The First Years: Chapter 3.5
Codes: A/T'P. Living through bad times and good times.Rating: PG-13.
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Summary: Archer and T'Pol try to survive in the desert. T'Pol goes to great lengths to keep Archer alive.
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A/N: (Same as the first part of this chapter.) The Ryan parts were hard to write. I don't like him. His wasn't the only part I had trouble writing. This chapter has other things that were hard to write or things like action that don't show up in my writing that often. Some parts of this chapter may not appeal to everyone. I hope that this chapter is entertaining or at least entertaining in parts to readers. If not, the next chapter will be different than this and more like last chapter.
oooooo
The sound of boots crunching through salt filled the rest of the afternoon. Archer barely kept pace with T’Pol. She walked with the same ease she would aboard Enterprise- her posture perfect and no trace of sweat or fatigue on her skin.
Archer wished he felt as good as she looked. The afternoon sun was beginning to dry his clothes and skin. The sun also glared into his eyes despite adjusting his turban. Ripping a strip of cloth from his turban, he fashioned to eye slits and put it on. If only his other problems could be solved with a piece of cloth. Salt coated his skin and cut into his joints with each movement of his arms or legs. Underneath his clothes, the salt caused friction in other places. Archer daydreamed of rinsing the salt off under the portable camping shower he’d seen in the crates of supplies before they took off. Too bad they didn’t have it. A cold shower would feel good right about now.
Loose pants and long sleeves protected his arms and legs. Dry heat that he estimated soared over 115 degrees made his skin feel hot as if sunburned and slick with perspiration despite the protection. Flying insects buzzed around him searching for moisture. He gave up a long time ago the never-ending battle to shue them away. The little black ones crawled in his nose and ears looking for moisture. The red ones, the ones he hated the most, flew in silently landing on his skin and puncturing it with a horn shaped proboscis to feed on his blood. They were too fast for him to swat before they were off again to join the cloud of insects following their walking buffet. The small red welts on his hands and face itched. What he wouldn’t give for insect repellant. Archer stopped himself. He was mentally complaining about his situation. He tried to think of other things.
T’Pol did feel as good as she looked. The air caressing her skin and ruffling her hair was neither too hot nor too cold. She walked effortlessly. The movement and her surroundings stilled her mind in a way similar to meditation. T’Pol’s inner eyelids protected her vision, deadening the glared and allowing her to take in the beauty of the plain. The stark white of salt coating the sand contrasted with the light blue sky in a way T’Pol found aesthetically pleasing. She inhaled the smell of salt in the air. Her eyes briefly closed and memories of Vulcan surfaced.
T’Les knelt beside her on a salt plain nearby their home. Her mother showed her how to carefully dig through the crust of salt. T’Pol’s hand trowel hit a solid object. With a gloved hand, she exposed the clump of interconnected crystals larger than her small hand. Each of the clear crystals encased the sand in a pattern humans would call an hourglass. T’Pol’s eyes widened. She considered the geological forces that created the crystals. The crystals joined the other rocks lying on a shelf in T’Pol’s room, logically for further study.
T’Pol brought her thoughts back to their situation and began planning for the days ahead.
The cloudless day made way to a cold night as the heat rapidly escaped the atmosphere. Archer need to rest a few hours, so they unpacked some of his clothes and made a makeshift bed. The sharp edges of the salt crystals still poked into their skin through their bedding. Archer didn’t care. He collapsed down onto the bed, grateful to be off his feet. He removed his turban and makeshift sunglasses from his head. T’Pol lay down close to him but not touching. They pulled the emergency blanket from their first aid kit over their bodies. It would reflect some of their body heat back to them.
“It’s only going to get colder. We need to conserve body heat. I know you don’t like touching other people, but it’s the best way to transfer body heat.”
T’Pol nodded her consent and felt a hand snake around her waist pulling her to spoon against his chest. The smell of Archer surrounded her. His familiar and comforting scent was tainted by the pungent stink of salty sweat. His chin rested against the top of her head and she felt his breath gently rustling through her hair. His heart beat against her back reminding her that he was still alive. She relaxed against him and looked up at the stars twinkling above them.
“T’Pol, who do you think sabotaged the shuttlepod?” His chest rumbled as he whispered. She empathically sensed emotions from him. Anger, worry, fear.
“I don’t know. I suspect there are few people in the colony with the skills to program a computer program capable of overriding a Starfleet shuttle’s navigation controls.”
“Do you think it could be a Starfleet officer?”
“It is a possibility. A computer specialist who worked with Starfleet ships or shuttlepods in the past would have the necessary knowledge.”
“I don’t like not knowing who did this. If we are rescued or reach the colony, that person could try to hurt us again. I want you to promise me something T’Pol.”
“I cannot promise you without knowing what it is I am promising.”
“Promise me you will take us back to Enterprise if the person who sabotaged the shuttle isn’t caught. I don’t want you to live in fear not knowing if or when they will strike again.”
T’Pol thought over his request. His logic was sound. “I promise you.”
Archer let out a sigh. “Thank you.”
“There’s something else I need to talk with you about. You need to know what to expect.”
“What are you referring to?”
“I’ve already started feeling the effects of dehydration today. I sweat more water than I take in. I’ve been dehydrated in the desert before with Trip. This situation could get worse than that. I could get irritable, argumentative, or hallucinate. I may even try to strip naked.”
T’Pol raised an eyebrow at his last statement. “I will watch you carefully for these symptoms.”
