Chapter Four
The day after his conversation with T'Pol, Trip started physical therapy to rehab his body. He was serious about it too. He worked out with Malcolm first, who was both surprised and impressed with Trip's resolve to get better and stronger. He pushed through the pain and did the exercises the doctor recommended. Sometimes it hurt so much he found himself on the brink of tears. That concerned Malcolm and Captain Archer as well as Travis and Hoshi. But Trip did not waiver.
One Week Later.
Trip sat on the exercise machine holding the handle bars that pushed in an upward motion and then inward and out again. It was designed to strengthen the back. Malcolm stood next to the machine keeping time.
"Again," Malcolm said. "Take your time and watch your breathing. Go!"
Trip pushed the handle bars up, then back down, in, then out as Malcolm counted. They repeated this sequence several times. "Seven, eight, nine, ten," Malcolm counted. "Stop. Okay, that was great work Mr. Tucker, let's take a break." Trip gasped out loud as he eased the handle bars back in position.
"Let's take a break?" He frowned at Malcolm. "Seems to me I'm the only one working here."
"And doing a fine job of it too," Malcolm smiled.
"I could actually go a couple sets more," Trip responded.
"I don't doubt that, but I don't want you to overdo it. Wouldn't want to defeat the purpose of the workout by you getting reinjured," Malcolm stated as he threw Trip a bottle of water. He took it, opened it and gulped the water down. He noticed Malcolm watching him as if he was trying to figure something out.
"Okay," Trip finally said. "You get once chance and this is it; one time only."
"What?" Malcolm asked. "What are you talking about?"
"I know you wanna ask me…about…about what happened to me on that alien ship all those weeks I was gone."
"I asked you before if you wanted to talk about it, and you shut me down pretty quickly. I backed off and I wasn't going ask again."
"I know. You've really respected my wishes, and not pushed the issue. I appreciate that. But, you've been a good friend Mal…you've been real understandin' and patient with me. You deserve to know, so go ahead ask me, anything you want." Malcolm considered this for a moment. He didn't want to upset Trip, but he was dying to know, he had to know.
"What happened that day in Engineering? What caused it…what made you lose it like that?" Trip looked down at the floor, then at Malcolm.
"We were talking about movie night. You made a comment about a certain member of the crew…that she was…the best looking female among the women on the ship."
"Yeah, I said T'Pol was beautiful," Malcolm said frowning. "Is that it? Is that what set you off, how?"
"It wasn't what you said, it was the way you said it. Y-you called her…"
"The beautiful one amongst women," Malcolm interrupted. "I don't understand."
"That's what they called me, on their ship… "Beautiful One"… that became my freaking name! When I heard you say it, all of a sudden, I was back there, and I could hear them callin' me that god-forsaken name!"
"Oh no!" Malcolm replied. "I'm sorry Trip, I'm really so sorry!"
"It's alright Mal, you didn't know, I didn't even know, no one could have. Phlox said with this PTSD that there are gonna be things that's gonna trigger it, and I'm gonna have these flash backs. That's what happened that day in engineerin'."
"Is there anything that can be done?"
"Not much, avoid certain stressors…take my meds…just try to stay calm, try to focus if I feel myself fallin' back."
"Should we be having this conversation?"
"He said talking about it could help too." There were a few minutes of silence. "They had never seen a human before," Trip continued. "Apparently their home world is hundreds of light years away, took 'em months to get to this area of space. They were big ugly sons of bitches, looked like eight feet tall humans, with the face of a lion. They had come across the Nausicaans, Klingons and Orions; you know, a few other groups of big ugly sons of bitches."
"I get taken while we were on Sorazon, along with all those other Sorazonians, who are also pretty big and a little unattractive too. Then along comes Trip. Everybody's got a foot or two on me, and apparently they've never seen anyone that wasn't covered with hair, sporting a lot of teeth or fangs, and with eye color other than brown or black." Trip hesitated for a moment.
"You know you don't have to do this," Malcolm said.
