When Malcolm was calm enough to allow it, Trip helped the wounded man move from the floor up onto the bed. Of course it was less like helping and more like carrying. Malcolm didn't seem to have any strength, couldn't get his breath, inhaled shallowly, exhaled like the air was being kicked out of him and then there would be an ungodly long pause before he inhaled again with a wheezing sound.
He'd taken a helluva beating, which was all the more evident once Trip got him situated and was able to examine him more thoroughly. There was extensive, dark bruising all over him, and Trip was pretty sure it was largely a result of having been kicked while he was down. The sight of it made Trip feel sick, and angry, and guilty all at once, and he wanted to hit something. Something that wasn't Malcolm. But he tried not to let the fury show, because that only seemed to scare Malcolm, who was only minimally oriented to what was happening. Malcolm had good reason to be afraid. Trip's anger was the root cause of this, and he knew it.
"You're gonna need an actual doctor," Trip decided in fairly short order.
"Phlox," Malcolm acknowledged flatly, meeting Trip's eyes.
Trip nodded, "Yeah. Think you can make it to the shuttle pod?"
Malcolm didn't answer right away. He looked past Trip, seemingly at nothing in particular. It looked like he was trying to summon what last bit of strength and courage he might have left, though what for Trip couldn't be certain. He struggled to take deeper breaths, probably trying to get enough oxygen to think clearly, but all that accomplished was to aggravate his injuries, and he exhaled with a small mewl of pain and closed his eyes for such a long time Trip thought he might have passed out.
"Malcolm?" Trip prodded finally, and was rewarded by Malcolm opening his eyes.
"He should come here," Malcolm said.
"Look, Travis and I can carry you if we need to, or break out the gurney."
"No," Malcolm said firmly, his gaze clear for the first time since Trip had found him, looking directly at Trip, "He needs to come here. And to bring his JAK suppressant."
"His what?" Trip asked, baffled.
"He'll know what that means," Malcolm said confidently, "Tell him I lost my hypo, or broke it. God, tell him anything but the truth."
What truth? Now Trip was really lost.
But before he could ask, Malcolm was going on, "I haven't got another fight in me, and I haven't got the time to explain," Now there was a time crunch? What the hell was Malcolm on about? "But we may have one move left. A way to save Enterprise," Save her from what, exactly? "Please… Trip. Please."
Trip had never expected to ever hear Malcolm beg... or to unbend enough to use his nickname. But that's sure what this sounded like.
"Alright," Trip said soothingly, "Alright, I'll get Phlox to come down here. But I don't see what good it'll do anybody but you."
"I'm beyond saving now," Malcolm replied tonelessly, "Pretty soon, I won't even care anymore," Seeing Trip's look of concern, Malcolm offered a wan smile, "But it won't matter. Because you will. And you won't be alone for long. I promise. I won't let it happen to you too."
"Won't let what happen?" Trip wanted to know, but Malcolm said nothing further.
His intense expression fading, Malcolm went back to staring at nothing in particular, and Trip couldn't get another word out of him. He just lay there, looking vacant, working for every breath he took. Was he dying? Did he know he was dying? Is that what he was talking about? But if he was dying, what was the point of getting Phlox down here? What about all the rest of it, about the not caring anymore, and promising Trip wouldn't be alone like Malcolm had been? And just how had Malcolm been alone anyway? And what the hell was a JAK suppressant? For that matter, what was a JAK?
Confused as hell, Trip had still promised to get Phlox here, so he pulled out his communicator and made contact with Enterprise, even as he was still deciding what to say.
"An accident?" Jonathan repeated with a frowning glance at T'Pol, who offered nothing with her expression, "What kind of accident?"
"The kind that means we've got injured people and need Phlox down here," Trip's voice was a little bit high. Impatient? Nervous?
Jonathan's frown deepened, "Can you give my any details?"
"One of our people got the crap kicked out of him last night," Trip said, "Don't know who did it."
Jonathan looked at T'Pol again, and now she spoke, "If you feel the crew is in danger, perhaps you had best return to the ship."
"No, we've got work to do down here. I expect it was a difference of opinion is all."
Oh. Jonathan took a breath, nodding to himself.
"It was Malcolm, wasn't it? What did he do?"
"Got the crap kicked out of him, sir," Trip replied flatly.