“Those symptoms may or may not happen. I’ve seen lack of water make men and women do strange things. Someone in my survival training team in Australia thought the kangaroos conspired against us to hide sources of water.”
“A very irrational assumption.”
“Yes, he was suffering from heat exhaustion. When we followed a group of kangaroos to muddy water hole, he stopped believing that.”
The silence of the night fell around them. “I better get some sleep. Goodnight T’Pol.”
“Goodnight Jonathan.”
Even though he’d survived in a desert several times T’Pol worried about him now. If they could find no other viable source of water, she would watch him die of thirst. T’Pol closed her eyes and told herself dwelling on possible negative outcomes was illogical. The rhythmic sound of Archer snoring interrupted her thoughts. She’d give him three hours to sleep before they began walking towards the mountains again.
oooooo
Trip collapsed into the chair in the captain’s ready room. After all this time, he still thought of this room as not his office. In his mind ‘acting’ was understood before the title of captain, and he was just warming the big chair until Phlox cured Jon.
Running his hands down his face, he wondered if it was time to stop believing he was just a place holder. He was captain of this ship, and Jon and T’Pol might never come back to Enterprise alive.
He sighed and left the ready room, handing the bridge over to Donaldson. Minutes later, he sat in the captain’s mess with comfort food: a glass of root beer and a slice of pecan pie.
The door opened when he was half-way through the slice of pie.
“I thought you might like some company, sir,” Reed said waiting for permission to join him.
“I’m off-duty Malcolm. Call me Trip.” Reed stood still not moving from the doorway. “Don’t just stand there. Take a seat.”
Reed took the seat next to him. He noted that Trip was sitting in the seat near the window. The one he’d seen Trip sitting in on the rare occasions he dined in the captain’s mess with Trip, Archer, and T’Pol.
“You’re leaving for the surface in an hour. I thought you’d be preparing for that,” Trip commented while chewing.
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Reed’s usual all business tone gave way to the more relaxed one he used with his friend.
Trip frowned then took a gulp of root beer. “I’m fine.”
“No offense, but you don’t look it. The crew has been taking this hard, but you knew them both better than any of us.”
“What do you want me to say Malcolm? That I’m worried about them. You know I am. I want to be down there right now searching for them. I’d comb the desert with my bare hands if it would help find them. But I’m stuck up here being Captain because my first officer says the Captain shouldn’t be flying in potentially hazardous conditions.”
“Sandstorms can happen without warning in the desert. It’s safer for you to remain here and help coordinate efforts with the surface.”
“Why do you get to have all the fun?” Trip asked with a weak smile.
“It’s one of the privileges of being a first officer.”
Trip silently ate two forkfuls of pie.
“I’ll find them, sir,” Reed reassured him.
“I know you will, Malcolm.” Silently Trip added, ‘I just hope you find them in time.’
oooooo
“You haven’t drunk anything in three days. I won’t drink unless you share it with me.”
T’Pol looked over him in the dim glow of starlight. The desert was slowly claiming him. His hands were chapped by sunburn. The skin around his eyes and on his forehead was the same shade of red. Peaking out from beneath the cloth covering his nose and mouth was the beginnings of a beard peppered with newly grown gray. Eyes, which were watering, stared back at her.
Today was the beginning of their third day in the desert. Archer’s hand offered her the last water pouch holding barely a cup of water. T’Pol pleaded with her eyes for Archer not to make her drink any water despite her own thirst.
“I can survive for several days without water.”
“From what you told me this morning we’ve already been out here several days. Knowing you, you haven’t drank anything during that time.”
T’Pol responded to him only with silence.
“Fine, neither of us will drink it.” Archer opened the cap and tilted the pouch ready to pour the water onto the sand.
“I will drink with you,” T’Pol conceded.
Archer weakly smiled. His gravely voice spoke, “Good.” He drank half of the water.
His lips pressed together and opened only to press together again. “I want to say some things before we start walking again. You are long overdue for several apologies from me.”
“That doesn’t matter now.”
“It does to me. I need to say this to you.”
“Continue.”
“If one of us doesn’t make it through this, I want you to know…” He couldn’t tell her what he really felt. If they lived, she would carry what he said with her each day. He told her something close to it, “I care for you.” I love you. “I haven’t always treated you with the utmost respect, and I apologize for that. You’ve done so much for me as a first officer and friend, more than I can ever repay you.” I wish I could tell you and show you how much you mean to me. “When you came aboard, I never imagined that you would become one of my closest friends.” I never imagined you would come to mean more to me than a friend. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you.”
T’Pol’s eyes looked suddenly moist to him. She took the pouch from him and drank the last of their water. “I have come to care for you as well. I consider you my t'hy'la, life friend.” She wouldn’t admit to him or herself that he fit another meaning of the word in her mind- life companion. The lines around Archer’s eyes crinkled. She could tell he was smiling beneath the dusty cloth covering his mouth. “Jonathan, we will make it through this together.”
“Don’t try to sugar coat the situation T’Pol. I know what will happen if we don’t find water or get rescued soon. My body is leaching water from itself. My head and neck have throbbed since I woke up this morning. I could go on, but we both know I’m not in good shape.”
“If you give up hope, the desert has already claimed your life.”
“I know. I still have hope. I’m just being realistic.”
“We are still alive. And I will endeavor to keep us that way as long as Vulcanly possible.”
The skin around Archer’s eyes crinkled as he coughed out a laugh. “I know you will. We’re both too stubborn to die.”
oooooo
Tonight he would wake up and ask her for water, and for the first time she’d have to tell him there was none. Today, they’d gathered and drank their own urine in the hopes of staying alive for a while longer. Without water they would die in a matter of days.