"Hey, I'm on a roll, so you better let me do it now, cause I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk about this again," Trip replied. Malcolm nodded and waited for him to continue.
"Anyway, these… friggin' beast, can't decide whether to skin me and eat me or to … have their way with me. So, their…C-Captain," Trip shuddered at the thought of him. "He decide that they won't do either, cause he thinks I'm… pretty. Then he makes me his personal servant, his play thing. Put this collar on my neck and led me around like an animal; kept me in a cage at night.
I had to serve him and his bridge crew, their meals, and… other stuff too. Had to…entertain them…parade around in a… a loin cloth. They'd do things to me to see how much …pain I could take, … to see how long it would take me to …pass out… or scream and cry! It was funny to 'em, they'd laugh and cheer when I broke down. I was their show." There was a long pause, and Malcolm wondered if he should let this go on. "Sometimes he would make me sleep with him…" Malcolm looked horrified as Trip spoke.
"It wasn't like that," Trip said knowing what Malcolm was thinking. "He never touched me like that…just wanted to me stay in his quarters on the floor…or sleep in his bed… like some kind of pet… I was his dog Malcolm," Trip said with an edge in his voice. After a few moments, he continued.
"It was terrifying cause I never knew what he was gonna do. He'd beat me, burn me…c-ut me… hang me upside down…d-drug me… hold me under water, drown me, then…revive me. When he was done abusing me and seeing me cry or shaking with fear, he'd rub my head, m-my face…my back, get all soft and cuddly with me… t-tell me how special I was. It was freakin' sick!" Trip's hands shook as he ran them across his face. Malcolm grimaced.
"He liked hurting me… they all did…that's what they did, they hurt people… it thrilled them…they got off on other p-people's… s-suffering. H-he would… he…he…" Trip had begun to tremble and his eyes started to water.
"That's enough," Malcolm said rising from where he was sitting in front of Trip listening to his horrendous tale. He could hardly stomach it, but didn't dare get sick in front of Trip. "You don't have to talk about this anymore, not today. C'mon, let's get you back to your quarters. You should get a hot shower and rest." Trip nodded.
Malcolm made sure Trip was okay and that he wasn't going to have another episode before he left him alone. Once he was inside his own quarters he sat hard on his bunk and folded his arms around himself. He shuddered as he thought about the things his friend had shared with him, the horrible things he had endured. Malcolm decided within himself that he would do everything he could to help his friend recover, and that nothing like that ever happened to him again, nor to any other member of the crew.
That Night.
Trip was hanging upside down in a large cooler with the rest of the meat. He wasn't even shivering anymore from the cold. He was numb, but his head felt as if his brains would burst out of him any moment. He was also having trouble breathing. Perhaps this was the moment he had been waiting for. He was going to die. Yes, this was it, because all of a sudden he could see himself back on Enterprise with his crew mates and his friends.
He could see himself in the Captain's mess or in Jon's quarters watching a water polo match. He could see himself sitting with Malcolm, Hoshi and Travis having dinner or playing a game. He could see himself arguing with T'Pol.
Then he saw his mother, his father and his three siblings back in Florida at his childhood home. He could see the beach and almost smell the salt water and feel the early morning breeze on his face. He was dying, and he was glad.
Suddenly, he heard loud voices. Someone was arguing, about him!
"You have gone too far," the female voice said. "We may not be able to save him this time!" It was Vendria, the physician.
"Well you had better find a way!" Klegg ordered. "I want him well and back the way he was!"
"What good is it to continue to restore his health if you keep abusing him? Why don't you go ahead and kill him and get it over with!" Suddenly Klegg grabbed her around the throat.
"You will save his life! He is not like any creature I have ever owned…I care deeply for him. You know this. He has to live…he is very special to me, I love him!"