Well that explained a lot. Trip didn't want to send Malcolm back to the ship because the whole point had been to get him off it. If they brought him back, he might start fighting the Armory refit again. But, in the meantime, Trip hadn't really meant what he said yesterday about killing Malcolm. Jackass or not, Malcolm was still presently under Trip's command down there, and Trip was responsible for his well being. The only thing Jonathan didn't understand was why Trip hadn't just said that.
He suspected, quite strongly, that Trip knew exactly who had beaten Malcolm up. In fact, he might have been behind it one way or another. But he didn't want to say that, for obvious reasons. For the same reasons, Jonathan decided not to press him on it. Malcolm had been enough trouble already without potentially costing Enterprise her chief engineer.
"Alright, Trip," Jonathan said, "I'll have a word with Phlox."
"Oh… uh… make sure he brings his… um..." Trip trailed off for a moment, clearly looking for the words, "JAK suppressant. Yeah. That's it."
"What the hell is a JAK suppressant?" Jonathan inquired.
"The Janus Kinase," T'Pol volunteered, "Is a part of the immune system of several species, including humans. In humans, it helps to prevent the growth of tumors, form red and white blood cells and regulate inflammatory responses," at Jonathan's incredulous look, she paused and raised an eyebrow before concluding, "Among other things."
"Okay, I'll tell him," Jonathan told Trip, "But I still don't quite see what you need it for."
"Thanks, Cap'n. Tucker out."
Jonathan again looked at T'Pol, her eyebrow still raised. Trip had been acting strange all day, ever since he first checked in this morning. He didn't sound like himself. Didn't sound like he knew what he was doing. Just sounded… well… kind of lost.
"Did he sound odd to you?" Jonathan asked.
T'Pol leveled a look at him that emphatically stated that ALL humans perpetually sounded odd to her. But she declined to say as much out loud. Instead, she replied, "Perhaps there has been more trouble on the planet than Commander Tucker cares to admit."
"Yeah and maybe Malcolm got to him," Jonathan said uneasily.
"What are you implying?" T'Pol wanted to know.
"I'm not sure," Jonathan admitted, "But somehow… I don't think I should send Phlox down there alone."
"What alternative do you suggest?"
"I think it's about time I paid the crew down there a surprise visit. To see how things are going."
"Captain," T'Pol objected, "If there is a hazardous situation down there, placing yourself in harm's way may only serve to exacerbate it."
Jonathan smiled crookedly, "I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it's probably nothing serious. After all, we're only here for the mushrooms, and the Dolizet are more than happy to share with us. What sort of danger could I possibly get into?"
"In his previous report, Commander Tucker indicated that Lt. Reed has become violent. That being the case, it is possible that he has become more than an impediment to our mission's success. He may now be considered a genuine threat, and a hostile one at that."
"And Trip's last report suggested Malcolm got what was coming to him and that's why they need Phlox down there," Jonathan countered, "Besides, what's Malcolm going to do by himself? Shoot me?"
T'Pol's eyes narrowed, "I would not doubt the possibility, Captain."
"Next you'll be saying I shouldn't go down there without armed escort," Jonathan scoffed with a shake of his head.
"It might be wise."
"You know who you sound like now?" Jonathan asked, "You sound just like Malcolm."
T'Pol said nothing to that, but the offended look in her eyes was clear enough and Jonathan smiled at the small victory of letting some of the air out of that supposedly nonexistent ego all Vulcans carried around with them. Then he returned to the business at hand.
"I'll be fine," Jonathan assured her as he stood up and headed for the turbo lift, "You have the Bridge."
Phlox and Captain Archer didn't look remotely pleased to be here. In fact, they both looked rather put out about it, and seemed to think Malcolm was mostly to blame for it. The way they looked at him was cold and critical, more like he was a puppy that had messed in the house than a victim of assault.
The weird thing was, Trip knew he'd been looking at Malcolm just like that only a few hours previously. Actually it had been more as if Malcolm were the source cause of all problems and evils in the world, as if getting rid of him would somehow fix everything that was wrong with everything... which was more weight than was fair to put on anyone, no matter what they'd done or failed to do.
Malcolm seemed oblivious to it, or maybe just used to it. He acted like he was alone in the room, lying on his side and staring in the direction of the far wall, breathing sporadically while Phlox did his initial examination and then started to rattle off a list of broken bones and other damage to Captain Archer, who listened without seeming very interested in Phlox's assessment.