T’Pol held Archer’s unconscious shaking body tightly to her. Absently she smoothed the hair on his head noticing the new gray wiry hairs sprouting among his dirty, sweat-soaked locks. She closed her eyes wishing to dream of a place with water, food, and him. Darkness came to her instead. Filling the void where dreams or her meditation space should be.
Two hours later, their boots crunched through the last patch of salt encrusted soil and sunk a few inches into the base of a sand dune.
Archer followed closely behind T’Pol. In the dark night with only the stars to light their way, he couldn’t see her clearly more than a few feet away. He walked along the crest of the dune in her footsteps.
She was the only one carrying a backpack now. She’d packed the contents of his pack into hers and left the other one to be covered by the sand. When he woke up, she told him they only had one backpack. It was a lie, but one she was willing to tell. Archer didn’t have the strength to carry a load on his back.
“How far are we away from the mountains?” Archer asked.
“I estimate we will reach them in two or three days.”
Silence fell between them again for several hours.
“I can’t take this silence anymore.”
“Talking wastes energy and water.”
“I know it does. But my head is pounding and it’s hard to think straight. I need to talk or listen to something.”
T’Pol noted Archer seemed more agitated than he was earlier today. She remembered Archer told her he might experience this emotion.
“My body conserves water better than yours it is more logical for me to talk than you. What would you like me to tell you about?”
“Anything. I don’t know.”
She thought for several steps.
“I told you once that when I was a child I survived in the desert for ten days during the kahswan ritual. The desert had some similarities to this one: large sand dunes, flat plains, and mountainous regions. There were also difference, the lack of a salt lake or plain, and perhaps more sources of food and water.”
Archer interrupted her story, “How old were you then?”
“I was six years old.”
”That’s awfully young to undergo a rite of passage.”
“The kahswan is completed before a Vulcan child reaches the time of bonding. It would be illogical to bond a child only to have them parish in the kahswan.”
“Oh.”
She continued her story explaining how she was sent alone into the desert without food, water, or a weapon. Water was difficult to find in the desert. She resorted to turning over rocks in the morning to gather dew. She also gathering certain succulents her father told her about and chewed on their moisture filled leaves. Her journey through the desert was uneventful until the fifth day.
A long mane of hair blew out from beneath the hood of T’Pol’s cape. She’d given up several nights ago on keeping her hair in its usual perfectly braided style and now let it hang straight.
She was hungry and need something to drink. Seeing a valit crawling outside of its burrow, she contemplated killing it for its blood and flesh. She stood still thinking as she stared at the reptile walk across the sand on the twenty-six pairs of legs sticking out below the scaled segments of its three-foot long body. Sensing someone approaching, it scurried back into its hole.
T’Pol had never eaten meat and the idea was not appealing. The hollowness of her stomach and dryness in her throat and mouth steered her towards this desperate act. She scoured the area and found two rocks geologically suitable for her needs. Crouching on the ground, she chipped off shards of rock until she found one the right shape. A scrap of cloth wrapped around the blunt end of the shard made an adequate grip. Hand griping her dagger she shimmied over near the hole on her stomach and crouched by it waiting for the valit to emerge.
When the valit emerged, T’Pol pounced on it trying to plunge her blade between the segments. It whipped back its powerful body and threw her to the ground. Angry high pitched clicks emerged from it. T’Pol blocked the valit’s burrow so the creature rolled up into a ball. Scales protected its vulnerable underbelly from her blade. T’Pol sat stunned on the ground. Her face, hair, tan pants, shirt and cape carefully hand-embroidered with her clan name by her mother, all covered in red sand.
Slowly breathing in and out, she calmed herself and thought of what to try next. The valit’s muscles were strong so prying it open was not an option. T’Pol walked around the giant ball looking for weaknesses. Sensing her movements the valit wound tighter.
She looked at the valit then its burrow and back again. Inspiration struck. Quickly she rolled the valit over to its burrow lodging it in the opening. Grabbing a nearby rock she raised it over her head and came down hard on the tail section of the creature wrapped around the rest of its body. Two of the scales shattered causing the valit to loudly screech.
T’Pol plunged her blade into the flesh exposed beneath the scales. Deep green blood oozed from the wound when she pulled out her blade. The valit unwound trying to turn over and defend itself. Slashing through its pale underbelly, T’Pol’s blade punctured the heart of the valit. Blood sprayed by the creature’s final heartbeats splattered on her face and clothing.
Gripping her blade tight, the skin of her palm cut open despite the cloth she wrapped around the blade. Her blood mingled with that of her victim. Or should she say victims. Judging from the pouch on the valit’s abdomen, she was female and carrying live young inside her pouch. T’Pol peeked inside of the pouch. Eight white valits only a few days old sucked on nourishment from their mother.
Nausea overcame T’Pol. She stumbled back from the carcass shaking her head. She’d been able to rationalize killing the animal for food when she told herself it was only one life. Now she was responsible for nine deaths. She didn’t deserve to live. She took lives to save her own. It didn’t matter if they weren’t sentient lives. Her mother and father would see the blood on her clothing and know. They would see her for the undisciplined creature she’d become.
The words of Surak echoed in her head. “As far as possible, do not kill. Can you return life to what you kill? Then be slow to take life.”