"Love?!" Vendria said incredulously. "You have no concept of love! Love does not involve hurting someone, over and over again, almost to the point of death! Can't you see that Master Klegg? Can't you understand that even a little bit? What you are doing to him is not by any stretch of the imagination, love, in any form. He is a sentient being, he is called a human, he is…"
"You forget yourself woman!" he shouted, then struck her with a back hand, hurdling her to the floor. "He is mine! He is my property, and he will be whatever I want him to be, and I will do whatever it is that I chose to do to him! Now, cut him down!" he jestered to the other female medics, Kaatia and Malvek. They hurried and cut Trip down easing him down slowly, then carried him away.
"He had better survive," Klegg growled. "And he had still better be beautiful. If not, it will be you hanging up there in his place." He then kicked Vendria on the floor where she had fallen before he left. She shuddered in pain for a few moments then pushed herself up from the floor. She had to get to Trip. Not because she was afraid of Klegg's threats, but because Trip needed her. Because over the last few weeks that he had been there, enduring this torture, she had treated his injuries, cared for him on a weekly basis, spoken with him about many things and, moreover, she had become his friend.
Infirmary, Lisyrian Ship.
"Doctor," Malvek said. "He's coming to." Vendria moved over to the bed where her patient lay.
"Trip," she whispered to him as he struggled with consciousness. Over the last few weeks she and her assistants had treated him multiple times after he had been hurt at Klegg's hands. She had also learned that he hated being called "Beautiful One," so she and her assistants called him Trip when no one else was around.
"Trip, it is I, Vendria. You are safe for now, please come back to us." Trip blinked his eyes and slowly began to open them. When he realized where he was his eyes welled with tears.
"There, there, now," Vendria said stroking his hair. "Please don't. I am sorry, so, so sorry for your suffering. But, you know that I could not let you d-die…" she choked out.
Kaatia moved over to the bed and ran a scanner over Trip. She closed her eyes and lowered her head for a moment. "Hypothermia. Broken ribs, again! Concussion, again! Dislocated shoulder…"
"He cannot endure much more of this," Malvek said as she prepared the chamber to warm his body. "His fragile body was not designed to endure this kind of treatment. Vendria, what are we going to do? Continue to witness this… this torture? Continue to do nothing?"
"Let us treat his hypothermia, then we will deal with the broken bones…"
"Vendria!" Kaatia interrupted.
"You know there is nothing more we can do!"
"He wants to die," Malvek replied.
"And if he dies, then we all die," Vendria said. "What of our children if we die? What of the revolution at home? There are too many others fighting to end this way of life. We are making progress, we cannot give up. And, we cannot let him die. If he dies, so does any hope we have of escaping."
"We will never see home again!" Malvek said. "In the meantime, we see this living, breathing, sentient being, a kind and intelligent individual, treated like a mindless beast!"
"Stop it," Trip finally spoke up in a weak voice. "P-please… don't argue because of me. Don't… want anyone to die… b-because of me."
"Trip, we are sorry. We did not mean to upset you," Kaatia said. "But this suffering you are enduring is taking its toll on your body and your mind…on us as well."
"Then, you gotta… patch me up…again. G-Get me… get me, well enough so I can keep workin'… on that b-busted up…shuttle craft. Only c-chance…we got," then he lost consciousness again.
Back on Enterprise.
"Commander, listen to me. You do not have to do this," Dr. Phlox tried to say in a calm voice. "Things will get better, I assure you. Give yourself some more time, it will get better."
"Trip!" Captain Archer said trying not to startle him, "Come out of there, you don't want to do this!" But, Trip did not answer. He just stood inside the airlock, having jammed the door, staring into space.
Malcolm and Anna Hess worked frantically on the bulkhead trying to get inside of the airlock, while Phlox and Captain Archer tried to keep Trip from depressing the control to the door leading out into space. Suddenly T'Pol appeared.
"Trip, please don't do this," Archer pleaded. "You can get through this, you're stronger than this. We're going to help you, we are all here to help you." Trip still had not spoken to them nor acknowledged their presence. He just stared into outer space, his hand hovering over the lock to the outer doors.
