Crossing Deserts
by  ragpants
 
 

Trip stumbled and fell face first onto the dune's top.  The hot sand scoured his face, and some of the grit  worked its way between his lips, abrading the soft tissues inside. He'd spit it out if he could muster the energy. Or the spit.

Rough, anxious hands pulled him over onto his side.  "Get up, Trip. Get up now," Captain Archer ordered gruffly, but Trip could  hear the fear that was underneath the harshness.

Trip let his head loll. It was too much energy to try to steady it. "I need a minute, Cap'n," he offered feebly.

Archer squatted down beside him. The neck of a water bag was shoved between his lips. "Slowly. Slowly," Archer warned, tilting the bag nearly upside down and squeezing it to make the water flow. "Not too fast. We don't have much left."

Trip lapped at the tepid liquid as if it had been the rarest of nectars. He could have laid there and drunk for hours, but all too soon Archer pulled the bag away.

"That's all of it, " Archer announced. Trip groaned in disappointment.

The arm that had been supporting his head moved lower to surround his shoulders as Archer eased him into a sitting position.

"Think you can stand?"

 Trip nodded, unable to find the moisture or the energy to speak.  He let Archer help him to his feet and didn't complain when the arm that had been around his shoulders remained around his waist..

"You've got to walk, "Archer warned. "We have another twenty kilometers before we reach those ruins."

Trip nodded again in mute understanding. It was walk or die--and he wasn't ready to die.

They trudged onward with the heat bludgeoning them like they were being steeled between an hammer and anvil and the sand sucking at their feet, making each step a redoubled effort.

Trip fell again--and he didn't get up.

 Archer shook him. "Get up, Trip. You have to walk. I can't carry you."

"Sure you can. " Trip replied suddenly sounding rather chipper. He sat up and pulled six blue pages out from inside of his coverall. "It says so right here. Long Establishing Shot: Archer carries Trip across a dune face."

Archer plopped down beside Trip atop the sand dune and grabbed the papers. "Let me see that." He read the pages and began shaking his head. "No way. I'm not doing that."

Trip smiled smugly. "Too late. If had a problem with the scene you should have said something to the producers at the first run through....Besides, it'll be fun. Just think of all the slash stories the fans will be writing because of it."

Archer grimaced. "You *know* how I feel on that issue....if I'm going to be part of pairing, I'd prefer it to be heterosexual."

Trip stuck his tongue out. "Spoilsport." Then he added as an afterthought, "Don't tell me you're going to  spend the next six seasons pining away unrequitedly for T'Pol? "

Archer preened a little. "How do you know it's going to be unrequited? In my previous incarnation I used to be quite the hit with the ladies. Just ask Al, I mean the Colonel."

Trip snorted amusement. "You know how the producers feel about sex on *this* show. All T & A and no action. Forget it buddy. You'll get more action from Porthos than you will with Ms. Catsuit."

"Porthos?" Archer's eyebrows quirked upward to form an inverted 'V'.

"Yeah, in case you hadn't noticed. Porthos is a bitch. And I don't mean of the sniping variety."

Archer looked pained. "Oh. Though I had been kinda wondering why he...she...squatted instead of lifting his leg when I walked him...her... in the botany lab....But that's entirely beside the point. Where were we? Oh, yeah....I am not going to carry you across the desert."

"But you'll look all sweaty and manly, " Trip countered.

"No. No way. I will not throw my back out again. It  still hurts from when that  schoolglue critter had me hanging in its gooey cocoon for three days." At Trip's sideways look, he added defensively, "It's an old water polo injury."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Cap'n"

 Archer's hand smashed Trip's face back into the sand. "I think it's time for you to make the noble self-sacrifice for the greater good. I mean...you offered to die for Malcolm. Why not me?"

"Whatever you say, Cap'n," Trip managed to mumble around mouthful of sand.  "Jus' one more thing, though....when you bring back the water to save me. Whatever you do, don't get it out that cistern in the ruins.

 Archer made a hurry-up-and-explain gesture with his free hand while the other still pressed Trip's face against the dune.

"I mean think about it. This is desert. It's hot and it's dry--and that that so-called 'water' has been sitting out there in the open for six months...

Archer screwed up his face into a 'Ewhew'. "Got ya."

Archer opened his fist and let the blue pages flutter away across the pristine desert scenery. "Where were we? "

"The noble gesture," Trip supplied.

"Right.... Get up, Trip. You have to walk. I can't carry you."

Face down in the sand, Trip replied, "Leave me, Cap'n. I'll be fine. I'm sure the Sand People will along any minute now."

"Sand People. Sand People!" Archer voice escalated with his anger. "I don't remember hearing anything about any Sand People.!. He stood up and glared at the empty expanse around him as if he could force these desert denizens to materialize through sheer will.

Trip took advantage of Archer's momentary lapse in attention to turn his head an gather a lungful of less dusty air. "You really shouldn't miss pre-production meetings, Cap'n."

Archer gave Trip a dirty look and used his foot to pin Trip's head in place. "Bold words from a man in your position, Engineer."

"All right, all right," muttered Trip. "I get your point.....Say, if you don't like the idea of the Sand People, how about a Sand Worm? A hundred and fifty feet long, thirty feet high, with a maw lined with thousands of knife-like crystal teeth. Be real impressive in CGI."

Archer seemed to considering the idea, but finally shook his head no. "Too expensive. We've already used up our CGI budget for the year. Why do think we've been doing so many bottle shows lately?"

"Hadn't thought of that, " Trip admitted. "How about Omar Sherif on a camel? He hasn't worked in years. I'm sure we could get him to guest on the cheap."

Archer blew out long stream of exasperation.

"No budget for guest stars either?" Trip guessed.  "OK, that uses up all the deus-ex-machinas I can come up with. I guess it's back to the noble gesture."

Trip settled back to sprawling face down on the sand. "Leave me, Cap'n. I'll only slow you down. Both of us don't need to die. Save yourself, Cap'n. I know you'll come back for me as soon as you can. I'll be all right, Cap'n. I swear it."

"Pretty damned long speech for dying guy," Archer muttered out of the side of his mouth facing away from the viewer.

"Got two more years on my contract, " Trip reminded him. "I can't die."

 Archer's face said 'Ever hear of Denise Crosby?', but the words that came out of his mouth said, "I've never lost a crewmember under my command, and damn it, Trip, you're not going to be the first." Archer hauled Trip to his feet, then with a grunt heaved his Chief Engineer over his shoulder in a fireman's carry..

 "Thought you aid you weren't going to carry me," Trip gloated.

"Shut up, Archer warned,  groaning under Trip's weight, "or I'll leave you out here as Bantha bait."