T’Pol hugged her legs to her chest and shed water for the valit, its children, and herself. Sniffling she pulled herself together and thought of her situation logically. The valit was dead, and the offspring would soon follow. Nothing would change that. She would die without water today. She did the logical thing. T’Pol cut the carcass open avoiding the area around the pouch and sliced the meat away ignoring the bile rising from her stomach. She ate raw meat and drank blood for several hours before continuing her journey. She disgusted herself when she liked the taste of the meat. The stickiness of the blood on her hands and the taste of meat on her tongue stayed with her for the rest of her journey.
Her parents surprised her. The welcomed her back. They did not approve of her taking another life, but they knew she did what was necessary to survive.
Archer listened to her story not knowing what to say. In his mind a child should never have to go through something like that. He knew he shouldn’t judge. Some of his culture’s ways might seem just as horrific to Vulcans.
“I don’t know what to say… I’m sorry you had to go through killing an animal like that.”
“There is nothing for you to be sorry for. You had no control over the events that happened.”
“I still feel for what you went through.”
oooooo
“I didn’t really know him. He worked in computer repair. I’m a grease monkey. I usually work on engines.” The grease on his uniform testified to that. “He kept to himself a lot. He seemed like –”
“- a nice guy. He never treated me differently because I’m a construction worker. He was easy to get along with. He didn’t bother me. I didn’t bother him. Best roommate I ever had. We would talk sometimes in the galley of the Constellation. He talked a lot about –”
“- his wife and kid. He missed them terribly. I felt sorry for him, loosing his family like that. He didn’t talk to me much about things other than work, but when he did talk, it was always about his wife and kid. I was interested in him when first started working together. This girl has enough sense to know not to get involved with a grieving man. And, well, something about him-”
“- just didn’t feel right. Grieving is one thing, but wallowing in it is entirely different. He became an automaton after Tressa died. He played nice to everyone, but I could tell he was just going through the motions. I worked for years with him on Jupiter Station. After the Xindi attack, I didn’t know him anymore. I thought he’d end his life sooner than he did. They took away everything that he lived for. I never thought he’d-”
“- go this far. I saw him in the gym sometimes on the Constellation. We would talk. He hated this planet as much as me. You know what its nickname is? Purgatory. I think it fits this ball of dust perfectly. Some people feel like me, we’re just waiting for the Xindi to find us. Ryan felt this place was his punishment. He was in limbo between living and dying. I’m not a psychologist, but he talked a lot about that stuff. He might have thought he was being punished, but he punishing himself as much as he punished his body. I told him he couldn’t have prevented their death. He went on about how Starfleet could have. I knew he wanted justice, but I didn’t think he’d try to –”
“- try to kill someone. Sure, I knew he was depressed and probably had some sort of insanity, but I thought he’d just off himself to end his pain. I got drunk with him a few times back in his quarters on Jupiter Station. He told me how much he wanted to kill the Xindi who took his family away. Say, this wouldn’t have to do with that –”
“Vulcan bitch. She deserved to die for what she did.” The red haired man, whose muscular frame was tanned by the summer sun, stood up and leaned over the table at Reed. “You should have stopped her! How could you let a Vulcan whore who trade favors with your amnesiac captain command a starship? She destroyed your warp nacelle and with it your opportunity to stop the Xindi weapon.”
Reed stood up and grabbed the man by his collar. “Shut up and listen! If I find out you know anything about what happened to Archer and T’Pol, I will personal see you work in the mining operations in the southern continent in chains along side the hardened criminals who were headed for Tantalus Penal Colony. The only bitch will be you when you meet your new roommates.”
The man smiled, “I don’t know anything. You only have me here because I’m a member of Terra Prime. Before you told me Calvert’s name, I’d never heard of the man. You can give me a truth serum, if you want, but you know I’m telling the truth.”
He gave him the truth serum anyway. The man was speaking the truth. Reed could help but think that they were running out of time.
“Hoshi to Reed.”
“Reed here.”
“We’ve decoded the program.”
oooooo
“Is that tumbleweed?” Archer asked pointing at several ‘tumbleweed’ blowing across the sand dunes. His mouth was dry and his tongue threatened to stick to the roof of his mouth as he talked. Clearing his throat, he couldn’t dislodge the constant lump that had been in his throat all day.
Archer walked up to the top of the sand dune to get a better look. Water in his eyes refracted the sun’s light like a prism making it hard to see the object of his interest clearly. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He both hoped for and feared the time when his tears would dry up. His boots sunk into the sand as he took slow steps, pausing in between each to rest. Each step brought with it a myriad of sensations. His whole body felt exhausted. It would be easier to say which parts of his body didn’t hurt than to list all the muscles, skin, and, if he wasn’t imagining it, bones that did. Sand rubbed between his toes and between the soles of his feet and the bottom of his boots. Some time ago, his feet had swollen to the point where he couldn’t pry off his boots and empty them. The pounding in his head and ringing in his ears became annoyances like the hot dryness traveling through his nose to his throat and lungs and back out his mouth with each breath. He wanted to lie down and let sleep or death claim him. But he kept moving for the woman beside him.
“Tumbleweed?” T’Pol stopped walking and followed his sunburned finger to look at the object of his interest- what looked like dead bushes tumbling through the sand. He cleared his throat again, and scratched his ear, which wouldn’t stop itching. Fingernails tipped with streaks of blood told him he’d scratched too much today.
“No. We have encountered these creatures before. They are small reptiles that connect together and travel across the desert together. You hypothesized when we first encountered them that they might be traveling between water sources.”