"Commander Tucker!" T'Pol shouted in a very authoritative voice. "Stand down, now!" Trip jumped as if startled. He looked around, then turned slowly and looked out into the hallway where Phlox and Archer stood. It was if he was just realizing where he was. He slid to the floor as the door slid opened. They grabbed him and pulled him out quickly. Everyone let out long sighs of relief and looked at one another.
"Get him to sick bay," Archer said.
Sick Bay.
"I'm telling you Capt'n, I don't remember how I got in that air lock. I don't even remember leaving my quarters," Trip said as he sat on a bio-bed.
"So you're telling me that you weren't trying to kill yourself?" Jon asked.
"I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it since I've been back. Thought about it a lot…almost every day," he said lowering his head. "But, I've never acted on anything."
"Trip, we were all there, we saw it. We thought you were going to blow yourself out of that airlock any minute." Malcolm and T'Pol quietly listened from across the room.
"I don't know what I was gonna do," Trip replied bewildered. "I don't even know what I was doing in there. I said I've thought about doing it, b-but I don't want to die."
"I wish I could believe that Commander," Phlox said. "While I appreciate your efforts in trying to regain your physical health, you are not getting any better mentally."
"I want to," Trip said in a soft voice. "I was willing to try that purging process. All I want to do is forget."
"But you know now that that is not possible Commander," T'Pol spoke up. "Dr. Yuris believes that it is not a suitable procedure for a human. You could suffer permanent brain damage."
"Anything would be better than this," Trip responded.
"You're not doing it!" Archer said. Trip only looked down.
"What now?" he asked Archer, then looked a Phlox. They looked at one another.
"I am sorry Commander," Phlox replied, "but I am going to have to insist on you staying here in sick bay and, uh, having someone be with you at all times and serve as a, well an escort of sorts."
"You're putting me on suicide watch," Trip said. "I'm not going to do anything, I promise."
"I'm afraid that's not good enough Trip", Archer said. "I can't risk something like this happening again."
"What am I supposed to do sitting around in sick bay all day?" Trip asked.
"Couldn't you release him to his quarters?" Archer asked. "I can assign around the clock monitoring. He could work from there."
"I suppose so," Phlox sighed.
"For how long?" Trip asked Phlox.
"Until I am certain you are no longer a danger to yourself. Until then, you will be accompanied by someone at all times."
"Malcolm," Archer said turning to the security officer.
"Yes Sir," Malcolm responded moving closer.
"Set it up." He then looked back at Trip, then turned and left sick bay.
Malcolm arranged for Travis, Hoshi, he and T'Pol to sit with Trip at various times. When they weren't available, a couple of Phlox's medics did it. The Captain even took a turn. After about a week of being baby sat, Trip realized that he was going to have to talk about his ordeal if he was ever going to be able to be free again. He was so sick of the hovering, of people patronizing him and treating him like glass.
He hadn't wanted to talk to a psychiatrist, but in order to get rid of his shadows, he let Phlox set him up with a Starfleet therapist via telecom. He submitted to a full psych evaluation and work up, and after a few days, was relieved from around the clock monitoring, but still had to check in with Phlox three times a day. He didn't want to talk about his ordeal, but he did it, three times a week. He hated it and a few times he ended up in sick bay on a bio-bed afterwards, but he did not quit. He wanted to sometimes, but he didn't.
By the time they were ready for shore leave, Trip seemed better, but he was still not fully healed, nor was he the same person he used to be. The old Trip was funny, good-natured, loved life, people, valued friendship, truth and justice in the United Earth way. But, this Trip was different. He rarely smiled, was jumpy, closed off and vacant.
Phlox had even allowed him to go back on duty, and he did his job superbly, very efficiently and as brilliant as ever. He also occasionally attended a movie, ate with the Captain and his Vulcan Science Officer a couple of times a week, and worked out with Malcolm and the others. He chatted with Travis and Hoshi occasionally and was friendly to everyone. But, there was something about him, something was missing. There was a dullness behind his eyes and a dark aura around him. Yes, something was definitely missing; it was his spirit.