopped, hopeful that would be enough. She was a lowly servant, they were not going to make her actually tell a dignitary that he had to go, were they?

Fortunately, the aliens were not as dense as their lack of color made them see to be. The tallest one took a sudden breath in understanding. Archer turned to Trip, "You're not going anywhere." He turned to the others, "Lieutenant Reed, you'll accompany Commander T'Pol and Dr. Phlox back to Enterprise."

"But I need to-" Trip started.

"You need to attend to the induction ceremonies along with Lieutenant Sato and I, this is an order, Commander," Archer shut him off. He turned back to their Eylordene guide, "I take it you'll put a ship at their disposition?"

The alien's robe was shot with streaks of white in happy and respectful agreement, "Waterflow, waterflow, of course," she gurgled.

Phlox was eyeing his patient, whose color was losing its copper tones, a sign of progress. "We can go back now," he announced, "Commander T'Pol's stabilized.'

"She'll be ok?" Trips asked anxiously.

"Nothing that can't be reversed. A couple of days in Sickbay and she'll be as good as new," Phlox reassured him. "But we shouldn't waste any time," he added.

Trip awkwardly got up from where he'd been sitting, gathering a semi-conscious T'Pol in his arms and stood looking hesitantly at Phlox and Malcolm. Malcolm wisely refrained from doing or saying anything. Phlox was bouncing on his heels, looking at Trip, hands behind his back. After a few moments Trip resigned himself to the unavoidable. He turned to Malcolm, "Here," he said gruffly, passing the precious cargo to his friend, who was trying to maintain as professional a demeanor as one could under the circumstances.

The two men left, walking slowly. The rest of the party stood where they were, eyeing their slow progress to the thin arcing bridge, then over the bridge. Trip tensed as they reached the apex. He was sure he'd seen T'Pol move. She must be scared. So much water. Did Malcolm had a firm enough grip on her? He wasn't going to let her slip, was he? Finally the three figures went over the apex and all he could see was Malcolm's back, then his shoulders, then his head, then nothing. No matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could see of what was happening on the other side. He would have to assume everything was fine. There was no reason to think otherwise.

Trip reluctantly turned back to Archer, who was eyeing him keenly. He shrugged slightly, looked down at his stained uniform, "D'you think the food will be good?" he asked.

That broke the tension. Hoshi rolled her eyes in her head, "Was that all you ever think of?" she shot at him. They both knew it was a show, a way to release the tension, bring this whole mission back to what it was supposed to be.

"There's only one way to find out, We'll have to wait for the party," Archer interjected. "In the meantime, we have ceremonies to attend. After everything we've gone through to get here, we'd better make a good show of it."

As they made their way to the honorific seats, Trip turned around, staring wistfully at the thin bridge back to the mainland. But there was no reason to fear. Phlox had said she'd be okay, and Malcolm would make sure she stayed safe. He sighed, and resolutely turned back towards their seats.

Duty had called.

THE END

Thanks to everyone for sticking it out with me. Sorry for the extended delays getting this story finished.