Archer perked up when she mentioned water. Licking his cracked lips, he dreamed of refreshing pools of water deep enough for him to dive into. Feeling the hot dryness in his lungs, throat, and mouth again, he coughed. “Why did I say that?”
“Several ‘tumbleweeds’ arrived at an oasis we were surveying and proceeded to feed off the plant life there.”
“Oh.”
“It is best not to disturb the creatures. They are poisonous.”
“Do you think they are going to water?”
“That is a possibility.”
“Let’s follow them.”
“They may not be headed towards water.”
Archer shook his head and yelled, “They are! Where else would they be going?”
“Jonathan, please calm yourself and try to think rationally. The wind could take them to random locations.”
“I am rational. I’m following them. If you don’t want to come-” his voice cracked.
T’Pol noticed the reptiles disconnect from each other and quickly burry themselves under the sand. The wind picked up speed and whipped hair into her face. Turning her head, she looked behind them. T’Pol widened her eyes and pulled on Archer’s arm pleading with him, “We need to take cover.”
Archer looked back. A wall of sand filled the horizon as far as his eyes could see. He stumbled after T’Pol down the side of the sand dune. T’Pol rummaged through her backpack and found the emergency blanket.
“Turn your back to the wind,” She instructed. They sat down close together and T’Pol covered their heads and upper bodies with the blanket. Holding one of his shirts to her nose like a handkerchief, T’Pol looked at Archer. Archer adjusted the cloth covering his nose and mouth. They waited for the wall of sand to hit them.
The sand hit them knocking the wind out of Archer’s chest. Sand filled the air and blocked out the sun’s light. Most of the day, he’d felt like he’d been baking in an oven. Now it felt like someone turned the heat up to broil him to a crisp. He breathed slowly in and out through the cloth wondering how many hours the storm would last.
Overhead, a shuttlepod avoided the sand storm and continued searching.
oooooo
Reed beamed up to Enterprise and joined Hoshi in the situation room.
“Captain,” he said to Trip as he entered the doors.
“Malcolm,” Trip replied. Reed could see the dark circles under Trip’s eyes. Each day Archer and T’Pol continued to go missing took a toll on Trip and the rest of the senior staff.
“Hoshi, fill Malcolm in.” Reed knew from the look on Trip’s face that the news wasn’t the miracle they were looking for.
“We,” she referred to herself and the team of computer programmers she worked with, “decoded the program and analyzed the commands it is designed to generate. We believe this program is designed to override all navigational functions of a shuttlepod at a designated place along the shuttle’s flight path. It then diverts the course of the shuttlepod to another location. The program also locks out all computer functions from manual control while the program is engaged. Life support is also cut when the program is engaged. Attempts to override the program will initiate a program that detonates an explosive device.”
Reed didn’t like the sound of that last part. “Does the program say what destination the shuttlepod is diverted to?”
“Yes.” She brought up the coordinates and pointed to them in the string of computer codes. “Here. I tried bringing up the coordinates, but they don’t exist. Lt. Thompson theorized they might be a phony set of coordinates used as a placeholder. Calvert may have entered the real coordinates later after he uploaded the contents of this disk to the shuttlepod computer or an external hard drive.”
Reed sighed and thanked Hoshi for her update. Another dead end.
oooooo
He didn’t fall asleep that night. He stayed awake as thoughts raced through his head. Confusion and frustration set in and he tried to calm his mind. He closed his eyes trying to meditate. The sound of sand moving under shoes caused him to open his eyes.
“Mom,” Archer mouthed. Sitting on the sand beside T’Pol was his mother. In the dim starlight, he could barely make out her face.
“Jonathan,” she smiled at him.
“Mom, why are you here?” he whispered. He moved his hand away from T’Pol’s stomach and moved away slowly from the comforting heat of her body.
“How can you do this to her son?” he soft voice became harsh with disapproval.
“Do what mom? I don’t understand.”
“Do you remember what I told you the day your father died? He told me that he didn’t want us to see him when he died. I’m glad that I honored his wishes despite your protests. You were spared of having to witness his dying breaths. Now you are faced with a similar decision, yet you won’t spare her from having to helplessly watch your death.”
“Mom, I –“
“Don’t make excuses Jonathan. I know you don’t want to die alone, but think about her. You love her. Don’t let her last memory of you be of cradling your dying body. Do the right thing for her.”
Archer reached down and smoothed the hair away from T’Pol’s ears. He looked back up at his mother and saw she had vanished.
T’Pol awakened to find Archer gone. She pulled back the emergency blanket and called out for him, “Jonathan.”
She easily located his deep tracks through the sand and followed them. He hadn’t wandered far. She found him staggering through the sand a few dunes away.
“You need rest Jonathan.”
“Go away,” he slurred and continued walking through the sand. He sounded like an intoxicated man.
T’Pol grabbed his arm and halted him. “No. I will not let you travel alone.”
“Let me go. I slow you down.” His tongue clicked against his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Feebly he tried to escape from her grip. He panted from the exertion.
“No.”
“I don’t want you to watch me die.” His eyes pleaded with her to let him go.
“You will not die alone. Come back with me and rest.”
“No,” he said in his poor attempt at his command voice.
“If you will not come back with me, I will be forced to carry you back.”
Archer came back to rest without further protest. When he lay down again with her, T’Pol held him tightly to her.
oooooo
Archer stared off in front of him seldom blinking. He wheezed between each breath. His gravely voice spoke, “I think I need to rest.” He stumbled and collapsed on the sand unable to wait for T’Pol. Over the last few days, their routine had become walk and rest then walk some more.
T’Pol knelt beside him and grabbed his arm, pulling him up to sit. Archer saw the concern plainly on her face. He also saw the bags under her eyes still visible despite the deep bronze of her darkened complexion.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he whispered, “I just need to rest.”
T’Pol gave him a look that said he was a bad liar. Then, she turned to unpack clothing from her bag and make a layer of clothing on the ground to protect their skin from the hot sand. She helped him crawl onto the makeshift blanket and lie in a fetal position. T’Pol sat beside him holding the emergency blanket up. The shiny side was pointed towards the sun to reflect some of its heat.
Archer closed his eyes. An hour later, T’Pol shook him to wake him up. He didn’t wake. His skin felt feverish and his pulse raced below her fingers. T’Pol’s shaky hands reached for the first aid kit. She filled the hypospray with a vial that was only 1/3 full. The rest of it she’d given to him over the past few days at night. She injected the electrolytes into him. She pulled another vial out and injected herself with stimulants.
Sticking two fingers to her mouth she moistened them with spit and rubbed it onto his lips. It was the only fluids she had to give him.
No, she thought. There is something else. Urine was no longer an option since Archer’s stopped producing it a day ago, and her body was producing limited amounts. But her thoughts were right. There was still something she hadn’t tried.
The shot of electrolytes helped Archer regain semi-consciousness. The waning evening sun shined in his face. He felt his head being lifted and a hot fluid being poured in through his parted lips. Thankfully it didn’t taste like urine. It was thicker and left a metallic aftertaste. Archer couldn’t figure out what it was. His eyes focused enough for him to see T’Pol’s face hovering over him. She looked paler than she looked before he lost consciousness. His eyes couldn’t focus on the specimen bag hanging over his mouth When T’Pol took the empty bag away, Archer’s eyes widened and he coughed threatening to wretch the liquid onto the ground.
There was no denying what the green liquid that coated the bag was. T’Pol stowed the bag away in the first aid kit along with the device she’d used to seal up the slice in her wrist.
Archer always knew she’d give her life for him, but he never knew she’d go this far to keep him alive. She’d bleed herself dry to keep him alive if he didn’t stop her.
“Why?” his voice grated out as she helped him up to sit.
“You would die without fluids,” she reasoned in a monotone voice hiding her feelings.
“You will too,” he looked over her wondering what kind of twisted logic she used in her head to justify this.
“It is my choice.”
“Don’t do it again. That’s an order.”
She raised her right eyebrow, “You no longer have the authority to make orders.”
His arms shook as he tried to force himself to remain sitting upright without falling back into the sand. T’Pol moved to sit beside him. She let him lean against her right shoulder.
“It’s my choice. Don’t do it again.”
Night fell and they slowly crept along the sand dunes. Shortly before daybreak, the dunes made way to loose rocks and sand at the base of the mountains. T’Pol found condensation on the rocks and mopped it up with the only clean item of clothing in her backpack, a pair of socks. Archer knelt by her and took a sock from her eagerly squeezing moisture onto his tongue. They moved along wiping rocks and drinking the water drop by drop. Archer was never so glad to see rocks strewn along their path.
Several other things gave him hope. These mountains weren’t as tall as they seemed. Once they were probably tall mountains or volcanoes. Wind and time weathered them away to the point where they were only grayish white overgrown hills. Something else caught his eye darting among the gray sky as the first rays of sunlight touched the rocks above them. Blue lights shined their lights as they flew over one of the smallest hills nearby.
“T’Pol look at that.”
T’Pol immediately recognized the fireflies which entranced Archer weeks ago. A viable habitat for the insects must be nearby. One thing they needed to procreate was water. T’Pol felt something she hadn’t felt in days. Hope.
oooooo
Back on Earth these hills would not be a challenge for Archer. He’d climbed a mountain in Nepal that made these steep hills look like pebbles. These hills should have been child’s play.
Archer panted and wiped his forehead again. Climbing up away from the desert floor lowered the temperature by 20 degrees that meant he only had to hike and climb in 100-degree weather. His lungs wheezed as they topped another hill. Looking out at the other hilltops, he looked over at T’Pol. The blurry mass of light beside him didn’t say anything. Their exertion today and the day before hadn’t agreed with him. Dewdrops gathered from rocks in the morning yielded only enough water to replenish what he lost in an hour. He was now essentially blind.
Itching his arm, he had the urge to take his clothes off. The fabric felt like sandpaper rubbing against his skin. He reached for his shirt and tried to unbutton the buttons. His fingers fumbled at them. T’Pol reached for his hands and stilled them buttoning his shirt back up without saying anything. Archer wondered how many times he’d try to strip his clothing before she became so casual about the situation.
T’Pol pulled on his hand guiding him down the hill. She warned him of obstacles, but he still stumbled over half of them. Thoughts threaded together knotting themselves distracting him from her words.
Afternoon was turning into evening when his legs gave out beneath him. She caught him before his head hit the jagged rocks.
He whispered I’m sorry to her. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body sagged limp.
“Jonathan,” she called louder, “Jonathan.”
She felt for a pulse on his neck. Erratic, but still there. He needed cold water on his skin, and lots of water to drink. She only hoped that the water source they were looking for was nearby.
Looking at him, she couldn’t help feeling that she failed in her duty to protect him. She was no longer his first officer, but she felt obligated to protect her friend. She looked after him in his condition. She failed to keep her friend safe. Now he was dying.