Trip kept waiting for Captain Archer to ask who had done this to Malcolm. Trip couldn't have answered accurately, but the fact that Archer didn't even ask bothered him deeply. It wasn't like the Captain to be so indifferent to such an obvious abuse of one of his officers.
It was true that Captain Archer liked to keep his people on a pretty loose leash, but that didn't include wantonly assailing one another in the night.
But Captain Archer didn't ask who had done this. He didn't ask why. He didn't say a word about being sure this kind of thing never happened again. He didn't even ask Phlox if Malcolm would be alright. He just stood there, looking judgmental. No… worse. Looking as if what had happened to Malcolm was inevitable and well deserved.
"And what happened to your hypospray?" Phlox eventually asked of Malcolm, in an unnaturally impatient tone, "I warned you to be careful with it."
Malcolm regarded Phlox silently. Trip remembered the absolute hatred that had been in his eyes earlier, and the total look of defeat. One of those was gone from his eyes now, but Trip realized it too late to say anything. Even had that not been the case, Trip was never sure if he really wanted to call out a warning, because he was no longer sure whose side he was even on.
Phlox was evidently irritated by Malcolm's lack of response to his query, but said nothing further as he rummaged through his medical case and withdrew a hypospray. Trip got the impression that Malcolm was immediately tense and watchful once the hypo came into play. That struck him as odd, seeing as Malcolm had expressly requested it.
"I want your breathing cleared up before I do anything else," Phlox said flatly, "And this should help with inflammation as well."
The words, confirming that the hypo contained what Malcolm had expected it to, locked Malcolm on a course of action that Trip might have predicted if he had at all realized where the missing hypo had gone. But Trip had never even noticed it when Malcolm injected him, or if he had, he no longer remembered it. They'd been too busy fighting, and now he was too busy feeling guilty to want to remember anything about that moment.
Whether Malcolm had been playing up his weakness in the hopes of using it to his advantage in this moment, or if he had merely rallied the last of whatever strength he possessed, Trip would never be certain. In any case, just as Phlox started to apply the hypo, Malcolm pushed off from the bed with one arm, capturing Phlox's hypospray carrying hand with his other.
Phlox was actually pretty fair at defending himself, surprisingly so for a portly medical professional who looked like he had no business defending himself from a rogue sandwich never mind a suddenly violent expert in hand-to-hand combat. Phlox's struggle was valiant, and Malcolm was in exceptionally poor shape, but it was a short-lived battle nevertheless.
As soon as Malcolm pushed himself up enough to tuck his legs under him, his left hand was free to take hold of the hypo and twist it loose of Phlox's grip. Phlox threw up his other hand to block Malcolm from injecting him, at which point Malcolm shoved off the bed with as much force as he could muster. Phlox staggered back, lost his balance under Malcolm's weight and toppled over. It gave Malcolm the only opening he needed to get the hypo to Phlox's neck and inject him with it.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Archer roared with fury that startled Trip more than anything in the past few moments.
Malcolm was less surprised, already trying to get clear of Phlox. He wasn't fast enough, because Archer's boot found his side and bowled him over. Malcolm offered no resistance and made no attempt to protect himself from a second kick, which was about the time Trip finally snapped into action.
"Captain, that's enough!" Trip cried, grabbing onto Archer's shoulders and trying to haul him back away from Malcolm, "He's down! He's done! Enough!"
Phlox had scrambled to his feet and kept behind Archer and Trip as they collectively sort of shuffled towards the door. Malcolm coughed, spat blood and watched them like a wolf caught in a trap might watch approaching hunters. He looked more scared than angry, and Trip doubted he represented any real threat, despite what he'd done to Phlox. That had been possible only because nobody in the room had expected it. Surprise had been the only weapon he had left to fight with.
That was gone now.
"What have you done!?" Archer demanded, though he let Trip move him further away.
"Finished what I started," Malcolm hissed back, but his eyes flicked to Phlox and then met Trip's rather than the Captain's, "As promised."
Malcolm didn't say the rest of it aloud, but Trip felt it. Whatever war Malcolm was waging, it was on Trip now to win it. Malcolm had promised Trip wouldn't be in it alone, and somehow this last desperate act was meant to fulfill that oath.
You've won. Enterprise is yours.
If only Trip knew what that meant.