Sphere Builder's Perspective(s):
"The number of favorable outcomes has diminished."
"The humans will prevail, it has been seen."
"The timelines are prone to fluctuation, we should not assume anything."
A pause, uncommon in this limbo from time and space, lasted for what could have been one year or one second. However that trifle concern was beyond such beings as existed in this place.
"The virus is spreading, Reed must not be allowed to command the Earth vessel."
"The humans will prevail, Tucker will prevail."
"We will make the necessary changes"…
Tucker's Perspective:
With aching muscles he raised his arm, attempting to dry off the perspiration that collected in pools at the tip of his hairline.
As he let the limb fall away, slumped and lifeless at his side it drooped, and kept on drooping until the allowance of movement his shoulder permitted had run out.
And so he was left to suffer in agony while every molecule in his arms, in his body, strained against the inevitable victory of gravity, putting off the penance only to worsen his odds.
Goddamn.
The anger had long since faded, and with it went his strength, his energy, everything that had fueled Trip Tucker for those hours upon end.
He might have been glad, rejoicing at his return to clarity and common sense. But right now he could seriously do with some solid, untamed rage.
Some sleep wouldn't hurt either.
Sleep, when had he last slept? Not for a while anyway, after waking up in sickbay he'd been knocked out again, by one of his own crew no less.
At that memory he scowled, and pure, unbridled rage did find a place in his heart, but not for long. She was just a girl, couldn't have been more than nineteen, and they, everyone aboard the Enterprise, was dealing with a hell of a lot.
And besides, he wasn't always the easiest guy to be around, whatever her name she deserved a freaking commendation just for following procedure and putting up with an angry engineer.
Anger, yes I could really use some of that.
But for all the damn injustices contained within his memory nothing could seem to piss him off, at least not for longer than a few seconds.
Trip sighed, again.
He was just tired, sad, not to mention his continued fear of Mr. Crazy guy with a first class security clearance code, and who also happened to be in command of the entire ship.
He snorted, a guttural, horse like sound that hurt the depths of his dehydrated throat.
Forget fear, I'm terrified of that-, 'thing'.
Trip's mind, lost in his thoughts, had left the body to deal with its own troubles, a fight that never stood a chance.
He stumbled, before the re-entering of his brain and he caught himself, sort of.
Planted face first into the wall his hands groped at the cold steel, sliding time and time again in his struggle against the laws of physics.
Why fight this?
Why indeed.
And before that thought could finish his frame had finished its descent down the metal wall, where Trip Tucker could be found in a pile, sleeping peacefully upon the floor.