Her palms found his cheeks. Closing her eyes, she tried to empathically sense emotions from him. Mentally reaching out to him, she connected with something. Fear was buried deep inside his mind. Strong, overwhelming fear forced through her mental shields. T’Pol didn’t have to be mind-melding with him to know what he feared- death. He was alive. For now that would have to be enough.
Picking him up, she adjusted him until his head rested on her arm. Pain protested in her muscles. With each steps, she practiced meditative breathing. The pain faded into the background.
The fireflies came again that night. T’Pol didn’t stop to rest. She walked on letting the area in the sky with highest concentration of fireflies be her beacon. Three hours later she saw hope.
His fingers grazed the water first. The arms holding him lowered his body. His hands came to rest in silt and sand only to be followed by his back. Water lapped up against the sides of his face. The sound of moving water accompanied the sensation of his clothes being removed. A cloth brushed water over his parted lips and closed eyes. Slowly his body began to cool and he became more aware of his surroundings.
T’Pol squeezed the scrap of his shirt out and soaked it with fresh water. Her hand traced the plains of his body with the cloth. What little flesh his body had not reclaimed clung to his bones under his leathery skin. His skin soaked up the moisture from the cloth eagerly. She tenderly washed the dirt away from his face and the strands of his coarse beard.
His eyes blinked open after an hour in the cool spring water.
“T’Pol,” Archer grated out through cracked lips.
T’Pol’s face leaned over him. Moonlight painted her face a silvery white. Her face sparkled with what looked like fairy dust. Fireflies flew behind her. Their pin pricks of blue light darting through the sky. The ethereal scene transformed a weak, pale, exhausted T’Pol with sand caking her skin into a goddess in Archer’s eyes.
“Jonathan.” Did he imagine the happiness and relief in her voice? Or Her eyes filled with unshed tears?
“What happened?”
T’Pol knew the look of confusion on his face well. T’Pol pulled Archer’s head in her lap to angle his head above his body. Filling a water pouch with water, she brought it to his mouth.
“Drink. Then I will explain.”
T’Pol watched him drink. Relief spread through her taking away the hollowness in her chest and the rigid tension in her body. He was alive. For now, her thoughts added. Approximately eight days of travel lay ahead of them before they reached the colony. T’Pol calculated their likelihood of survival. Turning her eyes back to Archer, she watched him and considered their options.
oooooo
“Let’s go over the program again, Hoshi.” Hoshi sighed and pulled up the program files.
“My team has already been over this thing about a hundred times. I don’t know what you are expecting to find.”
“Pull up the number of the location we thought was made up.”
“Here it is.”
“Something seems familiar about that location. It almost seems like the numbers aren’t meant to describe a location on this planet.”
“Like Earth.” Hoshi whispered as the realization hit her. They both exchanged a knowing look.
“I’m already on it.” Hoshi pulled up the location. “There it is. The Dead Sea.”
“We were partly right. The number was a place holder, but if I’m right, it will still tell us where the shuttlepod was programmed to crash land. Get Trip in here, I think I know where they are.”
oooooo
T’Pol looked over at the sleeping form of Archer. He lay on the biobed next to her as naked as she under the white hospital sheet. The efforts of Phlox and his medical team erased all signs of sunburn from his skin. The weight he lost was another matter. An I.V. of fluids constantly dripped into him through a needle in his forearm. Slowly he would gain back his muscle and fat missing from his shrunken face and thin arms, legs, and torso.
Relief was the emotion T’Pol most felt seeing him breathing steadily and not dying of thirst. He was safe now. She didn’t have to worry anymore about keeping them both alive long enough to reach the colony or be rescued.
T’Pol reached for her glass of water again. Illogically, she kept gulping down glass after glass of water like it was her last.
Phlox came over and took the now empty glass away from her, “That’s enough. Too much water is not good for your system. You can’t have another glass until I tell you that you can.”
T’Pol nodded. She unconsciously glanced over at Archer confirming once again that he was still there. Phlox followed her eyes and smiled.
“He’s doing well. Which brings me to something I need to talk to you about.”
T’Pol didn’t acknowledge his statement.
“I discovered Vulcan blood in his kidneys and urinary tract. You didn’t say he attacked you, so I believe you voluntarily gave your blood for him to drink.” Phlox’s face and voice turned serious.
“There were no other liquids available. I made the only logical choice.” She looked away from him hoping he would drop the subject.
“I understand why you did it. You did not want him to die and kept him alive by any means necessary.”
“Yes,” she said in a barely audible voice.
“There is another matter I would like to discuss with you. The brain waves of the Captain,” Phlox still referred to him by his former title, “are familiar. I didn’t recognize the pattern until I remembered something about a Vulcan healing practice. Tell me exactly what you did. His treatment depends on it.”
T’Pol could see herself leaning over Archer’s weak body. T’Pol knew a way to help him, but it came with risks.
“He is in no danger.”
“Applying Vulcan healing arts to humans can be risky.”
“Yet you suggested I use Vulcan neuropressure on Captain Tucker.”
Phlox was loosing his patience with her, “Neuropressure is very different and doesn’t require mental contact. Tell me what you did. I cannot treat my patient if I don’t know what you did to put him in this coma.”
T’Pol relented and told him what happened, “After finding the stream, I bathed Jonathan in the water to decrease his core body temperature. He awakened and I gave him water over the next few hours. I saw some improvement in his condition. Then his condition began to deteriorate again. Jonathan lapsed into unconsciousness.
During my training for the Ministry of Security, we were taught how to help another Vulcan initiated a healing trance if they were unable to accomplish it alone. The technique does share limited feelings and thoughts, but it can be accomplished by non-melders. It is not as deep as a mind-meld and does not carry the same stigma since the technique is used for healing purposes.
I cupped the sides of Jonathan’s face. I then guided him through the steps necessary to enter a trance with my thoughts. After several unsuccessful attempts, he established a successful trance. Several hours later, the shuttlepod arrived and rescued us.”
“Will he wake on his own?”
“His trance is not as deep as a Vulcan’s would be. He should be able to exit it on his own. If he does not, I can try to reach him again.”
“I’ll stay here in the hospital so I can monitor his condition closely.” Phlox seemed satisfied, at least temporarily, with her answer. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll check on you again soon.”
oooooo
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Trip asked.
“Yes.” T’Pol said with conviction.
Trip walked with her over to the recently tilled square of land by the colony administration building. In the middle of the square stood a maple tree. Trip looked over T’Pol’s face. She was taking what happened to Archer hard. He didn’t know what to say or do to help her. At one time, she’d been what he would consider a friend. She let him in, like she did Archer, to see who she was behind the officer. Then, he’d strained what friendship they had when he doubted her ability to command. Now, he didn’t know if she would let him back in to even be a casual friend. So he walked beside her and didn’t say a thing about Archer.
A crowd had gathered around the small square of land and the tree. T’Pol stopped and stood behind the crowd. Several people turned and noticed her eyeing her with curious or angry looks. Most of the crowd didn’t notice her presence.
A podium was set up in front of the square. The colony leaders stood beside it. One of them, a man that T’Pol recognized as the head speaker of the colonial leaders, stepped forward and spoke into the microphone.
He said good morning and introduced himself, then quickly launched into his speech, “We are gathered here today to remember. To remember those who lost their lives in the attacks on Earth and her colonies. There is not a person among us who hasn’t lost someone. The tree behind me was being shipped from Earth to Vega Colony. It is the only surviving tree from our home world. This tree survived along with the crew of The Aurora and made it safely to this planet. Some may see this tree as just another tree, but I see it is a symbol of the determination to survive that I see each day in the colonists here. As we begin to build our homes here on this planet and take up residence here, so will this tree adapt to its new home, put down roots in the soil, and eventually grow and flourish“
The colonists were invited to stay for the dedication ceremony. The colonial leaders first planted their small stakes with blue ribbons flying from them in the bare soil around the tree. Colonists followed. Some had ribbons, others pictures, attached to small stakes, sticks, metal rods, or anything else they could get their hands on. The thinning crowd left behind a multicolored display surrounding the tree.
“I still don’t understand why you are doing this,” Trip told her.
“They should be remembered,” T’Pol said looking down at the objects in her hands.
“Are you doing this because you feel guilty that you couldn’t stop the weapon?” Trip wondered.
“No. As captain, I was responsible for the live of my crew. I remember each of the deaths under my command. I am here to honor them.”
“I’m not talking about the crew. I’m talking about his family.”
“Mr. Calvert’s family deserves to be remembered as well,” T’Pol looked at him as if it was the most logical and self-explanatory thing.
“He tried to kill both of you. You don’t owe him or his family anything.”
“You are correct in that he attempted to kill both Jonathan and I. But his family was not responsible for his actions.”
Trip shook his head. T’Pol could use logic to justify about anything.
T’Pol left him standing there and walked over to the tree past the groups of people conversing in the square. She knelt and drove one stake into the ground. The wind picked up the ribbons, one for each crewmember lost under her command, and whipped them against each other. The other stake in her hand had a hook coming out from it. T’Pol placed it in the ground and hung a chain with a locket on the hook. She looked at both in silence for a moment then left. Several dozen eyes followed her wondering whom the Vulcan was there to remember.
Trip followed T’Pol back to the nearby hospital. She sat in the chair she’d occupied for the past few days by Archer’s bedside. Trip couldn’t help but wonder what Archer meant to T’Pol. The way she looked at him, cared for him, and loyally stayed by him. It all spoke of feelings that no matter what they were, ran deep.
He left them alone and went to make a few arrangements for them. A communicator call from Phlox cut his business in the administration building short. He rushed back over to the hospital to see Archer’s eyes blinking open. T’Pol held Archer’s right hand. This was not what shocked Trip the most. T’Pol’s eyes held Archer’s like a lifeline. Her eyes glistened with moisture. Her face was relaxed as she talked in a hushed voice to him.
Trip had no doubt at that moment that T’Pol was in love with Archer. Not the kind of love that a teenager has with her first boyfriend. Or the kind of love that fades as quickly as it appears. She loved him like he was her husband and companion. It all made sense now. Why she left Enterprise to care for Archer. Why she never gave up on him. Why she couldn’t leave him.
The tragedy of the situation hit Trip. T’Pol probably didn’t realize the emotion that drove her. Archer might not ever find out about her feelings. And if he did… what could they do about it? Share their feelings then start over again the next day? It wasn’t fair. Trip knew Archer felt something at one time for T’Pol. If the Expanse didn’t change him, maybe something would have came of it. Nothing could happen now. T’Pol more than likely knew than and had to accept it. She could learn so much about Archer, but he would never get to know her more.
Trip moved over to his friend’s bedside and said hello and wished him a speedy recovery. Archer commented that this place didn’t look like sickbay. Trip decided to take his leave and let T’Pol explain to Archer. Walking back to the administration building, Trip decided to make new arrangements for Archer and T’Pol.
Next chapter: Deleted Dream Sequence.
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