Tucker's Perspective:
The sheets were silken smooth, his head nestled itself even deeper into his pillow, enjoying the magnified sensations.
Everything felt so, nice.
He had nothing to worry about, all the burdens of life didn't exist here, here in this limbo between consciousness and sleep.
Occasionally he'd feel something else, something, trying to tell him? He wasn't sure.
But that voice, that voice was hard as steel, unforgiving of the weakness he was indulging.
It was a part of him, that voice, Trip knew that. But it wasn't a nice voice, so he ignored it, the call of duty be damned. He just wanted to sleep, sleep with no worries but sleep, and maybe later he'd deal with that voice. The voice of a Starfleet Officer with a duty to his crew, attempting to rouse him, to bring about the responsibility he owed them.
And later he would, but right now, everything just felt so nice…
T'pol's Perspective:
"May I inquire as to the Captain's wellbeing?"
T'pol stood alongside Lt. Reed, hands clasped behind her back as she attempted to maintain the façade of control she was forced to endure.
At the moment she was of half a mind to beat some sense into the Denobulan doctor, his constant talking would continue for minutes at a time, and yet still manage to avoid the main point of each conversation.
And once again, she would access whatever objectivity she still retained, and be horrified at the violent images passing through her mind. Such an emotional response would lead to the same reaction, turning her once logical, serene mind into a pit full of angry sehlats.
She no longer delved into her newfound emotions, shying back in place, too frightened to dig deeper for the horrors would only increase tenfold.
Whatever was left of her logical mind ordered her to return to the T'khut, where a Vulcan doctor, or perhaps priest, would be able to resolve her condition.
Yet she didn't, for fear had crept into the dark corners of her mind, fear of losing respect, fear of the ailments true nature. But worst of all, she was afraid to never feel again, because despite the horrible outcome of her released emotions, she could feel.
Such was the conflict between her separate urgings that she was left indecisive. She would have continued her monologue, but it appeared Doctor Phlox was reaching a critical piece of his explanation. And T'pol would rather not have to wait another 3.5 minutes for the anomaly to reoccur.
Reed's Perspective:
"The Captain had some minor tissue damage, but I have been able to repair the worst of it."
Reed listened intently, his brain finally functioning after a decent amount of sleep. "What about chemicals? Truth serums? Anything unusual in his blood stream?"
Not that Malcom didn't have faith in Phlox's ability, far from it. When it came to the medical side of life, there was probably no one he trusted more.
But they had to know if any sensitive information had been leaked. Well, considering that they hadn't even had enough time to even decipher the ships systems yet, it wasn't tactical information at risk. More so the truth of their whereabouts, and that could lead to some very uncomfortable discussions, most likely at phaser point.
"At present we have not discovered any, however there are tests that have yet to finish." Phlox turned to the monitor over Mr. Tucker's bio-bed.
The doctor tapped a few times, bringing up a diagram of-
"The Captains brain shows signs of severe stress, the amount shown here is in stark contrast to his last scans."
Reed shook his head lightly, "Doctor, we've all been under stress lately, and have more than enough reason to."
Phlox brought up a different angle, examining it before shutting off the monitor's connection.
The pictures blinked out, replaced with the Commander's bio-signs.
"No lieutenant, these levels are a sign of artificial interference, on a scale I haven't seen before. If you have anything to worry about, it is most certainly not the Captains physical health"…