A/N: I hope you enjoyed last chapter and continue to enjoy!
The bridge officers watched in gape-mouthed horror as Malcolm fell to the floor, clutching the hole in his side in agony. Archer gripped his armrests with white knuckles, working to unclench his jaw but failing.
The alien captain gave a clicking laugh and poked Malcolm with a boney but well-groomed toe. "Your "tactical officer" needs your medical attention, and I need food and medical supplies. When shall we trade?" He asked.
"We'll need a few minutes to get everything ready," Archer said levelly. The alien captain narrowed his gaze then turned it towards Malcolm. "You might want to hurry. I'm not sure how many minutes your "tactical officer" has left." The viewscreen shut off, showing only the alien ship in the middle of open space.
Archer pressed a button on his armrest. "Archer to Chef." He sighed. The bridge crew looked at him expectantly.
"What do you want?" Chef demanded angrily. "It's lunchtime, I don't have the time!" In the background, voices called out to each other, and knives sliced evenly trough food, clacking against polycarbonate cutting boards. Archer gave a breathy laugh.
"This is an order. Prepare two boxes of protein packs. Have them ready on my signal." Archer replied. Chef sighed and ended communication. Then Archer contacted Phlox and told the doctor to prepare a few basic medical kits, ordering both to be loaded on the transporter. T'Pol looked at him out of the corner of her eye but said nothing.
Archer caught her glance and held it, "Something you'd like to say, Subcommander?" He asked.
T'Pol raised an eyebrow."It would be illogical to conclude that the aliens will release Lieutenant Reed merely because we give them some food packs and bandages."
Archer nodded. "Hoshi, hail them. Visual, if possible." He said, standing with his hands formally clasped behind his back.
Hoshi tapped a few keys at her station nervously, heart pounding with each bleep of her keys. A little light at the top right of her vision showed that the alien ship was responding. With fleeting fingers, she transferred the image to the viewscreen.
Before the alien captain had a chance to blink, Archer hissed, "Transfer our tactical officer to sick bay. Then we will give you your-"
Suddenly, the aliens teleported onto the bridge, each one standing next to one of the stations. The captain stood in front of Archer, dragging a semiconscious Malcolm Reed. The captain shoved Malcolm forward a few steps, and Malcolm collapsed under his own weight.
Archer pressed the comm button on his armrest. "Phlox to the bridge. Medical emergency."
The alien captain gave a catlike hiss. "Our goods first. Then you may treat your officer."
Snorting slightly, Archer shook his head. "I have your supplies in a transporter. If you return to your ship, I will have them transported there."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"No, but if you don't leave, then I can just as easily have them transported into empty space and destroyed. Our spatial torpedoes were just recallibrated, and I've been wanting to test them out." Archer said levelly. He stared the other captain down, just as Phlox hurried through the bridge doors.
The alien captain turned his gaze on Phlox and spat, "Come!" to his officers. The aliens disappeared in a stream of molecules.
"Sir! They have weapons locked." Ensign Jacobsen, acting tactical officer, said, tapping a few keys.
"They're hailing us." Hoshi said seriously. Archer glanced first at her, then at Phlox. "Take him to sick bay. Ensign Falsky, assist the doctor." Then he turned to Hoshi and nodded. With a few keystrokes, the alien captain's face appeared.
"We have weapons locked on your warp reactor. Give us the supplies, or we will destroy your ship." He half-hissed.
Archer pressed the comm button on his armrest. "Commander Tucker, beam the crates unto the alien ship." He said. On the corner of the viewscreen, four four-foot cubes appeared by the captain's feet. His officers quickly dismantled the crates. The captain glanced at the contents, stared at Archer, then barked an order to a crewman.
Without further communication, the alien ship suddenly jumped to warp, leaving the bridge of the Enterprise in a confused silence.
Hoshi stood up quickly and turned to Archer. "Requesting permission to visit Lieutenant Reed, sir."
Archer looked her over before nodding. "You might want to bring something pineapple." He said with a grin. Hoshi smiled tautly and nodded back.
She burst into mess hall five minutes later, scrounging the shelves for something pineapple. When that plan failed, she burst into the galley itself and grabbed a whole pineapple, coring, peeling, and slicing it in record time. She poured the chunks into a clean bowl she hoped Chef wasn't going to use. He was too busy to notice, anyway.
Just a few minutes later, she burst into sick bay, clear bowl full of pineapple tucked under one arm. Phlox looked up from a scan he had just taken. "How is he?" Hoshi asked, setting the bowl down on the closest flat surface and walking next to Malcolm, who had cords coming out of his body, recording his vital signs.
"I can't say. He's lost a great deal of blood. I've done all that I can. It's up to him now." Phlox said, turning off his scanner. Then he burst into a grin. "But I'm sure he'll do all he can, too." He rushed to and from Malcolm's side, doing doctor-is stuff that she couldn't explain
"H...Hoshi?"
Hoshi whirled around and saw Malcolm looking at her through half-open lids. "Shh. Just go back to sleep." She said, running a cool hand over his sweat-streaked forehead. He shook his head and coughed, a little blood spattering his chin and cheek. Her heart twinged a bit.
"Hoshi... I just... w-w..wanted to say..." Malcolm coughed again, shaking visibly. Hoshi tried shushing him again, but he shook his head stubbornly. "I-I... like you... You know, th-that way..." He stuttered out, cheeks burning from either embarrassment or fever.
Hoshi stepped forward, about to reply that she liked him too, that was such a kindergarten thing to say, and that they should totally have dinner when he recovers, when suddenly, the computer recording his vital signs flatlined.
A/N: !Ay, Dios mío! D: